"Oh, no, thank you, Dougal, but I can’t, really! I’ve got to go to Oakland to-night." "Nonsense! Wait, I’ll get a cab." "I can’t go, honest I can’t. Please don’t tease me!" "Well, I won’t leave you, at any rate!" He put his arm through hers. "You can come down to the ferry, if you want. I’m going to Oakland." "All right, I’ll go, too. But you’re cold! You oughtn’t cross the bay to-night. You ought to go right to bed." "Oh, I’ll be warm enough soon!" They walked along for a while in silence, till she stopped him to ask, "Have you got a pistol with you, Dougal?" "Yes, why?" "Lend it to me, will you?" "Not on your life! What do you want it for?" "Never mind, I want it. Please, Dougal!" "Not after that scrap I saw to-night. I don’t want you in the papers to-morrow morning. You’ve had trouble enough without a shooting scrape. If anybody’s going to shoot Cayley, let me do it!" She sighed, and gave it up. "Do you want to tell me what’s the matter, Fancy?" "No, Dougal, I’d rather not. It doesn’t matter." "You’ll get over it all right, I expect." "Oh, yes, I’ll get over it." "Anyway, you just want to remember you can call on me any time for anything you want, Fancy, barring guns. Don’t get blue when you have good friends to fall back on. We’re with you to a finish, old girl!" "You’re a dear!" She flashed a smile at him. He grinned, and gripped her arm tighter. Then he began to dance her down the sidewalk. Fancy grew hilarious and laughed aloud, excitedly. They began to sing, as they marched, a song they had learned by rote, from Maxim. Neither of them well understood the words: "Josephine est mor-te, Morte en faisant sa—— En faisant sa priè-re A bon Saint Nicolas, Tu-ra-la! Ca n’va gu-ère— Tu-ra-la! Ca n’va pas!" They kept it up in this vein till the Ferry Building was reached. There he bought her ticket and took her to the gate. She still smiled, still flung him her odd jests, still clung affectionately to his arm. "Well, good night, Fancy Gray!" he said at last. "Don’t do anything foolish till I see you again!" His grin was like a blessing. She seemed loath to leave him, and drew back from the gate. She unpinned the little silver watch from her coat and handed it to him. "Say, Dougal, would you mind taking this to a jeweler and having it adjusted for me?" she said suddenly. "It doesn’t go very well, and I won’t have time to attend to it. Don’t forget it. I’ll tell you—perhaps you’d better give it to Elsie—and let her take charge of it." He took it and put it in his vest pocket. "All right," he said, "I’ll give it to her." "Tell her to be careful of it, I’m awfully fond of that watch!" she added. Then her fingers went to the little gold chain with the swastika at her neck and she started to unclasp that, too. "And, Dougal—" "What?" She left the chain where it was. "Never mind, it’s nothing. Good-by, Dougal, you may kiss me if you want to!"