“I’m giving you jolly good advice, and you’ll be a young fool if you don’t take it. He’s rich, and you’d have a splendid position, and after a year or two you’d probably find yourself free to go your own way. He wouldn’t live for ever, either.” “Don’t,” said Elsie. “Well, it’s true. You can bet he’s on the look-out for a second wife already--widowers of that age always are.” “He wouldn’t think of marrying me.” “Only because he can get what he wants without,” said Irene curtly. “You show him he can’t, and set him thinking a bit. If he’s half as keen on you as you say he is, anyway, the idea’s bound to cross his mind.” Elsie was rather bewildered, and disposed to be incredulous. She was incapable of having formulated so practical an idea for herself, and it held for her a sense of unreality. “Anyhow, I couldn’t marry an old man like that. I don’t even like him.” “Whoever you marry, young Elsie, you won’t stick to him,” said Irene cynically. “And if you ask me, the quicker you get a husband the better.” “That’s what mother says.” “She wasn’t born yesterday. Well, do as you like, of course, but it’s the chance of a lifetime. I’m sure of that. Just hold out for a month--tell him you couldn’t think of going anywhere with him--and see if he doesn’t suggest your becoming the second Mrs. Williams.” “You’re mad, Ireen,” said Elsie, entirely without conviction. She was in reality very much impressed both by Irene’s worldly wisdom and by the sudden realisation it had brought to her of the possibilities latent in Mr. Williams’ admiration. She disliked having to work, and she knew that marriage was her only escape from work. To be married very young would be a triumph, and she thought with malicious satisfaction of how much she would enjoy asking Aunt Gertie and Aunt Ada to visit her in her own house. “Well, good-night,” said Irene’s voice in her ear. “I’m going to sleep. If you want to get over to your place early in the morning, don’t wake me, that’s all.” “All right.” Elsie turned over, gave a fleeting thought to the memory of the man she had met that evening, and fell asleep almost at once. The next morning, after huddling on her clothes, and washing her face very hastily just before putting on her hat over her unbrushed hair, Elsie crossed the street and went home. Mrs. Palmer was on the doorstep. She was very angry. “How dare you stay out all night like that, you good-for-nothing little slut? I haven’t closed my eyes for wondering what’d happened to you. Where have you been?” “At Ireen’s.” “Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” “I never thought of it, till I got here and found the door locked.” “It wasn’t locked till nearly eleven o’clock, miss, and you could have come in by the side door, as you very well knew. And what were you doing out till eleven o’clock, I should like to know?” “Nothing,” said Elsie, beginning to cry.