s and soap--bath
an' Bible talk; beef bones an' soap--"

The girl watched him vanish behind the closing door, muttering as he
went to "see to things."

She stood for some moments where he had left her. The smile was still
in her eyes, but its humor had died out. She was unfeignedly sorry he
had gone. He was such a good-natured simpleton, she thought. A real
good-hearted sort. Just the sort to make a husband worth having. Ah,
well, he had gone! Better luck next time.

She turned away with a deep, sentimental sigh, and crossed over to the
cupboard. She drew out her work once more and again spread out the
crumpled paper pattern upon the gossamer lawn.

Yes, Toby would have suited her well. She heaved another sigh. He had
remittances from home, too. And he wouldn't be difficult to manage.
His head was rather a funny shape, and his face didn't suggest
brightness, but then--

She began to snip at the material with her rusty scissors. But just as
her mind had fully concentrated upon her task a sudden sound startled
her. She looked up, listening, and the next moment the door was flung
wide, and Sandy Joyce stood framed in the opening.

CHAPTER XIV

BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE

The ordinary woman would probably have resented this second
interruption, taking into consideration the nature of Birdie's
occupation, and the fact that Toby's visit had hardly proved a success
from her point of view. But Birdie was only partially ordinary. Her
love and admiration for the opposite sex was so much the chief part of
her composition that all other considerations gave way before it. Her
heart thrilled with a sickly sentiment at all times. To her men were
the gods of the universe, and, as such, must be propitiated, at least
in theory. In practice it might be necessary to flout them, to tease
them, even to snub them--on rare occasions. But this would only come
after intimacy had been established. After that her attitude would be
governed by circumstances, and even then her snubs, her floutings, her
teasing, would only be done as a further lure, a further propitiation.
She loved them all with a wonderful devotion. Her heart was large, so
large that the whole race of men could have been easily lost in its
mysterious and obscure recesses.

Again her work was bundled into the cupboard, the poor flimsy pattern
further suffering. But beyond a casual wonder if the garment would
eventually be wearable, cut from so mangled a pattern, sh