their supper, leaving the two hazarding various guesses as to the reason
for their meeting.

"You can bet it's for no good," said the girl. "I've known Murray for a
long while, and I never knew him to do a decent thing in his life."

Their supper over, they walked to Clark Street and took a northbound
car, but after alighting Jimmy walked with the girl to the entrance of
her apartment.

"I can't thank you enough," he said, "for giving me this evening. It is
the only evening I have enjoyed since I struck this town last July."

He unlocked the outer door for her and was holding it open.

"It is I who ought to thank you," she said. Her voice was very low and
filled with suppressed feeling. "I ought to thank you, for this has been
the happiest evening of my life," and as though she could not trust
herself to say more, she entered the hallway and closed the door between
them.

As Jimmy turned away to retrace his steps to the car-line he found his
mind suddenly in a whirl of jumbled emotions, for he was not so stupid
as to have failed to grasp something of the significance of the girl's
words and manner.

"Hell!" he muttered. "Look what I've done now!"

The girl hurried to her room and turned on the lights, and again she
seated herself before her mirror, and for a moment sat staring at the