in the day's work," she observed indifferently. "You can take
them up into the kitchen and give them steady work paring potatoes, or
put them in the laundry ironing. In the end it's the same thing. They
all go back."

She drew a package from the locker and looked at it ruefully.

"Well, what do you know about this? Here's a woman who came in in a
nightgown and pair of slippers. And now she wants to go out in half an
hour!"

She turned, on her way out of the locker-room, and shot a quick glance
at Sidney.

"I happened to be on your street the other night," she said. "You live
across the street from Wilsons', don't you?"

"Yes."

"I thought so; I had heard you speak of the house. Your--your brother
was standing on the steps."

Sidney laughed.

"I have no brother. That's a roomer, a Mr. Le Moyne. It isn't really
right to call him a roomer; he's one of the family now."

"Le Moyne!"

He had even taken another name. It had hit him hard, for sure.

K.'s name had struck an always responsive chord in Sidney. The two girls
went toward the elevator together. With a very little encouragement,
Sidney talked of K. She was pleased at Miss Harrison's friendly tone,
glad that things were all right between them again. At her floor, she
put a timid hand on the girl's arm.

"I was afraid I had offended you or displeased you," she said. "I'm so
glad it isn't so."

Carlotta shivered under her hand.

Things were not going any too well with K. True, he had received his
promotion at the office, and with this present affluence of twenty-two
dollars a week he was able to do several things. Mrs. Rosenfeld now
washed and ironed one day a week at the little house, so that Katie
might have more time to look after Anna. He had increased also the
amount of money that he periodically sent East.

So far, well enough. The thing that rankled and filled him with a sense
of failure was Max Wilson's attitude. It was not unfriendly; it was,
indeed, consistently respectful, almost reverential. But he clearly
considered Le Moyne's position absurd.

There was no true comradeship between the two men; but there was
beginning to be constant association, and lately a certain amount of
friction. They thought differently about almost everything.

Wilson began to bring all his problems to Le Moyne. There were long
consultations in that small upper room. Perhaps more than one man or
woman who did not know of K.'s existence owed his life to him that