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Rh so, which I suppose some people would say there was, were I a half-starving girl."

"You are an extraordinary one, at all events. I never met a woman like you."

"Perhaps you will believe better of me now, monsieur, than you have done," she said, turning her dark eyes steadily upon him.

"Have I not paid you the greatest compliment a man can pay a woman?" he cried, extending his hands dramatically.

"Hardly; but let that pass. I ask not for a compliment, but a kindness—the 'sacrifice,' in short, you offered to make for me just now. I ask you to refrain from speaking of me or my concerns to any one."

"Oh, come, I can't promise that. Why, I can't find out if what you tell me is true, if I don't inquire."

She looked at him with ineffable scorn.

"You doubt my word, then? That is not complimentary, at all events."

"Oh!" he laughed, "I should not think the worse of you if you lied to me about your intimate affairs. All women do."

"Women of honour do not, any more than men. And let me tell you, I shall never look on any man as my friend, in whose honour I have not implicit trust."

"I am not a bad friend to have, mademoiselle. My purse shall ever be at your service."

"I don't want your purse. I want your reticence."

He hummed an opéra-bouffe air; then suddenly, "And you offer nothing in return? You do not even hold out any hope?"