THE VERY TIRED GIRL
from the step, and disappeared into the surging, rowdy throng of spectators. A tedious hour later the cab door opened abruptly, and Noreen reappeared.
Her hat was slouched down over her heat-scorched eyes. Her shoulders were limp. Her face was dull, dumb, gray, like a Japanese lantern robbed of its candle. Bluntly she thrust her sketchbook into his hands and threw herself down on the seat beside him.
"Oh, take me home," she begged. "Oh, take me home quick. It's no use," she added with a shrug, "I've seen the whole performance. I've been everywhere—inside the ropes—up on the roofs—out on the waterfront. The Fire Depart ment Men are not 'inefficient.' They're simply bully! And I make no caricatures of heroes!"
The lurch of the cab wheel against a curbstone jerked a faint smile into her face. "Is n't it horrid," she complained, "to have a Talent and a Living that depend altogether upon your getting mad?" Then her eyes flooded with worry. "What shall I do?"
"You'll marry me," said the Political Economist.
"Oh, no!" gasped Noreen. "I shall never, never marry any one! I told you that I could n't afford to be engaged. It takes too much time, and
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