inquiringly, a mop and a pail and a broom by her side, he thought she was the most attractive girl in the world.
He was desperately afraid she would go and hastened to say, "I—er—took this little room so I'd have a quiet place to hide away and study."
He did not want her to know that he had seen her as she walked down Clark Street and had rented her mother's room as a consequence.
"Mother sent me up to clean the windows," she said with an effort at matter-of-factness. She picked up her washing implements and came into the room. Then she caught sight of his torn shirt and wounded chin. "But you've torn your clothes and hurt your face!" she cried sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
He hesitated. The cut was trivial and he now obliterated any evidence of it with his handkerchief.
"Would you like me to repair your shirt for you?" she inquired.
"That would be fine," he exulted. "You can sit right over there."
He led her to the Morris chair and handed her the sewing kit. He seated himself on the arm of the chair and watched her deft, white fingers closing the gaping holes in his gar-
