Storch sneered. "To-day is Good Friday, I believe… Everyone has grown suddenly pious."
Fred turned his attention to the windows of a tawdry candy shop, filled with unhealthy-looking chocolates and chromatic sweets. He was wondering whether Ginger would pass again to-night. His musings were answered by the suggestive pressure of Storch's hand on his.
"There's a skirt on the Rialto, anyway," Storch was saying, with disdain.
Fred kept his gaze fixed upon the candy-shop window. He was afraid to look up. Could it be that Ginger was passing before him, perhaps for the last time? He caught the vague reflection of a feminine form in the plate-glass window. A surge of relief swept him—at least she was alone!
"She's looking back!" Storch volunteered.
Fred turned. The woman had gained the doorway of the place where she lodged and she was standing with an air of inconsequence as if she had nothing of any purpose on her mind except an appreciation of the night's dark beauty. He looked at her steadily … It was Ginger!
She continued to stand, immobile, wrapped in the sinister patience of her calling. Fred could not take his eyes from her.
"She's waiting for you," Storch said.
Fred smiled wanly.
"Do you want to go? … If you do I'll wait—here!"