Sheila put the photograph
down and turned away from her
mirror and sighed.
."Poor Phil !" she said.
Even with the happiness of the
expected meeting, Sheila could
not neip Deing sorry ior jrnnip
w Druce. He had loved her for five
years back in the old country,and
he had been so tender and loyal
and good to her. When she told
him about Thomas Shane and her
unalterable loyalty to him, it
nearly broke their hearts.
"But I shall love you just the
same, Sheila," Philip had said.
And he had continued to care for
her and to give her those loving
attentions which her heart nat
urally craved. When at last
Sheila told Phil that she was
about to leave for America, he
had wanted to accompany her,
"in case," as he said, "something
goes wrong. You never can tell,
Sheila took that to be a reflec
tion on Thomas Shane, and was
angry with him for nearly five
minutes the longest period that
.she was ever angry with any
body. Then she laughed and for
gave him, and, seeing that she
would never meet him again, she
gave him well, it was the first
kiss she had ever given anybody
since Thomas sailed from
And here Sheila was in New
York harbor, with the Statue of
Liberty in front of her and the
huge office buildings of lower
Manhattan looming up like
r :nts out of the mist.
Sheila knew that Thomas
Shane was to be found at a cer
tain number on Third avenue.
She dii not know whether he
lived there or merely had his of
fice in that building, but anyway
it did not matter, because she was
going to pay him a surprise visit
and all their troubles would ber
over. As she took her seat in the
Third avenue elevated train'
clutching tightly the purse with
the money nearly fifteen hun
dred dollars in bills, and almost
rupturing the leather receptacle
in which they bulged her heart
kept giving little leaps of glad
ness. And when at last she de
scended and saw te building in
which Thomas was surely at
work -for it was a sort of hall,
with offices rented above she
was so dizzy from excitement
that she could hardly stir.
But presently she summoned
her courage and went in. Sheila
did not like the place. To begin
with, it was a political club, and
rough-looking men in s-hirt
sleeves were lounging about the
entrance, and they eyed her in a
manner that made her uncom
fortable. And then the whole
place reeked with stale tobacco
smoke, and it was dirty and un
swept. But the rough men an
swered her courteously enough1
when Sheila asked for Mr. Shane'
and their faces brightened at the
sound of her pretty Irish accent!
"Tom Shane, Miss? Sure,'
you'll find him in his office
through that door," said one of
Sheila hesitated, for men were
coming and going through the,
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