For the moment he had not recognized her. It was Francis King. She looked straight at him. "Did my father vote for that bill?" she asked, without a prelude of greeting. Avery hesitated. "Oh, is it you, Miss King?" he asked, "I did not see you before. Do you come here often?" "Not very," she said, still looking at him, and with fire gathering in her eyes. "Did my father vote for that bill?" she repeated. "Ah--I--to tell you the truth," began Avery, but she put out her hand and caught firm hold of his arm. "Did my father vote for that bill?" she insisted, and Avery said: --"Yes, I'm sorry to say, he did, Miss King; but--so many did, you know. The fact is--" Her fingers grasped his arm like a vice, and her lips were drawn. "Did Ettie's pa?" she demanded. Avery saw the drift of her thought. "God forgive him! yes," he said, and his own eyes grew troubled and sympathetic. "God may forgave him if he's a mind to," exclaimed Francis, "but I don't want no such God around me, if he does. Any God that wants to forgive men for such work as that ain't fit to associate with no other kind of folks _but_ such men; but I don't mean to allow a good little girl like Ettie to live in the same house with a beast if I know it. She shan't go home again now, not if her pa begs on his knees. He ain't fit to wipe her shoes. 'N my pa!" she exclaimed, scornfully. "My pa talkin' about Ettie being bad, and settin' bad examples for decent girls! Him a talkin'! Him livin' in the same house with my little sister 'n me! Him!" The girl was wrought to a frenzy of scorn, and contempt, and anger. They had passed out with the rest into the street. "Shall I walk home with you?" asked Avery. "Are you alone?" "Yes, I'm alone," she said, with a little dry sob. "I'm alone, an' I ain't goin' home any more. Not while he lives there. It's no decent place for a girl--living in the house with a man like that. I ain't goin' home. I'm goin' to--" It rushed over her brain that she had no other place to go. She held her purse in her hand; it had only two dollars and a few cents in it. She had bought her new dress with the rest. Her step faltered, but her eyes were as fiery and as hard as ever. "You'd better go home," said Avery, softly. "It will only be the harder for you, if you don't. I'm sorry--" She turned on him like a tigress. They were in Union Square now. "Even _you_ think it is all right for good girls to be under the control and live with men like that! Even _you_ think I ought to go home, an' let him boss me an' make rules fer me, an' me pretend to like it an believe as he does, an' look up to him, an' think his way's right an' best! Even _you!_" "No, no," said Avery, softly. "You must be fair, Miss King. I don't think it's right; but--but--I said it was best just now, for--what else can you do?" The girl was facing him as they stood near the fountain in the middle of the square.