any one else.

Vandover protested against this, and Ida Wade went on to ask him why he
couldn't come up to call on her that very night, adding:

"We might go to the Tivoli or somewhere." All at once she interrupted
herself, laughing, "Oh, I heard all about you the other night.
_'Cherries are ripe_!' You and the boys painted the town red, didn't
you? Ah, Van, I'm right on to _you_!"

She would not tell him how she heard, but took herself off, laughing and
reminding him to come up early.

Ida Wade belonged to a certain type of young girl that was very common
in the city. She was what men, among each other, called "gay," though
that was the worst that could be said of her. She was virtuous, but the
very fact that it was necessary to say so was enough to cause the
statement to be doubted. When she was younger and had been a pupil at
the Girls' High School, she had known and had even been the companion of
such girls as Turner Ravis and Henrietta Vance, but since that time
girls of that class had ignored her. Now, almost all of her
acquaintances were men, and to half of these she had never been
introduced. They had managed to get acquainted with her on Kearney
Street, at theatres, at the Mechanics' Fair, and at baseball games. She
loved to have a "gay" time, which for her meant to drink California
champagne, to smoke cigarettes, and to kick at the chandelier. She was
still virtuous and meant to stay so; there was nothing vicious about
her, and she was as far removed from Flossie's class as from that of
Turner Ravis.

She was very clever; half of her acquaintances, even the men, did not
know how very "gay" she was. Only those--like Vandover--who knew her
best, knew her for what she was, for Ida was morbidly careful of
appearances, and as jealous of her reputation as only fast girls are.

Bessie Laguna was her counterpart. Bessie was "the girl she went with,"
just as Henrietta Vance was Turner's "chum" and Nannie was Flossie's
"running-mate."

Ida lived with her people on Golden Gate Avenue not far from Larkin
Street. Her father had a three-fourths interest in a carpet-cleaning
establishment on Howard Street, and her mother gave lessons in painting
on china and on velvet. Ida had just been graduated from the normal
school, and often substituted at various kindergartens in the city. She
hoped soon to get a permanent place.

Vandover arrived at Ida's house that night at about eight o'clock in the
midst of a drenching f