"Yeh; and while we were sittin' there gigglin' and screechin' at June-bugs poor Addie was provin' that a street-car fender has got it all over a mangling-machine." "Yes; it's like she says about herself--she was payin' her initiation fee for life membership into the Society of Cripples with a perfectly good hip and a bit of spine." "Poor Addie! Gawd, how she loved to dance! She used to spend every noon-hour eatin' marshmallows and learning me new steps." The wind soughed in their ears, and Goldie's skirts blew backward like sails. "You haven't got a better friend than Addie right now, girlie! She always says our little flat is yours. The three of us, Goldie--the three of us could--" "It's swell for a girl that ain't got none of her own blood to have a friend like that. Swell, lemme tell you!" "Goldie!" "Yes." "It's like I said--I've never talked right out before, but I got a feelin' you're slippin' away from me like a eel, girlie. You know--aw, you know I ain't much on the elocution stuff; but if it wasn't for Addie and her accident right now--I'd ask you outright--I would. You know what I mean!" "I don't know anything, Eddie; I'm no mind-reader!" "Aw, cut it out, Goldie! You know I'm tied up right now and can't say some of the things I was going to say that night on the stoop. You know what I mean--with Addie's doctor's bills and chair and crutches, and all." "Sure I do, Eddie. You've got no right to think of anything." She turned from him so that her profile was like a white cameo mounted on black velvet. "You just give me a little time, Goldie, and I'll be on my feet, all righty. I just want some kind of understanding between us--that's all." "Oh--you--I--" "I got Joe's job cinched if he goes over to the other firm in March; and by that time, Goldie, you and me and Addie, on eighty per, could--why, we--" She swayed back from his close glance and ran up the first three steps of her rooming-house. Her face was struck with fear suddenly, as with a white flame out of the sky. "'Sh-h-h-h-h-h!" she said. "You mustn't!" He reached for her hand, caught it and held it--but like a man who feels the rope sliding through his fingers and sees his schooner slipping out to sea--slipping out to sea. "Lemme go, Eddie! I gotta go--it's late!" "I _know_, Goldie. They been guyin' me at the office about you passin' me up; and it's right--ain't it? It's--It's him--" She shook her head and tugged for the freedom of her hand. Tears crowded into her eyes like water to the surface of a tumbler just before the overflow. "It's _him_--ain't it, Goldie?" "Well, you won't give--give a girl a chance to say anything. If you'd have given me time I was comin' over and tell you, and--and tell--" "Goldie!" "I was--I was--" "It's none of my business, girlie; but--but he ain't fit for you. He--" "There you go! The whole crowd of you make me--"