e urged, 'let's go in somewhere and have something to eat and
drink.'

"'Yes, I will have something, not to eat, though, but let us go where
there are lots of people and lights and all that sort of thing,' I
finished, vaguely.

"Charley tucked my arm in his and we walked along State Street until we
came to a brilliantly lighted cafe. The place was crowded with
well-dressed men and beautiful women, eating and drinking, chatting and
laughing. Waiters were hastening to and fro. An orchestra was playing
gay music, as we wound our way through the crowd to a table. I was
painfully conscious that my shabby coat and straw hat attracted
attention. Some of the women stared at me with a look of conscious
superiority in their eyes, others with a look of still more galling
pity. Charley, too, I thought, seemed nervous. Perhaps he did not relish
being seen by some possible acquaintance with so dilapidated-looking a
person!

"But soon I lost consciousness of these things and gave myself up to the
scene and the music. My sense of pleasure seemed to communicate itself
to my companion, who ordered some drinks; I don't know what they were,
but they tasted good--some kind of cordial. I took longer and longer
sips: it was a new and very pleasant flavour. He ordered more of the
same kind and watched me with interest as I drank and looked about me.

"'Oh,' I said, 'what beautiful women, and how happy they are! look at
that one with the blond hair. Isn't she beautiful, a real dream?'

"Charley replied in a tone of contempt: 'Yes, she's beautiful, but I
would not envy her, if I were you--neither her happiness nor her good
looks. She needs those looks in her business. Nearly all the women here
belong to her class.'

"Charles looked at me intently as he said this. Perhaps he thought I
would be angry because he had brought me to such a place. But I watched
the girls with even greater interest and said: 'Ah, but they must be
happy!'

"Charles shrugged his shoulders and said, with contempt and some pity in
his eyes, 'A queer sort of happiness!'

"I looked at him rather angrily. He did not seem just to me.

"'You don't like them,' I said, 'you think they are vile and low. But
you men seem to need them, just the same. Oh! I think they are brave
girls!'

"Charles looked at me in apparent astonishment. But then a thought
seemed to strike him. He was thinking that I might be one of that class,
for he asked me questions which showed me plainl