he wore, was graceful. Her throat was bare and she wore no
ornament. His sharp gaze flashed to her left hand. It was guiltless
of any band. He had begun to flush at the thought which prompted
this last observation, and grabbed at a stained bill of fare to
cover his sudden confusion.

She moved away with the piled-up dishes. His gaze followed her
covertly. Even her walk was graceful, not at all the hobble or the
jerky pace or the slouch of the other waitresses.

By and by she came back. She brought tableware and a glass of water.
She placed them meticulously before him. Then, for the first time it
seemed, she looked at Tunis Latham. She halted, her hand still upon
the water glass. She quivered all over. The water slopped upon the
table.

"Oh, is it you, sir?" she said in that timid, breathless whisper he
so well remembered.

"Good evening," Tunis rejoined. "I hope you are well?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Quite well. What will you have, sir?"

She no longer looked at him. Her gaze was roving about her tables,
but more often fixed upon the broad, alpaca-coated shoulders of the
restaurant proprietor at the front of the room.

Tunis ordered almost at random. She repeated the viands named. There
was a tiny tendril of her hair that curled low upon her neck at one
side, caressing the pale satin sheen of the skin. He felt an
overpowering desire to lean forward and press his lips to the tiny
curl!

As though she comprehended his secret wish, a wave of color stained
her throat and cheeks from the line of her frock to her hair. It
poured up under the pallor of the skin, transfiguring her expression
ravishingly. Instead of her countenance being rather wan and weary
looking, in a moment it became as vivid as a freshly opened flower.

She turned swiftly, departing with his order. Tunis was conscious of
a hoarse voice at his elbow. He glanced aside. His neighbor in the
next chair was a little, common man, with a little, common face, on
which was a little, common leer.

"A pip, I'll tell the world," was the neighbor's comment. "Whadjer
s'pose brought her into this dump?"

"The necessity for earning her living," replied Tunis, without
looking again at the man.

"With a face like that?" suggested the man, and fell wordless
again, but not silent, as he attacked his soup.

If there was an opportunity to speak to the girl again, Tunis could
scarcely do so, he thought, for her own sake. It would attract the
attention not only of the f