'
"I glanced at the card, and it did read, 'Mabel Verne, 21 Flood
avenue.'
"Well, Flood avenue is no slouch of a street, the best folks live
there," I answered.
"'Yes, that's her private residence, and if you go there and are let in,
you'd be the first man ever seen around there. She's a curious critter,
never rides or drives, or shows herself off at all; but you bet she sees
that the rest of the stock show off. She's in it for money, I tell you.'
"I don't know why, but it made me kind of heart-sick to think of the
hell that woman must be in, for I knew by her looks that she had a heart
and a brain, and that neither of them was in the Odeon or the Tontine
dance-houses.
"I thought the matter over,--and didn't go to see her. The next trip,
she sent a carriage for me.
"She met me at the door, and took my hat, and as I dropped into an easy
chair, I opened the ball to the effect that 'this here was a strange
proceeding for a lady.'
"'Yes,' said she, sitting down square in front of me; 'it is; I felt as
if I had found a true man, when I first saw you, and I have asked you
here to tell you a story, my story, and ask your help and advice.
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