d on her, though, that night ... she never came
home ... men are so awful in their pride, Johnnie ... don't you be like
that when you grow to be a man...."

Then Aunt Rachel said no more, as Paul came in at that moment. Nor did
she resume the subject.

* * * * *

Next morning I packed away to visit Uncle Lan. I might as well go, even
if I hated him. It would be too noticeable, not to go.

He was at the train, waiting for me. He proffered me his hand. To my
surprise, I took it. He seized my grip from me, put his other hand
affectionately on my shoulder.

"I've often wondered whether you'd ever forgive me for the way I beat
you.... I've learned better since."

Before I knew it my voice played me the trick of saying yes, I forgave
him.

"That's a good boy!" and Lan gave my hand such a squeeze that it almost
made me cry out with the pain of it.

* * * * *

"Lan," as we walked along, "can you tell me more about Phoebe.... Aunt
Rachel told me some, but--"

"Oh, she ended up by running away with a drummer ... she hadn't been
gone long when her ma got word from her asking her to forgive her ...
that she'd run off with a man she loved, and was to be married to him
pretty soon.... Phoebe gave no address, but the letter had a Pittsburgh
postmark....

"A month ... six months went by. Then a letter came in a strange hand.
The girl that wrote it said that she was Phoebe's 'Roommate.'" Lan
paused here, and gave me a significant look, then resumed:

"Paul went down to bring the body home, and found she'd been buried
already. They were too poor to have it dug up and brought home."

"It seems that the man that took Phoebe off was nothing but a pimp!"

* * * * *

Suicide: early one Sunday morning; early, for girls of their profession,
the two girls, Phoebe and her roommate were sitting in their bedrooms in
kimonos.

"What a nice Sunday," Phoebe had said, looking out at the window.
"Jenny," she continued to her roommate, "I have a feeling I'd like to go
to church this morning...."

Jenny had thought _that_ was rather a queer thing for Phoebe to say....

Jenny went out to go to the delicatessen around the corner, to buy a
snack for them to eat, private, away from the rest of the girls, it
being Sunday morning. She'd bring in a Sunday paper, too.

When she returned, Phoebe didn't seem to be in the room. Jenny felt that
someth