mirror
and buttoned up the coat. Was the woman's admiration cleverly feigned?
this image she beheld an illusion? or did she really look different,
distinguished? and if not beautiful--alluring? She had had a momentary
apprehension, almost sickening, that she would be too conspicuous, but
the saleswoman had anticipated that objection with the magical word
"lady."

"I'll take it," she announced.

"Well, you couldn't have done better if you'd gone to Boston," declared
the woman. "It's one chance in a thousand. Will you wear it?"

"Yes," said Janet faintly.... "Just put my old suit in a box, and I'll
call for it in an hour."

The woman's sympathetic smile followed her as she left the shop. She
had an instant of hesitation, of an almost panicky desire to go back and
repair her folly, ere it was too late. Why had she taken her money with
her that evening, if not with some deliberate though undefined purpose?
But she was ashamed to face the saleswoman again, and her elation was
not to be repressed--an elation optically presented by a huge electric
sign on the farther side of the street that flashed through all the
colours of the spectrum, surrounded by running fire like the running
fire in her soul. Deliciously self-conscious, her gaze fixed ahead, she
pressed through the Wednesday night crowds, young mill men and women in
their best clothes, housewives and fathers of families with children
and bundles. In front of the Banner office a group blocked the pavement
staring up at the news bulletin, which she paused to read. "Five
Millionaire Directors Indicted in New York," "State Treasurer Accused
of Graft," "Murdock Fortune Contested by Heirs." The phrases seemed
meaningless, and she hurried on again.... She was being noticed! A man
looked at her, twice, the first glance accidental, the second arresting,
appealing, subtly flattering, agitating--she was sure he had turned and
was following her. She hastened her steps. It was wicked, what she
was doing, but she gloried in it; and even the sight, in burning
red letters, of Gruber's Cafe failed to bring on a revulsion by its
association with her sister Lise. The fact that Lise had got drunk
there meant nothing to her now. She gazed curiously at the illuminated,
orange-coloured panes separated by curving leads, at the design of a
harp in green, at the sign "Ladies' Entrance"; listened eagerly to
the sounds of voices and laughter that came from within. She looked
cautiously over h