did not resist. When he kissed her upon the lips she
leaned heavily against him and looked over his shoulder into the
darkness. In her whole attitude there was a suggestion of waiting.
Again, as in the alleyway, George Willard's mind ran off into words and,
holding the woman tightly, he whispered the words into the still night.
"Lust," he whispered, "lust and night and women."

* * *

George Willard did not understand what happened to him that night on the
hillside. Later, when he got to his own room, he wanted to weep and
then grew half insane with anger and hate. He hated Belle Carpenter and
was sure that all his life he would continue to hate her. On the
hillside he had led the woman to one of the little open spaces among the
bushes and had dropped to his knees beside her. As in the vacant lot, by
the laborers' houses, he had put up his hands in gratitude for the new
power in himself and was waiting for the woman to speak when Ed Handby
appeared.

The bartender did not want to beat the boy, who he thought had tried to
take his woman away. He knew that beating was unnecessary, that he had
power within himself to accomplish his purpose without that. Gripping
George by the shoulder and pulling him to his feet he held him with one
hand while he looked at Belle Carpenter seated on the grass. Then with a
quick wide movement of his arm he sent the younger man sprawling away
into the bushes and began to bully the woman, who had risen to her feet.
"You're no good," he said roughly. "I've half a mind not to bother with
you. I'd let you alone if I didn't want you so much."

On his hands and knees in the bushes George Willard stared at the scene
before him and tried hard to think. He prepared to spring at the man who
had humiliated him. To be beaten seemed infinitely better than to be
thus hurled ignominiously aside.

Three times the young reporter sprang at Ed Handby and each time the
bartender, catching him by the shoulder, hurled him back into the
bushes. The older man seemed prepared to keep the exercise going
indefinitely but George Willard's head struck the root of a tree and he
lay still. Then Ed Handby took Belle Carpenter by the arm and marched
her away.

George heard the man and woman making their way through the bushes. As
he crept down the hillside his heart was sick within him. He hated
himself and he hated the fate that had brought about his humiliation.
When his mind went back to the hour alone in the alley