and, closing the door, leaned his broad back
against it.

"Goin' away, Hermy?" he enquired softly, looking her over with his slow
gaze.

"Yes."

"Goin' far, Hermy?"

"I don't know."

"Goin'--alone, Hermy?"

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"T' save ye from--hell!" he answered, his voice rising loud and harsh on
the last word. "Oh, I know," he went on fiercely, "I know why you're all
dolled up in your best. I know as you mean t' go away to-night with--him.
But you ain't goin', girl--you ain't."

"To-night," she said gently, "is my wedding night."

M'Ginnis lifted a hand and wrenched at the silken neckerchief he wore as
though it choked him.

"No!" he cried, "you ain't a-goin' t' get no wedding, Hermy; he don't
mean t' give ye a square deal. He's foolin' ye--foolin' ye, girl! Oh,"
said he through shut teeth, "ye thought I was safe out o' the way, I
guess. You ought t' known better; th' p'lice couldn't hold me, they
never will. Anyway, I've kept tabs on ye--I know as you've been meeting
him--in a wood! I know," here M'Ginnis seemed to choke again, "I know of
you an' him--kissin' an' cuddlin'--oh, I've kept tabs on ye--"

"Yes," she said gently, "I saw your spy at work."

"But y' can't deny it. Y' don't deny it! Say, what kind o' girl are
you?"

"The kind that doesn't fear men like you."

"But y' can't deny meetin' him," he repeated, his hoarse voice
quivering; "you don't deny--kissin' him--in a wood! Only deny it, Hermy,
only say you didn't, an' I'll choke th' life out of any guy as says you
did--only deny it, Hermy."

"But I don't want to deny it. If your spy had ears he can tell you that
we are going to be married. Now go."

Once more M'Ginnis reached up to his throat and trenched off the
neckerchief altogether.

"Married!" he cried, "an' t' him! He's foolin' ye, Hermy, by God he is!
Girl, I'm tellin' ye straight an' true--he'll never marry ye. His kind
don't marry Tenth Av'ner girls--Nooport an' Fifth Av'ner's a good ways
from Hell's Kitchen an' Tenth Av'ner, an' they can't ever come t'gether,
I reckon."

"Ah!" sighed she, falling back a step, "what do you mean?"

"Why, I mean," said M'Ginnis, twisting the neckerchief in his powerful
hands much as if it had been the neck of some enemy, "I mean as this guy
as comes here bluffin' about bein' down an' out, this guy as plays at
sellin' peanuts is--Geoffrey Ravenslee, the millionaire."

"But--he is--Arthur's friend!"

"Friend--nothin'!" s