"Just now," began Frau Jula, "I spoke of women who sought their love adventures in the streets, and you started up in horror. Do you know who one of these women is? I am one." "Oh, my God!" exclaimed Lilly. "Yes, I am one. The evening that my red-headed boy leaves me alone, I put on dark things and drive into districts where nobody knows who I am. When I meet someone whom I like the look of, I give him a glance that makes him turn round and speak to me; then I go with him into a common inn, or to a little confectioner's, anywhere he likes, or I sit with him on a seat in the dark ... and if I like him still better than I thought ... I will just go with him anywhere--anywhere he asks me to go." "Oh, how dreadful that is!" said Lilly, and pressed her hands to her eyes. Now she knew why a few months ago something had seemed to draw her more and more powerfully to the streets, why a pleasant thrill had passed through her when someone had addressed her in the dark; only, of course, she had been too nervous to answer. "And now I have told you this, and you know what I am, you won't want me to sit on your beautiful sofa any more!" cried Frau Jula. "Say it plump out, and I'll go." She caught beseechingly at Lilly's hands. Lilly felt like a good Samaritan who, having come across someone grievously afflicted, was bound to do the best she could for her. "What makes you do it?" she asked gently. "You are not so lonely. How have you come to it?" "Yes, how have I come to it? Can you say how you have come to what you are? It's all very well for people to reproach us with weakness; but one necessity leads on to another, one wish gives birth to more wishes, and one always thinks one is doing right." "That is true enough," Lilly faltered, recalling the decisive moments of her own life.