and struggling in the man's embrace. Then, a pantomime no longer,
there came a half threatening, half triumphant oath; and then the
girl's voice, quiet, strangely contained, almost imperious:

"Now, give me back that purse, please. Instantly!" The man,
already retreating into the alleyway, paused to fling back a
jeering laugh.

"Say, youse've got yer nerve, ain't youse!"

The girl turned her head so that the rays of the street lamp, faint
as they were, fell full upon her, disclosing a sweet, oval face,
out of which the dark eyes gazed steadily at the man.

And suddenly the man leaned forward, staring for an instant, and
then his hand went awkwardly to touch his cap.

"De White Moll!" he mumbled deferentially. He pulled the peak of
his cap down over his eyes in a sort of shame-faced way, as though
to avoid recognition, and, stepping nearer, returned the purse.

"'Scuse me, miss," he said uneasily. "I didn't know it was youse
- honest to Gawd, I didn't! 'Scuse me, miss. Good-night!"

For a moment the girl stood there motionless, looking down the
alleyway after the retreating figure. From somewhere in the
distance came the rumble of an elevated train. It drowned out the
pound of the man's speeding footsteps; it died away itself - and
now there was no other sound. A pucker, strangely wistful,
curiously perturbed, came and furrowed her forehead into little