“My dear Miss Marian，” he exclaimed— “work！ Think ofdressing every day for dinner， of making half a dozen callsin an afternoon—with a policeman at every corner readyto jump into your auto and take you to the station， if youget up any greater speed than a donkey cart’s gait. We donothingsare the hardest workers in the land.”
The dinner was concluded， the waiter generously fed，and the two walked out to the corner where they had met.
Miss Marian walked very well now； her limp was scarcelynoticeable.
“Thank you for a nice time，” she said， frankly. “I must runhome now. I liked the dinner very much， Mr. Chandler.”
He shook hands with her， smiling cordially， and saidsomething about a game of bridge at his club. He watchedher for a moment， walking rather rapidly eastward， andthen he found a cab to drive him slowly homeward.
In his chilly bedroom Chandler laid away his eveningclothes for a sixty-nine days’ rest. He went about it thoughtfully.
“That was a stunning girl，” he said to himself. “She’s allright， too， I’d be sworn， even if she does have to work.
Perhaps if I’d told her the truth instead of all that razzledazzlewe might—but， confound it！ I had to play up to myclothes.”
Thus spoke the brave who was born and reared in thewigwams of the tribe of the Manhattans.
The girl， after leaving her entertainer， sped swiftly crosstownuntil she arrived at a handsome and sedate mansiontwo squares to the east， facing on that avenue which isthe highway of Mammon and the auxiliary gods. Hereshe entered hurriedly and ascended to a room where ahandsome young lady in an elaborate house dress waslooking anxiously out the window.
“Oh， you madcap！” exclaimed the elder girl， when theother entered. “When will you quit frightening us thisway？ It is two hours since you ran out in that rag of an olddress and Marie’s hat. Mamma has been so alarmed. Shesent Louis in the auto to try to find you. You are a bad，thoughtless Puss.”
The elder girl touched a button， and a maid came in amoment.
“Marie， tell mamma that Miss Marian has returned.”
“Don’t scold， sister. I only ran down to Mme. Theo’sto tell her to use mauve insertion instead of pink. Mycostume and Marie’s hat were just what I needed. Everyone thought I was a shopgirl， I am sure.”
“Dinner is over， dear； you stayed so late.”
“I know. I slipped on the sidewalk and turned my ankle.
I could not walk， so I hobbled into a restaurant and satthere until I was better. That is why I was so long.”
The two girls sat in the window seat， looking out at thelights and the stream of hurrying vehicles in the avenue.
The younger one cuddled down with her head in hersister’s lap.
“We will have to marry some day，” she said dreamily—“both of us. We have so much money that we will not beallowed to disappoint the public. Do you want me to tellyou the kind of a man I could love， Sis？”
“Go on， you scatterbrain，” smiled the other.
“I could love a man with dark and kind blue eyes， who isgentle and respectful to poor girls， who is handsome andgood and does not try to flirt. But I could love him onlyif he had an ambition， an object， some work to do in theworld. I would not care how poor he was if I could helphim build his way up. But， sister dear， the kind of manwe always meet—the man who lives an idle life betweensociety and his clubs—I could not love a man like that，even if his eyes were blue and he were ever so kind to poorgirls whom he met in the street.”
