was in his pains again, after
they had been hoping he wouldn't have any more; and to-morrow was
Christmas! As she said, everything came at once. Things seemed to swim
before her eyes--Nobby's pain was the most real of all--and as she could
not help him, she wanted to get out of sight. It was all true. Aching
and longing intolerably for something more than she had known, she had
met Will Prescott--and he had loved her--he said so; and he had promised
her books and pictures, and chances for travel and study.

She went into the best room, already trimmed for to-morrow; the
Christmas tree was clustered with gifts and with candles ready for
lighting, and the motto was on the top, '_Gott zur huelfe_.' Jane looked
it all over, and her lip quivered.

'This is pure and honest, as it says,' said she; 'and _I'm_ a lie
myself, cheating father. Christmas to-morrow! 'twon't last long; if
_he_ only knew I go to--I won't say the word--would he ever care about
me again?'

She went into the other room for her shawl.

'Hes my little girl got to go out to-night?' said Adam. 'Well, there's
to-morrow. Doan' stay late, Net,' kissing her good-by.

She pulled the hood over her face and went out, taking the road to the
city, never slackening her pace till the lights along the way grew
thicker, and she came upon the pavements. Crossing the great
thoroughfare, she turned into a narrow street, and from that descended a
short flight of steps into a narrower one lit only by a great lamp in
front of a door, with the word '_Tanzhaus_' above it; she went in here
unhesitatingly. A large room with a bar on one side, small tables in the
middle, and a stage at the farther end; some tables had occupants,
drinking and looking at several women dancing on the stage. This was
Jane's 'place;' the dance house wanted her face at its tables, and as
there was nothing else open, in very desperation she went. She turned
into a smaller room where the private tables were, to which she
belonged; at first they had tried to teach her to dance, but she would
not learn. The furniture was worn, with a slimy polish in spots; an
unclean, stifling smell in the air; a few coarse prints of racers and
champions hung around; and in one place a drunken artist had sketched
one night a Crucifixion on the wall; the owner was angry enough, but
something held back his hand from touching it, and it staid there,
covered by an old newspaper.

As Jane laid away her shawl and hood, a wom