"

"You're still a waitress, then?"

She looked at him archly. "Not on your sweet young life!" and she
laughed. "I didn't throw ambition overboard when I quit writing
scenarios. Writing in any form is usually a slow road to success, I've
learned. I never wanted to be a writer just for the sake o' the work.
I want jack, and lots of it, and what it'll buy."

Hiram felt a sudden disgust for her and her sordid aims in life. But
to appear polite he asked:

"What are you doing, then?"

"Everybody I can," she retorted. "I worked in a beauty parlor for a
little as a hairdresser and manicure. I'm out for the money, Hiram.
I'm not a pickpocket yet, but that's because I don't know how to be
one. But if you've got any loose change in your pockets watch out.
I'm out for the coin. But here comes Al. He brought me down. He's
going to set me up in business."

"Drummond?" he asked. "He and I don't speak. We had a little trouble."

Again she arched her penciled brows. "He didn't tell me," she said.
"He'll be sore at me talkin' to you then. See him over there by that
saloon? He's stopped and is scowling at us. Well, I'll just stick
with you to show him his place. Take me somewhere, Hiram; I want to
see the life."

Hiram did not know what to say. He would have preferred to terminate
the conversation. Lucy Dalles held no fascination for him now. Hiram
had met and loved a woman without parallel in his brief experience of
life. But he could not be impolite, so he sauntered down the street
with the girl, trying to make conversation and hoping that Drummond
would not be offended all over again.

In all the resorts men and women were crowding before the bar, gambling
with abandon or dancing.

"Buy me a drink, Hiram," Lucy pleaded. "I just want to go into one of
these places. Women do it here, I understand."

Hiram shrugged and led her into the Palace Dance Hall, conducted by a
notorious character, who followed big construction camps, called
"Ghost" Falcott because of his chalk-white skin.

It was pay day at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's, and the Palace was
crowded. They found a place at the bar, however, and the girl stood
looking over the half-drunken throng with eager eyes, now and then
casting a glance through the door to see if Drummond was following her.

Their drinks had just been served when into the dive, with a grinning
construction stiff on each arm, marched Jerkline Jo, laughing gayly.

This wa