And Howard feared
that she, was right. Even the readiest of all commodities, advice, failed
him. "What can she do?" he thought. "If she has no home, worth speaking
of"--then he went on aloud:
"Haven't you friends?"
She laughed again with that slight moving of the lips and with eyes
mirthless. "Who wants me for a friend? Nobody'd think I was respectable.
And I guess I'm not so very. There's Nellie and her--friends. Oh, the girls
join in with the men to drag other girls down. But I won't do that. I don't
care what becomes of me--except that."
"Why?" he asked, curious for her explanation of this aversion.
"I don't know why," she replied. "There doesn't seem to be any good reason.
I've thought I would several times. And then--well, I just couldn't."
Howard turned the subject and tried to draw her out of this mood. They sat
there for several hours and became well acquainted. He found that she had
an intelligent way of looking at things, that she observed closely, and
that she appreciated and understood far more than he had expected.
It was the beginning of a series of evenings spent together. He took her
with him on many of his assignments and they often dined together at "Le
Chat Noir" or the "Restaurant de Paris," or "The Manhattan" over in Second
Avenue.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59