and little cigars, and the
enterprising local advertisement of "Wm. P. Smith & Sons, All Northern
New Jersey Real Estate, Cheaper Than Rent." So, instantly, the
children of the night turned into two sophisticated young New-Yorkers
who, apologizing for fresh-air yawns, talked of the theatrical season.

But for a moment a strange look of distance dwelt in Ruth's eyes, and
she said: "I wonder what I can do with the winter stars we've found?
Will Ninety-second Street be big enough for them?"

CHAPTER XXXII

For a week--the week before Christmas--Carl had seen neither Ruth nor
Gertie; but of the office he had seen too much. They were "rushing
work" on the Touricar to have it on the market early in 1913. Every
afternoon or evening he left the office with his tongue scaly from too
much nervous smoking; poked dully about the streets, not much desiring
to go any place, nor to watch the crowds, after all the curiosity had
been drawn out of him by hours of work. Several times he went to a
super-movie, a cinema palace on Broadway above Seventy-second Street,
with an entrance in New York Colonial architecture, and crowds of
well-to-do Jewish girls in opera-cloaks.

On the two bright mornings of the week he wanted to play truant from
the office, to be off with Ruth over the hills and far away. Both
mornings there came to him a picture of Gertie, wanting to slip out
and play like Ruth, but having no chance. He felt guilty because he
had never bidden Gertie come tramping, and guiltily he recalled that
it was with her that the boy Carl had gone to seek-our-fortunes. He
told himself that he had been depending upon Gertie for the
bread-and-butter of friendship, and begging for the opportunity to
give the stranger, Ruth Winslow, dainties of which she already had too
much.

When he called, Sunday evening, he found Gertie alone, reading a
love-story in a woman's magazine.

"I'm so glad you came," she said. "I was getting quite lonely." She
was as gratefully casual as ever.

"Say, Gertie, I've got a plan. Wouldn't you like to go for some good
long hikes in the country?"

"Oh yes; that would be fine when spring comes."

"No; I mean now, in the winter."

She looked at him heavily. "Why, isn't it pretty cold, don't you
think?"

He prepared to argue, but he did not think of her as looking heavily.
He did not draw swift comparisons between Gertie's immobility and
Ruth's lightness. He was used to Gertie; was in her presence