Objections there of course were, but these were not of a sort that either Violet's previous experience or present necessity permitted her to observe. Brought up in wealth, Mrs. Chamberlin's ideals had not been improved by that decline of fortune consequent upon her marriage. Neither in a practical nor in an executive sense had she received any training, and, though she would have told you that household management was woman's true sphere, she actually knew as little of it as she did of the wholesale drug trade. It had never occurred to her that cooking was even distantly related to chemistry and dietetics; scrubbing, dusting, and sweeping to hygiene, or domestic administration to bookkeeping. By the same token, the two servants had to share a dark, narrow room in the basement, had no sitting-room save the kitchen and, so far as social life went, would have been, had they depended upon the Chamberlin house, twin Selkirks on a Juan Fernandez. But Violet was happy. Her health, if it did not improve, at least did not noticeably decline. The work, if it was hard, was at least possible of accomplishment. And within a week she had made herself so valuable to both her mistress and her mistress's nurse that these potentates found continuous need of her. Then the first blow fell. She had just put away the last of the dishes from an early dinner and was passing the barred front window of the basement when, from the sunset across the square, a shadow descended to the floor within. She looked up, startled. In the areaway a dapper, dark, flashily dressed young man was standing, and the young man was Angel. Violet darted away from the window, but Angel, reaching through the bars, calmly raised the sash, which, even in the warmest weather, was drawn against the noise and dust of the street. His dark face was flushed, and though his wet, red lips were smiling, they smiled evilly. "No treecks," he commanded. "You come to me. I wanta talk." Violet did not answer. She huddled into the farthest corner. "Stan' out!" continued Angel, his lips still curved. "You theenka me so dumb? I am sharpa 'nough for see you. You come here, or I go ope stairs an' reenga da bell." Slowly, like the bird advancing to the swaying serpent, she obeyed him. "Now," he said, when they were face to face, "you alone?" She thanked Heaven that they were. The cook was in the kitchen. "Poot on you' hat an' come alonga with me." "I won't!" said Violet. "You do eet!" "I can't. The missus won't let me. It ain't my night off." "Eef you don't, I go ope stairs an' tell all abouta you." "I don't care. I won't go!" "Queeck!" "No." "Then da woman she fire you, an' I get you when you come out alone." Violet knew that he meant it. "Where do you want to take me?" she asked. "I won't let you never take me back to Rose's." "No fear," laughed Angel, shaking his oily curls. "Meess Rosie she would not stan' to have you near." "Then what do you want?"