"Not yet," she answered demurely. "That is," with a flash of blue eyes, "Mr. Ryan brought me but he sha'n't take me back. He's too thirsty. That first dance you got was the second he'd missed with me." "Forget him!" breathed Micky ecstatically. "I'm in luck." He invariably took things for granted. "But," she recollected, chilling somewhat, "I haven't accepted your escort yet, Mr.--er--O'Byrn. I never met you till tonight." "O, happy night!" he retorted, with the impudence that time would never wither nor custom stale. "Aren't you glad you came?" She laughed again, a girlish, joyous laugh that warmed the heart in the hearing. "I'm it," she averred. "You are certainly the limit. But you aren't in such luck as you think. It's a long way home." "Never too long with you for a pacemaker," he assured her. "And luck--I know the varieties. I've had all kinds." So, as the last waltz ceased and the dancers prepared for departure, he hastened to the door, where Dick was waiting for him, and dismissed that gentleman. Glenwood raised his eyebrows comprehensively and departed alone. The way was short to Mulberry Avenue, all too short for Micky, and as for the lady--well, it would have seemed longer had the discredited Ryan been in her company. There was the first faint hint of dawn in the shrouded sky as Micky left the girl at her door and turned away, with her gracious permission to call on his next night off. So Micky turned to retrace the way now suddenly grown long; agitated stirrings in his warm Irish heart that he could not have explained, those first faint harbingers that come to us all, poor children of fleeting youth, and are stilled ere we can understand. Ah, youth! with its thrilled pulses and fragrant, unspoiled heart, its mysteries divine--and the arid waste beyond, when dreams are done! It's a long way home, indeed! CHAPTER VI THE WEB A wholesale liquor establishment supplied a portion of Shaughnessy's income. Time was, some years before, when it had demanded all of its proprietor's time and undeniable talents, but now a gradually increasing if reprehensible sphere of usefulness had made it a side-issue. However, it continued to yield its owner a satisfying revenue and the wicked prospered, after the fashion of this good old world. The fourth ward, contiguous to Goldberg's, while free and easy enough, in very truth, was respectable in comparison with the notorious fifth. It was in this fourth ward, in the quietest district, that Shaughnessy's wholesale house was located. It was in the dingy office of this old brick building that the dark schemes were matured which, with the aid of the worst elements in the city, dominated its affairs. Here Shaughnessy reigned supreme, an unobtrusive king.