"
"But no," he replied, imitating her tone. "Watch the supper for
me while I go down for more beer."
"I love thee," she called merrily. "Tell the Herr Doktor I love
thee. And here is the pitcher."
When he returned the supper was already laid in the little
kitchen. The cards were put away, and young MacLean and Wallace
Hunter were replacing the cover and the lamp on the card-table.
Stewart was orating from a pinnacle of proprietorship.
"Exactly," he was saying, in reply to something gone before; "I
used to come here Saturday nights--used to come early and take a
bath. Worthington had rented it furnished for a song. Used to sit
in a corner and envy Worthington his bathtub, and that lamp
there, and decent food, and a bed that didn't suffer from
necrosis in the center. Then when he was called home I took it."
"Girl and all, wasn't it?"
"Girl and all. Old Worth said she was straight, and, by Jove, she
is. He came back last fall on his wedding trip--he married a
wealthy girl and came to see us. I was out, but Marie was here.
There was the deuce to pay."
He lowered his voice. The men had gathered about him in a group.
"Jealous, eh?" from Hunter.
"Jealous? No! He tried to kiss her and she hit him--said he
didn't respect her!"
"It's a curious code of honor," said Boyer thoughtfully. And
indeed to none but Stewart did it seem amusing. This little girl
of the streets, driven by God knows what necessity to make her
own code and, having made it, living up to it with every fiber of
her.
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