occupied by a dust-ridden salesroom, and an office with yellow-pine
partitions. As he followed the beggar into this, Wilmot caught a glimpse
in the distance of fifteen or twenty young girls who sat at a long table
industriously plaiting straw hats. He lifted his own hat a little
mechanically, and thought that he had never seen so many pretty girls at
one time under one roof.




II


Wilmot buttoned his coat over fifteen one-thousand-dollar bills. Only
supreme necessity could have persuaded him to take them, since, although
he had not put his name to a paper of any kind, he felt a little as if
he had sold himself to the devil. But Blizzard had shown him no
deviltry; only kindness and a certain whimsicality of speech and a point
of view that was engaging.

The transaction finished, Wilmot was for leaving, but being under
obligation to the legless man was at pains not to be abrupt. He lingered
then a little, and they talked.

"The first time we met," said the beggar, "you were roller-skating with
a pretty child. She was so pretty that I asked you her name. And I have
never forgotten it."

He did not add that he had watched that pretty child's goings and
comings for many years; that he had lain in wait to see her pass; that