“Oh, t’hell with her,” argued the woman.

Pete appeared disturbed.

“All right,” said she, nodding her head at him.  “All right for you!  We’ll see the next time you ask me to go anywheres with you.”

Pete squirmed.

“Say,” he said, beseechingly, “come wid me a minit an’ I’ll tell yer why.”

The woman waved her hand.

“Oh, that’s all right, you needn’t explain, you know.  You wouldn’t come merely because you wouldn’t come, that’s all there is of it.”

To Pete’s visible distress she turned to the mere boy, bringing him speedily from a terrific rage.  He had been debating whether it would be the part of a man to pick a quarrel with Pete, or would he be justified in striking him savagely with his beer glass without warning.  But he recovered himself when the woman turned to renew her smilings.  He beamed upon her with an expression that was somewhat tipsy and inexpressibly tender.

“Say, shake that Bowery jay,” requested he, in a loud whisper.

“Freddie, you are so droll,” she replied.

Pete reached forward and touched the woman on the arm.

“Come out a minit while I tells yeh why I can’t go wid yer. 
Yer doin’ me dirt, Nell!  I never taut ye’d do me dirt, Nell. 
Come on, will yer?” He spoke in tones of injury.

“Why, I don’t see why I should be interested in your explanations,” said the woman, with a coldness that seemed to reduce Pete to a pulp.

His eyes pleaded with her.  “Come out a minit while I tells yeh.”

The woman nodded slightly at Maggie and the mere boy, “’Scuse me.”

The mere boy interrupted his loving smile and turned a shrivelling glare upon Pete.  His boyish countenance flushed and he spoke, in a whine, to the woman: 

“Oh, I say, Nellie, this ain’t a square deal, you know.  You aren’t goin’ to leave me and go off with that duffer, are you?  I should think—­”

“Why, you dear boy, of course I’m not,” cried the woman, affectionately.  She bended over and whispered in his ear.  He smiled again and settled in his chair as if resolved to wait patiently.

As the woman walked down between the rows of tables, Pete was at her shoulder talking earnestly, apparently in explanation.  The woman waved her hands with studied airs of indifference.  The doors swung behind them, leaving Maggie and the mere boy seated at the table.

Maggie was dazed.  She could dimly perceive that something stupendous had happened.  She wondered why Pete saw fit to remonstrate with the woman, pleading for forgiveness with his eyes.  She thought she noted an air of submission about her leonine Pete.  She was astounded.

The mere boy occupied himself with cock-tails and a cigar.  He was tranquilly silent for half an hour.  Then he bestirred himself and spoke.

“Well,” he said, sighing, “I knew this was the way it would be.”  There was another stillness.  The mere boy seemed to be musing.