that would be the end of that tempter and that temptation.
Yet it was such a sad pleasure to picture that passage where:
Although a tear bedims her eye.
She often thinks of her past life,
When we were loving man and wife.
Goosie always had it raining in this scene. Bill was coming along a deserted street, close against the wall, a prosperous, opulent-looking Bill, with a diamond stud. She came out of the distance like a misty gray garment blowing on a line, cold, thin as a snake, her hair hanging in wet ropes, ragged, stove-blacking on her hands and nose. She turned imploring eyes on Bill; he passed right on, going to the bank. He didn't give her a look, although she knew he saw her as well as anything. That was where it cut; that was the place where a sweet, deep pain wrung her heart and made her shiver in the ecstacy of refined remorse.
Goosie's mother broke upon her song, bringing the strange girl into the shadowy dining-room.
"Goosie, this is Louise Gardner, the new dining-room girl. Louise, this is Odessa, my daughter. Goosie's her pet name; she's been called by it so long she wouldn't hardly answer to any other by now."
Goosie put down the undistributed cutlery, offering her hand with frank equality.
"Hello," she said. "When did you come in?"
"I came on Nine this morning," Louise returned,
