“Heavens! What an experience!” said the woman, feigning great sympathy. “Did he—did he wrong her, Ila? But you need not answer; I see it pains you.”
“I do not know,” said the girl, very sadly, “and poor Dollie will never know, because she has no recollection of her experiences.”
“Well, a man would not meet with much success in your direction,” said the woman, laughing loudly. “I fancy you’d hold your own and make things lively for the one who tried it.”
“I should certainly resent such an attempt,” said the brave girl, sternly, “but I guess I am not so weak as a great many women.”
“Oh, no, you are a little paragon of virtue,” thought the woman, bitterly. “You are a wonderful creature, and men love you because you are virtuous.”
Aloud she responded, suavely: “Well, I’m glad you are strong, my dear. You will need all your strength to resist the men in our profession.”
The carriage stopped before a telegraph office as the woman spoke, and Carlotta leaned over and called to the coachman:
“Bring me a blank and a pencil!” Then she turned to Marion and said, smilingly: “You must let me send the message to your sister, dear.”
Marion told her Dollie’s address, without a moment’s suspicion, but she could not help wondering why it took Carlotta so long to write the message.
“I’ll just write a line of condolence to my friend whose sister is dead while I’m about it,” said the woman, as she scribbled another message and handed the two, with the pad and pencil, to the driver.