"
"Oh, I can get along. What's good for a headache? I'm nearly
crazy with it."
"Wine?"
"Yes."
"Wait a minute." Ida, with bedroom slippers clattering,
hurried back to her room, returned with a bottle of bromo
seltzer and in the bathroom fixed Susan a dose. "You'll feel
all right in half an hour or so. Gee, but you're swell--with
your own bathroom."
Susan shrugged her shoulders and laughed.
Ida shook her head gravely. "You ought to save your money. I do."
"Later--perhaps. Just now--I _must_ have a fling."
Ida seemed to understand. She went on to say: "I was in
millinery. But in this town there's nothing in anything unless
you have capital or a backer. I got tired of working for five
per, with ten or fifteen as the top notch. So I quit, kissed
my folks up in Harlem good-by and came down to look about. As
soon as I've saved enough I'm going to start a business. That'll
be about a couple of years--maybe sooner, if I find an angel."
"I'm thinking of the stage."
"Cut it out!" cried Ida. "It's on the bum. There's more money
and less worry in straight sporting--if you keep respectable.
Of course, there's nothing in out and out sporting."
"Oh, I haven't decided on anything. My head is better."
"Sure! If the dose I gave you don't knock it you can get one
at the drug store two blocks up Sixth Avenue that'll do the
trick. Got a dinner date?"
"No.
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