se to leap in the air and crack
his ankles together for very joy. "Will I be seeing you again, Nan,
before you leave?"

"Not unless the spirit moves you, Mr. Daney," she answered dryly. She
had no dislike for Andrew Daney, but, since he was the husband of Mrs.
Daney and under that person's dominion, she distrusted him.

"Well then, I'll bid you good-by now, Nan," he announced. "I hope your
lot will fall in pleasanter places than Port Agnew. Good-by, my dear
girl, and good luck to you--always."

"Good-by, Mr. Daney," she replied. "Thank you for bringing the money
over."

XXVI

By an apparent inconsistency in the natural order of human affairs, it
seems that women are called upon far oftener than men to make the
hardest sacrifices; also, the call finds them far more willing, if the
sacrifice is demanded of them by love. Until Andrew Daney had appeared
at the Sawdust Pile with the suddenness of a genie (and a singularly
benevolent genie at that), Nan had spent many days wondering what fate
the future held in store for her. With all the ardor of a prisoner,
she had yearned to leave her jail, although she realized that freedom
for her meant economic ruin. On the Sawdust Pile, she could exist on
the income from the charter of the Brutus, for she had no rent to pay
and no fuel to buy; her proximity to the sea, her little garden and a
few chickens still further solved her economic problems. Away from the
Sawdust Pile, however, life meant parting with her baby. She would
have to place him in some sort of public institution if she would be
free to earn a living for them both, and she was not aware that she
possessed any adaptability for any particular labor which would enable
her to earn one hundred dollars a month, the minimum sum upon which
she could, by the strictest economy, manage to exist and support her
child. Too well she realized the difficulty which an inexperienced
woman has in securing employment in an office or store at a wage
which, by the wildest stretch of the imagination, may be termed
lucrative, and, lacking funds wherewith to tide her over until she
should acquire experience, or even until she should be fortunate
enough to secure any kind of work, inevitable starvation faced her.
Her sole asset was her voice; she had a vague hope that if she could
ever acquire sufficient money to go to New York and buy herself just
sufficient clothing to look well dressed and financially independent,
she might in