"One day—it was in March—I had a letter from her saying she had run away from school, was in New York and was looking for a job. I was angry and bitterly disappointed, also I was frightened—Florry in New York without a cent, with no one to be with her, with no home or companion. I went to the address she gave me and found her in the hall bedroom of a third rate boarding house—a woman on the train had told her of it—full of high spirits and a sort of childish joy at being free. She did not understand my disappointment, laughed at my fears. I lost my temper, said more than I ought—and—well, we had a quarrel, the first real one we ever had. "That night I couldn’t sleep, blaming myself, knowing that whatever she did it was my duty to stand by her. The next day I went to the place and found she’d gone, leaving no address. For three days I heard nothing from her and was on the verge of going to you, Mrs. Janney, and imploring your aid and advice, when a letter came. She was all right, she had found paying employment, she was independent at last. In my first spare hour I went to her and found her in another boarding house, a cheap, shabby place, but decent. A good many working women lived there, the better paid shop girls and heads of departments. It was through one of these, a fitter, at Camille’s, that she had got work. With her beauty it had been easy—she had been employed as a model at Camille’s." "Camille’s!" the word came on a startled note from Suzanne. Esther turned to her: "Yes, Mrs. Price, and you saw her there—you ordered a dress from a model that Florry wore." "The girl with the reddish hair—the tall girl?" "Yes, that was Florry. She told me afterward how she walked up and down in front of you." "But—" Suzanne’s voice showed an incredulous wonder, "she was beautiful; they were all talking about her." "I said she was—I was not exaggerating. She was satisfied with her work, liked it, I think she would have liked anything that was novel and took her away from the grind of study. _I_ didn’t like it, but at least it wasn’t the stage, and I set about trying to find something better. That was the situation till April and then—" She paused, her eyes dropped to the floor. The color suddenly rose in her face and raising them she shot a look at Ferguson. He answered it with a slight, almost imperceptible nod and smiled in open encouragement. She took a deep breath and addressed Mrs. Janney: "What I have to tell now isn’t pleasant for me to say or for you to hear, but I have to tell it for all the subsequent events grew from it. Mr. Price had been to Camille’s that first time with his wife." There was a slight stir in the listening company, a sudden focusing of intent eyes on the girl, a waiting expectancy in the grave faces. She saw it and answered it: