latticed pattern, so that at times the tip of a breast could be glimpsed, and a bit of underwear. It was as if she didn't care, or didn't know.
"Fix your dress, it's down too far," Vida ordered.
"Oh, is it?" Lucy said indifferently and pulled it up. She put on a grey felt cloche with a silver band, and a moleskin coat with a grey fox collar. "Let's go, I know a place that has good bread, nice and soft. I hate those hard rolls you get in swell restaurants."
Vida was astonished to be taken to a lunchroom buzzing With flies under the 3rd Avenue Elevated, with sawdust on the floor, and a bill of fare of thirty-five- and forty-cent dishes.
"I'll have liver and bacon, milk and raisin cake, it's good for you," Lucy said, oblivious to the stares of men in work clothes at other tables.
"So will I," Vida said, though she was not hungry.
"I love to lie in bed these days and eat raisins and dates and figs while I'm reading," Lucy chatted. "They are full of iron. One fig is twenty-five calories."
"Have you heard anything about Paul Vermillion?" Vida asked, at last forcing out the question which had been preoccupying her.
"I had a card from him in Paris. So did you. I forgot to forward it.
"Where is it, and what did he say? He must think me a fine one for not answering," Vida exclaimed, her spirits soaring.
"Oh no, he didn't expect an answer. It wasn't anything special. Just a line some girl, Joyce, said at dinner he thought you'd like to hear about. I couldn't make out what it meant."
"It must have been James Joyce, the great writer, and I do think you might have sent it to me. I hope you find it."
"It's probably around somewhere, in my trunk—I'll look for it."
Reversing her guarded manner, Lucy leaned forward impulsively. "Now that you're back I feel like working again. I'm going to work hard at my stage dancing and get my name back in lights. That's what impresses people most, even those who pretend to look down on Broadway. I haven't done anything about it yet because I want to be ready with some good numbers. Of course, I'd still like to do something creative. Vermillion said all you can do is what you can do and maybe art results, so maybe there's hope for me. But I don't want to give concerts, it's too long between shows. I want to dance twice a day every day, like at the Palace, to fill in time."
She finished her milk and sat brooding.
