“Where on earth have you been, kid?” he demanded querulously. “Everything’s getting cold.”
“Oh, have a heart, old dear,” said Polly Pendleton, dabbing indefinitely at her countenance with a handkerchief. “I had to powder my nose, didn’t I?”
CHAPTER XV
THE ORIGINAL SIN
AS JOSLIN wandered along a street unknown to him, lighted by flickering arc lights, he was not conscious of the exercise of any of his faculties, but a faint, sweetish smell came to him, a thing familiar in its way. It was the smell of distilled liquors. He looked up, and saw by the sign above the door that here one by the name of John Moran sold aged whiskeys bonded in the wood.
Inside, the room was still light, though now the proprietor was beginning to put away his bottles for the night, it being past midnight. Joslin turned in at the door without any definite purpose in his mind. The proprietor looked at him inquiringly, standing at attention behind the bar. Joslin swayed slightly as he approached, and placed his last two coins upon the counter. The bar man was of the very plausible belief that his customer was already the worse for liquor.
“Sir,” said he, “that’s all the money I have. I want to rest here to-night if I may. I want to give you the dime, and I want you to let me keep this quarter.”