"It'll be a great deal better marryin' a young man." "I don't care to marry any one, Jane. I don't think I shall ever marry." "It's all very well to say that, Miss Florence. Lots of girls say so, but they change their minds. I don't mean to live out always myself." "Is there any young man you are interested in, Jane?" "Maybe there is, and maybe there isn't, Miss Florence. If I ever do get married I'll invite you to the wedding." "And I'll promise to come if I can. But I hear the bell. I think my friend Dodger has come." "Shall I ask him in, miss?" "No. Tell him I will be ready to accompany him at once." She went out into the hall, and when the door was opened the visitor proved to be Dodger. He had improved his appearance so far as his limited means would allow. His hands and face were thoroughly clean; he had bought a new collar and necktie; his shoes were polished, and despite his shabby suit, he looked quite respectable. Getting a full view of him, Florence saw that his face was frank and handsome, his eyes bright, and his teeth like pearls. "Shure, he's a great deal better lookin' than Mr. Curtis," whispered Jane. "Here, Mr. Dodger, take Miss Florence's valise, and mind you take good care of her." "I will," answered Dodger, heartily. "Come, Miss Florence, if you don't mind walking over to Fourth Avenue, we'll take the horse cars." So, under strange guidance, Florence Linden left her luxurious home, knowing not what awaited her. What haven of refuge she might find she knew not. She, like Dodger, was adrift in New York. Chapter VIII. A Friendly Compact. Florence, as she stepped on the sidewalk, turned, and fixed a last sad look on the house that had been her home for so many years. She had never anticipated such a sundering of home ties, and even now she found it difficult to realize that the moment had come when her life was to be rent in twain, and the sunlight of prosperity was to be