not all women were pale bloodless and bent. As he went about
delivering bread he whistled a song. "Take me back to Broadway," he
sang after the soubrette in a show that had once come to Coal Creek.

Now as he sat on the hillside he talked earnestly while he
gesticulated with his hands. "I hate this town," he said. "The men
here think they are confoundedly funny. They don't care for anything
but making foolish jokes and getting drunk. I want to go away." His
voice rose and hatred flamed up in him. "You wait," he boasted. "I'll
make men stop being fools. I'll make children of them. I'll----"
Pausing he looked at his two companions.

Beaut poked the ground with a stick. The boy sitting beside him
laughed. He was a short well--dressed black--haired boy with rings on
his fingers who worked in the town poolroom, racking the pool balls.
"I'd like to go where there are women with blood in them," he said.

Three women came up the hill toward them, a tall pale brown-haired
woman of twenty-seven and two fairer young girls. The black-haired boy
straightened his tie and began thinking of a conversation he would
start when the women reached him. Beaut and the other boy, a fat
fellow, the son of a grocer, looked down the hill to the town over the
heads of the newcomers and continued in their minds the thoughts that
had made the conversation.

"Hello girls, come and sit here," shouted the black-haired boy,
laughing and looking boldly into the eyes of the tall pale woman. They
stopped and the tall woman began stepping over the fallen logs, coming
to them. The two young girls followed, laughing. They sat down on the
log beside the boys, the tall pale woman at the end beside red-haired