of his dearest incidents with Alice. It was only a plainly tailored, well-fitted gray ulster but it had been made for him in Evanston and therefore cost more than was necessary for a ready-made coat which might have been as warm; so Dave still had his qualms of selfishness when he picked it up till he remembered how Alice had looked when she first saw him wearing it and how she had cried a little in her shy, gentle way. "Because I'm so glad, Davey!" she explained. "You just must get good things for yourself and not give everything away! My Davey!" she said again and suddenly kissed his hand which clumsily was holding hers. He liked her "Davey"; no one else called him Davey and no one else even knew that she did.
What a right and natural next step for Alice and him to marry! he thought as he buttoned up his collar and went out into the snow. The storm which in the afternoon had started with a few, fine snowflakes in the east wind, had increased to a heavy blow full of flying snow. Dave liked to feel it, he liked the obstacle of the drift under foot and liked the fury of the pelting swirl circling the street lamps and the sting of the wind and flakes on his face. Snow used to help him, supplying him with walks to clean, for which people almost always paid him; he thought about his boyhood's backbreaking labor pleasantly now, it was so surely of his past. He had told Alice about it once; it was another event which had brought them so close together.
He halted before Willard with its windows glowing yellow on the snow. There was Myra Taine's room where Alice must be. Alice's car was parked nearby
