VI
AN ANGEL UNAWARES
The man to whom she first spoke, in a stolen instant, descending the darkened stair, was a small shopkeeper, fat and pliable, beyond the age of violence, and, as he had just told her, a husband and the father of a girl of her own age.
"Listen," she said, with one trembling hand upon his shoulder, "I want you to do me a favor."
"Anything you say, Violet," he chuckled.
"Don't talk so loud, then. I—I want you to take me out of here."
The man looked at her, through the rosy twilight, in a flattered bewilderment.
"Like me as much as that, do you?" he sparred.
"You don't understand. Of course, I like you; but what I meant was——"
He interrupted her, his fat fingers complacently patting her cheek.
"It's not me that don't tumble to the facts," he said; "it's you. I told you I was a family man. I couldn't put you anywhere."