e said now; "what does Henry say to all this?
Have you told him how you feel?"

"Well, I--I talked to him about it once or twice. I told him that I've
got about twenty-four solid hours a week that I might be getting fifty
cents an hour for. You know, I worked for a manuscript-typewriting
concern before I came over to Buck's--plays and stories and that kind
of thing. They used to like my work because I never queered their
speeches by leaving out punctuation or mixing up the characters. The
manager there said I could have work any time I wanted it. I've got my
own typewriter. I got it second hand when I first started in. Henry
picks around on it sometimes, evenings. I hardly ever touch it. It's
getting rusty--and so am I."

"It isn't just the money you want, Hortense? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'd like the money. That extra coming in would mean
books--I'm crazy about reading, and so is Henry--and theaters and lots
of things we can't afford now. But that isn't all. Henry don't want
to be a shipping-clerk all his life. He's crazy about mechanics and
that kind of stuff. But the books that he needs cost a lot. Don't you
suppose I'd be proud to feel that the extra money I'd earned would lift
him up where he could have a chance to be something! But Henry is dead
set against it. He says he is the one that's going to earn the money
around here. I try to tell him that I'm used to using my mind. He
laughs and pinches my cheek and tells me to use it thinking about him."
She stopped suddenly and regarded Emma with conscience-stricken eyes.
"You don't think I'm running down Henry, do you? My goodness, I don't
want you to think that I'd change back again for a million dollars,
because I wouldn't." She looked up at Emma, conscience-stricken.

Emma came swiftly over and put one hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I don't think it. Not for a minute. I know that the world is full of
Henrys, and that the number of Hortenses is growing larger and larger.
I don't know if the four-room flats are to blame, or whether it's just
a natural development. But the Henry-Hortense situation seems to be
spreading to the nine-room-and-three-baths apartments, too."

Hortense nodded a knowing head.

"I kind of thought so, from the way you were listening."

The two, standing there gazing at each other almost shyly, suddenly
began to laugh. The laugh was a safety-valve. Then, quite as
suddenly, both became serious. That seriousn