uite unexpectedly.

"I think by to-night everything will be settled. ... What can I do for
you? ... Perhaps you would like to go to your apartment and get some
things together... Or see a friend... Just say the word." Fred roused
himself. A fleeting rebellion flickered and died. He wanted nothing
... least of all to so much as see his former dwelling place. He made
only one request.

"If you're passing that dance hall where they arrested me--you know,
near Jackson Street--drop in and ask for a girl called Ginger. I'd
like to see her."

Watson smiled widely...

The girl Ginger came that very afternoon. She was dressed very quietly
in black, with only a faint trace of make-up on her cheeks. Almost
anyone would have mistaken her for a drab little shopgirl. Fred felt
awkward in her presence.

"I'm going away to-night--for some time," he said, when she had seated
herself. "And I wanted to thank you for your interest when--"

She shook her head. "That wasn't anything," she answered.

He wondered what next to say. It was she who spoke finally.

"I suppose you got out of your mess all right," she half queried.

He opened his cigarette case and offered her a smoke. She declined.

"Well, not altogether... My friend Hilmer worked a compromise... I'm
going to a place to sober up." He laughed bitterly.

She folded her hands. "One of those private sanitariums, I suppose,
where rich guys bluff it out until everything blows over."

"No, you're wrong again... I'm going summering in a state hospital."

Her hands, suddenly unclasped, lifted and fell in startled flight. "An
insane asylum?" she gasped. He leaned forward. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's the only place in this state where they send drunks... I
know plenty who've been through that game... You can't tell me
anything about that."

He stared at her in silence and presently she said:

"What are they doing to you, anyway? Railroading you? I don't believe
you know where you _are_ going."

He shrugged wearily. "No; you're right. And I don't much care."

"Why didn't you send for me?" she demanded. "That night when they got
you I told you I had a pull... I'm not a Hilmer, but I can work a few
people myself... I haven't always been a cheap skate. There was a time
when I had them fighting over me. And that wasn't so long ago,
either... I'm still young--younger than a lot that get by. But,
anyway, I've got a lot of old-memory stuff up my sleeve that can make
so