ng softly. She led the way to
her humble little bedroom, the one which she and Lorna shared. Bob
laid the sister upon the bed, and beckoned Mary to follow him. Lorna
was moving now, her hands tremulous, and she was half-moaning.

"I want my Mary. I want my Mary."

Her sister followed Burke out into the hall, which led down the steps
to the street.

"Now, remember, don't tell her about being drugged. A man at one of
the tables put some knockout drops into a glass of water"--Bob was
softening the blow with a little honest lying--"and I rescued her just
in time. She knows nothing about it--only warn her about the company
that she was in. I have learned that they are worse than worthless. I
will attend to them in my own way, and in the line of my work, Miss
Mary. But, as you love your sister, don't ever let her go with those
men again."

Mary's hand was outstretched toward the young man's, and he took it
gently.

"You've done much for Lorna," she breathed softly, "and more for me!"

There was a sweet pressure from those soft, clasping fingers which
thrilled Bob as though somehow he was burying his face in a bunch of
roses--like that first one which had tapped its soft message for
admission to his heart, back in the hospital.

"Good night. Don't worry. It's all ended well, after all."

Mary drew away her fingers reluctantly as he backed down one step.

"Good night--Bob!"

That was all. She slipped quietly inside the apartment and closed the
door noiselessly behind her.

Bob slowly descended the steps; oddly enough, he felt as though it were
an ascension of some sort. His life seemed to be going into higher
planes, and his hopes and ambitions came fluttering into his brain like
the shower of petals from some blossom-laden tree. He felt anew the
spring of old dreams, and the surge of new ones.

He stumbled, unsteady in his steps, his hands trembling on the railing
of the stairs, until he reached the street level. He hurried out
through the hallway and closed the door behind him.

How he longed to retrace his steps for just one more word! That first
tender use of his name had a wealth of meaning which stirred him more
than a torrent of endearing terms.

The keen bracing air of the early spring morning thrilled him.

He hurried down the street toward the subway station, elated, exalted.

"It's worth fighting every gangster in New York for a girl like her!"
he told himself. "I never realized h