"What is it?" Hilliard repeated gruffly.

"That isn't your usual way of speaking to me."

"Will you tell me where you have been tonight?"

"Nowhere--walking about----"

"Do you often walk about the streets till midnight?"

"Indeed I don't."

The reply surprised him by its humility. Her voice all but broke on
the words. As well as the dim light would allow, he searched her
face, and it seemed to him that her eyes had a redness, as if from
shedding tears.

"You haven't been alone?"

"No--I've been with a friend."

"Well, I have no claim upon you. It's nothing to me what friends you
go about with. What were you going to ask of me?"

"You have changed so all at once. I thought you would never talk in
this way."

"I didn't mean to," said Hilliard. "I have lost control of myself,
that's all. But you can say whatever you meant to say--just as you
would have done at the restaurant. I'm the same man I was then."