Another of the women got up hurriedly and left the table. “I haven’t the nerve for another sob-scene,” she commented as she went out.
“Where am I? Where am I?” pleaded Carmen, turning from one to another.
Jude reached out and seized her hand tightly. “Pleasant job for me!” she commented ironically, looking at the others. Then, to Carmen:
“You are in a––a hotel,” she said abruptly.
“Oh––then––then it was a mistake?” The girl turned her great, yearning eyes upon the woman. Jude shrank under them. “Sit down, and finish your supper,” she said harshly, pulling the girl toward the chair.
“No!” replied Carmen loudly. “You must take me to Mr. Reed!”
The maudlin woman down the table chuckled thickly. The negro waitress went quickly out and closed the door. Jude rose, still holding the girl’s hand. “Come up stairs with me,” she said, leading her away.
“Poor old Jude!” commented one of the women, when the two had left the room. “She’s about all in. This sort of business is getting her nerve. But she’s housekeeper, and that’s part of her job. And––the poor little kid! But ain’t she a beauty!”
Jude took the girl into her own room and locked the door. Then she sank wearily into a chair. “God!” she cried, “I’m sick of this––sick of the whole thing!”
Carmen went quickly to her. “Don’t!” she said. “Don’t! It was all a mistake, and we can go.”