he sort!
I tell you--"

Eskew rose to his feet and pounded the pavement with his stick. "It
stands to reason that she won't stick to a man no other decent woman
will speak to, a feller that's been the mark for every stone throwed in
the town, ever since he was a boy, an outcast with a reputation as
black as a preacher's shoes on Sunday! I don't care if he's her oldest
friend on EARTH, she won't stick to him! She walked with him
yesterday, but you can mark my words: his goose is cooked!" The old
man's voice rose, shrill and high. "It ain't in human nature fer her
to do it! You hear what I say: you'll never see her with Joe Louden
again in this livin' world, and she as good as told me so, herself,
last night. You can take your oath she's quit him already! Don't--"

Eskew paused abruptly, his eyes widening behind his spectacles; his jaw
fell; his stick, raised to hammer the pavement, remained suspended in
the air. A sudden color rushed over his face, and he dropped
speechless in his chair. The others, after staring at him in momentary
alarm, followed the direction of his gaze.

Just across Main Street, and in plain view, was the entrance to the
stairway which led to Joe's office. Ariel Tabor, all in cool gray,
carrying a big bunch of white roses in her white-gloved hands, had just
crossed the sidewalk from a carriage and was ascending the dark
stairway. A moment later she came down again, empty-handed, got into
the carriage, and drove away.

"She missed him," said Squire Buckalew. "I saw him go out half an hour
ago. BUT," he added, and, exercising a self-restraint close upon the
saintly, did not even glance toward the heap which was Mr. Arp, "I
notice she left her flowers!"

Ariel was not the only one who climbed the dingy stairs that day and
read the pencilled script upon Joe's door: "Will not return until
evening. J. Louden." Many others came, all exceedingly unlike the
first visitor: some were quick and watchful, dodging into the narrow
entrance furtively; some smiled contemptuously as long as they were in
view of the street, drooping wanly as they reached the stairs: some
were brazen and amused; and some were thin and troubled. Not all of
them read the message, for not all could read, but all looked curiously
through the half-opened door at the many roses which lifted their heads
delicately from a water-pitcher on Joe's desk to scent that dusty place
with their cool breath.

Most of these clie