ped through the clouds.

He drove the big racer back at a steady, even stride on her lowest notch
of speed--half the time with only his right hand on the wheel and his
left gripping hers.

As the lights of Manhattan flashed from the hills beyond the
Queensborough Bridge, he leaned close and whispered:

"Happy?"

"Perfectly."

The car was waiting the next day at half-past three.

"It's not far," he said, nodding carelessly. "You needn't put on the
coat. Be there in a jiffy."

Down Twenty-third Street to Avenue A, down the avenue to Eighteenth
Street, and then he suddenly swung the machine through Eighteenth into
Avenue B and stopped below a low, red brick building on the corner.

He set his brakes with a crash, leaped out and extended his hands.

"I didn't like to take you up these stairs at the back of that saloon,
little girl, but you would come. Now don't blame me----"

She pressed his arm tenderly.

"Of course I won't blame you. I'm proud and happy to share your life and
help you. I'm surprised to see everything so quiet down here. I thought
all the East Side was packed with crowded tenements."

"No," he answered, in a matter-of-fact way. "About the only excitement
we have in this quarter is an occasional gas explosion in the plant over
there, and the noise of the second-hand material men unloading iron. The
tenements haven't been built here yet."

He led her quickly past the back door of the saloon and up two narrow
flights of stairs to the top of the building, drew from his pocket the
key to a heavy padlock and slipped the crooked bolt from the double
staples. He unlocked the door with a second key and pushed his way in.

"All righto," he cried.

The straight, narrow hall inside was dark. He fumbled in his pocket and
lit the gas.

"The workshop first, or my sleeping den?"

"The workshop first!" she whispered excitedly.

She had made the reality of this shop the supreme test of Jim's word
and character. She was in a fever of expectant uncertainty as to its
equipment and practical use.

He unlocked the door leading to the front.

"That's my den--we'll come back here."

He passed quickly to the further end of the hall and again used two keys
to open the door, and held it back for her to enter.

"I'm sorry it's so dirty--if you get your pretty dress all ruined--it's
not my fault, you know."

Mary surveyed the room with an exclamation of delight.

"Oh, what a wonderful place! Why, Jim, you