eyes; and then she
smiled sunnily through them, and one of her arms slid tenderly about
the broker's neck.

"I know now," she said, softly. "It's this old business that has driven
everything else out of your head for the time. I was frightened at
first. Don't you remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at 8
o'clock in the Little Church Around the Corner."

AFTER TWENTY YEARS

The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The
impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few.
The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with
a taste of rain in them had well nigh de-peopled the streets.

Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and
artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown
the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight
swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity
was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of
a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the
doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.

When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his
walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an
unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man
spoke up quickly.

"It's all right, officer," he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waiting for
a friend. It's an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little
funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like to make
certain it's all straight. About that long ago there used to be a
restaurant where this store stands--'Big Joe' Brady's restaurant."

"Until five years ago," said the policeman. "It was torn down then."

The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light
showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white
scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly
set.

"Twenty years ago to-night," said the man, "I dined here at 'Big Joe'
Brady's with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the
world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers,
together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to
start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn't have dragged Jimmy
out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we
agreed that night t