re any one else could speak.

"No," she added, "but I'll tell you what I will do. If you will let her
go I will look after her. Parole her, unofficially, with me."

Constance drew a card from her case and handed it to the detective. He
read it carefully, and a puzzled look came over his face. "Charge
account--good customer--pays promptly," he muttered under his breath.

For a moment he hesitated. Then he sat down at a desk.

"Mrs. Dunlap," he said, "I'll do it."

He pulled a piece of printed paper from the desk, filled in a few
blanks, then turned to Kitty Carr, handing her a pen.

"Sign here," he said brusquely.

Constance bent over and read. It was a form of release:

"I, Kitty Carr, residing at -- East --th Street, single, age
twenty-seven years, in consideration of the sum of One Dollar, hereby
admit taking the following property... without having paid therefor and
with intent not to pay therefor, and by reason of the withdrawal of the
complaint of larceny, OF WHICH I AM GUILTY, I hereby remise, release,
and forever discharge the said Stacy Co. or its representatives from
any claims, action, or causes of action which I may have against the
Stacy Co. or its representatives or agents by reason of the withdrawal
of said charge of larceny and failure to prosecute."

"Signed, Kitty Carr."

"Now, Kitty," soothed Constance, as the trembling signature was blotted
and added to a photograph which had quietly been taken, "they are going
to let you go this time--with me. Come, straighten your hat, wipe your
eyes. You must take me home with you--where we can have a nice long
talk. Remember, I am your friend."

On the way uptown and across the city the girl managed to tell most of
her history. She came from a family of means in another city. Her
father was dead, but her mother and a brother were living. She herself
had a small annuity, sufficient to live on modestly, and had come to
New York seeking a career as an artist. Her story, her ambitions
appealed to Constance, who had been somewhat of an artist herself and
recognized even in talking to the girl that she was not without some
ability.

Then, too, she found that Kitty actually lived, as she had said, in a
cozy little kitchenette apartment with two friends, a man and his wife,
both of whom happened to be out when they arrived. As Constance looked
about she could see clearly that there was indeed no adequate reason
why the girl should steal.

"How do you feel?