this rotten old town that cares whether I live or die!"

Dan flushed painfully. He was much more equal to saving a body than a
soul, but he did not flinch from his duty.

"God cares," he said. "Like as not He sent me out on the bridge a-purpose
to-night to help you. You let me put you on the train, Birdie, and ship
you home to your mother."

"Never! I ain't goin' home, and I ain't goin' to a hospital. Promise me
you won't let 'em take me, Dan!"

"All right, all right," he said, with an anxious eye on her shivering
form and her blue lips. "Only we got to get under cover somewhere. Do you
feel up to walking yet?"

"Where'd I walk to?" she demanded bitterly. "I tell you I've got no money
and no place to go. I been on the street since yesterday noon."

"You can't stay out here all night!" said Dan at his wit's end. "I'll
have to get you a room somewhere."

"Go ahead and get it. I'll wait here."

But Dan mistrusted the look of cunning that leaped into her eyes and the
way she glanced from time to time at the oily, black water that curled
around the corner of the barge.

"I got a room a couple of squares over," he said slowly. "You might come
over there 'til you get dried out and rested up a bit."