 air of distinguished valor had grown upon him until it threatened to
reach stupendous dimensions. He was infinitely gracious to the girl. It was
apparent to her that his condescension was a marvel.
    He could appear to strut even while sitting still and he showed that he was
a lion of lordly characteristics by the air with which he spat.
    With Maggie gazing at him wonderingly, he took pride in commanding the
waiters who were, however, indifferent or deaf.
    »Hi, you, git a russle on yehs! What d' hell yehs lookin' at? Two more
beehs, d'yeh hear?«
    He leaned back and critically regarded the person of a girl with a
straw-colored wig who upon the stage was flinging her heels about in somewhat
awkward imitation of a well-known danseuse.
    At times Maggie told Pete long confidential tales of her former home life,
dwelling upon the escapades of the other members of the family and the
difficulties she had had to combat in order to obtain a degree of comfort. He
responded in the accents of philanthropy. He pressed her arm with an air of
reassuring proprietorship.
    »Dey was damn jays,« he said, denouncing the mother and brother.
    The sound of the music which, through the efforts of the frowsy-headed
leader, drifted to her ears in the smoke-filled atmosphere, made the girl dream.
She thought of her former Rum Alley environment and turned to regard Pete's
strong protecting fists. She thought of a collar and cuff manufactory and the
eternal moan of the proprietor: »What een hale do you sink I pie fife dolla a
week for? Play? No, py tamn!« She contemplated Pete's man-subduing eyes and
noted that wealth and prosperity was indicated by his clothes. She imagined a
future, rose-tinted, because of its distance from all that she had experienced
before.
    As to the present she perceived only vague reasons to be miserable. Her life
was Pete's and she considered him worthy of the charge. She would be disturbed
by no particular apprehensions, so long as Pete adored her as he now said he
did. She did not feel like a bad woman. To her knowledge she had never seen any
better.
    At times men at other tables regarded the girl furtively. Pete, aware of it,
nodded at her and grinned. He felt proud.
    »Mag, yer a bloomin' good-looker,« he remarked, studying her face through
the haze. The men made Maggie fear, but she blushed at Pete's words as it became
apparent
