and a woman entered. The woman who came into the room was possibly
thirty-five years of age. She was strong of frame, though not uncouth,
and had keen, laughing gray eyes, heavy eyebrows and chestnut hair.
She was a half jaunty, buxom amazon, with a brazen, comrade look about
her, and was evidently the proprietress of the place. She came to
where Harlson was seated and asked him what he wished to eat. The
patron of this restaurant was studying the bill of fare intently. He
wanted to get what was, as Sam Weller says, "werry fillin," at the
price, and yet he had certain fancies. He looked up at the woman and
said, bluntly:

"I have only fifteen cents to spend. What would you advise for the
money?"

For the first time the eyes of the two met. Harlson was interested in
the fraction of a second. In the fraction of a second he knew that it
was not a restaurant pure and simple that he had entered, for he had
learned much already in the city. The woman who looked at him was not
merely the proprietress of a place where food was sold.

The woman did not answer at once. She was looking at the customer.
She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

"Have you lived here long?" she said.

Harlson had been so isolated, that to have an inquiry made in relation
to his personal affairs seemed droll. It seemed something like
humanity again, as well.

He studied more closely the woman opposite. She did not convey any