Dan Cassatt came in at the other door, sat on the edge of his bed and changed his trousers for what he was pleased to imagine a less disreputable pair. Midway the boy stopped and eyed Susan's bare leg and foot, a grin of pleasure and amusement on his precociously and viciously mature face. "My, but you keep clean," he cried. "And you've got a mighty pretty foot. Minnie's is ugly as hell." Minnie was the "fancy lady" on the floor below--"my skirt," he called her. Susan evidently did not hear his compliment. Dan completed his "sporting toilet" with a sleeking down of his long greasy hair, took himself away to his girl. Susan was watching a bug crawl down the wall toward their bed with its stained and malodorous covers of rag. Etta was still standing by the door motionless. She sighed, once more put her hand on the knob. Susan's voice came again. "You've never been out, have you?" "No," replied Etta. Susan began to put on her stocking. "I'll go," said she. "I'll go--instead." "No!" cried Etta, sobbing. "It don't matter about me. I'm bound to be sucked under. You've got a chance to pull through." "Not a ghost of a chance," answered Susan. "I'll go. You've never been." "I know, but----" "You've never been," continued Susan, fastening her shoe with its ragged string. "You've never been. Well--I have." "You!" exclaimed Etta, horrified though unbelieving. "Oh, no, you haven't." "Yes," said Susan. "And worse." "And worse?" repeated Etta. "Is that what the look I sometimes see in your eyes--when you don't know anyone's seeing--is that what it means?" "I suppose so. I'll go. You stay here." "And you--out there!" "It doesn't mean much to me." Etta looked at her with eyes as devoted as a dog's. "Then we'll go together," she said. Susan, pinning on her weather-stained hat, reflected. "Very well," she said finally. "There's nothing lower than this." They said no more; they went out into the clear, cold winter night, out under the brilliant stars. Several handsome theater buses were passing on their way from the fashionable suburb to the theater. Etta looked at them, at the splendid horses, at the men in top hats and fur coats--clean looking, fine looking, amiable looking men--at the beautiful fur wraps of the delicate women--what complexions!--what lovely hair!--what jewels! Etta, her heart bursting, her throat choking, glanced at Susan to see whether she too was observing. But Susan's eyes were on the tenement they had just left. "What are you looking at--so queer?" asked Etta. "I was thinking that we'll not come back here." Etta started. "Not come back _home!_" Susan gave a strange short laugh. "Home!. . . No, we'll not come back home. There's no use doing things halfway. We've made the plunge. We'll go--the limit."