ze their own wretchedness! "I
don't care what becomes of me," Clara was saying. "What is
there in it for me? I can have a good time only as long as my
looks last--and that's true of every woman, ain't it? What's
a woman but a body? Ain't I right?"

"That's why I'm going to stop being a woman as soon as ever I
can," said Susan.

"Why, you're packing up!" cried Clara.

"Yes. My friend's well enough to be moved. We're going to
live uptown."

"Right away?"

"This afternoon."

Clara dropped into a chair and began to weep. "I'll miss you
something fierce!" sobbed she. "You're the only friend in the
world I give a damn for, or that gives a damn for me. I wish
to God I was like you. You don't need anybody."

"Oh, yes, I do, dear," cried Susan.

"But, I mean, you don't lean on anybody. I don't mean you're
hard-hearted--for you ain't. You've pulled me and a dozen
other girls out of the hole lots of times. But you're
independent. Can't you take me along? I can drop that bum
across the hall. I don't give a hoot for him. But a girl's
got to make believe she cares for somebody or she'd blow her
brains out."

"I can't take you along, but I'm going to come for you as soon
as I'm on my feet," said Susan. "I've got to get up myself
first. I've learned at least that much."

"Oh, you'll forget all about _me_."

"No," said Susan.

And Clara knew that she would not. Moaned Clara, "I'm not fit
to go. I'm only a common streetwalker. You belong up there.
You're going back to your own. But I belong here. I wish to
God I was like most of the people down here, and didn't have
any sense. No wonder you used to drink so! I'm getting that
way, too. The only people that don't hit the booze hard down
here are the muttonheads who don't know nothing and can't
learn nothing. . . . I used to be contented. But somehow,
being with you so much has made me dissatisfied."

"That means you're on your way up," said Susan, busy with her packing.

"It would, if I had sense enough. Oh, it's torment to have
sense enough to see, and not sense enough to do!"

"I'll come for you soon," said Susan. "You're going up with me."

Clara watched her for some time in silence. "You're sure
you're going to win?" said she, at last.

"Sure," replied Susan.

"Oh, you can't be as sure as that."

"Yes, but I can," laughed she. "I'm done with foolishness.
I've made up my mind to get up in the world--_with_ my
self-respect i