The Voice of the City | Page 9

contempt for the
conventions upon which he had fed, and an unhesitating deter-
mination to have this perfect creature for his own.
When the gloves were paid for and wrapped the Carter lingered for a
moment. The dimples at corners of Masie's damask mouth deepened.
All gen- tlemen who bought gloves lingered in just that way. She
curved an arm, showing like Psyche's through her shirt-waist sleeve,
and rested an elbow upon the show-case edge.
Carter had never before encountered a situation of which he had not
been perfect master. But now he stood far more awkward than Bill or
Jack or Mickey. He had no chance of meeting this beautiful girl so-
cially. His mind struggled to recall the nature and habits of shopgirls as
be had read or heard of them. Somehow be had received the idea that
they some- times did not insist too strictly upon the regular channels of
introduction. His heart beat loudly at the thought of proposing an
unconventional meeting with this lovely and virginal being. But the
tumult in his heart gave him courage.

After a few friendly and well-received remarks on general subjects, he
laid his card by her hand on the counter.
"Will you please pardon me," he said, "if I seem too bold; but I
earnestly hope you will allow me the pleasure of seeing you again.
There is my name; I assure you that it is with the greatest respect that I
ask the favor of becoming one of your -- acquaintances. May I not hope
for the privilege?"
Masie knew men - especially men who buy gloves. Without hesitation
she looked him frankly and smil- ingly in the eyes, and said:
"Sure. I guess you're all right. I don't usually go out with strange
gentlemen, though. It ain't quite ladylike. When should you want to see
me again?"
"As soon as I may," said Carter. "If you would allow me to call at your
home, I -- "
Masie laughed musically. "Oh, gee, no!" she said, emphatically. "If you
could see our flat once! There's five of us in three rooms. I'd just like to
see ma's face if I was to bring a gentleman friend there!"
"Anywhere, then," said the enamored Carter, "that will be convenient
to you."
"Say," suggested Masie, with a bright-idea look in her peach-blow face;
"I guess Thursday night will about suit me. Suppose you come to the
corner of Eighth Avenue and Forty-eighth Street at 7:30. I live right
near the corner. But I've got to be back home by eleven. Ma never lets
me stay out after eleven." Carter promised gratefully to keep the tryst,
and then hastened to his mother, who was looking about for him to
ratify her purchase of a bronze Diana.
A salesgirl, with small eyes and an obtuse nose, strolled near Masie,
with a friendly leer.
"Did you make a hit with his nobs, Mase?" she asked, familiarly.
"The gentleman asked permission to call." an- swered Masie, with the
grand air, as she slipped Car- ter's card into the bosom of her waist.
"Permission to call!" echoed small eyes, with a snigger. "Did he say
anything about dinner in the Waldorf and a spin in his auto afterward?"
"Oh, cheese it!" said Masie, wearily. "You've been used to swell things,
I don't think. You've had a swelled bead ever since that hose-cart driver
took you out to a chop suey joint. No, be never mentioned the Waldorf;
but there's a Fifth Avenue address on his card, and if be buys the supper

you can bet your life there won't be no pigtail on the waiter what takes
the order."
As Carter glided away from the Biggest Store with his mother in his
electric runabout, he bit his lip with a dull pain at his heart. He knew
that love had come to him for the first time in all the twenty-nine years
of his life. And that the object of it should make so readily an
appointment with him at a street corner, though it was a step toward his
desires, tor- tured him with misgivings.
Carter did not know the shopgirl. He did not know that her home is
often either a scarcely habit- able tiny room or a domicile filled to
overflowing with kith and kin. The street-corner is her parlor, the park
is her drawing-room; the avenue is her garden walk; yet for the most
part she is as inviolate mis- tress of herself in them as is my lady inside
her tapestried chamber.
One evening at dusk, two weeks after their first meeting, Carter and
Masie strolled arm-in-arm into a little, dimly-lit park. They found a
bench, tree- shadowed and secluded, and sat there.
For the first time his arm stole gently around her.