Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she was not a whit nearer being able to pay her tomorrow’s bill. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. Ennison, or any other young man. Nothing. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. One gets drawn into things. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws.
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