the chorus lady; the starting
point of the high cost of living. We New Yorkers despise it because we
can't afford it."

"The lights!" gasped Hawksley.

"Wreckers' lights. Behold! Yonder is a highly nutritious whisky blinking
its bloomin' farewell. Do you chew gum? Even if you don't, in a few
minutes I'll give you a cud for thought. Chewing gum was invented by a
man with a talkative wife. He missed the physiological point, however,
that a body can chew and talk at the same time. Come on!"

They went on uptown, Hawksley highly amused, exhilarated, but frequently
puzzled. The pungent irony of her observations conveyed to him that
under this gayety was a current of extreme bitterness. "I say, are all
American girls like you?"

"Heavens, no! Why?"

"Because I never met one like you before. Rather stilted--on their good
behaviour, I fancy."

"And I interest you because I'm not on my good behaviour?" Kitty whipped
back.

"Because you are as God made you--without camouflage."

"The poor innocent young man! I'm nothing but camouflage to-night. Why
are you risking your life in the street? Why am I sharing that risk?
Because we both feel bound and are blindly trying to break through. What
do you know about me? Nothing. What do I know about you? Nothing. But
what do we care? Come on, come on!"

Tumpitum--tump! tumpitum--tump! drummed the Elevated. Kitty laughed. The
tocsin! Always something happened when she heard it.

"Pearls!" she cried, dragging him toward a jeweller's window.

"No!" he said, holding back. "I hate--jewels! How I hate them!" He broke
away from her and hurried on.

She had to run after him. Had she hesitated they might have become
separated. Hated jewels? No, no! There should be no questions, verbal or
mental, this night. She presently forced him to slow down. "Not so fast!
We must never become separated," she warned. "Our safety--such as it
is--lies in being together."

"I'm an ass. Perhaps my head is ratty without my realizing it. I fancy
I'm like a dog that's been kicked; I'm trying to run away from the pain.
What's this tomb?"

"The Metropolitan Opera House."

As they were passing a thin, wailing sound came to the ears of both.
Seated with his back to the wall was a blind fiddler with a tin cup
strapped to a knee. He was out of bounds; he had no right on Broadway;
but he possessed a singular advantage over the law. He could not be
forced to move on without his guide--if he were honestly bli