"Yes. Oh, yes. I was properly cared for. I was in a private room. I have loyal friends here."
"Loyal friends!" scoffed Mrs. Sewall. "Loyal friends indeed! And may I ask what loyal friend allows you to go about in your present distressing condition? You are hardly fit to be seen, Miss Vars."
I flushed. "I'm sorry," I said.
"Disregard of one's health is not admirable."
"I'm being very careful," I assured Mrs. Sewall. "If you could but know the eggs I consume!"
"Miss Vars," inquired Mrs. Sewall, with obvious annoyance in her voice, "was it you that I saw yesterday crossing Fifth Avenue?"
"With the boxes? It was I," I laughed.
She frowned. "I was shocked. Such occupation is unbecoming to you."
"It is a perfectly self-respecting occupation," I maintained.
The frown deepened. "Possibly. Yes, self-respecting, but, if I may say so, scarcely respecting your friends, scarcely respecting those who have cared deeply for you—I refer to your family—scarcely respecting your birth, bringing-up, and opportunities. It was distinctly out of place. The spectacle was not only shocking to me, it was painful. Not that what I think carries any weight with you. I have been made keenly aware of how little my opinions count. But——"