The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. It'll be advertised to-morrow. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. She went next day to the schools, and her world seemed all made of happiness just worked up roughly into shapes and occasions and duties. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. I had a hard fight to begin with to win my way into the Upper Division—I was third on a list of fortyseven—and since then I have found myself promoted almost yearly in a widening sphere of social service. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it.
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