She was
astonished to find herself before the building whose upper
floors were occupied by Jeffries and Jonas. How had she got
there? Where had she crossed Broadway?
"Good morning, Miss Sackville." It was Miss Hinkle, just
arriving. Her eyes were heavy, and there were the crisscross
lines under them that tell a story to the expert in the
different effects of different kinds of dissipation. Miss
Hinkle was showing her age--and she was "no spring chicken."
Susan returned her greeting, gazing at her with the dazed eyes
and puzzled smile of an awakening sleeper.
"I'll show you the ropes," said Miss Hinkle, as they climbed
the two flights of stairs. "You'll find the job dead easy.
They're mighty nice people to work for, Mr. Jeffries
especially. Not easy fruit, of course, but nice for people
that have got on. You didn't sleep well?"
"Yes--I think so."
"I didn't have a chance to drop round last night. I was out
with one of the buyers. How do you like Mrs. Tucker?"
"She's very good, isn't she?"
"She'll never get along. She works hard, too--but not for
herself. In this world you have to look out for Number One.
I had a swell dinner last night. Lobster--I love lobster--and
elegant champagne--up to Murray's--such a refined place--all
fountains and mirrors--really quite artistic. And my gentleman
friend was so nice and respectful. You know, we have to go out
with the buyers when they ask us.
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