"Now, I've told you not to say that. The reason I'll do the thing she's going to ask of me--if it's what I think it is--is because this girl's a plucky little creature with a soul big enough to lift her out of the muck you probably helped her into. It's because she's got brains, talent, and a heart. It's because--well, it's because I feel like it, and she deserves a friend." "You don't know what she is." It was a snarl from Tom. "You don't--" "Oh, yes, I do; you cur! I know what she was, too. And I even know what she will be; but that doesn't concern you." "The hell it don't!" Obermuller turned his back on him. I was dumb and still. Tom Dorgan had struck me after all. "What is it you want me to do, Nance?" Obermuller asked. "Get him away on a steamer--quick," I murmured--I couldn't look him in the face--"without asking why, or what his name is." He turned to Tom. "Well?" "I won't go--not without her." "Because you're so fond of her, eh? So fond, your first thought on quitting the--country was to come here to get her in trouble. If you've been traced--" "Ah! You wouldn't like that, eh?" sneered Tom. "Would you?" "Well, I've had my share of it. And she ain't. Still--I ... Just what would it be worth to you to have me out of the way?" "Oh, Tom--Tom--" I cried. But Obermuller got in front of me. "It would be worth exactly one dollar and seventy-five cents. I think it will amount to about that for cab-hire. I guess the cars aren't any too safe for you, or it might be less. It may amount to something more before I get you shipped before the mast on the first foreign-bound boat. But what's more important," he added, bringing his fist down with a mighty thump on the table, "you have just ten seconds to make up your mind. At the end of that time I'll ring for the police." * * * * * * * * * * * I went down to the boat to see it sail, Mag, at seven this morning. No, not to say good-by to him. He didn't know I was there. It was to say good-by to my old Tommy; the one I loved. Truly I did love him, Mag, though he never cared for me. No, he didn't. Men don't pull down the women they love; I know that now. If Tom Dorgan had ever cared for me he wouldn't have made a thief of me. If he'd cared, the last place on earth he'd have come to, when he knew the detectives would be on his track, would have been just the first place he made for. If he'd cared, he-- But it's done, Mag. It's all over. Cheap--that's what he is, this Tom Dorgan. Cheaply bad--a cheap bully, cheap-brained. Remember my wishing he'd have been a ventriloquist? Why, that man that tried to sell me to Obermuller hasn't sense enough to be a good scene-shifter. Oh--