he was going to bring Billy Roberts--'Big Bill,' all the fellows
call him. He's just a big boy, but he's awfully tough. He's a
prizefighter, an' all the girls run after him. I'm afraid of him.
He ain't quick in talkin'. He's more like that big bear we saw.
Brr-rf! Brr-rf!--bite your head off, just like that. He ain't
really a prize-fighter. He's a teamster--belongs to the union.
Drives for Coberly and Morrison. But sometimes he fights in the
clubs. Most of the fellows are scared of him. He's got a bad
temper, an' he'd just as soon hit a fellow as eat, just like
that. You won't like him, but he's a swell dancer. He's heavy,
you know, an' he just slides and glides around. You wanta have a
dance with'm anyway. He's a good spender, too. Never pinches. But
my!--he's got one temper."

The talk wandered on, a monologue on Mary's part, that centered
always on Bert Wanhope.

"You and he are pretty thick," Saxon ventured.

"I'd marry'm to-morrow," Mary flashed out impulsively. Then her
face went bleakly forlorn, hard almost in its helpless pathos.
"Only, he never asks me. He's . . ." Her pause was broken by sudden
passion. "You watch out for him, Saxon, if he ever comes foolin'
around you. He's no good. Just the same, I'd marry him to-morrow.
He'll never get me any other way." Her mouth opened, but instead
of speaking she drew a long sigh. "It's a funny world, ain't it?"
she added. "More like a scream. And all the stars are worlds,
too. I wonder where God hides. Bert Wanhope says there ain't no
God. But he's just terrible. He says the most terrible things. I
believe in God. Don't you? What do you think about God, Saxon?"