“‘I certainly can do it,’ he declared.  He thought of at first making some stipulation as to Bamtz behaving decently to the woman, but his exaggerated delicacy and also the conviction that such a fellow’s promises were worth nothing restrained him.  Anne went a little distance down the path with him talking anxiously.

“’It’s for the kid.  How could I have kept him with me if I had to knock about in towns?  Here he will never know that his mother was a painted woman.  And this Bamtz likes him.  He’s real fond of him.  I suppose I ought to thank God for that.’

“Davidson shuddered at any human creature being brought so low as to have to thank God for the favours or affection of a Bamtz.

“‘And do you think that you can make out to live here?’ he asked gently.

“’Can’t I?  You know I have always stuck to men through thick and thin till they had enough of me.  And now look at me!  But inside I am as I always was.  I have acted on the square to them all one after another.  Only they do get tired somehow.  Oh, Davy!  Harry ought not to have cast me off.  It was he that led me astray.’

“Davidson mentioned to her that Harry the Pearler had been dead now for some years.  Perhaps she had heard?

“She made a sign that she had heard; and walked by the side of Davidson in silence nearly to the bank.  Then she told him that her meeting with him had brought back the old times to her mind.  She had not cried for years.  She was not a crying woman either.  It was hearing herself called Laughing Anne that had started her sobbing like a fool.  Harry was the only man she had loved.  The others —

“She shrugged her shoulders.  But she prided herself on her loyalty to the successive partners of her dismal adventures.  She had never played any tricks in her life.  She was a pal worth having.  But men did get tired.  They did not understand women.  She supposed it had to be.

“Davidson was attempting a veiled warning as to Bamtz, but she interrupted him.  She knew what men were.  She knew what this man was like.  But he had taken wonderfully to the kid.  And Davidson desisted willingly, saying to himself that surely poor Laughing Anne could have no illusions by this time.  She wrung his hand hard at parting.

“’It’s for the kid, Davy—­it’s for the kid.  Isn’t he a bright little chap?’

CHAPTER II

“All this happened about two years before the day when Davidson, sitting in this very room, talked to my friend.  You will see presently how this room can get full.  Every seat’ll be occupied, and as you notice, the tables are set close, so that the backs of the chairs are almost touching.  There is also a good deal of noisy talk here about one o’clock.