"She said I resembled some one whom she knew years ago—some one who, she said, had 'missed her footing'."
"She said that?"
I nodded. "Then she spoke of her own life and what came of it—how she had tried to save others; and one thing led on to another until I felt I had always known her."
He turned again to look at me, and it was given me to read his very thought:—Have you ever come near missing your footing? Did Delia Beaseley save you from any pitfall?
I answered his unspoken thought:
"Oh, you may take my word for it I am wholly respectable—always have been. I could n't have answered your advertisement if I had n't been."
"The deuce you are! Well, young lady, I 'll ask you not to answer a man's thoughts again before he has given them expression; it's uncanny." He was growling a little.
I laughed aloud, for it delighted me to puzzle him a bit, especially with the revelation of my identity in prospect. I was enjoying the pung ride too. We were on the river road. The black tree trunks, standing out against the white snow-covered expanse of the St. Lawrence, seemed to speed past us. The sharp bits of ice-snow flew from the fleet horses' hoofs, and now and then one stung my cheek.
"Cale informed me that you worked in the New York Library; may I ask how you happened to answer the advertisement?"
"I wanted to get away from the city—far away."