"
They both had seen better times--of course. Then money losses came, with
work in shop or factory, and the voice of the tempter in the commercial
wilderness.
One, a frail nervous little creature, who had instinctively chosen a
seat at Ernest's side, kept prattling in his ear, ready to tell the
story of her life to any one who was willing to treat her to a drink.
Something in her demeanour interested him.
"And then I had a stroke of luck. The manager of a vaudeville was my
friend and decided to give me a trial. He thought I had a voice. They
called me Betsy, the Hyacinth Girl. At first it seemed as if people
liked to hear me. But I suppose that was because I was new. After a
month or two they discharged me."
"And why?"
"I suppose I was just used up, that's all."
"Frightful!"
"I never had much of a voice--and the tobacco smoke--and the wine--I
love wine."
She gulped down her glass.
"And do you like your present occupation?"
"Why not? Am I not young? Am I not pretty?"
This she said not parrotwise, but with a simple coquettishness that was
all her own.
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