he was not the boy whom she had feared he was. It gave him no sense of triumph if this was so, but only of escape. What he understood most plainly was that, if she knew about him, it would hurt her; then she would shrink away from him. He could not imagine anything more terrible than to have her hate him. He was struggling against feelings that made him want to cry. He wanted to touch her; he wanted her to touch him again.
She had got up; when he looked up at her, he saw her holding out a dollar to him. His thought did not supply the reason why he did not like to receive even that benefit from her.
"You'd better take it," she urged. "You don't have to take it home, you know; you can spend it on moving picture shows."
He understood that she could not know that he had had nothing to eat since the night before. He had not recollected that himself until he saw the dollar; he did not waste thought on anything so ordinary as missed meals. As he got up and took the money, he observed some definite change in the way she looked at him. She was thoughtful; her thoughts, he saw, were not
