starvation wages," she said with a finely independent air. Then in a
thoroughly business-like way she went on to give the address of the
school at which she had studied herself and had offered to take Nora
there any evening the coming week.

In the end, to Nora's great pleasure, she had suggested joining forces
for an outing on the coming Sunday. With a gesture that seemed to refer
one to her card, she had explained that after typing all week in a
stuffy office she always tried to have a Sunday out of doors to get her
mind off her work. It was arranged that they should go somewhere
together, leaving their destination to be decided when they met. They
were to meet in front of the National Gallery at a quarter before ten.
But, although poor Nora waited for over an hour, her friend did not
turn up, and she had returned sadly to her dreary room. Neither of the
girls had thought to exchange addresses. Beyond her name and occupation
Miss Hodson's card vouchsafed nothing.

Nor had Nora ever seen her again, although she had returned several
times to the restaurant where they had met. She had spent many of the
long sleepless hours of the night in speculation as to what had become
of her. She was sure that some accident had befallen her or she would
have met her again. No one could be so cruel intentionally.

Once again in a tea room she had timidly ventured, prompted by sheer
loneliness, to speak to an elderly woman with gray hair. It was a
harmless little remark about some flowers in a vase on the counter. The
woman had stared at her coldly for a moment before she said:

"I do not seem to recall where I have had the pleasure of seeing you
before."