"Rolfe converted you? I'll go to hear him."

"Yes--but you have to feel it, you have to know what it is to be kept
down and crushed. If you'd only stay here awhile."

"Oh, I intend to," he replied.

She could not have said why, but she felt a certain relief on hearing
this.

"Then you'll see for yourself!" she cried. "I guess that's what you've
come for, isn't it?"

"Well, partly. To tell the truth, I've come to open a restaurant."

"To open a restaurant!" Somehow she was unable to imagine him as the
proprietor of a restaurant. "But isn't it rather a bad time?" she gasped.

"I don't look as if I had an eye for business--do I? But I have. No, it's
a good time--so many people will be hungry, especially children. I'm
going to open a restaurant for children. Oh, it will be very modest, of
course--I suppose I ought to call it a soup kitchen."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, staring at him. "Then you really--" the sentence
remained unfinished. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "You made me think--"

"Oh, you mustn't pay any attention to what I say. Come 'round and see my
establishment, Number 77 Dey Street, one flight up, no elevator. Will
you?"