CHAPTER XXVII. “Yes,” he said, “I shall come. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. . "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. “All right?” he asked. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself. Then—then we shall be together. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. “We’ll clean up everything tidy,” said Capes.
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