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"
The cab reached the Strand.
"East or west, sir?" inquired the driver.
"West," said I, at random.
We drove down the Strand at a leisurely pace. I passed through a
phase of agonised thought. By my side was a helpless, homeless,
friendless, penniless young woman, as beautiful as a goddess and
as empty-minded as a baby. What in the world could I do with
her? I looked at her in despair. She met my glance with a
contented smile; just as if we were old acquaintances and I were
taking her out to dinner. The unfamiliar roar and bustle of
London impressed her no more than it would have impressed a
little dog who had found a kind master.
"Suppose I gave you some money and put you down here and left
you?" I inquired.
"I should die," she answered, fatalistically. "Or, perhaps, I
should find another kind gentleman."
"I wonder if you have such a thing as a soul," said I.
She plucked at her gown. "I have only this--and it is very
ugly," she remarked again. "I should like a pink dress."
We crossed Trafalgar Square, and I saw by Big Ben that it was a
quarter to six.


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