"I have heard it said," and her voice had a slight quaver in it, "that you have a feeling of friendliness toward Mr. Anthony Stevens."
Mr. Sparhawk bent forward a little.
"There is no young man in the city," said he, "indeed, there is no man of any age anywhere, for whom I have a larger respect, or whom I would strive more to please."
"I, too, have a—a great respect for him," said the French girl. "It is because of that, and because I once did him an injustice in my thoughts, that I want so to help him now. He is ill; he is unable to face the things he would face so well; are you strong enough in your friendship for him to take these papers and make all the good use you can of them?"
"Mademoiselle," and the little gentleman regarded her, his head to one side, and a thing like victory in his eye, "my friendship is strong enough for that, and for more than that."
He talked with her earnestly for some time; then, at his bidding, she made herself ready for the street. He took his hat when she returned, and they went out together, he with the papers buttoned up in his pocket and stepping briskly along at her side.
XXXIII
Christopher Dent spoke to Anthony at his lodgings in Sassafras Street a few days later; the young man was hollow-faced and his eyes were hot and tired. But he listened to the little apothecary gratefully.
"So," said Christopher, "from what I hear, away he went with her, and with the papers in his pocket."