of a tremendous animal force in his square chin and thick
neck, but it was balanced well by his broad brow and wide-set eyes. He
seemed at this moment to hold himself in check with a rigid
stubbornness that answered for his New England origin, and Puritan
ancestry! Indeed, at the moment he addressed the woman, but for his
eyes, he might have seemed as indifferent as any of the stone figures
that upheld the iron girders of the roof above him!

Still smiling archly she moved forward into the waiting room and,
passing through the dense crowd that hung about the door, crossed the
room to an open space.

Without a word the man followed.

The room was dimly lighted. The crowd that surged about them, coming
and going, and sometimes pressing close on every side, seemed not to
note them. And, if they had, they would have seen nothing more
remarkable than an extremely pretty young woman conversing quietly
with a big fellow in a reefer and long boots--a rig he carried well.

"Dora!" he said again, and then had to pause to steady his voice.

Dora wet her red lips with the pointed tip of her tiny tongue;
swallowed nervously once or twice, before she spoke. She was now
facing him, and still smiling.

He kept his eyes fixed on her face. He did not respond to the smile.
His eyes were tragic. He seemed to be seeking something in her face as
if he feared her mere words would not help him.

"Why, Zeke," she said at last, when she realized that he could not get
beyond her name, "I thought you had gone home an hour ago! Why didn't
you take the 5.15 train?"

"I changed my mind! To tell you the truth, I heard that you were in
town this afternoon. I have been watching for you--for some time."

"Well, all I can say is--you are foolish. Where's the good for you
fretting yourself so? I can take care of myself."

"I can't get used to you being about in the city streets alone."

"How absurd!"

"I have been absurd a great many times of late--in your eyes. Our
ideas don't seem to agree any more."

"No, Zeke, they don't!"

"Why speak to me in that tone, Dora? Don't do it!"

He looked over her head, as if to be sure of his hold on himself. He
was ghastly white about his smooth-shaven, thick lips. Both hands were
thrust deep into his reefer pockets.

"What's come to you, Zeke?" she asked nervously. His was not exactly
the face one would see unmoved!

He answered her without looking at her. It was evident he did not dare
just yet. "