she and her one friend got out, Joe came along--and with one quick
angry look he hurried into the building. Quite furious and ashamed for
him, Ethel turned to her companion--but Mrs. Grewe smiled queerly and
held out her small gloved hand.

"Good-bye, my dear, it has been so nice--this afternoon and all the
others." Her tone was a curious mixture of amused defiance and real
regret. Ethel stammered something, but in a moment her friend was gone.

Upstairs she met Joe with an angry frown, but to her indignant
reproaches he replied by a quizzical smile.

"Look here, Ethel." He took her arm, in a kind protecting sort of way
which made her fairly boil. "Look here. I can't let you go about with
a shady little person like that. I didn't know you'd picked her up.
Now, now--I understand, of course--you met her up there in the new
apartment. What a fool I was not to have thought of it."

"Thought of what? For goodness sake!"

"She won't do, that's all."

"Why won't she?" Ethel's colour was suddenly high and her brown eyes had
a dangerous gleam. Joe looked at her, hesitating.

"Yes," he said, "you're the kind of a girl who has to be told the truth
now and then. She's the mistress of one of our big millionaires."

Ethel stared at him blankly.

"I don't believe it!" she cried. "Her taste! The way she dresses!
Her--her voice--the things she says!"

"I know, I know," he answered. "That sort is rare and they come high.
I've talked to her--"

"Oh, you have, have you! Then why shouldn't I?"

"Because, my dear, I'm one of the owners of this building. My talks
were brief--just business."

"What business had you letting her in?"

"Because times were bad three years ago and tenants weren't so easy to
find. What harm has she done? This isn't a social club, you know--"

"I know it isn't! Nobody speaks--or even smiles!" A lump rose in
Ethel's throat. "And she was so nice and friendly!"

"I'll bet she was--"

"I won't believe it!" Now her face was reddening with
self-mortification. "Do you mean to tell me--living like that--with a
companion, even--a prim old maid who looks as though she had left Boston
only last night--"

A twinkle came into her husband's eyes: "My dear, the friend of a big
millionaire always keeps some one from Boston close by." His arm went
around her. "Poor little girl. I guess I won't have to say any more--"

"Perhaps you will and perhaps you won't!" Now again she was nearly
choking with rage and with