She shrugged her shoulders. “I mus’ make money,” she said.

Of course this was her reason; he knew that before she spoke; but hearing her say so gave him pain. She was such a dainty little body.

“Oh, you need not sell yourself for that,” he said, earnestly. “Why, I’ll give you some—all you want. You’re awfully young, aren’t you? Just a little girl. I can’t marry you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Again she shrugged her shoulders, and spoke in Japanese to the nakoda.

“She says some one else will, then,” he interpreted.

“All right,” said the young man, almost bitterly.

She pretended to go towards the door, and then came back towards Bigelow.

“I seen you before,” she announced, ingenuously.

“Where?” He was curiously interested. He fancied that her face was familiar.

“Ad tea-house.”