I have no letters of recommendation." She was again looking directly toward me, her brown eyes earnest and fearless.
"I--I confess I like your face," she admitted, "and I believe you have tried to tell me the truth about yourself, but our situation is so peculiar, so different from what I have been taught was proper." She smiled sadly, her eyes misting.

"I am afraid you will not understand.
You can scarcely appreciate how strictly I have been brought up, or what such an unconventional meeting as this means to me.

I ought to be ashamed of myself." "But are you ?" "Really I--I do not seem to be.

It almost frightens me to realize I am not, I do not understand myself at all.

Why should I talk thus frankly with you?
Why feel confidence in you?
It is not in accordance with the rules of my old life, nor of my nature.