The strongest man in the world. Hugo wondered what sort of strong man he would make. Perhaps he could go into competition with Dr. Thorndyke. He saw himself pictured in gaudy reds and yellows, holding up an enormous weight. He remembered that he was looking for Bessie. Then he saw another girl. She was sitting at a table, alone. That fact was significant. He sat beside her.

“Hello, tough,” she said.

“Hello.”

“Wanna buy me a beer?”

Hugo bought a beer and looked at the girl. Her hair was black and straight. Her mouth was straight. It was painted scarlet. Her eyes were hard and dark. But her body, as if to atone for her face, was made in a series of soft curves that fitted exquisitely into her black silk dress. He tortured himself looking at her. She permitted it sullenly. “You can buy me a sandwich, if you want. I ain’t eaten to-day.”

He bought a sandwich, wondering if she was telling the truth. She ate ravenously. He bought another and then a second glass of beer. After that she rose. “You can come with me if you wanna.”

Odd. No conversation, no vivacity, only a dull submission that was not in keeping with her appearance.

“Have you had enough to eat?” he asked.

“It’ll do,” she responded.

They turned into a side street and moved away from the shimmering lights and the morass of people. Presently they entered a dingy frame house and went upstairs. There was no one in the hall, no furniture, only a flickering gas-light. She unlocked a door. “Come in.”

He looked at her again. She took off her hat and arranged her dark hair so that it looped almost over one eye. Hugo wondered at her silence. “I didn’t mean to rush,” he said.

“Well, I did. Gotta make some more. It’ll be”—she hesitated—“two bucks.”

The girl sat down and wept. “Aw, hell,” she said finally, looking at him with a shameless defiance, “I guess I’m gonna make a rotten tart. I was in a show, an’ I got busted out for not bein’ nice to the manager. I says to myself: ‘Well, what am I gonna do?’ An’ I starts to get hungry this morning. So I says to myself: ‘Well, there ain’t but one thing to do, Charlotte, but to get you a room,’ I says, an’ here I am, so help me God.”

She removed her dress with a sweeping motion. Hugo looked at her, filled with pity, filled with remorse at his sudden surrender to her passionate good looks, intensely discomfited.