"It's no place for a sweet girl to go--that part of town."

"But I'll be with you."

"I don't want you to go down there," he sullenly maintained.

"But why, dear?"

"It's a low, dirty place. I had to locate the shop there to get the room I needed for the rent I could pay. It's not fit for you. I'm going to move uptown in a little while."

"Please let me go," she pleaded.

He shook his head emphatically.

"No."

She turned away to hide the tears. The first real, hideous fear she had ever had about him caught her heart in spite of every effort to fight it down. His workshop might be a myth after all. He had failed in the first test to which she had put him. It was horrible. All the vile suggestions of Jane Anderson rushed now into her memory.

She struggled bravely to keep her head and not break down. It was beyond her strength. A sob strangled her, and she buried her face in her hands.

Jim looked at her in helpless anguish for a moment, started to gather her in his arms and looked around the room in terror.

He leaned over her and whispered tensely:

"For God's sake, Kiddo--don't--don't do that! I didn't mean to hurt you--honest, I didn't. Don't cry any more and I'll take you right down to the black hole, and let you sleep on the floor if you want to. Gee!

I'll give you the whole place, tools, junk and all----"

She lifted her head.

"Will you, Jim?"

"Sure I will! We start this minute if you want to go."

She glanced over his shoulder to see that no one was looking, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again and again.

"It was the first time you ever said no, dear, and it hurt. I'm happy again now. If you'll just let me see you in the shop for five minutes I'll never ask you again."

"All right--tomorrow when you get out of school. I'll take you down.

Holy Mike, that was a dandy kiss! Let's quarrel again--start something else."

She rose laughing and brushed the last trace of tears from her eyes.

"Let's eat dinner now--I'm hungry."

"By George, I'd forgot all about the feed!"

By eight o'clock the storm had abated; the rain suddenly stopped, and the moon peeped through the clouds.

He drove the big racer back at a steady, even stride on her lowest notch of speed--half the time with only his right hand on the wheel and his left gripping hers.

As the lights of Manhattan flashed from the hills beyond the Queensborough Bridge, he leaned close and whispered:

"Happy?"

"Perfectly."

The car was waiting the next day at half-past three.

"It's not far," he said, nodding carelessly. "You needn't put on the coat. Be there in a jiffy."

Down Twenty-third Street to Avenue A, down the avenue to Eighteenth Street, and then he suddenly swung the machine through Eighteenth into Avenue B and stopped below a low, red brick building on the corner.

He set his brakes with a crash, leaped out and extended his hands.

"I didn't like to take you up these stairs at the back of that saloon, little girl, but you would come. Now don't blame me----"

She pressed his arm tenderly.

"Of course I won't blame you. I'm proud and happy to share your life and help you. I'm surprised to see everything so quiet down here. I thought all the East Side was packed with crowded tenements."

"No," he answered, in a matter-of-fact way. "About the only excitement we have in this quarter is an occasional gas explosion in the plant over there, and the noise of the second-hand material men unloading iron. The tenements haven't been built here yet."

He led her quickly past the back door of the saloon and up two narrow flights of stairs to the top of the building, drew from his pocket the key to a heavy padlock and slipped the crooked bolt from the double staples. He unlocked the door with a second key and pushed his way in.

"All righto," he cried.

The straight, narrow hall inside was dark. He fumbled in his pocket and lit the gas.

"The workshop first, or my sleeping den?"

"The workshop first!" she whispered excitedly.

She had made the reality of this shop the supreme test of Jim's word and character. She was in a fever of expectant uncertainty as to its equipment and practical use.

He unlocked the door leading to the front.

"That's my den--we'll come back here."

He passed quickly to the further end of the hall and again used two keys to open the door, and held it back for her to enter.

"I'm sorry it's so dirty--if you get your pretty dress all ruined--it's not my fault, you know."

Mary surveyed the room with an exclamation of delight.

"Oh, what a wonderful place! Why, Jim, you're a magician!"

There could be no doubt about the practical use to which the shop was being put. Its one small window opened on a fire escape in the narrow court in the rear. A skylight in the middle opened with a hinge on the roof and flooded the space with perfect light. An iron ladder swung from the skylight and was hooked up against the ceiling by a hasp fastened to a staple over a work-bench. On one side of the room was a tiny blacksmith's forge, an anvil, hammers and a complete set of tools for working in rough iron. A small gasoline engine supplied the power which turned his lathe and worked the drills, saw and plane. On the other side of the room was arranged a fairly complete chemical laboratory with several retorts, and an oxyhydrogen blow-pipe capable of developing the powerful heat used in the melting and brazing of metals. Beneath the benches were piled automobile supplies of every kind.

"You know how to use all these machines, Jim?" she asked in wonder.