“Most fellows would. He’s a tough.”

It was an introduction to an unfamiliar world. The “tough” came to their table and asked for a dance in thick accents. Charlotte paled and accepted. Hugo refused. “Say, bo, I’m askin’ for a dance. I got concessions here. You can’t refuse me, see? I guess you got me wrong.”

“Beat it,” Hugo said, “before I take a poke at you.”

The intruder’s answer was a swinging fist, which missed Hugo by a wide margin. Hugo stood and dropped him with a single clean blow. The manager came up, expostulated, ordered the tough’s inert form from the floor, started the music.

“You shouldn’t ought to have done it, mister. He’ll get his gang.”

“The hell with his gang.”

Charlotte sighed. “That’s the first time anybody ever stuck up for me. Jeest, mister, I’ve been wishin’ an’ wishin’ for the day when somebody would bruise his knuckles for me.”

Hugo laughed. “Hey, waiter! Two beers.”

When she yawned, he took her out to the boulevard and walked at her side toward the shabby house. They reached the steps, and Charlotte began to cry.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was goin’ to thank you, but I don’t know how. It was too nice of you. An’ now I suppose I’ll never see you again.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll show up at eight in the morning and we’ll have breakfast together.”

Charlotte looked into his face wistfully. “Say, kid, be a good guy and take me to your hotel, will you? I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

He held her hands. “You won’t lose me. And I haven’t got a hotel—yet.”

“Then—come up an’ stay with me. Honest, I’m all right. I can prove it to you. It’ll be doin’ me a favor.”

“I ought not to, Charlotte.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him. He felt her breath on his lips and the warmth of her body. “You gotta, kid. You’re all I ever had. Please, please.”

Hugo walked up the stairs thoughtfully. In her small room he watched her disrobe. So willingly now—so eagerly. She turned back the covers of the bed. “It ain’t much of a dump, baby, but I’ll make you like it.”

Much later, in the abyss of darkness, he heard her voice, sleepy and still husky. “Say, mister, what’s your name?”

In the morning they went down to the boulevard together. The gay débris of the night before lay in the street, and men were sweeping it away. But their spirits were high. They had breakfast together in a quiet enchantment. Once she kissed him.

“Would you like to keep house—for me?” he asked.