An attack of coughing stopped her words. After it she leaned against the table for a moment, exhausted. Then she bent and picked up the bill from the floor. Last of all she took my pencil out of my hand, wrote a name and address in my note-book, and laid the book back on the table.
"Me for the outer darkness," she said. "That's where I'll be. I'll stay in till four to-morrow afternoon, if your editor wants anything else."
She hesitated a moment, as if struggling with words that wouldn't come. "Thanks for the banquet," she got out, at last. "So-long."
I looked straight into her strange eyes. There were many things I wanted to say to her, but I didn't know how. I felt younger than I had ever felt before, and ignorant and tongue-tied.
"You stay here," I said. "I'll go home."
The girl's eyes looked big and round as she stared at me. She held up the five-dollar bill in her hand.
"Stay here," she gasped, "when I got money to go somewhere else? D'ye think I'm crazy? You got to stay an' get the rest of yer story. I ain't! See?"
I saw.
"You'll go right to that address," I asked, "and rest?"
"Sure I will," she told me, cheerfully.