The arm-chair was suddenly upset, and a small white figure with loosened hair rushed to the window.
"Philip! What brings you here at this hour? Is anything wrong?"
"Open the window, dear friend, and let us in. I have brought some one who needs shelter badly."
"You are not alone, then?" cautiously.
"No; I have brought you a poor girl half frozen, half starved."
The window flew open, and the impulsive soul caught Therese by the arm and drew her from the dark street into the dainty little boudoir, all light and flowers and perfume. She placed the girl in her own chair, not forgetting to toss out of sight, before its title caught Philip's eyes, the yellow-covered French novel she had been reading. He smiled as he marked the action, and said: "I was almost certain of finding you up still. May she stay here for a few hours? Let her lie on the sofa till morning. I shall come for her before your people are stirring."
"Of course she shall stay," answered Sara Harden warmly. "Poor child, she looks so ill! Are you not hungry? Wait till I bring you something to eat."
She bustled out of the room, and Philip, kneeling upon the hearth, blew the embers into a blaze.
