Human hearts were of less concern to her, for the time being, than
human feet, and hers were killing her. She began a recital of her
sufferings, as intimate, as agonizing, and as confidential as if Gray
were a practicing chiropodist. What she had to say about tight shoes
was bitter in the extreme; she voiced a gloomy conviction that the
alarming increase in suicides was due to bunions. The good woman
confessed that she dearly loved finery and had bought right and left
with reckless extravagance, but all the merchandise in this department
store was not worth the anguish she had endured this day. With her
stiff little bonnet tilted carelessly over her wrinkled forehead, she
declared emphatically that she would gladly swap all her purchases at
this moment for a tub of hot water.

"Where is Allie?" Gray inquired.

"Lord knows! She's som'eres around bein' worked over by a couple
of women. Gettin' her hair washed an' her finger nails cured an' I
dunno what not. Mercy me! The things Miss Good had 'em do to her!
An' the money we've spent! Allie's gone hog wild." The complaint
ended in a stifled moan induced perhaps by some darting pain, then
without further ado Ma Briskow unbuttoned one shoe and removed
it. "Whew!" She leaned back in her chair, wiggled her stockinged
toes, and feebly fanned herself. "But wait till you see her. I
can't scarcely reco'nize my own flesh an' blood. I never seen such
a change in a human person."

Gray pretended to listen as the good woman babbled on, but he was
thinking about the girl who had disappeared. He was surprised at
the keenness of his chagrin. He had seen Miss Good but a short
time, and she had made no effort whatever to excite his interest;