"Can you not tell me where you live ?" St.
George persisted, and she made no other sign.
"New York ?" went on St.George patiently.

"New York?
Do you live in New York ?" There was a sudden gleam in the woman's eyes.

She extended her hands quickly in unmistakable appeal.

Then swiftly she caught up a hymn book, tore at its fly-leaf, and made the movement of writing.

In an instant St.George had thrust a pencil in her hand and she was tracing something.
He waited feverishly.