Then she ran to the old gentleman, who was talking to the judge, and got from him a little black memorandum-book.
"I want you to take this."
"You see, my cards were all in the purse. But there!" she said, writing down her name and address on the first page. "You will know now where to come in case you need help or advice."
"Thank you," I replied, taking the book.
"I do so want to help you to start right and become a good man," she said timidly. "Won't you try to show your friends that they were mistaken in you?"
She turned her eyes up at me appealingly as if she were asking it as a favor to her. I felt foolish and began to laugh, but stopped, for she looked hurt.
"I guess, miss, it don't work quite that way. Of course, I mean to start fresh—but I shan't do it even for your sake. All the same, when you see me next it won't be in a police station."
"That's right!" she exclaimed, beaming at me with her round blue eyes. "I should like to feel that I hadn't hurt you—made you worse."