"After all, Glorious Lutie," she reflected contentedly, "why do I ever live in anything bigger than a hall bedroom? All a girl needs is a bed, a bureau, one chair and a closet, and that is exactly what I've got. And for full measure they have thrown in all those ducky little backyards and a tree. I don't expect you to believe it, but I tell you true. A tree in Manhattan. How do you suppose it got by the censor! And just now, if you please, a tiny new moon all tangled up in its branches. It's trying its best to get out, but it can't make it. I never saw a new moon struggle so hard. Honest, I can hear it pant for breath. It looks like a silver fish that tried to leap out of this window and got caught in a green net. I suppose your Glorious Susie must be thinking of annexing a job sometime, Glorious Lutie. Or else we'll cease to eat. But for a few days I won't, if you don't mind; I'm fed up on jobs. And I've lost my taste for offices. No, I think I'll take those few days off and do a rubberneck trip around Manhattan. I feel like looking on innocent objects that can't speak or think. And for a time I don't want to go any place where I'd be likely to see my friends of the Carbonado Mining Company. After a while the thought of them won't bother me so. Probably by this time they have hired some other poor girl. Perhaps she won't mind Mr. Cowler though. Anyway, I'm free of them." When Susannah awoke the next morning, which was the third of her occupancy of the little room, some of her normal vitality had flowed back, her spirits began to mount. She sang--she even whistled--as she bathed and dressed; and she indulged in no more than the usual number of exasperated exclamations over the uncoilableness of her freshly shampooed, sparkling hair. "Why do we launder our tresses, I ask you, Glorious Lutie?" she questioned once. "And oh, why didn't I have regular gold hair like yours instead of this garnet mane? I look like--I look like--Azinnia! But oh, I ought never to complain when I reflect that I've escaped the curse of white eyelashes." A consideration first of the shimmery day outside, and next of the clothes hanging in her closet, deflected her attention from this grievance. She chose from her closet a salmon-colored linen gown, slightly faded to a delicate golden rose. It was a long, slim dress and it made as much as possible of every inch of Susannah's long slimness. Moreover, it was notably successful in bringing out the blue of her brilliant eyes, the red of her brilliant hair, the contrasting white of her smooth warm skin. That face now so shone and smelled of soap that, the instant she caught sight of it in the glass, she pulled open the top drawer of her bureau and powdered it frantically.