“A menace to men”—as such Dolores Trent was pointed out by the reprimanding finger of the press.
Deacon Brill’s threat of Park Row had swerved from the sheep-clothed wolf to her. Whether or not Dr. Willard lost his pulpit, the harm to his secretary already was done.
In the little room found for her by her quandam benefactor, a room in whose chintz-hung cosiness she had delighted, Dolores decided upon her immediate course. There were young daughters in the family of the poor parishioner. For their sakes, she would “fold her tents” before asked to do so and, silently as she might, steal away. Thanks to savings from her salary and that final payment in lieu of “notice,” she was more affluent than ever before in her life. She would go, then. But where?
Opening her purse, she took out a business card and considered it as well as its kind-spoken donor. She would come? That had been Deacon Brill’s last question. In the absence of alternative——
With sudden decision, she tore the card into bits and flung them into the waste basket. Probably she didn’t understand men—that had been her thought. But she did understand and did believe in the up-floating purity of the voice of that soprano who had gone to dinner with the music committee’s over-fleshed chairman—the young lady who wouldn’t do.
No alternative?
The moment she cast aside what had seemed her only chance, she found another in her fingers. Almost had she forgotten the address given her by Patrolman Donovan O’Shay and tucked away in her purse. For weeks she had not thought of his “near-French” friend, Madame Marie Sheehan. Discounted by distance was her reason for postponing a visit to the employment office. Since her own judgment seemed always wrong, she would try the policeman’s. She would check herself in her “satchel” until the fates, “née Mary Shinn,” should see fit to provide.
“Madame’s” French certainly was bad. There were advantages, however, in the long lapses between the selection of one word and her advance to the next. Dolores had ample time to translate the high-voiced utterances overheard from the inside room.
“Ah, but no! I fit the applicant to the position, not the position to the applicant. So long you have been lacking the employment. So quite joyful should you be for anything. The call for companions is rare, very. One, two, three applicants have I booked before that you come. This position I so kindly extend——”
“I tell you, nothing doing!” the interruption came in emphatic, current American. “I was a governess two days once. I tell you I’d rather try the streets. Children ain’t human beings. They’re devils, say I.”