levators.
She walked with the absurd and stumbling step that her scant skirt
necessitated. With each pace the slashed silken skirt parted to reveal a
shameless glimpse of cerise silk stocking. In her wake came Venner, of
Two-twenty-three--a strange contrast in his black and white.

Sadie and Julia watched them from the corner nook. Opposite the desk
Two-eighteen stopped and turned to Julia.

"Just run into my room and pick things up and hang them away, will you?"
she said. "I didn't have time--and I hate things all about when I come
in dead tired."

The little formula of service rose automatically to Julia's lips.

"Very well, madam," she said.

Her eyes and Sadie's followed the two figures until they had stepped
into the cream-and-gold elevator and had vanished. Sadie, peppermint
bottle at nose, spoke first:

"She makes one of those sandwich men with a bell, on Sixth Avenue, look
like a shrinking violet!"

Julia's lower lip was caught between her teeth. The scent that had
enveloped Two-eighteen as she passed was still in the air. Julia's
nostrils dilated as she sniffed it. Her breath came a little quickly.
Sadie Corn sat very still, watching her.

"Look at her!" said Julia, her voice vibrant. "Look at her! Old and
homely, and all made up! I powdered her neck. Her skin's like tripe.

"Now Julia--" remonstrated Sadie Corn soothingly.

"I don't care," went on Julia with a rush. "I'm young. And I'm pretty
too. And I like pretty things. It ain't fair! That was one reason why I
broke with Jo. It wasn't only his mother. I told him he couldn't ever
give me the things I want anyway. You can't help wanting 'em--seeing
them all round every day on women that aren't half as good-looking as
you are! I want low-cut dresses too. My neck's like milk. I want silk
underneath, and fur coming up on my coat collar to make my cheeks look
pink. I'm sick of hooking other women up. I want to stand in front of a
mirror, looking at myself, polishing my pink nails with a silver thing
and having somebody else hook me up!"

In Sadie Corn's eyes there was a mist that could not be traced to
neuralgia or peppermint.

"Julia, girl," said Sadie Corn, "ever since the world began there's been
hookers and hooked. And there always will be. I was born a hooker. So
were you. Time was when I used to cry out against it too. But shucks! I
know better now. I wouldn't change places. Being a hooker gives you such
an all-round experience like of mankin