The Montague girl listened attentively to the long, wandering recital. At times she would seem to be strongly moved, to tears or something. But mostly she listened with a sympathetic smile, or perhaps with a perfectly rigid face, though at such moments there would be those curious glints of light far back in her gray eyes. Occasionally she would prompt him with a question. In this way she brought out his version of the Sabbath afternoon experience with Dexter. He spared none of the details, for he was all frankness now. He even told how ashamed he had felt having to lead Dexter home from his scandalous grazing before the Methodist Church. He had longed to leap upon the horse and ride him back at a gallop, but he had been unable to do this because there was nothing from which to climb on him, and probably he would have been afraid to gallop the beast, anyway. This had been one of the bits that most strangely moved his listener. Her eyes were moist when he had finished, and some strong emotion seemed about to overpower her, but she had recovered command of herself, and become again the sympathetic provider and counsellor. He would have continued to talk, apparently, for the influence of strong drink had not begun to wane, but the girl at length stopped him. “Listen here, Merton--” she began; her voice was choked to a peculiar hoarseness and she seemed to be threatened with a return of her late strong emotion. She was plainly uncertain of her control, fearing to trust herself to speech, but presently, after efforts which he observed with warmest sympathy, she seemed to recover her poise. She swallowed earnestly several times, wiped her moisture--dimmed eyes with her handkerchief, and continued, “It’s getting late and I’ve got to be over at the show shop. So I’ll tell you what to do next. You go out and get a shave and a haircut and then go home and get cleaned up--you said you had a room and other clothes, didn’t you?” Volubly he told her about the room at Mrs. Patterson’s, and, with a brief return of lucidity, how the sum of ten dollars was now due this heartless society woman who might insist upon its payment before he would again enjoy free access to his excellent wardrobe. “Well, lemme see--” She debated a moment, then reached under the table, fumbled obscurely, and came up with more money. “Now, here, here’s twenty more besides that first I gave you, so you can pay the dame her money and get all fixed up again, fresh suit and clean collar and a shine and everything. No, no--this is my scene; you stay out.” He had waved protestingly at sight of the new money, and now again he blushed.