She opened her handbag which contained, I saw, an apple, a Hershey bar, and a great many loose lozenges, and withdrew a calling card on which she begged me to write my address so that when she heard of something she might get in touch with me.

“But I don’t need work,” I protested, making no move to take the proffered pencil.

She was surprised and, for the first time taking in my new, expensive clothes, she said forgivingly, “Dearie, it doesn’t need to be all over for you. You write down the address and I won’t hold it against you. We’ll get you out of there just as quick as we can and no one will be the wiser. I would take you straight to Arlington this minute rather than have you spend another night in one of those places, but for the time being, I’m crowded for space.”

Without mentioning Miss Pride, I made it clear to her that I was not living in a brothel. She was greatly relieved and said that in that case I might come to call on her some day and tell her “all about it.” “Whenever you get tired of your present place, I know just the house for you. A dear friend of mine has never had a good second maid and I know she would take you in a minute if I recommended you to her. You would have a room to yourself, I happen to know, and two afternoons off not counting Sunday.”

I was anxious to be off for I had just heard the bells at Trinity chiming a quarter past four, but Mrs. Prather held me another five minutes, describing the excellent treatment I would receive at the hands of her friend who, at last it appeared, was an invalid and in spite of suffering horribly from one of the digestive disturbances for which the Hotel guests had such an affection, had the “sweetest nature in the world.” In parting, she tried to give me her Hershey bar which I refused, but not liking to seem rude, I asked if I might have one of the horehound lozenges. She then released me. “Good-by, good-by. I’m glad it’s not what I thought. Now remember me and when you need me, come to Arlington. I’m in the phone book. I expect it’s time for Cinderella to run home to her pots and pans. You know, the French people have an expression when they take leave of one another. Instead of saying ‘good-by,’ they say au revoir which means ‘till we meet again.’ So that’s what I will say to my little Chichester friend, au revoir.”