This also was a girl, but of a different kind. She was well
dressed, and of graceful, rounded form; a veil almost hid her face,
but enough could be seen to prove that she had good looks.
"That a friend of yours?" she asked abruptly, and her voice was
remarkably full, clear, and sweet.
Waymark answered with a negative, looking closely at her.
"Then why did you give her all that money?"
"How do you know what I gave her?"
"I was standing just behind here, and could see."
"Well?"
"Nothing; only I should think you are one out of a thousand. You
saved me a sovereign, too; I've watched her begging of nearly a
dozen people, and I couldn't have stood it much longer."
"You would have given her a sovereign?"
"I meant to, if she'd failed with you."
"Is she a friend of yours?"
"Never saw her before to-night."
"Then you must be one out of a thousand."
The girl laughed merrily.
"In that case," she said, "we ought to know each other, shouldn't
we?"
"If we began by thinking so well of each other," returned Waymark,
smiling, "we should not improbably suffer a grievous disappointment
before long."
"Well, _you_ might. You have to take my generosity on trust, but I
have proof of yours.
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