To her sisters Athalie wrote:
"For reasons of economy, and other reasons, I have moved to
1006 West Fifty-fifth Street where I have the top floor. I
think that you both can find accommodations in this house
when you return to New York.
"So far I have not secured a position. Please don't think I
am discouraged. I do hope that you are well and successful."
Their address, at that time, was Vancouver, B. C.
* * * * *
To Clive Bailey, Jr., his agent wrote:
"Miss Athalie Greensleeve called at the office this morning
and returned the keys to the apartment which she has
occupied.
"Miss Greensleeve explained to me a fact of which I had not
been aware, viz.: that the furniture, books, hangings,
pictures, porcelains, rugs, clothing, furs, bed and table
linen, silver, etc., etc., belong to you and not to her as I
had supposed.
"I have compared the contents of the apartment with the
minute inventory given me by Miss Greensleeve. Everything is
accounted for; all is in excellent order.
"I have, therefore, locked up the apartment, pending orders
from you regarding its disposition,"--etc., etc.
* * * * *
The tall shabby house in Fifty-fourth Street was one of a five-storied
row built by a speculator to attract fashion many years before.
Fashion ignored the bait.
A small square of paper which had once been white was pasted on the
brick front just over the tarnished door-bell. On it was written in
ink: "Furnished Rooms."
Answering in person the first advertisement she had turned to in the
morning paper Athalie had found this place. There was nothing
attractive about it except the price; but that was sufficient in this
emergency. For the girl would not permit herself to remain another
night in the pretty apartment furnished for her by the man whose
engagement had been announced to her through the daily papers.
And nothing of his would she take with her except the old gun-metal
wrist-watch, and Hafiz, and the barred basket in which Hafiz had
arrived. Everything else she left, her toilet silver, desk-set, her
evening gowns and wraps, gloves, negligees, boudoir caps, slippers,
silk stockings, all her bath linen, everything that she herself had
not purchased out of her own salary--even the little silver cupid
holding aloft his torch, which had been her night-light.
[Illustration: "With a basket containing Hafiz, her suit-case, and a
furled umbrella she started for her new lodgings."] Never again could she illuminate that torch. The other woman must do
that.
* * * * *
She went about quietly from room to room, lowering the shades and
drawing the curtains. There was brilliant colour in her cheeks, an
undimmed beauty in her eyes; pride crowned the golden head held steady
and high on its slender, snowy neck. Only the lips threatened
betrayal; and were bitten as punishment into immobility.