Seventy-second Street.

With a sigh of heartfelt relief, Rex put his arm in the big fellow's at
the foot of the steps. Freedom must now be at hand, for Billy's home
was in a great apartment building not ten minutes' walk away. The
culprit himself seemed to realize that his fling was over.

"Raished Cain t'night, didn' we, ol' pal?" he inquired, and squeezed
Rex's guiding arm with affection. "I'll shay this for you, Rex--you may
be soft-hearted ol' slob, you may be half-witted donkey--I'm not denyin'
all that 'n more, but I'll shay thish--you're the bes' man to go on a
drunk with in--in--in The'logican Sem'nary. I'm not 'xceptin' th'----"

"Shut up, Billy," remarked Rex, not for the first time that night. "I'd
get myself pulled together a bit if I were you," he advised. "You're
going to see your family in a minute."

"M' poor fam'ly!" mourned Strong, shaking his head. "M' poor fam'ly!
Thish'll be awful blow to m' fam'ly, Recky. They all like so mush to see
me sober--always--'s their fad, Recky. Don't blame 'em, Recky, 's
natural to 'em. Some peop' born that way. M' poor fam'ly."

They stood in front of the broad driveway which swept under lofty arches
into the huge apartment house. Strong stopped and gazed upwards
mournfully. "Right up there," he murmured, pointing skywards--"M'
fam'ly." The tears were streaming down his face frankly now. "I can't
face 'em Recky, 'n this condition you've got me in," he said more in
sorrow than in anger. At that second the last inspiration of the evening
caught him. Across the street arose the mighty pile of an enormous
uptown hotel. Strong jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Go'n' break it