spoke to a man. Don't let him look at me like that! He's reg'lar wicked, that one. Don't let him look at me like that, neither! Oh, I feel as if I hadn't nothing on when he looks at me like that!'
The overstrained nerves in the frail body gave way, and the girl wept like a little child and began to scream. Dick threw open the window, and Torpenhow flung the door back.
'There you are,' said Dick soothingly. 'My friend here can call for a policeman, and you can run through that door. Nobody is going to hurt you.'
The girl sobbed convulsively for a few minutes, and then tried to laugh.
'Nothing in the world to hurt you. Now listen to me for a minute. I'm what they call an artist by profession. You know what artists do?'
'They draw the things in red and black ink on the pop-shop labels.'
'I daresay. I haven't risen to pop-shop labels yet. Those are done by the Academicians. I want to draw your head.'
'What for?'
'Because it's pretty. That is why you will come to the room across the landing three times a week at eleven in the morning, and I'll give you three
