She glared at the city around her, at its tall, hard unfriendly walls, the jangling trolleys down below, the trucks and drays and the crowds rushing by her. For all their hurry, some of the men shot glances at Ethel that made her burn. One tall thin man even stopped and turned and she felt his look travel right down to her toes! She walked on and on with her bare fists clenched. She had left her gloves in the office. Go back for them? No! Nor to any office, nor any man! "Oh, yes, I will, I'll go back to Joe--and hear him say, 'I told you so.'" She reached the apartment faint and sick. Joe had not come home, thank goodness. She went to her room and to her bed, and had a good cry, which relieved her a little. And so, after an hour or two, looking steadily up at the ceiling, she decided that after a few days' rest she would go to all three of those bureaus and say, "I'm in the market still, if you please, but only for a woman boss." But later, as she was dressing for dinner, her eye was caught by the photograph of her sister Amy. And the face appeared to her suddenly so strong and wise with its knowledge of life. She remembered Amy's smiles at all new "movements" and ideas and work for women. She seemed to be smiling now, with a good-humoured pitying air, and to be saying: "Now will you believe me? It isn't what you say to men, it's how you look and what you wear." And Ethel stared at it and frowned, in a disillusioned, questioning way. CHAPTER VII Joe did not say, "I told you so." It was after eight that evening when he came home from his office, and she was annoyed at the delay, for she wanted to have her confession of failure over and done with. As she waited restlessly, she envied him his business life. How much simpler everything was for a man! Her nerves were on edge. Why didn't he come! At last she heard his key in the door and sharply pulled herself together. "How I detest him!" she thought to herself. "Hello, Ethel." His voice from the hallway had a gruff and tired sound; but a moment later when he came in, it was with his usual friendly smile. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I've had a mean day at the office." "So have I," said Ethel, and with a frown she plunged right in. The sooner this was over the better. But when she had finished and looked up, she detected no triumph on his face. He was watching her so queerly. "Well," he said, "I ought to be sorry, I suppose--but I can't exactly say I am." "Why not?" At her sharp challenge he grimly smiled. "Because this kind of puts us--in the same boat--two of a kind." "What on earth do you mean?" she demanded. And then with a rueful grimace he said: