Tales of the City Room
friend, who wants to know of your life here."
"If you were, I think you would be pained by the recital. And, besides, if you were, you would not be here. Even my wildest fancies never take the form of yearnings for old friends; their society would be too depressing in the circumstances. No, I am glad you are a stranger, with a certain magnetism about you which interests me, and fills me with a silly desire to know what you think of me, and whether you fear me or believe in me."
"I am sure I could not bear trouble with more philosophy than that you show," said the girl, evasively. She felt a strange reluctance to analyze her own impressions, but she watched the development of the other's peculiar mood with an odd mingling of womanly sympathy and professional interest.
"I am not so philosophic as I may seem. I have given myself up to the horror of this place, until, as I said, it has almost unnerved me. If I were myself, I should not be sitting here, talking almost confidentially to you—a stranger. Why should the presence and
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