"Fine! Then you stay here and I'll go up and get some things."
"Why shouldn't we go together?"
Gregg hesitated, half hidden in the dark. "Bill," he said unconvincingly. "He's probably about looking for you now. I don't want to give you back yet."
She laughed. "But even Billy couldn't watch every delicatessen." Then she remembered the rooming house to which Gregg had moved and she caught his forearm.
"Gregg, I'm going fifty-fifty with you on our supper."
"Oh, no, you're not!"
"You told me yourself that's what a girl ought to do."
"Not you with me!"
"Why not?" Then she demanded of him frankly, "Gregg, how much money have you with you?"
He moved slightly, withdrawing his arm from her clasp. "Three ones," he replied to her, first defensively, and then he gave in, honestly. "One dollar; one dime; and one cent."
"I've three dollars with me, Gregg. Not all earned!" she put in quickly, to avoid a seeming of boasting. "It's mostly or perhaps this is all from some money I'd had of my own before I left Evanston. Let's pool, Gregg; please! And let's go together! If you don't let me, I can't stay; I'll go right back now before I let you"
He grasped her arm and held her quietly but with an intentness which weakened and overcame her as never had all the violence of Billy. "You'll not go back now, Marjorie," he said.
"No; but—we'll do this together, Gregg, or I'll not eat a bite. Not one; I'll not have you—living where
