They were coming out of the movies in a stream of people in which
the blackish clothes of factory-hands predominated.

"I came near bawlin' at the picture of the feller leavin' his girl
to go off to the war," said Fuselli.

"Did yer?"

"It was just like it was with me. Ever been in Frisco, Powers?"

The tall youth shook his head. Then he took off his broad-brimmed
hat and ran his fingers over his stubby tow-head.

"Gee, it was some hot in there," he muttered.

"Well, it's like this," said Fuselli. "You have to cross the ferry
to Oakland. My aunt...ye know I ain't got any mother, so I always
live at my aunt's.... My aunt an' her sister-in-law an' Mabe...
Mabe's my girl...they all came over on the ferry-boat, 'spite of
my tellin' 'em I didn't want 'em. An' Mabe said she was mad at me,
'cause she'd seen the letter I wrote Georgine Slater. She was a
toughie, lived in our street, I used to write mash notes to. An' I
kep' tellin' Mabe I'd done it juss for the hell of it, an' that I
didn't mean nawthin' by it. An' Mabe said she wouldn't never
forgive me, an' then I said maybe I'd be killed an' she'd never
see me again, an' then we all began to bawl. Gawd! it was a
mess.... "

"It's hell sayin' good-by to girls," said Powers, understandingly.
"Cuts a feller all up. I guess it's better to go with coosies. Ye