Presently she opened her eyes wearily and looked about her.

"I'm cold," she said with a shiver, "and hungry. God! I didn't know
anybody could be so hungry!"

"I'll make a fire in the stove," cried Dan; "then I'll go out and get
you something hot to drink. You'll feel better soon."

"Don't be long, Dan," she whispered faintly. "I'm scared to stay
by myself."

Ten minutes later Dan hurried out of the eating-house at the corner,
balancing a bowl of steaming soup in one hand and a plate of food in the
other. He was soaked to the skin, and the rain trickled from his hair
into his eyes. As he crossed the street a gust of wind caught his cap and
hurled it away into the wet night. But he gave no thought to himself or
to the weather, for the miracle had happened. That dancing gleam in the
gutter came from a lighted lamp in a window behind which some one was
waiting for him.

He found Birdie shaking with a violent chill, and it was only after he
had got off her wet coat and wrapped her in a blanket, and persuaded her
to drink the soup that she began to revive.

"What time of night is it?" she asked weakly.

"After eleven. You're going to stay where you are, and I'm going out and
find me a room somewhere. I'll come back in the morning."

All of Birdie's alarms returned.