deserted, the doors shut. It was a cold night and a fire burned in the Quebec heater on the third-floor hallway.
She knocked softly on Sykes' door. There was the rustle of a newspaper inside, a step, then the door opened. Jimmy Sykes' cheeks flamed. He came out to her shyly.
"Why, Delight, is it you?"
She pushed past him into the room and closed the door behind her. "Yes, it's me. I want you to do something for me."
He timidly touched her hand. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
She went very close to him. Her deep, dark eyes were on a level with his, and he felt her breath, sweet and warm, on his face.
"I'll tell you what it is," she breathed, "you've got to put a hole through my ears. I won't ask any of the other girls to do it. I want them to think I've always had earrings. Oh, don't say you won't do it! It 'ud break my heart if I couldn't wear 'em to the Firemen's Ball. Look here, I've tried myself and that is all I could do, and it hurt me cruel, too." She dragged back her hair and showed the wounded ear lobe.
Jimmy was dazed by this unexpected demand on his skill, his courage, and his manhood. The sudden leap into intimacy with this glorious creature filled him with exultation and yet fear. He was afraid he could not do what she wanted him to do. In fact, he hardly understood what it was she wanted. He took the needle and the cork dumbly from her while she poured forth the tale of the gypsy, the secret purchase, and the directions for piercing her ears.
"Now," she said finally, sitting down in a chair and holding her head very erect while she fixed him with her glowing gaze, "you must press my ear firmly against
