David again turned to enter. He almost ran against a slight, neatly-dressed girl, apparently about twenty, who was just coming out of the doorway. Her black eyes were gleaming, and there were red spots in her cheeks. At sight of her the old man started to hurry away. "Jim Morgan! You come here!" she commanded in a ringing voice. The old man stopped, and came slowly toward her with a hang-dog look. "You've been borrowing money of that man!" she declared. "No I ain't. We were talkin'--talkin' politics. Honest, Katie. We were just talkin' politics." "You were begging money!" She turned her sharp eyes upon David. "Wasn't he?" The old man winked frantically for help with his red eye, and started to slip the dime into his pocket. The girl, without waiting for David's answer, wheeled about so quickly that she caught both the signal for help and the move of the hand pocketward. She pointed at the hand. "Stop that! Now open it up!" "Nothin' in it, Katie," whined her father. "Open that hand!" It slowly opened, and in the centre of the grimy palm lay the dime. "Give it back to him," the girl ordered. Old Jimmie handed David the coin. The girl's eyes blazed. Her wrath burst forth. "Now, sir, you will borrow money, will you!" her sharp voice rang out. "You will lie to me about it, will you!" David hurried inside and heard no more. He made a pot of coffee and warmed half a can of baked beans over his little gas stove. Of this crude meal his stomach would accept little. His condition should have had the delicate and nourishing food that is served an invalid. His appetite longingly remembered meals of other days: the fruit, the eggs on crisp toast, the golden-brown coffee, at breakfast; the soup, the roast, the vegetables, the dessert, at dinner--linen, china, service, food, all dainty. He turned from the meals his imagination saw to the meal upon his chair-table. He smiled whimsically. "Sir," he said reprovingly to his appetite, "you're too ambitious." He had placed his can of condensed milk and bit of butter out on the fire-escape, which he, adopting the East Side's custom, used as an ice-chest, and had put his washed dishes into the soap-box cupboard, when he was startled by a knock. Wondering who could be calling on him, he threw open the door. Kate Morgan stood before him. "I want to see you a minute. May I come in?" "Certainly." David bowed and motioned her in. Her quick eyes noted the bow and the gesture. He drew his one chair into the open space beside the bed. "Won't you please be seated?" She sat down, rested one arm on the corner of his battered wash-stand and crossed her knees.