"When I said I could only sing and not dance, they looked discouraged. When I said I had no costumes they turned me down."
"Excellent!" cried Ransome. "You mustn't be so easily beaten. You must take dancing lessons—perhaps a few singing lessons, too. And you must get some costumes."
"But that means several hundred dollars."
"Three or four hundred," said Ransome airily. "A matter of a few weeks."
"But I haven't anything like that," said Susan. "I haven't so much as——"
"I comprehend perfectly," interrupted Ransome. She interested him, this unusual looking girl, with her attractive mingling of youth and experience. Her charm that tempted people to give her at once the frankest confidences, moved him to go out of his way to help her. "You haven't the money," he went on.
"You must have it. So—I promised to place you, and I will. I don't usually go so far in assisting my clients. It's not often necessary—and where it's necessary it's usually imprudent. However—I'll give you the address of a flat where there is a lady—a trustworthy, square sort, despite her—her profession. She will put you in the way of getting on a sound financial basis."
Ransome spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, like a man stating a simple business proposition. Susan understood. She rose. Her expression was neither shock nor indignation; but it was none the less a negative.
"It's the regular thing, my dear," urged Ransome. "To make a start, to get in right, you can't afford to be squeamish. The way I suggest is the simplest and most direct of several that all involve the same thing. And the surest. You look steady-headed—self-reliant. You look sensible——"
Susan smiled rather forlornly. "But I'm not," said she. "Not yet."