Never had she seen so many cars on one street, as she saw on the four tracks that ran down the middle of this one. They were arranged with a curbing to protect, or keep slim-footed mules out of their way, so they had to avoid the pedestrians only. Many police protected at every intersection; but withal, she was nervous as she hurried across, at the beckon of one who wore the bluest uniform, and a white hat—no, it was a helmet.
She had arrived at Basin court, and did not know that she was within a few doors of the man she loved. She gazed about for a time, and then went on her way. She came, presently, abreast of a man—a colored man—and he was neat looking and intelligent. She paused with some constraint, and said:
"Could you advise me, Mister, where I could secure lodging? I am a stranger, and—I do not know where to go."
He looked at her keenly for a moment. Then his eyes glanced away and down a street that intersected. On either side of that street were houses—small houses that made a specialty of a room to the front, and these rooms contained—but we have not come to that. And then he looked at her again.
His eyes wandered back down that other street, and he thought for a moment. He looked at her again, and then spoke. This girl might be stalling—so many of them did—but still she was intelligent, and that made a difference.
"I could not, Madam, I regret to say, for I do not live on this side. My home is in Tunis, which is across the river. That is why I do not know."
"Oh," she said, and her tone was sorry, "you do not live on this side?"
"No, ma'am. You are a stranger here?" He eyed her keenly again.
"Yes, sir. I have just arrived," and she told him also, that she sold books.
Her tone was pleasant; her words were correct; and she said them in such a way that he forgot his suspicion, and then showed her forthwith much courtesy.