At the corner her youthful lover almost pounced upon her.
“Locked out, are yuh?” he asked, his eyes shining.
For the moment she was delighted to see him, for a nameless dread had already laid hold of her. Home meant so much. Up to now it had been her whole life.
“Yes,” she answered feebly.
“Well, let’s stroll on a little,” said the boy. He had not as yet quite made up his mind what to do, but the night was young. It was so fine to have her with him—his.
At the farther corner they passed Officers Maguire and Delahanty, idly swinging their clubs and discussing politics.
“’Tis a shame,” Officer Delahanty was saying, “the way things are run now,” but he paused to add, “Ain’t that old Rogaum’s girl over there with young Almerting?”
“It is,” replied Maguire, looking after.
“Well, I’m thinkin’ he’d better be keepin’ an eye on her,” said the former. “She’s too young to be runnin’ around with the likes o’ him.”
Maguire agreed. “He’s a young tough,” he observed. “I never liked him. He’s too fresh. He works over here in Myer’s tobacco factory, and belongs to The Roosters. He’s up to no good, I’ll warrant that.”