think I know. What I wanted to see you about
was--was--Max and I are going over right after supper, and----"

She stopped abruptly; and Bannon, looking down at her, saw a look of
embarrassment come into her face; and then she blushed, and lowering her
eyes, fumbled with her glove. Bannon was a little puzzled. His eyes
rested on her for a moment, and then, without understanding why, he
suddenly knew that she had meant to ask him to see her after the visit,
and that the new personal something in their acquaintance had flashed a
warning. He spoke quickly, as if he were the first to think of it.

"If you don't mind, I'll come around to-night and hear the report of the
committee of adjusters. That's you, you know. Something might come up
that I ought to know right away."

"Yes," she replied rapidly, without looking up, "perhaps that would be
the best thing to do."

He walked along with her toward the office, where Max was waiting, but
she did not say anything, and he turned in with: "I won't say
good-night, then. Good luck to you."

It was soon after eight that Bannon went to the boarding-house where
Hilda and Max lived, and sat down to wait in the parlor. When a quarter
of an hour had gone, and they had not returned, he buttoned up his coat
and went out, walking slowly along the uneven sidewalk toward the river.
The night was clear, and he could see, across the flats and over the
tracks, where tiny signal lanterns were waving and circling, and freight
trains were bumping and rumbling, the glow of the arc lamps on the
elevator, and its square outline against the sky. Now and then, when the
noise of the switching trains let down, he could hear the hoisting
engines. Once he stopped and looked eastward at the clouds of
illuminated smoke above the factories and at the red blast of the
rolling mill. He went nearly to the river and had to turn back and walk
slowly. Finally he heard Max's laugh, and then he saw them coming down a
side street.

"Well," he said, "you don't sound like bad news."

"I don't believe we are very bad," replied Hilda.

"Should say not," put in Max. "It's finer'n silk."

Hilda said, "Max," in a low voice, but he went on:--

"The best thing, Mr. Bannon, was when I told him it was Hilda that had
been sending things around. He thought it was you, you see, and Grady'd
told him it was all a part of the game to bamboozle him out of the money
that was rightfully his. It's funny to hear him sling that Gra