r
speckled with shipping from all the Seven Seas to her berth at the dock.

So Hazel came again to a city--a city that roared and bellowed all its
manifold noises in her ears, long grown accustomed to a vast and
brooding silence. Mindful of Bill's parting word, she took a hack to
the Ladysmith. And even though the hotel was removed from the business
heart of the city, the rumble of the city's herculean labors reached
her far into the night. She lay wakefully, staring through her open
window at the arc lights winking in parallel rows, listening to the
ceaseless hum of man's activities. But at last she fell asleep, and
dawn of a clear spring day awakened her.

She ate her breakfast, and set forth on a shopping tour. To such
advantage did she put two of the hundred-dollar bills that by noon she
was arrayed in a semi-tailored suit of gray, spring hat, shoes, and
gloves to match. She felt once more at ease, less conscious that
people stared at her frayed and curious habiliments. With a complete
outfit of lingerie purchased, and a trunk in which to store it
forwarded to her hotel, her immediate activity was at an end, and she
had time to think of her next move.

And, brought face to face with that, she found herself at something of
a loss. She had no desire to go back to Cariboo Meadows, even to get
what few personal treasures she had left behind. Cariboo Meadows was
wiped off the slate as far as she was concerned. Nevertheless, she
must make her way. Somehow she must find a means to return the unused
portion of the--to her--enormous sum Roaring Bill had placed in her
hands. She must make her own living. The question that troubled her
was: How, and where? She had her trade at her finger ends, and the
storied office buildings of Vancouver assured her that any efficient
stenographer could find work. But she looked up as she walked the
streets at the high, ugly walls of brick and steel and stone, and her
heart misgave her.

So for the time being she promised herself a holiday. In the afternoon
she walked the length of Hastings Street, where the earth trembled with
the roaring traffic of street cars, wagons, motors, and where folk
scuttled back and forth across the way in peril of their lives. She
had seen all the like before, but now she looked upon it with different
eyes; it possessed somehow a different significance, this bustle and
confusion which had seemingly neither beginning nor end, only sporadic
pe