Her lips quivered, and she was silent.

"Didn't you feel like you'd known me somewhere
before?" he pleaded.

"Yes."

"I just felt you did, and that's what give me
courage. Oh, Kiddo, you've got to love me a little--
I've never been loved by a human soul in all my life.
The first thing I remember was hidin' under a stoop
from a brute who beat me every night. I ran away and
slept in barrels and crawled into coal shutes till I
was big enough to earn a livin' sellin' papers. For
years I never knew what it meant to have enough to
eat. I just scratched and fought my way through the
streets like a little hungry wolf till I got in a
blacksmith's shop down on South Street and learned to
handle tools. I was quick and smart, and the old man
liked me and let me sleep in the shop. I had enough to
eat then and got strong as an ox. I went to the night
schools and learned to read and write. I don't know
anything, but I'm quick and you can teach me--you will,
won't you?"

"I'll try," was the low answer.

"You do like me, Kiddo? Say it again!"

She rose to her feet and looked out over the sea,