"Listen, Molly, it's I, Jack Graham."
"Yes, Jack."
"And I want you to do just as I say. Will you do it?"
"Yes, Jack."
"I want you to go with me. Do you trust me, Molly?"
She began to sob violently, almost convulsively, dabbing uncertainly at her eyes.
"What is it, Jack? What am I doing here?"
"Nothing; it's all right. Will you come with me? Ah, that's better."
She looked about her with intelligence.
"What is it, boys? How did I come here?" Her glance wandered past them to the dance hall, and she turned away suddenly. "Ah! I remember!" The strained look began to come back into her face.