tle. And as she went her
lips moved.

"Mind, now!" she was telling herself. "Today's the end the very end.
You've got to get work today!"

The address in the Rue Lafayette turned out to be that of a firm of
house and estate agents; it was upon the first floor and showed to
the landing four ground-glass doors, of which three were lettered
"Private," while the fourth displayed an invitation to enter without
knocking. Upon the landing, in the presence of those inexpressive
doors, behind which salaries were earned and paid and life was all
that was orderly and desirable, Annette paused for a space of moments
to make sure of herself.

"Now!" she said, with a deep breath, and pushed open the fourth door.

Within was an office divided by a counter, and behind the counter
desks and the various apparatus of business. The desks were
unoccupied; the only person present was a thin pretty girl seated
before a typewriter. She looked up at Annette across the counter; her
face showed patches of too bright a red on the cheekbones.

"Good morning," began Annette, with determined briskness. "I've
come."

The girl smiled. "Typist?" she interrupted.

"Yes," said Annette. "The advertisement"--she stopped; the girl was
still smiling, but in a manner of deprecating and infinitely gentle
regret.

Annette stared at her, feeling within again that rising chill of
disappointment with which she was already so familiar. "You mean" she
stammered awkwardly "you mean you've got the place?"

The thin girl spread her hands apart in a little French gesture of
conciliation.

"Ten minutes ago," she answered. "There is no one here yet but the
manager, and I was waiting at the door when he arrived."

"Thank you," said Annette faintly. The thin girl, still regarding her
with big shadowy eyes, suddenly put a hand to her bosom and coughed.
The neat big office beyond the bar of the polished counter was
unbearably pleasant to look at; one could have been so happily busy
at one's place between those tidy desks. A sharp bell rang from an
inner office; the thin girl rose. The hectic on her cheeks burned
brighter.

"I must go," she said hurriedly. "He wants me. I hope you will have
good luck."

The sunlight without had lost some of its quality when Annette came
forth to the street again; it no longer warmed her to optimism. She
stood for some moments in the doorway of the building, letting her
depression and discouragement have their way with her.