The sleepy clerk on night duty at the drug store looked up with a start. He had not heard any one enter, but here stood a young girl by the counter, looking at him with large, sombre dark eyes, that shone wierdly out of a white, white face, framed in tresses of disordered golden hair--a face beautiful beyond all dreams of fancy but for its strange, marble pallor, and the anguished eyes out of which gleamed a desperate purpose, as she extended a snowy ungloved hand with a silver coin shining in the rosy palm, and repeated in a low, eager voice: It was a wild wintry night in the great city, and there were none abroad except those whom necessity forced to be out. The air was full of keen, fine…
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