She was still "very well" a few moments later when she and Janet settled themselves in the luxurious car. They were the oddest pair. Janet's bonnet and shawl were as battered as Felicia's garb; exhausted as she was Felicia found herself whimsically wondering how she'd tell herself from Janet when it was time to get out. Felicia's tears had dissolved in little smothered hysterical sniffs. She was laughing at Janet's scolding because the seamstress had refused to take what Mr. Freddie had tried to give her just as they were stepping into the car. "It's worth ony money to Mr. Freddie to have Mr. Peter snatch a bit of contentment from life--and Mr. Freddie is that prodigal with money that if you don't take it of him he'll hand it to the next one--" "But I can't take money for playing--chess is only playing, its only for work we should take money." Janet snorted. She talked volubly in her rich broad Scotch. Agitated as she was, Felicia's own lips were mouthing these strange new sounds, she was sure she could get the gutteral A, she wasn't sure of the burry R. She couldn't heed at all what Janet was saying, indeed she couldn't listen intelligently, because her tired ears were still filled with the glorious harmonies of Dudley Hamilt's unfinished song. When she shut her eyes she could see his tall figure swinging up the stairs--she was trying to convince herself that she was really glad that he hadn't recognized her, when the car stopped before her darkened house. Janet got out first, haughtily dismissing the chauffeur with the assurance that she could walk the four blocks over to her own house and she'd not leave a clean car in such a dirty street as Montrose Place. Dulcie was waiting on the old balcony. Babiche trotted ahead of her when she opened the door, in ecstacy at Felicia's home coming. Dulcie set her flaring candle carefully on the newel post and eyed Janet. "It's Janet MacGregor with me, Dulcie. She's a widow woman. This is Dulcie Dierckx, Janet, you'll like Dulcie--" She had Babiche in her arms now, and was leaning wearily against the balustrade, "Janet was good to bring me home--I was a silly fool--I cried, Dulcie--" Janet was peering curiously into the empty house. "Is onybody livin' here?" she demanded. "I thought I saw them all movin' out--I heard the building was comin' down to make room for lofts." Dulcie answered that it wasn't, holding the door open as a tactful hint that she'd better go. But Janet had no intention of leaving. She had a woman's curiosity about a vacant house, and she was frankly looking things over, craning her neck to glance down the murky hallway. "Would you think the basement might be to let to a decent body? It's no worth much, so old and all but I know a body as might conseeder it." Impractical as the "beastly step-aunt" had proclaimed her to be Dulcie grasped Janet's thin arm. "How much would you pay?" "Is it your hous'?"