The moment she found herself above Twenty-third Street and in the old familiar surroundings, she felt an irresistible longing to hear about Rod Spenser. She was like one who has been on a far journey, leaving behind him everything that has been life to him; he dismisses it all because he must, until he finds himself again in his own country, in his old surroundings. She went into the Hoffman House and at the public telephone got the Herald office. "Is Mr. Drumley there?"
"No," was the reply. "He's gone to Europe."
"Did Mr. Spenser go with him?"
"Mr. Spenser isn't here—hasn't been for a long time. He's abroad too. Who is this?"
"Thank you," said Susan, hanging up the receiver.
She drew a deep breath of relief.
She left the hotel by the women's entrance in Broadway. It was six o'clock. The sky was clear—a typical New York sky with air that intoxicated blowing from it—air of the sea—air of the depths of heaven. A crescent moon glittered above the Diana on the Garden tower. It was Saturday night and Broadway was thronged—with men eager to spend in pleasure part of the week's wages or salary they had just drawn; with women sparkling-eyed and odorous of perfumes and eager to help the men. The air was sharp—was the ocean air of New York at its delicious best. And the slim, slightly stooped girl with the earnest violet-gray eyes and the sad bitter mouth from whose lips the once brilliant color had now fled was ready for whatever might come. She paused at the corner, and gazed up brilliantly lighted Broadway.
"Now!" she said half aloud and, like an expert swimmer adventuring the rapids, she advanced into the swift-moving crowd of the highway of New York's gayety.
CHAPTER V
AT the corner of Twenty-sixth Street a man put himself squarely across her path. She was attracted by the twinkle in his good-natured eyes. He was a youngish man, had the stoutness of indulgence in a fondness for eating and drinking—but the stoutness was still well within the bounds of decency. His clothing bore out the suggestion of his self-assured way of stopping her—the suggestion of a confidence-giving prosperity.