"So that's the kind of a woman you are, eh? A moment ago you were going to kick me out of the place because I wasn't decent enough to associate with you. You know how I live. You know how I get my money—the same way you got most of yours. And now that you've got this spasm of goodness, I'm not fit to be in your room; but you'll take my money to pay your debts. You'll let me go out and do this sort of thing for your benefit, while you try to play the grand lady. I've got your number now, Laura. Where in hell is your virtue, anyway? You can go to the devil, rich, poor, or any other way. I'm off!"
She rushed toward the door. For a moment Laura stood speechless; then, with a loud cry, she broke down and burst into hysterics:
"Elfie! Elfie! Don't go now! Don't leave me now! Don't go!" Her visitor stood hesitating, with one hand on the doorknob. Laura went on: "I can't stand it. I can't be alone. Don't go, please, don't go!"
She fell into her friend's arms, sobbing. On the instant Elfie's hardness of demeanor changed. With all her coarseness, she was a good-natured woman at heart. Melting into the tenderest womanly sympathy, she tried her best to express herself in her crude way. Leading the weeping girl to the armchair, she made her sit down. Then, seating herself on the arm, she put her arm round her old chum and hugged her to her breast.
"There, old girl," she said soothingly, "don't cry, don't cry. You just sit down here and let me put my arms around you. I'm awful sorry—on the level, I am. I shouldn't have said it, I know that. But I've got feelings, too, even if folks don't give me credit for it."
Laura looked up through her tears.
"I know, Elfie, I've gone through about all I can stand."
Her friend smoothed her by stroking her hair.
"Well, I should say you have—and more than I would. Anyway, a good cry never hurts any woman. I have one myself sometimes, under cover."
As Laura recovered control of herself, she grew meditative. Musingly she said: