of gamblers, politicians and
similar loose characters of large income, precariously
derived. He counted off three hundreds and four fifties and
held them out to her. "Let me in on it," said he.

Susan took the money without hesitation. She was used to
these careless generosities of the men of that
class--generosities passing with them and with the unthinking
for evidences of goodness of heart, when in fact no generosity
has any significance whatever beyond selfish vanity unless it
is a sacrifice of necessities--real necessities.

"I don't think I'll need money," said she. "But I may."

"You've got a trunk and a bag on the cab outside," he went on.
"I've told them at Sherry's that I'm to be married."

Susan flushed. She hastily lowered her eyes. But she need
not have feared lest he should suspect the cause of the
blush . . . a strange, absurd resentment of the idea that she
could be married to Freddie Palmer. Live with him--yes. But
marry--now that it was thus squarely presented to her, she
found it unthinkable. She did not pause to analyze this
feeling, indeed could not have analyzed it, had she tried. It
was, however, a most interesting illustration of how she had
been educated at last to look upon questions of sex as a man
looks on them. She was like the man who openly takes a
mistress whom he in no circumstances would elevate to the
position of wife.

"So," he proceeded, "you might as well move in at Sherry's."

"No," objected she. "Let's not begin the new deal until we sail."

The wisdom of this was obvious. "Then we'll take your things
over to the Manhattan Hotel," said he. "And we'll start the
search from there."

But after registering at the Manhattan as Susan Lenox, she
started out alone. She would not let him look in upon any
part of her life which she could keep veiled.

CHAPTER XIX

SHE left the taxicab at the corner of Grand Street and the
Bowery, and plunged into her former haunts afoot. Once again
she had it forced upon her how meaningless in the life history
are the words "time" and "space." She was now hardly any
distance, as measurements go, from her present world, and she
had lived here only a yesterday or so ago. Yet what an
infinity yawned between! At the Delancey Street apartment
house there was already a new janitress, and the kinds of
shops on the ground floor had changed. Only after two hours
of going up and down stairs, of knocking at doors, of
quest