recrossing the line to respectability. The only real
problem in that matter was how to get together enough to make
the crossing worth while--for what was there in respectability
without money, in a day when respectability had ceased to mean
anything but money?

Ida wished to take her to Mrs. Thurston and get her a favored
place on the list. Susan thanked her, but said, "Not yet--not
quite yet." Ida suggested that they go out together as two
young married women whose husbands had gone on the road. Susan
put her off from day to day. Ida finally offered to introduce
her to one of the regulars: "He's a nice fellow--knows how to
treat a lady in a gentlemanly way. Not a bit coarse or
familiar." Susan would not permit this generosity. And all
this time her funds were sinking. She had paid a second week's
rent, had bought cooking apparatus, some food supplies, some
necessary clothing. She was down to a five-dollar bill and a
little change.

"Look here, Lorna," said Ida, between remonstrance and
exasperation, "when _are_ you going to start in?"

Susan looked fixedly at her, said with a slow smile, "When I
can't hold out another minute."

Ida tossed her head angrily. "You've got brains--more than I
have," she cried. "You've got every advantage for catching
rich men--even a rich husband. You're educated. You speak and
act and look refined. Why you could pretend to be a howling
fashionable swell. You've got all the points. But what have
you got 'em for? Not to use that's certain."

"You can't be as disgusted with me as I am."

"If you're going to do a thing, why, _do_ it!"

"That's what I tell myself. But--I can't make a move."

Ida gave a gesture of despair. "I don't see what's to become
of you. And you could do _so_ well! . . . Let me phone Mr.
Sterling. I told him about you. He's anxious to meet you.
He's fond of books--like you. You'd like him. He'd give up a
lot to you, because you're classier than I am."

Susan threw her arms round Ida and kissed her. "Don't bother
about me," she said. "I've got to act in my own foolish,
stupid way. I'm like a child going to school. I've got to
learn a certain amount before I'm ready to do whatever it is
I'm going to do. And until I learn it, I can't do much of
anything. I thought I had learned in the last few months. I
see I haven't."

"Do listen to sense, Lorna," pleaded Ida. "If you wait till
the last minute, you'll get left. The time to