nd Nancy realised
it was ascending the great hill where the Chateau Hotel looked out over
the old citadel and the wide waters of the busy St. Lawrence river. In a
few minutes the happy companionship of the past few days would be only a
memory.

It was only a little way to her apartments now. Such a very little way.
Yes. The porter would be there. He would take her trunks and baggage,
and then her door would close behind her, and--She remembered that
moment at which she had awakened to consciousness in this man's strong
arms in the poor little saloon of the storm-beaten _Myra_. She
remembered the embracing strength of them, and the way she had thrilled
under their pressure. It had been all very wonderful.

"Say!"

Bull Sternford had turned back from the window. He was smiling again.

"Yes?" The girl was all eager attention.

"I was wondering," Bull went on. "Maybe you'll' fancy hearing how things
are fixed after I see Peterman?"

"I'll be ever so glad. There's the 'phone. You can get me most any time
after business hours. I don't go out much. I--"

Nancy broke off to glance out of the window. The automobile had slowed.

"Why, we're at my place," she cried. And the man fancied he detected
disappointment in her tone.

The car stopped before the apartment house, and Bull hurled himself at
the litter of the girl's belongings strewn about their feet. A few
moments later they were standing together on the sidewalk surrounded by
the baggage.

Bull gazed up at the building.

"You live here?" he asked at random.

Nancy nodded.

"Yes. It isn't much. But some day, maybe, I'll be able to afford a swell
apartment with--"

"Sure you will," Bull agreed, as they passed up the steps to the
entrance doors. "But meanwhile I mostly need your 'phone number of
this," he added with a laugh.

The baggage was left to the porter's care, and they stood together in
the hallway. Bull's youthful stature was overshadowing for all Nancy
was tall. Somehow the girl was glad of it. She liked his height, and the
breadth of his great shoulders, and the power of limbs his tweed suit
was powerless to disguise.

She moved across to the porter's office and wrote down her 'phone number
while the man looked on. But he only had eyes for the girl herself. At
that moment her telephone number was the last thing he desired to think
about.

She stood up and offered him the paper.

"You won't forget it that way," she said, with a smile.

"No."