hes," she cried.

"No--I want to sleep," was Susan's answer in a cross, drowsy
tone. "I think I'll stay. You won't telephone Jim. But when
he finds me, I'll tell him to go to the devil."

"For God's sake!" wailed the madam. "I can't let you work
here. You don't want to ruin me, do you?"

Susan sat up, rubbed her eyes, yawned, brushed her hair back, put
a sly, smiling look into her face. "How much'll you give me to
go?" she asked. "Where's the fifteen that was in my stocking?"

"I've got it for you," said the madam.

"How much did I make tonight?"

"There was three at five apiece."

Three!--not only the two, but a third while she lay in a dead
stupor. Susan shivered.

"Your share's four dollars," continued the madam.

"Is that all!" cried Susan, jeering. "A bum joint! Oh,
there's my five the man gave me as a present."

"Yes--yes," quavered the madam.

"And another man gave me a dollar." She looked round. "Where
the devil is it?" She found it in a fold of the spread. "Then
you owe me twenty altogether, counting the money I had on me."
She yawned. "I don't want to go!" she protested, pausing
halfway in taking off the second pink stocking. Then she
laughed. "Lord, what hell Jim will raise if he finds I spent
the night working in this house. Why is it that, as soon as
men begin to care for a woman, they get prim about her?"

"Do get dressed, dear," wheedled the madam.

"I don't see why I should go at this time of night," objected
Susan pettishly. "What'll you give me if I go?"

The madam uttered a groan.

"You say you paid Joe Bishop twenty-five----"

"I'll kill him!" shrieked the madam. "He's ruined me--ruined me!"

"Oh, he's all right," said Susan cheerfully. "I like him.
He's a pretty little fellow. I'll not give him away to Jim."

"Joe was dead stuck on you," cried the madam eagerly. "I
might 'a' knowed he hadn't seen you before. I had to pay him
the twenty-five right away, to get him out of the house and let
me put you to work. He wanted to stay on."

Susan shivered, laughed to hide it. "Well, I'll go for twenty-five."

"Twenty-five!" shrieked the madam.

"You'll get it back from Joe."

"Maybe I won't. He's a dog--a dirty dog."

"I think I told Joe about Jim," said Susan reflectively. "I
was awful gabby downstairs. Yes--I told him."

And her lowered eyes gleamed with satisfaction when the madam
cried out: "You did! And after that he brought you here!
He's g