She shivered like an animal
as it is hit in the head with a poleax. The mechanism of life
staggered, hesitated, went on with a sudden leaping
acceleration of pace. Susan tapped her glass against the
matchstand. The bartender came.
"Another," said she.
The man stared at her. "The--hell!" he ejaculated. "You must be
afraid o' catchin' cold. Or maybe you're looking for the menagerie?"
Susan laughed and so did the girl in the corner. "Won't you
have a drink with me?" asked Susan.
"That's very kind of you," replied the girl, in the manner of
one eager to show that she, too, is a perfect lady in every
respect, used to the ways of the best society. She moved to a
chair at Susan's table.
She and Susan inventoried each other. Susan saw a mere
child--hardly eighteen--possibly not seventeen--but much worn
by drink and irregular living--evidently one of those who rush
into the fast woman's life with the idea that it is a career of
gayety--and do not find out their error until looks and health
are gone. Susan drank her second drink in three gulps, several
minutes apart. The girl was explaining in a thin, common
voice, childish yet cracked, that she had come there seeking a
certain lady friend because she had an extra man and needed a
side partner.
"Suppose you come with me," she suggested. "It's good money,
I think. Want to get next?"
"When I've had another drink," said Susan.
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