in
vain flung itself at her. None of these women, none of the
women of the prosperous classes would be there but for the
assistance and protection of the men. She marveled at her
stupidity in not having seen the obvious thing clearly long
ago. The successful women won their success by disposing of
their persons to advantage--by getting the favor of some man of
ability. Therefore, she, a woman, must adopt that same policy
if she was to have a chance at the things worth while in life.
She must make the best bargain--or series of bargains--she
could. And as her necessities were pressing she must lose no
time. She understood now the instinct that had forced her to
fly from South Fifth Avenue, that had overruled her hesitation
and had compelled her to accept the good-natured, prosperous
man's invitation. . . . There was no other way open to her.
She must not evade that fact; she must accept it. Other ways
there might be--for other women. But not for her, the outcast
without friends or family, the woman alone, with no one to lean
upon or to give her anything except in exchange for what she
had to offer that was marketable. She must make the bargain
she could, not waste time in the folly of awaiting a bargain to
her liking. Since she was living in the world and wished to
continue to live there, she must accept the world's terms. To
be sad or angry either one because the world did not offer her
as attractive terms as it apparently offered many other
women--the happy and respected wives and mothers of the
prosperous classes, for instance--to rail against that was
silly and stupid, was unworthy of her intelligence. She would
do as best she could, and move along, keeping her eyes open;
and perhaps some day a chance for much better terms might
offer--for the best--for such terms as that famous actress
there had got. She looked at Mary Rigsdall. An expression in
her interesting face--the latent rather than the surface
expression--set Susan to wondering whether, if she knew
Rigsdall's _whole_ story--or any woman's whole story--she might
not see that the world was not bargaining so hardly with her,
after all. Or any man's whole story. There her eyes shifted
to Rigsdall's companion, the famous playwright of whom she had
so often heard Rod and his friends talk.

She was startled to find that his gaze was upon her--an
all-seeing look that penetrated to the very core of her being.
He either did not note or cared