"Not a bit like it, Deptford," she said. "Good-night."

Later Helen Page, who came to her room to ask her about a
horse she was to ride in the morning, found her ready for bed
but standing by the open window looking out toward the great
city to the south.

When she turned Miss Page saw something in her eyes that
caused that young woman to shriek with amazement.

"Anita!" she exclaimed. "You crying! What in Heaven's name
can make you cry?"

It was not a kind speech, nor did Miss Flagg receive it
kindly. She turned upon the tactless intruder.

"Suppose," cried Anita fiercely, "a man thought you were
worth forty dollars a month--honestly didn't know!--honestly
believed you were poor and worked for your living, and still
said your smile was worth more than all of old man Flagg's
millions, not knowing they were YOUR millions. Suppose he
didn't ask any money of you, but just to take care of you, to
slave for you--only wanted to keep your pretty hands from
working, and your pretty eyes from seeing sickness and pain.
Suppose you met that man among this rotten lot, what would
you do? What wouldn't you do?"

"Why, Anita!" exclaimed Miss Page.

"What would you do?" demanded Anita Flagg. "This is what