As this tall, dignified woman completed her monologue, she touched an ivory button on the side of the mahogany secretary in front of which she was seated. The silence which followed the closing of her remarks was broken only by the sounds of sweet strains of music, which floated through this spacious house on one of the notable streets of the “Tenderloin” district of Chicago.
I sat and quietly waited for the response, which I knew would come at the touch of that bell. A description of the interior of that palace is beyond my power, and had I tried to take mental notes, I would have failed completely, for I felt the steady gaze of her blue eyes upon me so strong that I could not center my mind on anything but the woman. In spite of the fact that she was not more than thirty-five years old, her hair was silvery gray; her eyes were bright, her skin soft and fair; a smile of natural sincerity helped to light the sweet face, adding an expression to the pink and white that would cause any man to become a close observer, if not an admirer, of the woman, even without making a more scrutinizing survey of her many other charms. The poise of her head, the full, round neck, the broad, yet plump shoulders, the long, beautifully moulded arm and tapering fingers, served to attract a reasonable share of attention from the heaving bosom and slender waist of my hostess. My going over process was interrupted by a merry laugh, which caused my fair entertainer to rise, then with the grace and dignity of a queen, she presented to me the entire coterie of new comers, who constituted the bevy of young ladies which came into the room.
I was at once convinced that all the income of this house was not spent on the furnishings, for each young woman was gowned in a manner befitting the occasion. Some music and a few songs occupied the next fifteen or twenty minutes, during which time I used my eyes with as much of a critical air as was possible. Presently I told the lady of the house that I wished to talk with her in person before I made further acquaintance with any of the inmates of her rendezvous. The hint was sufficient, and we were soon alone.
“Well,” said she pleasantly.
“Yes, I want to talk privately with you.”
“Proceed.”
“But, had we not better retire to some private room where we will not be in danger of being disturbed?”
“This house is mine; we will not be interrupted here,” she said sweetly.
“Thank you. Then I will tell you what I want. I am looking for facts and wish you to give me the entire history of your life.”
The smile of anticipation faded into a look of remorse, that expression in turn was followed by an inquisitive look which told me that the woman was feigning misunderstanding.