“Why, Spike!  Why, Arthur, old chap—­never mind—­”

“Gimme th’ bottle, Geoff!  Be a pal an’ gimme th’ stuff—­I want t’ forget!”

“This wouldn’t help you.”

“Give it me, d’ ye hear—­I want it—­I’ll have it, anyway—­I’ll—­” Spike’s voice failed, and cowering back, he sank into a chair at sight of her who stood within the doorway so very silent and pale of lip.

“Ah, don’t, Hermy—­don’t look at me like that,” he whispered.  “Your eyes hurt me!  I ain’t drunk—­this time!”

“Oh, boy!” she sighed, “oh, boy—­after all your promises!”

Spike rose with hands stretched out appealingly, but even so, he swayed slightly, and seeing this, she shivered.

“Is it th’ fightin’ you mean, Hermy?  Why, I did it all for you, Hermy, all for you—­I wanted t’ be a champion ’cause all champions are rich.  I wanted t’ make you a real lady—­t’ take you away from Mulligan’s—­but now—­I’m only—­a ‘has-been.’  I’ve lost me chance—­oh, Hermy, I’m done for; I—­oh, Geoff, I—­think I’ll—­go to bed.”

So Ravenslee set down the flask, and, clasping an arm about Spike’s swaying form, led him from the room, while Hermione stood rigid and watched them go.  But when the door had closed behind them, she bowed her head upon her hands and sobbed miserably, until, spying the half-emptied flask through her tears, she sprang forward, and snatching it from the table, dashed it passionately to the floor.

“Oh, dear God of Heaven!” she whispered, sinking to her knees, “not that way—­ah, save him from that—­keep him from treading that path!” With head bowed upon her folded hands she knelt thus awhile until a sound in the passage aroused her, and rising to her feet, she turned and confronted Bud M’Ginnis.

He stood upon the threshold, and though his glowing, eager eyes dwelt yearningly upon her beauty, he made no motion to enter the room.  Upon one cheek the skin was torn and grazed from nose to ear, and upon his powerful throat were vivid marks that showed fierce and red, and these seemed to worry him, for even while he stared upon her loveliness, his hand stole up to his neck, and he touched these glowing blotches gently with his fingers.

“God, Hermy,” said he at last, “you get more beautiful every day!”

She was silent, but reading the fierce scorn in her eyes, he laughed softly and leaned nearer.  “Some day, Hermy, you’ll be—­all mine!  Oh, I can wait; there’s others, an’ you’re worth waitin’ for, I guess.  But some day you’ll come t’ me—­you shall—­you must!  Meantime there’s others, but some day it’ll be you an’ you only—­when you’re my wife.  Ah, marry me, Hermy; I could give you all you want, an’ there’d never be any one else for me—­then!”

Her eyes still met his unflinchingly, only she drew away from his nearness, shivering a little; seeing which, he frowned and clenched one hand, for the other had wandered up to his throat again.

“Won’t ye speak t’ me?” he demanded savagely, then shrugging his great shoulders, he continued in gentler tones:  “I ain’t here t’ quarrel, Hermy; I only came t’ see if th’ Kid got home all right.”  Hermione’s firm, red lips remained tightly closed.  “Did he?” Hermione slowly inclined her head.