s nearly five
o'clock when she and Blond-Beard helped each other toward a cab.

"What's your address?" said he.

"The same as yours," replied she drowsily.

Late that afternoon she established herself in a room with a
bath in West Twenty-ninth Street not far from Broadway. The
exterior of the house was dingy and down-at-the-heel. But the
interior was new and scrupulously clean. Several other young
women lived there alone also, none quite so well installed as
Susan, who had the only private bath and was paying twelve
dollars a week. The landlady, frizzled and peroxide,
explained--without adding anything to what she already
knew--that she could have "privileges," but cautioned her
against noise. "I can't stand for it," said she. "First
offense--out you go. This house is for ladies, and only
gentlemen that know how to conduct themselves as a gentleman
should with a lady are allowed to come here."

Susan paid a week in advance, reducing to thirty-one dollars
her capital which Blond-Beard had increased to forty-three.
The young lady who lived at the other end of the hall smiled at
her, when both happened to glance from their open doors at the
same time. Susan invited her to call and she immediately
advanced along the hall in the blue silk kimono she was wearing
over her nightgown.

"My name's Ida Driscoll," said she, showing a double row of
charming white teeth--her chief positive claim to beauty.

She was short, was plump about the shoulders but slender in the
hips. Her reddish brown hair was neatly done over a big rat,
and was so spread that its thinness was hidden well enough to
deceive masculine eyes. Nor would a man have observed that one
of her white round shoulders was full two inches higher than
the other. Her skin was good, her features small and
irregular, her eyes shrewd but kindly.

"My name's"--Susan hesitated--"Lorna Sackville."

"I guess Lorna and Ida'll be enough for us to bother to
remember," laughed Miss Driscoll. "The rest's liable to
change. You've just come, haven't you?"

"About an hour ago. I've got only a toothbrush, a comb, a
washrag and a cake of soap. I bought them on my way here."

"Baggage lost--eh?" said Ida, amused.

"No," admitted Susan. "I'm beginning an entire new deal."

"I'll lend you a nightgown. I'm too short for my other things
to fit you."

"Oh, I can get along. What's good for a headache? I'm nearly
crazy with it."

"Wine?"

"Yes."

"Wait