But the thing ran like another instalment of the talk they had had in
Dubuque. She knew he had been distressed over the shabbiness of her
surroundings, knocking about with that road company, and she was afraid
that in spite of the assurance she had then given him, he was still
worried about her. She was sure he'd be glad to know that she'd quit the
stage for good, as an active performer on it, at least; that she was
earning an excellent salary, fifty dollars a week, doing a highly
congenial kind of work that had good prospects of advancement in it. She
had a very comfortable little apartment (she gave him the address of it)
and was living in a way that--she had written "even Harriet," but
scratched this out--Frederica, for example, would consider entirely
respectable. So he needn't feel another moment's anxiety about her.
She'd have written sooner, but had wanted to get fully settled in her
new job and be sure she was going to be able to keep it, in order that
she might have something definitely reassuring to tell him.
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