, her
blue eyes fixed on space. Tears would come.

Then she rose and crossed to the golden-oak piano between the windows,
her negligee open its full length and revealing her nightdress; crossed
with a slight limp and the dog yapping at the soiled and lacy train;
fell to manipulating the self-playing attachment, peddling out a
metallic avalanche of popular music.

At its conclusion she swung around on the bench, her back drooping as if
under pressure of indolence; yawned; crossed to the window and between
the parted lace curtains stood regarding the street two stories beneath,
and, beyond the patches of intervening roofs, a limited view of the
Hudson River, a barge of coal passing leisurely up center stream, a tug
suckling at its side.

From the hallway and in the act of mopping a margin of floor, a
maid-of-all-work swung back from all-fours and sat upright on her heels,
inserting a head of curl-papers through the open doorway.

"Play that over again, Miss Mae. That Mustard Glide' sure does tickle my
soles."

Miss Munroe turned to the room with the palm of her hand placed pat
against her brow. "God!" said she, "my head!"

"Aw, Miss Mae, can't you get yourself in a humor? What's the matter with
you and me going to a movie this afternoon, eh?"

"Movie! The way every damn thing gets on my nerves, I'd be a hit at a
movie, wouldn't I? I'd be a hit anywheres!"

"I tell you, Miss Mae, all this worry ain't going to get you nowheres.
He'll come around again all right if you only give him time. And if he
don't, you should worry! I tell you there ain't one of 'em breathes is
worth more than his bank-book."

"God! my head!"

The figure on all-fours rose to full height, drying each forearm on her
apron.

"Lay down, dearie, and just don't you worry. I've seen 'em get spells or
get holy and stay away for two months on a stretch, and the checks not
coming in regular as clockwork like yours, neither. Two months at a time
I've seen 'em stick away. Why, when I worked on the lower West Side they
used to stick away two and three months like that and then come loafing
in one night just like nothing hadn't happened. You ain't got no kick
coming, Miss Mae."

A layer of tears rose immediately to Miss Munroe's eyes, dimming them.
She wiped them away with one of her sleeve frills.

"Max ain't like that and you know it. You've seen for yourself how
he 'ain't missed his every other night in three years. You seen for
yourself."

"