hall, for the night.

"He works way down at the stock-yards," explained Minnie, "so
he's got to get up at half-past five."

"What time do you get up to get breakfast?" asked Carrie.

"At about twenty minutes of five."

Together they finished the labour of the day, Carrie washing the
dishes while Minnie undressed the baby and put it to bed.
Minnie's manner was one of trained industry, and Carrie could see
that it was a steady round of toil with her.

She began to see that her relations with Drouet would have to be
abandoned. He could not come here. She read from the manner of
Hanson, in the subdued air of Minnie, and, indeed, the whole
atmosphere of the flat, a settled opposition to anything save a
conservative round of toil. If Hanson sat every evening in the
front room and read his paper, if he went to bed at nine, and
Minnie a little later, what would they expect of her? She saw
that she would first need to get work and establish herself on a
paying basis before she could think of having company of any
sort. Her little flirtation with Drouet seemed now an
extraordinary thing.

"No," she said to herself, "he can't come here."

She asked Minnie for ink and paper, which were upon the mantel in
the dining-room, and when the latter had gone to bed at ten, got