ds.

While the farewells were being said at the door the Honorable Patrick
smote Dougherty mightily between the shoulders.

"Jimmy, me boy," he declared, in a giant whisper, "the madam is a
jewel of the first water. Ye're a lucky dog."

"Big Jim" walked homeward with his wife. She seemed quite as
pleased with the lights and show windows in the streets as with the
admiration of the men in Hoogley's. As they passed Seltzer's they
heard the sound of many voices in the cafe. The boys would be
starting the drinks around now and discussing past performances.

At the door of their home Delia paused. The pleasure of the outing
radiated softly from her countenance. She could not hope for Jim of
evenings, but the glory of this one would lighten her lonely hours
for a long time.

"Thank you for taking me out, Jim," she said, gratefully. "You'll be
going back up to Seltzer's now, of course."

"To ---- with Seltzer's," said "Big Jim," emphatically. "And d----
Pat Corrigan! Does he think I haven't got any eyes?"

And the door closed behind both of them.

V

"LITTLE SPECK IN GARNERED FRUIT"

The honeymoon was at its full. There was a flat with the reddest of
new carpets, tasselled portieres and six steins with pewter lids
arranged on a ledge above the wainscoting of the dining-room. The
wonder of it was yet upon them. Neither of them had ever seen a
yellow primrose by the river's brim; but if such a sight had met
their eyes at that time it would have seemed like--well, whatever
the poet expected the right kind of people to see in it besides a
primrose.

The bride sat in the rocker with her feet resting upon the world. She
was wrapt in rosy dreams and a kimono of the same hue. She wondered
what the people in Greenland and Tasmania and Beloochistan were
saying one to another about her marriage to Kid McGarry. Not that it
made any difference. There was no welter-weight from London to the
Southern Cross that could stand up four hours--no; four rounds--with
her bridegroom. And he had been hers for three weeks; and the crook
of her little finger could sway him more than the fist of any
142-pounder in the world.

Love, when it is ours, is the other name for self-abnegation and
sacrifice. When it belongs to people across the airshaft it means
arrogance and self-conceit.

The bride crossed her oxfords and looked thoughtfully at the
distemper Cupids on the ceiling.

"Precious," said she, with the air of Cleopatra ask