They were both standing now, facing each other, and Nance saw no
compromise in the stern eyes of her employer.

"I'll promise if I've got to," she said.

"Very well," said Mr. Clarke. "That's settled."




CHAPTER XXVII

FATE TAKES A HAND


Some sinister fascination seems to hover about a bridge at night,
especially for unhappy souls who have grappled with fate and think
themselves worsted. Perhaps they find a melancholy pleasure in the
company of ghosts who have escaped from similar defeats; perhaps they
seek to read the riddle of the universe, as they stand, elbows on rail,
studying the turbulent waters below.

On the third night after Dan's arrival in Cincinnati, the bridge claimed
him. He had deposited his few belongings in a cheap lodging-house on the
Kentucky side of the river, and then aimlessly paced the streets, too
miserable to eat or sleep, too desperate even to look for work. His one
desire was to get away from his tormenting thoughts, to try to forget
what had happened to him.