e
friendly, for his pride shrank against having any jars here in these
quarters. He could not bear the idea of a disagreement with these people
with whom he was playing a false part. He took out a couple of excellent
cigars from his waistcoat and gave one to Kenny, who stood picking his
teeth in the doorway.

"Thank you, Mister Fairfax. For a felly who don't smoke, ye smoke the
best cigars."

Sanders refused shortly, and as the whistle of an engine was heard above
the fierce cry of the storm, he rose. He took the eight o'clock express
from Albany to New York. He left all his work to his fireman, jumping on
his locomotive at the last moment, always hanging round Molly Shannon
till she shook him off like a burr. Fairfax put the discarded cigar
back in his pocket. He was not due for some twenty minutes at the
engine-house, and Sanders, gloomily considering his rival, was certain
that Fairfax intended remaining behind with the girl. Indeed, Antony's
impulse to do just this thing was strong. He was tempted to take
Sanders' chair and sit down by Molly. She remained quietly, her eyes
downcast, twisting her handkerchief, which she rolled and unrolled. Mrs.
Kenny cleared away the dishes, her husband lit his cigar and beamed.
Sanders got his hat off the hook, put on his coat slowly, the cloud
black on his face. Fairfax wanted to make the girl lift her eyes to him,
he wanted to look into those grey eyes with the little black flecks
along the iris. As the language of the street went, Molly was crazy
about him. He wanted to feel the sensation that her lifted lashes and
her Irish eyes would bring. Temptations are all of one kind; there are
no different kinds. What they are and where they lead depends upon the
person to whom they come.

"Good-night," said Sanders, shortly. "Give up the door, Kenny, will you?
You're not a ghost."

"I'm going with you, Sanders," Fairfax said; "hold on a bit."

Sanders' heart bounded and his whole expression changed. He growled--

"What are you going for? You're not due. It's cold as hell down in the
yards."

Fairfax was looking at Molly and instinctively she raised her head and
her eyes.

"Better give this cigar to your fireman, Sandy," Fairfax said to him as
the two men buttoned up their coats and bent against the January wind.

"All right," muttered the other graciously, "give it over here. Ain't
this the deuce of a night?"

The wind went down Sandy's throat and neither man spoke again. T