, but he checked the involuntary protest.

"And, second, no more Oakland."

"I don't get that last."

"No more Oakland. No more living in Oakland. I'll die if I have to. It's
pull up stakes and get out."

He digested this slowly.

"Where?" he asked finally.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Smoke a cigarette and think it over."

He shook his head and studied her.

"You mean that?" he asked at length.

"I do. I want to chuck Oakland just as hard as you wanted to chuck the
beefsteak, the coffee, and the butter."

She could see him brace himself. She could feel him brace his very body
ere he answered.

"All right then, if that's what you want. We'll quit Oakland. We'll quit
it cold. God damn it, anyway, it never done nothin' for me, an' I
guess I'm husky enough to scratch for us both anywheres. An' now that's
settled, just tell me what you got it in for Oakland for."

And she told him all she had thought out, marshaled all the facts in
her indictment of Oakland, omitting nothing, not even her last visit to
Doctor Hentley's office nor Billy's drinking. He but drew her closer and
proclaimed his resolves anew. The time passed. The fried potatoes grew
cold, and the stove went out.

When a pause came, Billy stood up, still holding her. He glanced at the
fried potatoes.

"Stone cold," he said, then turned to her. "Come on. Put on your
prettiest. We're goin' up town for something to eat an' to celebrate.
I guess we got a celebration comin', seein' as we're going to pull up
stakes an' pull our freight from the old burg. An' we won't have to
walk. I can borrow a dime from the barber, an' I got enough junk to hock
for a blowout."

His junk proved to be several gold medals won in his amateur days at
boxing tournaments. Once up town and in the pawnshop, Uncle Sam seemed
thoroughly versed in the value of the medals, and Billy jingled a
handful of silver in his pocket as they walked out.

He was as hilarious as a boy, and she joined in his good spirits. When
he stopped at a corner cigar store to buy a sack of Bull Durham, he
changed his mind and bought Imperials.

"Oh, I'm a regular devil," he laughed. "Nothing's too good to-day--not
even tailor-made smokes. An' no chop houses nor Jap joints for you an'
me. It's Barnum's."

They strolled to the restaurant at Seventh and Broadway where they had
had their wedding supper.

"Let's make believed we're not married," Saxon suggested.

"Sure," he agreed, "--an' take a private r