ny tone to her,
if she's satisfied to live in a bum tenement and marry some dub
that can't make nothing, why, that's different. But you look
like a woman that had been used to something and wanted to get
somewhere. I wouldn't have let _my_ daughter go into no such
low, foolish life."

She had intended to ask about a place to stop for the night.
She now decided that the suggestion that she was homeless might
possibly impair her chances. After some further
conversation--the proprietor repeating what he had already
said, and repeating it in about the same language--she paid the
waiter fifteen cents for the drink and a tip of five cents out
of the change she had in her purse, and departed. It had
clouded over, and a misty, dismal rain was trickling through
the saturated air to add to the messiness of the churn of cold
slush. Susan went on down Second Avenue. On a corner near its
lower end she saw a Raines Law hotel with awnings, indicating
that it was not merely a blind to give a saloon a hotel license
but was actually open for business. She went into the
"family" entrance of the saloon, was alone in a small clean
sitting-room with a sliding window between it and the bar. A
tough but not unpleasant young face appeared at the window. It
was the bartender.

"Evening, cutie," said he. "What'll you have?"

"Some rye whiskey," replied Susan. "May I smoke a cigarette here?"

"Sure, go as far as you like. Ten-cent whiskey--or fifteen?"

"Fifteen--unless it's out of the same bottle as the ten."

"Call it ten--seeing as you are a lady. I've got a soft heart
for you ladies. I've got a wife in the business, myself."

When he came in at the door with the drink, a young man
followed him--a good-looking, darkish youth, well dressed in a
ready made suit of the best sort. At second glance Susan saw
that he was at least partly of Jewish blood, enough to elevate
his face above the rather dull type which predominates among
clerks and merchants of the Christian races. He had small,
shifty eyes, an attractive smile, a manner of assurance
bordering on insolence. He dropped into a chair at Susan's
table with a, "You don't mind having a drink on me."

As Susan had no money to spare, she acquiesced. She said to the
bartender, "I want to get a room here--a plain room. How much?"

"Maybe this gent'll help you out," said the bartender with a
grin and a wink. "He's got money to burn--and burns it."

The bartender with