urse," Mr. Knox said gently, "I suppose I ought not to advise, but
if I were you"--he touched the sparkling ring--"I should give it back to
him."

So after several absorbing talks with her employer on the subject,
Nannie gave the ring back, and when poor Dick passed his friend the
policeman on his way home he stopped and told his story.

"They are all like that," Tommy said, "but if I were you I wouldn't
take 'no' for an answer."

Dick brightened. "Wouldn't you?"

"Not if I had to carry her off under my arm," said Tommy between his
teeth.

"But I can't carry her off, Tommy--and she won't go."

"She'll go if you ain't afraid of her," Tommy told him with solemn
emphasis. "I was afraid."

They were under the street lamp, and Dick stared at him in astonishment.
"I didn't know you were afraid of anything."

"I didn't know it either," was Tommy's grim response, "until I met her.
But I've known it ever since."

"Well, it's hard luck."

"It is hardest at Christmas time," said Tommy, "and my beat ain't the
best one to make me cheerful. There are too many stores. And dolls in
the windows. And drums. And horns. And Santa Claus handing out things to
kids. And I've got to see it, with money just burning in my pocket to
buy things and to have a tree of my own and a turkey in my oven and a
table with some one who cares at the other end. And all I'll get out of
the merry season is a table d'hote at Nitti's and a box of cigars from
the boys."

"Ain't women the limit, Tommy?"

"Well"--Tommy's tone held a note of forced cheerfulness--"that little
redhead must have had some reason for not wanting you, Dick. Maybe we
men ain't worth it."

"Worth what?"

"Marrying. A woman's got a square deal coming to her, and she doesn't
always get it."

"She'd get it with you, and she'd get it with me; you know that, Tommy."

"She might," said Tommy pessimistically, "if the good Lord helped us."

Nannie on the day after her break with Dick was blushingly aware of the
bareness of her third finger as she took Kingdon Knox's dictation. When
he had finished his letters, Knox smiled at her. "So you gave it back,"
he said.

"Yes."

"Good little girl. You'll find something much better if you wait. And I
don't want you wasted." He opened a drawer and took out a long box. He
opened it and lifted a string of beads. They were of carved ivory, and
matched the cream of Nannie's complexion. They were strung strongly on a
thick thread of scarl