Lilas was out, she learned, which probably meant that she was
still asleep. Lorelei ascended to her new home in low spirits. Now
that she saw the place in strong daylight, she was vaguely
disappointed. On the evening previous, the superintendent had
lighted it brilliantly, but now it was gloomy, and there was dust
and disorder everywhere. The previous occupant had undoubtedly
been a temperamental housekeeper; the tragic awakening of love's
young dream showed in the hasty nature of her departure for the
ice-box was lamentably odorous of forgotten food, the kitchenette
needed scrubbing with hot water and lye, the modest fittings of
the whole place were in topsy-turvy neglect. When Lorelei's trunks
were dumped inside, the chaos appeared complete. She was not
accustomed to rely upon her own hands, and at this moment she felt
none of the pride that comes of independence. Instead of the glad
spirit of freedom she had anticipated she was filled with
dismaying doubts. She sat down, finally, in the midst of a
confusion that her first efforts had only doubled, and stared
about her with miserable eyes. She was very lonely, very
friendless, and very much discouraged. Then she noticed the
telephone and sprang toward it.

Adoree was at home; her voice answered cheerily, and her
interruptions of amazement and delight caused Lorelei's message to
spin itself out unduly. Without waiting for an invitation Adoree
cried:

"Let me come and help. Please! We'll use both the poodles for
mops, and I'll be there in ten minutes. ... You're a perfect dear
to say yes for I know you want to do it all yourself."