, then she
halted. "Would you rather be alone?" she asked. He signified his
dissent, and she went on: "I know what the blues are like. I sit alone
in the dark a good deal."

She busied herself about the room for a few moments, straightening
things, adjusting the window shades. Allie had the knack of silence,
blessed attribute in man or woman, and to Gray's surprise he found that
her mere presence was comforting. She startled him by saying, suddenly:

"You're hurt! Hurt badly!"

He looked up at her with an instinctive denial upon his lips, but,
realizing the futility of deceit, he nodded. "Yes, Allie."

The girl drew a deep breath, her strong hands closed, harshly she said:
"I could kill anybody that hurt you. I wanted to kill Buddy that time.
Is it those Nelsons? Have they got you down?" There was something
fierce and masterful in Allie's concern, and her inquiry carried with
it even more than a proffer of help; she had, in fact, flung herself
into a protective attitude. She suggested nothing so much as a lioness
roused.

"No, no! It is nothing like that. I merely fooled myself--had a dream.
You wouldn't understand, my dear."

Allie studied him soberly for a moment. "Oh yes, I would! I do! I
understand perfectly. Nobody _could_ understand as well as I do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've been hurt, too." She laid a hand upon her breast. "That's why I
sit in the dark."

"My dear child! I'm sorry. Gus said you were unhappy, but I thought it
was merely--the new life. You're young; you can forget. It's only us
old ones who can't forget. Sometime you must tell me all about it." The
girl smiled faintly, but he nodded, positively: "Oh, it's a relief to
tell somebody! I feel better already for confiding in Ma. Yes, and your
sympathy is mighty soothing, too. It seems almost as if I had come
home." He closed his eyes and laid his head back.

Allie placed her hand upon his forehead and held it there for a moment
before she moved away. It was a cool and tranquilizing palm and he
wished she would hold it there for a long time, so that he could sleep,
forget--

Allie Briskow went to her room, and there she studied her reflection in
the mirror carefully, deliberately, before saying: "You can do it.
You've _got_ to do it, for he's hurt. When a girl is hurt like that, it
makes a woman of her, but when a man's hurt it makes him a little boy.
I--I guess it pays to keep on praying."

It was perhaps a half hour later tha