Despite such austerity, he would not have been Fargus had he been without suspicions. He apprehended a deep purpose and set himself to preparing his retreat in the belief that some day she would attempt to discover his identity. The precaution was unproductive and, without his suspecting it, arrived too late. When in turn he sought to follow her he was surprised by the same ambush which had nearly entrapped Bofinger, and obtained his pardon only by a solemn promise to refrain from further attempts.
The repulse and her steady indifference heaped fuel on the rising flame of his infatuation. He arrived at the stage where he no longer could see the ridicule of his own actions. He asked her to the theater, with the palpitations of a schoolboy blundering through his first escapade, and her constant refusals left him helpless and miserable.
Finally, he sought by discreet questions to discover her existence.
"Why do you always wear the same dress?" he began abruptly.
"I am poor," she answered so naturally that Fargus was left abashed.
"You work for a living then?" he persisted.
"I do embroidery and fancy sewing."
"You are alone?"
"I live with my aunt."