Steve took his place in the traffic that was going on, and nodded soberly to the eager, dusky woman.
"Get right along, An-ina," he said kindly. "Guess they're needing you."
"Oh, yes? Marcel—Keeko." An-ina's eyes lit.
"Sure—and Keeko."
And the man's smile as he turned to the waiting customers was something An-ina, at least, was never likely to forget.
Steve contemplated many things for that night. He contemplated unlocking the doors of those hidden secrets of his life to which no one had been admitted. But disappointment awaited him.
When the last of the Sleepers took their departure and the store was closed for the night he passed into the kitchen for his supper. He looked to find Keeko. He looked to find Marcel. He looked to revel in those moments of happiness which still seemed utterly unreal, even impossible. There were so many things he still had to learn before——
But An-ina had all the wisdom of a great mother. And, in response to his question, he received the final verdict from which there was no appeal.
"Keeko all beat to death," she said, with quiet assurance. "She sleep plenty. Oh, yes. Marcel he much angry with An-ina."
She glanced swiftly across at the great figure of Marcel, lounging over the cook-stove, smoking with the happy content of a luxurious dreamer. The smile that responded to An-ina's sly glance was one of boyish shyness and held no threat of displeasure.