y arose and went.
. . . All right, next time I'll be different. I won't be solemn, nor
afraid of saying anything incorrect. In fact I'll revel in it! She
asked me to come and see her, in a tone which added, 'Don't.' But I'll
be incorrect right there. I will go to see her; and what's more, I'll
go tomorrow afternoon! And I won't call up first, for she'd say she was
out. I'll get into her house and get her downstairs--and I'll break
right through all smoothnesses and tell her exactly how and why I've got
to have a woman friend! I'll give you the chance of your life, Sally
Crothers, to throw out the life-line!

"If you don't I'll--just swim about for awhile. No use in thinking of
that, though."

And suddenly she fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXV

Mrs. Crothers lived in a small brick house on a side street close to
Washington Square. As Ethel looked out from her automobile, how dear
and homey it appeared, with such a quiet friendly face. "Now for the
plunge." She went up the low steps and rang the bell. Thank Heaven it
was a rainy day, for when the maid came Ethel went right in, and the
rain made that seem natural. At least no door had been shut in her
face. She wanted to get inside this house!

"Is Mrs. Crothers at home?" she asked. The maid was not sure. Ethel
gave her a card and was shown into a long cosy room with an
old-fashioned air, where a small coal fire looked half asleep. She
began to look around her. The walls were lined with book-shelves, with
only a picture here and there. No wall-paper. "How funny." She frowned
and added, "But it's nice." There was but little furniture, and plenty
of room to move about. "What a love of a mirror." It was of gilt, and
it reached from floor to ceiling between the two front windows. Gravely
she looked at herself in the glass. "Oh, I'm not very excited."

The maid reappeared, and said, "Mrs. Crothers asks you to excuse her.
She's sick with a headache this afternoon."

"Oh, what a lie!" thought Ethel. She stood for a moment irresolute, her
heart in her mouth. "I will, though!" she decided, and took out another
card. "Then take her this little note," she said. And she wrote: "I
know I am being quite rude--but if the headache is not too severe
will you see me just for a little while! I would not bother
you--honestly--but it is something so important--and it must be settled
today." It took two of her cards, and even then it was horribly crowded
and hard to read. "Never mind," she