I never saw one of those painted harlots who looked as if she
had even the remnants of a mind."
"Well, for heaven's sake keep your distance from Dupont Street. If
some drunken brute caught you lurking in the shadows it might appeal
to his sense of humor to toss you on his shoulder and run the length
of the street with you--possibly fling you through one of the windows
of those awful cottages into some harlot's lap, if she happened to be
soliciting at the moment. Then she'd scratch your eyes out.... You
know a lot about taking care of yourself," he fumed.
"Oh, I never go there any more," she said indifferently. "I'm tired
of it."
"I can understand you leaving your husband and wishing to live alone
--natural enough!--but what I cannot understand is that you, the
quintessence of delicate breeding, should walk the streets at night
and sit in dives. I wonder you can stand being in the room with such
women, to say nothing of the men."
"It has been my hope to forget all I represented before, and danger
means nothing to me. Moreover, there are other reasons. I must have
exercise and air. I do not care to risk meeting any of my old
friends. I must get away from myself--from solitude--during some part
of the twenty-four hours. And--well--the die was cast.
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