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360 shawls covering their heads, passed by. Children, thinly clad, with soiled faces and stockingless feet, gazed hungrily in at the shop windows. She knew many of these people by sight and name, but she did not stop to speak to any of them, and, heavily veiled as she was, they did not recognize her.

At the corner by the Silver Star saloon she met Stephen Lamar. Hoping that he would not recognize her she bowed her head and hurried on. But he was not to be deceived nor passed by. He thrust himself across her path.

"Wait!" he said; "I want a word with you."

"I can't wait," she replied. "I am in haste. I have an errand to do."

"You have no errand half so important as is my business with you."

"But I don't choose to talk with you."

She made as if to pass on, but again he blocked her path.

"I know you don't," he replied, "but I choose to talk with you, and I'm going to do it—now."

His voice rose at the end, and he moved nearer to her. It was plain that he was both angry and determined. It was plain too that he had been drinking. His utterance was hoarse and thick, and he slurred an occasional word, as half-drunken men do. The controversy attracted the attention of people passing by, and they stopped to look and listen. She dreaded a scene. It would doubtless be wiser to humor him.

"Very well," she said. "You may walk with me. I am going toward home."

"No," he replied, "I'll not walk with you. We'll go in here to the Silver Star, and sit down quietly, and have it out alone."

He took her arm, turned her about, and moved with her to the side door of the saloon. She did not demur. So long as he must talk with her it might as well be there as elsewhere. They entered, crossed the hall,