sailed him? What association brought tears to him who lived by imposing upon others, by pompous cheat and false pretenses?
"Beauchival," he repeated, wiping his eyes, in the silence after the second stanza. "And, as I shay, absholutely fundamental from firsht to lash. Haven't got home, got nothing no more'n beast o' the air or bird o' the field. Kish me, m'dear." He bent and kissed her forehead. "Never leave your home, Joan. You got good home. Not any woodbine maybe. But it's good home and you're good girl. Shtick to your home, m'dear. Shweet home; but I can't shtand any more. G'night, Joan."
The woman in Los Angeles was beginning the third verse, and he hurried away, wiping his eyes, and took refuge in his room.
Joan was about to turn off the radio when she heard a quick footstep in the court, and, slipping to the window, she saw Ket below. So nothing had happened! He had not gone to Adele's or, if he had, he had surprised no secret.
She waited at the casement, conscious of a relief as Ket entered the building. So quickly afterwards that he must have run upstairs, he was at her door.
When she opened it, he looked in and past her, asking, breathlessly, "Who's here?"
"Just the radio going," she replied. 'Dads is in his room."
Ket seized her hotly, pressing his lips violently upon hers. "Kiss me!" he commanded, when he drew back for breath. "You kiss me yourself!"
She did not and she struggled against his fury. "What's the matter with you, Ket?" she cried.
"Just crazy about you. And I'm goin' to get you, kid!"
