Susan hesitated.She must somehow nerve herself to speak of money, to say to him that she needed ten dollars--that she must have it.If she did not speak--if she got nothing for Mr.
Burlingham--or almost nothing--and probably men didn't give women much--if she were going with him--to endure again the horrors and the degradation she had suffered from Mr.
Ferguson--if it should be in vain! This nice young man didn't suggest Mr.Ferguson in any way.But there was such a mystery about men--they had a way of changing so--Sam Wright--Uncle George even Mr.Ferguson hadn't seemed capable of torturing a helpless girl for no reason at all----"We can't stand here," the young man was saying.
She tried to speak about the ten dollars.She simply could not force out the words.With brain in a whirl, with blood beating suffocatingly into her throat and lungs, but giving no outward sign of agitation, she entered the gate.There was a low, old-fashioned porch along the side of the house, with an awning curiously placed at the end toward the street.When they ascended the steps under the awning, they were screened from the street.The young man pulled a knob.A bell within tinkled faintly; Susan started, shivered.But the young man, looking straight at the door, did not see.A colored girl with a pleasant, welcoming face opened, stood aside for them to enter.
He went straight up the stairs directly ahead, and Susan followed.At the threshold the trembling girl looked round in terror.She expected to see a place like that foul, close little farm bedroom--for it seemed to her that at such times men must seek some dreadful place--vile, dim, fitting.She was in a small, attractively furnished room, with a bow window looking upon the yard and the street.The furniture reminded her of her own room at her uncle's in Sutherland, except that the brass bed was far finer.He closed the door and locked it.
As he advanced toward her he said: "_What_ are you seeing? Please don't look like that." Persuasively, "You weren't thinking of me--were you?""No--Oh, no," replied she, passing her hand over her eyes to try to drive away the vision of Ferguson.
"You look as if you expected to be murdered.Do you want to go?"She forced herself to seem calm."What a coward I am!" she said to herself."If I could only die for him, instead of this.But I can't.And I _must_ get money for him."To the young man she said: "No.I--I--want to stay."Late in the afternoon, when they were once more in the street, he said."I'd ask you to go to dinner with me, but I haven't enough money."She stopped short.An awful look came into her face.
"Don't be alarmed," cried he, hurried and nervous, and blushing furiously."I put the--the present for you in that funny little bundle of yours, under one of the folds of the nightgown or whatever it is you've got wrapped on the outside.I didn't like to hand it to you.I've a feeling somehow that you're not regularly--that kind.""Was it--ten dollars?" she said, and for all he could see she was absolutely calm.
"Yes," replied he, with a look of relief followed by a smile of amused tenderness.
"I can't make you out," he went on."You're a queer one.You've had a look in your eyes all afternoon--well, if I hadn't been sure you were experienced, you'd almost have frightened me away.""Yes, I've had experience.The--the worst," said the girl.
"You--you attract me awfully; you've got--well, everything that's nice about a woman--and at the same time, there's something in your eyes----Are you very fond of your friend?""He's all I've got in the world."
"I suppose it's his being sick that makes you look and act so queer?""I don't know what's the matter with me," she said slowly.
"I--don't know."
"I want to see you again--soon.What's your address?""I haven't any.I've got to look for a place to live.""Well, you can give me the place you did live.I'll write you there, Lorna.You didn't ask me my name when I asked you yours.
You've hardly said anything.Are you always quiet like this?""No--not always.At Least, I haven't been."
"No.You weren't, part of the time this afternoon--at the restaurant.Tell me, what are you thinking about all the time?
You're very secretive.Why don't you tell me? Don't you know Ilike you?"
