that--well, a girl of your age, and with your face, doesn't live
alone in London without adventures. I shouldn't think of telling you
all mine, and I don't ask to know yours--unless I begin to have a
part in them. There's something wrong: of course, I can see that. I
think you've been crying, and you don't shed tears for a trifle. Now
you come and ask me for money. If it will do you good, take all you
want. But I've an uncomfortable suspicion that harm may come of it."

"Why not treat me just like a man-friend? I'm old enough to take
care of myself."

"You think so, but I know better. Wait a moment. How much money do
you want?"

"Thirty-five pounds."

"Exactly thirty-five? And it isn't for your own use?"

"I can't tell you any more. I am in very great need of the money,
and if you will lend it me I shall feel very grateful."

"I want no gratitude, I want nothing from you, Eve, except what you
can't give me. I can imagine a man in my position giving you money
in the hope that it might be your ruin just to see you brought down,
humiliated. There's so much of the brute in us all. But I don't feel
that desire."

"Why should you?" she asked, with a change to coldness. "What harm
have I done you?"