The girl looked at her curiously. “I don’t know much about tender feet. Mine never bother me,” she said. “But I could see right away that you didn’t belong in this part of town.”
“Well, you’ve been real kind to me,” Helen said. “I hope I’ll see you again.”
“Not likely,” said the other, shaking her head.
“Why not?”
“And you livin’ on Madison Avenyer, and me on Madison Street?”
“I can come down to see you,” said Helen, frankly. “My name is Helen Morrell. What’s yours?”
“Sadie Goronsky. You see, I’m a Russian,” and she smiled. “You wouldn’t know it by the way I talk; would you? I learned English over there. But some folks in Russia don’t care to mix much with our people.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Helen. “But I know when I like a person. And I’ve got reason for liking you.”
“That goes—double,” returned the other, warmly. “I bet you come from a place far away from this city.”