you think that `passing the love of women' isn't
enough for me?"

"No," she answered, humbly.

"I'll have people at work on the old house to-
morrow," he began. "And for the--"

"I've kept you so long!" she interrupted, helped
to a meek sort of gayety by his matter-of-fact tone.
"Good-night, Joe." She gave him her hand. "I
don't want you to come with me. It isn't very
late and this is Canaan."

"I want to come with you, however," he said,
picking up his hat. "You can't go alone."

"But you are so tired, you--"

She was interrupted. There were muffled,
flying footsteps on the stairs, and a shabby little man
ran furtively into the room, shut the door behind
him, and set his back against it. His face was
mottled like a colored map, thick lines of
perspiration shining across the splotches.

"Joe," he panted, "I've got Nashville good, and
he's got me good, too;--I got to clear out. He's
fixed me good, damn him! but he won't trouble
nobody--"