“Huh?”

“Not a high-stepper or a looker like you in your day, Mae, none of—­that chorus pep you used to have.  Neat, though.  Great little kid for outdoors.  Nice little shape, too.  Not in your class, but—­but neat.  Eyes like yours, Mae, only not—­not in your class.  A—­a little cast in one of them, but all to the good, Mae.  Nice clean little—­girl, fifteen thou with her, and her old man half owner in the Weeko Woolen Mills.  I—­I need the money, Mae.  The customs is digging up dirt again.  It ain’t like I ’ain’t been on the level with you, girl.  You knew it had to come sooner or later.  Now, didn’t you, Mae?  Now there’s the girl.  Didn’t you?”

Reassured, he crossed to where she sat silent, and placed a large, heavy hand on her shoulder.

“There’s nothing needs to worry you, old girl.  Thirty-five hundred in your jeans and a couple of thou and the flat from me on top.  Gad! it’s a cinch for you, old girl.  I’ve seen ’em ready for the dump at your age, and you—­you’re on the boom yet.  Gad! you’re the only one I ever knew kept her looks and took on weight at the same time.  You’re all right, Mae, and—­and, gad! if I don’t wish sometimes the world was different!  Gad! if—­if I don’t!”

And, rather reassured, he tilted her chin and pinched her cold cheek and touched the corner of his eyes with the back of his wrist.”

“Gad, if—­if I don’t!”

It was as if the flood of her emotion had risen to a wave and at his words frozen on its crest.  She opened her lips to speak, but could only regard him with eyes as hard as ice-fields.

“Now, now, Mae, don’t look thataway.  You’re a sensible woman and know the world’s just built thataway.  I always told you it don’t cost us men nothing but loose change to show ourselves a good time.  You girls gotta pay up in different coin.  If I hadn’t come along some other fellow would, so what’s the use a fellow not showing himself a good time?  You girls know where you get off.  Come, be a sport, old girl!  With thirty-five hundred in your jeans and me wanting to do the square thing—­the piano and all, lemme say to you that you ’ain’t got a kick coming.  Just lemme say that to you—­piano and all, Mae!”

Sobs trembled up, thawing the edge of ice that incased her.  A thin blur of tears rose to her eyes like a premonitory ripple before the coming of the wind.

“You can’t!  You can’t!  You—­you can’t ditch me like that, I tell you.  You—­”

“By God! if you’re going to begin to holler I’ll get out of here so quick it’ll make your head swim!”

“Oh no, you don’t!  Aw, no, you don’t!  You ain’t going to quit so easy for a squint-eyed little hank that—­that your old woman found for you.  Max, you ain’t!  You wouldn’t!  Tell me you wouldn’t, dear.  Tell me!  Tell me!”

“Get off your knees there and behave yourself, Mae!  Looka your dress there, all torn.  This ain’t no barroom.  Get up and behave yourself!  Ain’t you ashamed!  Ain’t you ashamed!”