s no place
there, and that if he appears on its sacred pavements he is apt to be
looked upon as an audacious intruder.

Armitage rested from his work and looked around him, dazed by the bustle
and noise. The gay, busy city was such a contrast with the quiet,
peaceful life he had led for the past few months that the sudden change
was startling. It had all the attraction of novelty. The afternoon
parade was at its height, and he was interested watching the
promenaders. Never had he seen so many pretty girls. There were styles
of beauty to suit every taste--blondes and brunettes. Tall, graceful,
aristocratic girls; short, plump, vivacious girls. Some had the grace of
stately lilies, others the charm and fragrance of the full-blown rose.
Each rivaled the other in chic of costume, all were merry and full of
the exuberance of youth. They passed in twos and threes and as Armitage
watched them, he wondered where his girl was--the one girl in the world!
He knew that she was in New York, and he also knew where her home was on
Fifth Avenue. Perhaps if he stayed there long enough, he would see her
go by.

He had not heard from Grace since they landed in Boston. He reviewed in
his mind all that had occurred since the wreck of the _Atlanta_, that
ever-memorable night when, swimming for his life in the raging seas, he
had felt her limp body lying heavily on his left arm. Then came their
long sojourn together on Hope Island, a blissful dream rudely
interrupted by the untimely arrival of the _Saucy Polly_. Then their
return to America. Even on the voyage home they were no longer the same
to each other. In her new clothes, borrowed from the stewardess, she
looked quite different. He thought he detected more reserve in her
manner toward him. Then, when they arrived in Boston, her father was
waiting for her, and they left at once for New York--on a special train.
He couldn't follow. He had no money and refused to accept any from Mr.
Harmon. He felt amply rewarded for all he had done when Grace smiled
kindly at him as she shook hands and said good-by.

When they had gone he tried to find work. For some days he was
unsuccessful. Times were hard. Instead of employing new men, old hands
were everywhere being discharged by the hundreds. At first he thought of
taking to his old occupation, the sea, but he thought better of it. He
had had enough of seafaring to last him some time. Then, desperate, he
tried to get anything. Men with nerve were