“Cut it out! Nuthin' doin'! She was rotten when she left me, and she's rotten now. Bums round a Raines joint over here on Twenty-eighth Street. Pick up anybody. Came staggerin' into the church full of booze, so a pal o' mine told me, and got half-way down the aisle before they could fire her. Drop in there sometime when you go by and ask the sexton if I'm a-lyin'. No more of that for me, I'm through. There ain't but one place for that kind, and that's Blackwell's Island, and that's where they fetch up. I went through hell afore I saw you because of her, and I'm just pullin' out and I want to stay out.” He raised his head, glanced furtively again at the group by the bar, and in a low whisper muttered: “I've got to go now. They'll get onto me next.” “Never mind those men. They cannot harm you,” Felix answered, and was about to add some word of sympathy, when he checked himself. It would only hurt him the more, he thought. He said instead, his voice conveying what his lips would have uttered: “Do you like it here?” “Got to.” Felix pushed back his chair, stood erect, and with a gesture as if his mind had been made up said: “Would you care to do something else?” The man dropped his broom and straggled to his feet. “Can ye give me somethin'? I been a-tryin' everywhere, but this kind o' work hoodoos a man, and they won't give me no ref'rence 'cause I don't git more'n my board and they don't want to lose me. And then”--here he winked meaningly--“I know a thing or two. But, say, do ye mean it? I'll go anywhere you want.” Felix felt in his pocket, drew out a card, and pencilled his address. “Come some night--say about eight o'clock. It's not far from here. I am glad you pulled yourself together and went to work. That is a good deal better than the business you tried to follow when we first met,”--and one of his dry smiles flickered about his mouth. “And now, good night,” and he held out his hand. The man drew back. It was a new experience. “You mean it?” he asked. “Yes, give me your hand. Now that you are decent I want to shake it. That is the only way we can help each other.” Kitty was poring over her accounts when Felix arrived at the express-office and made his way to her sitting-room. She had had a busy day, the holiday season always bringing a rush of extra work, and her wagons had been kept going since daylight. The trend of travel was to Long Island and Jersey towns, the goods being mainly for the Christmas and New Year's festivities. John was away--somewhere between the Battery and Central Park--and so were Mike and Bobby, the boy having been pressed into service now that his vacation had begun. “Are you too busy to talk to me, Mistress Kitty?” he said, stripping off his mackintosh and hanging it where its drip would do no harm.