me, Masie," he whispered softly, "and we will go away from
this ugly city to beautiful ones. We will forget work and business,
and life will be one long holiday. I know where I should take you--I
have been there often. Just think of a shore where summer is eternal,
where the waves are always rippling on the lovely beach and the
people are happy and free as children. We will sail to those shores
and remain there as long as you please. In one of those far-away
cities there are grand and lovely palaces and towers full of
beautiful pictures and statues. The streets of the city are water,
and one travels about in--"

"I know," said Masie, sitting up suddenly. "Gondolas."

"Yes," smiled Carter.

"I thought so," said Masie.

"And then," continued Carter, "we will travel on and see whatever we
wish in the world. After the European cities we will visit India and
the ancient cities there, and ride on elephants and see the wonderful
temples of the Hindoos and Brahmins and the Japanese gardens and the
camel trains and chariot races in Persia, and all the queer sights of
foreign countries. Don't you think you would like it, Masie?"

Masie rose to her feet.

"I think we had better be going home," she said, coolly. "It's
getting late."

Carter humored her. He had come to know her varying, thistle-down
moods, and that it was useless to combat them. But he felt a certain
happy triumph. He had held for a moment, though but by a silken
thread, the soul of his wild Psyche, and hope was stronger within
him. Once she had folded her wings and her cool hand had closed about
his own.

At the Biggest Store the next day Masie's chum, Lulu, waylaid her in
an angle of the counter.

"How are you and your swell friend making it? she asked.

"Oh, him?" said Masie, patting her side curls. "He ain't in it any
more. Say, Lu, what do you think that fellow wanted me to do?"

"Go on the stage?" guessed Lulu, breathlessly.

"Nit; he's too cheap a guy for that. He wanted me to marry him and go
down to Coney Island for a wedding tour!"

IV

DOUGHERTY'S EYE-OPENER

Big Jim Dougherty was a sport. He belonged to that race of men.
In Manhattan it is a distinct race. They are the Caribs of the
North--strong, artful, self-sufficient, clannish, honorable within
the laws of their race, holding in lenient contempt neighboring
tribes who bow to the measure of Society's tapeline. I refer, of
course, to the titled nobility of sportdom. There