She's been through it
all and beaten it all, and she knows she can beat it again. She
understands--I tell you--everything.
"Why, look here! We all but ran into each other on the corner, there, of
Broadway and Forty-second Street; shook hands, said howdy-do. How long
was I here for? Was Eleanor with me? And so on. If I had a spare
half-hour, would I come in and have tea with her at the Knickerbocker?
She'd nodded at two or three passing people while we stood there. And
then somebody said, 'Hello, Dane,' and stopped. A miserable, shabby,
shivering little painted thing. Rose said, 'Hello,' and asked how she
was getting along. Was she working now? She said no; did Rose know of
anything? Rose said, 'Give me your address and if I can find anything,
I'll let you know.' The horrible little beast told where she lived and
went away. Rose didn't say anything to me, except that she was somebody
who'd been out in a road company with her. But there was a look in her
eyes ...! Oh, she knew--everything.
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