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Yet
he walked purposefully and, little by little, faster. He looked about
him in a sort of dazed bewilderment when she disengaged her hand and
stopped, at last, at the corner of the delicatessen shop, beside the
entrance to her little tunnel.
"Here's where I live," she said.
"Where you _live!_" he echoed blankly.
"Ever since I went away--to California. I've been right here--where I
could almost see the smoke of your chimneys. I've a queer little room--I
only pay three dollars a week for it--but--it's big enough to be alone
in."
"Rose ..." he said hoarsely.
A drunken man came lurching pitiably down the street. She shrank into
the dark mouth of the passage and Rodney followed her, found her with
his hands, and heard her voice, speaking breathlessly, in gasps. He
hardly knew what she was saying.
"It's been wonderful.... I know we haven't talked; we'll do that some
other time, somewhere where we can.... But to-night, walking along like
that, just as ... To-morrow, I shall think it was all a dream.


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