Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 112: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 103 the shade was run up, the sash raised, and a girl’s head thrust out of the window. She was about eighteen and rather pretty, but her face was spoiled by the evident knowledge she had of her attractions. Her hair was banged on her low forehead almost to her eyebrows, diamonds that must have been paste glittered in her ears, anda horseshoe breastpin gleamed in the gaslight from the street lamp at her throat. But this lamplight which revealed her display of jewelry to Guy also shone full on his face, and he had scarcely time to make the observations set down above, when the girl cried out: ‘‘Oh, have pity on me, and don’t give me up to the police. Come in quick, before an officer happens along, and I will confess, I will, truly.” For one brief instant Guy thought the girl must have lost her senses, then the meaning of it all came over him like a flash. He had seen her before, It was at the office of the /2reszde Favorite, and the cause of her present terror was the belief that he had come to tell her he knew it was she who had stolen the thirteen dollars. Truly, his befriending of little Jack had brought him speedy reward. The boy’s eyes were round with wonder at these unaccountable proceedings, but he asked no ques- tions, and in two minutes the door was opened, and the girl’s voice in the hallway bade them come in. So absorbed was Guy in the matter which so vitally concerned his own welfare, that for the time being he forgot all about the object that had brought him into the neighborhood, and neglected to make the Gomicboo Ss (E(0) m