Eddie took her pressed-plush elbow in the cup of his hand and looked down at her, trying in vain to capture the bright flame of her glance. "Nothing's the matter, Eddie. Why should I be mad? I been busy--that's all." The tide of home-going New York caught them in its six-o'clock vortex. Shops emptied and street-cars filled. A newsboy fell beneath a car, and Broadway parted like a Red Sea for an overworked ambulance, the mission of which was futile. A lady in a fourteen-hundred-fifty-dollar unborn-lamb coat and a notorious dog-collar of pearls stepped out of a wine-colored limousine into the gold-leaf foyer of a hotel. A ten-story emporium ran an iron grating across its entrance, and ten watchmen reported for night duty. "Aw, gee! They're closed! Ain't that the limit now! Ain't that the limit! I wanted some pink tulle." "Poor kid! Don't you care! You can get it tomorrow--you can work Gregory." "I--I wanted it for tonight." "What?" "I wanted it for my yoke." They turned into the dark aisle of a side street; the wind lurked around the corner to leap at them. "Oh-h-h-h!" He held tight to her arm. "It's some night--ain't it, girlie?" "I should say so!" "Poor little kid!" Eddie's voice was suddenly the lover's, full of that quality which is like unto the ting of a silver bell after the clapper is quiet. "You're coming home to a good hot supper with me, Goldie--ain't you, Goldie? Addie'll like it." She withdrew her hand from the curve of his elbow. "I can't, Eddie--not tonight. I--tell her I'm coming over real soon." "Oh!" "It's sure cold, ain't it?" "Goldie, can't you tell a fellow what's the matter? Can't you tell me why you been dodging me--us--for two weeks? Can't you tell a fellow--huh, Goldie?" "Geewhillikins, Eddie! Ain't I told you it's nothing? There ain't a girl could be a better friend to Addie than me." "I know that, Goldie; but--" "Didn't we work in the same office thick as peas for two whole years before her--accident--even before I knew she had a brother? Ain't I stuck to her right through--ain't I?" "You know that ain't what I mean, Goldie. You been a swell friend to poor Addie, stayin' with her Sundays when you could be havin' a swell time and all; but it's me I'm talking about, Goldie. Sometimes--sometimes I--" "Aw!" "I've never talked straight out about it before, Goldie; but you--you remember the night--the night I rigged up like a Christmas tree, and you said I was all the ice-cream in my white pants--the night Addie was run over and they sent for me?" "Will I ever forget it!" "I was tuning up that evening to tell you, Goldie--while we were sitting there on your stoop, with the street-light in our eyes, and you screechin' every time a June-bug bumbled in your face!" "Gawd, how I hate bugs! There was one in Miss Gregory's--" "I was going to tell you that night, Goldie, that there was only one girl--one girl for me--and--"