"
The trail that he had passed over in fifteen hours as he had
hastened to the rescue of Anthony Harding and Billy Mallory
required the better part of three days now. Occasionally he
wondered why in the world he was traversing it anyway.
Hadn't he wanted to die, and leave Barbara free? But life is
sweet, and the red blood still flowed strong in the veins of the
mucker.
"I can go my own way," he thought, "and not bother her;
but I'll be dinged if I want to croak in this God-forsaken
hole--Grand Avenue for mine, when it comes to passing in
my checks. Gee! but I'd like to hear the rattle of the Lake
Street 'L' and see the dolls coming down the station steps by
Skidmore's when the crowd comes home from the Loop at
night."
Billy Byrne was homesick. And then, too, his heart was
very heavy and sad because of the great love he had found--
a love which he realized was as hopeless as it was great. He
had the memory, though, of the girl's arms about his neck,
and her dear lips crushed to his for a brief instant, and her
words--ah, those words! They would ring in Billy's head
forever: "I love you, Billy, for what you ARE."
And a sudden resolve came into the mucker's mind as he
whispered those words over and over again to himself.
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