"If it wasn’t that I was going to be married," said Annie, "and saving every penny, I’d leave. The way they carry on! I never saw the like!" "Do they carry on?" inquired Angelica, delighted. Hadn’t she always known that rich people carried on? Wasn’t she just in a paradise of the romantic, where the rich were bad, and the poor, represented by herself and the terribly respectable Annie McCall, were good? "That Mrs. Russell’s the worst of them all," said Annie. "The bold, brazen thing she is, with her breeches and her smoking, and her cursing. You’d ought to hear her curse!" "She’s queer," said Angelica reflectively. "Queer!" cried Annie. "Well, _I’d_ call it more than queer! She’s----” She stopped a moment. "She’s bad," she said. "Oh! Bad! How?" "I don’t like to be spreading scandal," said Annie, who always believed the worst. "It’s not my nature, only that you’ll be working up-stairs right with her, and you being so young, it’s only right you should be told. As soon as ever I set eyes on you, I said to myself you’d ought to be warned. I could see you weren’t used to such people. You never worked out before, did you?" "No," Angelica answered. It was of no use to resent the ‘working out,’ or to tell Annie that she was a ‘companion,’ because Annie knew very well what her place was. Angelica’s eating with the family couldn’t deceive her. They were both servants, and Annie was the better-paid and more respected of the two. Angelica could not honestly consider herself in any way superior, except in appearance. Annie spoke rather better than she did, and had had more schooling; she admitted to money in two savings-banks, and she was engaged to be married. So Angelica submitted to a temporary equality, feeling morally sure, however, that the future would see her elevated immeasurably above Annie. "How is she bad?" she inquired eagerly. "She’s a divorced woman," said Annie. "She divorced her first husband, Mr. Geraldine, and I’ve heard that he was a very nice man--much better than Dr. Russell, I dare say; too good for her, very likely. Anyway, I never heard any good of a divorced woman." "But what does she _do_?" Angelica demanded, rather impatiently. "You wouldn’t believe it, but she’s carrying on with that chauffeur." "My Gawd!" said Angelica. "Is she really?" "It’s the worst I’ve ever heard of. Would you believe it? She’s teaching him to play golf. They go out in the country somewhere, where they’re not known. She’s bought him a bag of clubs, and he goes around showing it to all the chauffeurs, and telling them I don’t know what. He’s a liar, and I wouldn’t believe a word he said, but still--well, when you hear a thing right and left--and there’s those clubs and all, and they cost a terrible lot--you can’t help but think she’s a regular bad woman."