"Now!" said Goodwin, when at last the missioner had closed the service with his blessing.
The girl was nervous; plainly, she would have been glad to refuse. But Goodwin was in earnest, and, unwillingly enough, she surrendered to the compulsion of his will and went out with him. Outside upon the sidewalk she spoke angrily.
"I don't like the way you act," she said, and her voice had tears in it. "You think a person's got."
Goodwin interrupted. "I don't think nothin'," he said. "I got to find out. An' I can't find out while we're hustlin' to the corner. Come down towards the docks. You're all right with me; an' I got to find out."
He did not even touch her arm, but she went with him.
"Find out what?" she asked uncertainly, as they crossed the street.
"Come on," he answered. "We'll talk by an' by."
He took her down a dark side way which led them to the water-front. Wharves where work was going on roared and shone. The masts and spars of ships rose stark against the sky. Beyond, the river was dotted with lights against the luminous horizon of Manhattan. He slackened his pace. At his side the silent girl trembled and sulked.
"Kid," said Goodwin, "there's one of us two that hasn't made good.
Which is it?"
A jib-boom slanted across a wall over their heads. They were alone among sleeping ships.