ee. You're hungry, ain't you,
dearie? You come with me and we'll get something to eat."

Elsie was too tired to resist and, instinctively, she trusted this tall
girl with her assumption of guardianship. Together they crossed the
street and entered the rear room of a saloon. Three men sat near the
entrance playing cards. They looked at the two girls, inspecting Elsie
narrowly and nodding carelessly at her companion. The girl took seats at
a distant table.

"What do you want, Lou?" inquired one of the men, getting up from the
table.

"Not you," retorted Lou curtly. "Send one of your waiters here with a
plain lemonade, a glass of milk and some of that beef stew."

"Milk, eh?" said the man, "and lemonade. On the wagon again, Lou?"

"Run along now," returned the girl. "If you keep on asking questions
someone is going to tell you lies."

The man went into another room, spoke to someone there and rejoined the
card players. In a few moments a negro waiter appeared with the viands
Lou had ordered.

Elsie began to eat famishedly. The other girl watched her approvingly.

"Go to it, girlie," she advised. "I know how you feel. I've been hungry
myself."

She sipped her lemonade until Elsie had finished. Then, as though it had
not been interrupted, she resumed the conversation they had begun in the
street.

"The same old game," she said cynically. "You came to Chicago because you
loved him. He strung you along--" Her glance fell on Elsie's wedding
ring. "You fell for that 'I do take thee' thing. Then he shook you. Is
that right, girlie?"

Elsie shook her head. A stupor due to the food and the reaction from her
nervous and physical exhaustion came over her. She felt too languid to
grapple with the problem of existence.

The tall girl arched her eyebrows in surprise.

"He didn't shake you? Then why--"

"I couldn't do what he wanted me to do," murmured Elsie. She felt her
face flushing and she dropped her head. "He wanted me to--to--"

The other interrupted her sharply. "You needn't say it--I know." She
gripped the table in sudden anger. "One of these dogs--eh?"

Elsie stared at her blankly. The old sense of forlornness, of being alone
and uncared for, returned to her.

"I don't know what you mean," she faltered.

"What was his name?"

"Druce," gasped Elsie.

"Druce, eh?" replied the tall girl, as though the name had opened a whole
vista of understanding. "Druce? Well, look out for him, girlie. He'll
hound you