Her first impulse was to turn quickly away; but the words that she heard him utter held her spell-bound.
Mr. Garrick was talking to Mrs. Cole in a low, excited voice, and what the girl heard filled her soul with wildest terror.
For a moment she stood irresolute; then her decision was made. As soon as the morning broke, she would leave that house.
She flew back to her room, her mind in a whirl, her brain dizzy with conflicting emotions. She sat down in a chair by the open window, and leaned her hot, flushed face in the palms of her hands. She was beginning to learn the lessons of the great, wicked world. How long she sat there she never knew.
She was planning about what she should do when the morrow came. Though she starved on the street, she would not go back to the telegraph office where Frank Garrick was; nor could she remain in the house that now sheltered her, where the woman who pretended to be her friend and counselor was deliberately plotting against her.
She had purchased a dress, cloak, and hat out of the money she had found in her pocket. This expenditure had reduced the little sum considerably; but she had been obliged to present a respectable appearance.
Where should she look for work in the great big city? While she was cogitating over the matter, Mrs. Cole appeared in the door-way with a glass of lemonade in her hand.
"I have brought you something very refreshing, Ida," she said. "It took away my headache, and it will make you enjoy a good night's sleep."
"Thank you, but I do not care for the lemonade," returned the girl, coldly.