to get her old position back. She wouldn't even have to go to her father and ask for help. Her father . . . the memory of his trembling arms around her, his unhidden joy when called upon for sympathy touched some latent depths of tenderness in her nature. It steadied her; it gave her a clearer vision; a keener, more incisive determination to see her failure through courageously.
There was a trace of satiric gleam in the pawnbroker's eyes as Minnie gathered up the bundle and flung out of the store, head up, chin round and firm, eyes looking straight ahead.
"She'll come back tomorrow," he said to himself.
Nettie and her mother advanced to meet her as she opened the door and went in.
"Well, dearie," said her mother, "I see you got good news for us. When you didn't return by ten me and Net knew everything was all runnin' smooth and nice. Did you act today, Min?"
She faced them (she felt there was something very dramatic about this) and told them how she had gone from one studio to another without finding work, that she was ready to give up because she could afford to gamble no longer, with Nettie out of work and no funds to buy the wardrobe which was so necessary to success.
They did exactly what she expected them to do. Nettie's raucous voice filled the room with lamentations and curses. Her mother looked upon the disappointment as punishment meted out to her alone, another cross to carry on her poor, frail shoulders. Then when she could bear it no longer Minnie went quietly out of the house and down the street. . . .
She didn't know that Billy saw her the first time she passed Hesselman's shop. He ducked behind the counter
