The woman at the table slumped back into her seat, quietly uttering an obscenity.  Gone completely was the act of sweet loving attention, and Valinor realized how wrong his first impression had been.  He was very rarely wrong, and this intrigued him. Realizing how quiet the place was, the woman now glared around from under lowered brow at every table until the occupants nervously pretended to lose interest in her one by one. When she reached Valinor and Nadjinia, she stopped.

For a moment Valinor found himself staring as if down the barrel of a gun. Then she curled her lip in a form of judgment, and let her eyes flit slowly over his entire being, taking in his clothing and the finery as if in disgust.  Her eyes stopped however, at the hot bread and steaming bowls of soup that had arrived at their table shortly after the screaming in the kitchen had ceased.  Then she looked away, as if ashamed at revealing something of herself. She reached for her derby, which had fallen to the floor in the melee, and Valinor turned back to his food in anticipation of the savory aromas that were now taking his attention away from the fading drama in the corner.

Nadjinia had been quietly observing all of this, even smiling to herself a little at the bar owner's wife and the loud barrage in the kitchen. She had observed the silent exchange between Valinor and the woman at the table. Without a word, (and startling Valinor a bit,) she suddenly and decisively stood, picking up her bowl as she did so.

"Nadji?"  he said, questioningly. 

"Val, my sweetheart, she is starving. She was only trying to get a meal by any manner she could. . I won't eat this, it would go to waste. "

Without another word to him she walked over to the woman at the table, after also grabbing a crusty roll and her spoon.  As she approached the woman, Valinor tensed. He had seen a bit of something dark in those eyes not more than a moment ago, but the woman was not angry now. She looked at Nadjinia in a kind of distrusting hope that surprisingly touched him. Nadjinia smiled, put the bowl down in front of the woman, and reached for her dirty looking hand. She softly pressed the roll into it, and said, "For you, dear" and turned and strode back to their table. Valinor watched his wife's approach with a half smile on his face and remembered once again, as he did a hundred times every day of how much he loved her.  She smiled and sat, putting her hand on his arm, and they both looked back to the table.

The bowl of soup was nearly gone already. The woman was eating quickly and guardedly, looking back at the kitchen door, and Valinor realized that she was anticipating another assault from the bar wife, possibly accompanied by an enraged son or daughter to fortify her attack.  As if reading her thoughts, Valinor heard the slamming of an outside door, and rising voices in the kitchen again.  So did the woman. Sliding the last bit of bread into her mouth, in one fluid motion she rose from her seat, coat swirling, as she grabbed her hat and swept past them on her way out.  She stopped, however, and looked down at them. The look she gave Valinor was at once a strange morph of grudging resentment and a bit of guarded curiosity. Then she looked at Nadjinia, and her face changed entirely. Her eyes seemed to turn soft and blue. A soft smile flickered across her lips, and she gave a small nod, almost a little bow, as courtly and as gentlemanly as any Nadjinia had ever seen. Then with a glance back toward the kitchen she swept out the door, letting rain and thunder into the room as she passed through. The slamming of the entryway door as she exited coincided with the bursting open of the kitchen door, where several men stood around the heaving bar wife, looking first at the now empty table in the corner and then to the door, almost blinking with disappointment.

                                                                                       …

They waited until their meal was long gone, Valinor smoking his pipe and enjoying a specialty after dinner liqueur  (on the house, the waiter nervously insisted) and the rain outside finally ceased. Valinor called for his coach, and then strode back to Nadjinia, reaching to grasp her hand in his. It was a little ritual they often enjoyed together, fingers touching, hands folding trustingly in each other's.  As their hands embraced he became aware of a decidedly raucous commotion down the street. He turned and stopped in recognition. It was the woman again, standing in the midst of several men who were jeering and leering at her. Her hat was upside down on the cobblestones, and the men were putting coins into it. Her blouse was loosely open, and astonishingly she was juggling what looked to be several crystal balls. The actions of her arms caused her blouse to move suggestively, and the men were getting more rowdy by the second.  Nadjinia was watching all of this too.

"Valinor," she said quietly.

Instantly Valinor's face changed from bemused interest at the scene to something that suggested resignation. He had heard this tone before. 

"Valinor," Nadjinia said again, and pulled on his arm to get him to look at her. "We can't leave her there. They could hurt her. Or worse."

"It's not our problem, my love," he said

"Oh, but it is," she said. She looked back down the road. The woman was standing in a menacing position, and the men were backing off, laughing a bit.  She had a look of smiling hatred on her face. The juggling crystals were gone, lost in the deep pockets of the coat. She looked as if she were tensing for another fight.

"Nadjinia." Valinor allowed a slight tone to his voice, although he knew the futility of what he was about to say. It would not change her mind, but he made the attempt anyway. "My darling, she is fine. Look, she has backed them off and she will go and find a corner somewhere to hide, or sleep, or will do whatever it is that she does to get by to the next day.  She's a bohemian, my love. A common panhandler. She is quite used to this."

"No."  The tone of Nadjinia's voice was absolute. "She will not do this tonight."  She looked at him and then smiled a bit saying,  "Not to mention that she is quite lovely. I wish to sketch her."

Valinor turned his head back to the woman. He could not for the life of him see anything memorable about the wretched thing. Nadjinia dropped his hand, and then crossed her arms. She said nothing, merely waited and looked at him.

"She is probably diseased," he offered, but Nadjinia did not move.

"We could pay her for the sitting", he finally said, after mulling it over a bit. "Perhaps enough to satisfy her so that she will not rob us blind in the night."  Nadjinia still said nothing.

Without another word Valinor turned and strode purposefully toward the woman. The men laughed at his approach, an obvious gentleman towards this curious gutter mouthed wanton, and they offered their opinions rather loudly as to what they thought of the upcoming transaction as he stopped in front of her.

"You." Valinor addressed the woman. "What is your name?"

                She looked at him for a second, and then straightened slightly. For an instant Valinor glimpsed a lady. Then she spoke quietly.

                "Morgan."

Valinor waited, politely tipping his head for her to continue.

                "Daltry" she said.

                "Morgan Daltry," Valinor said. "My lovely wife would like to make an offer to you. She is an artist, and sees something in you that she would like to capture.  Would you be interested in doing a sitting for her? We will pay you for your time." Almost as an afterthought, he said rather slyly "We would also give you another meal."

                He looked over to the men, and pointedly said;  "Buongiorno!"

                Morgan looked at him almost haughtily and then hurled a look of deadly force back at the men who were now moving away, bravely telling each of the others what they would have done to her.  She turned again and faced Valinor across the rain slick cobblestones, and then looked down to where Nadjinia stood, next to the waiting coach. Taking a deep breath, she bent to pick up her hat, but Valinor was quicker. Determined to treat her like a gentlewoman for Nadjinia's sake, he silently offered the hat to her. She grabbed the small coins at the bottom of it, put them into her pocket and then placed the hat on her head, as regally as if it were a crown of gems.  Then she turned on her heel and quickly walked down to Nadjinia, leaving Valinor blinking at her abrupt change of action, and feeling a bit ruffled that he was suddenly striding hard to keep up with her.

                Reaching the coach, she did not even wait for Valinor to attempt to introduce her.

                "Nadjinia, this is…"  Morgan had already poked her head into the coach, exclaimed a bit, and disappeared inside.

                "Morgan." He trailed off. "Her name is Morgan."

He put his mouth close to Nadjinia's ear as he helped her enter the coach, and quietly said, "She'll need a bath." He tried not to show his distaste. "And I will lock up the jewels for you tonight."

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