She felt all she had heard a moment before now running through her mind, and yet she did not speak. Miss Jones was speaking again:
"We are both in the same boat; one's as bad as the other. No questions asked...."
"Oh, Miss Jones," Mildred heard again, but her lips still were not moved. "How can you, oh, how can you!" Why didn't she do something? She heard herself, but words were not spoken: "Why do you stand, Mildred Latham? Why do you not go—hurry? You have stood too long now. Hurry, hurry! To Mother Jane's—to Jacobs! Yes, to anywhere; but go, go, go!" And still she stood in flesh, and made no reply.
"A swell bunch from the north, railroad fellows with plenty of coin. Some good time, kid. Come on at once. Let's don't stand here and be looked at."
She was in a trance now. She couldn't stand there; she was aware of that. That would be worse. How to get out, she did not know, for she had now forgotten how she came in. But she had no notion of following Miss Jones. No. She would go to Mother Jane's—no, she would go to Jacobs. Jacobs? Who were they? Oh, yes. She remembered now. And when she knew the Jacobs, she had known them for the truth. If she went to them and told them she had just came from the——oh, no, no, no! She couldn't go to Jacobs.... But now she had it. She would go to Sidney Wyeth.... Yes, that was where she would go. He would welcome her. He would be good to her; while she—she—would tell him everything—yes, everything. Oh, she was glad she had thought of him in time. Because if she had waited a little longer, she might not be fit to go to him.
They were going now, Miss Jones and she. Miss Jones was going, where? She didn't know, but she, Mildred Latham was going to her lover, Sidney Wyeth. Oh, how she loved him—she had always loved him; but now she loved him more than ever. And she was going to him, and when she arrived, the first thing she would do, would be to get on her knees, as she did when a little girl, at her prayers. She would tell him all. All the truth from the time she was old enough to remember, until today. Yes, she would tell him all. She would show him how faithfully she had worked in the sale of his book. And she would tell him how she had been driven from place to place, until she had no home nor friends; but, withal, she had remained clean. Clean? Yes, that was why she had struggled so. She had fought everything, to keep clean.... And he, oh, he—would be happy. Oh, he would be so happy. And then they would both—yes, both go to the Rosebud Country together. Wouldn't that be delightful? They would go to the Rosebud Country together and live happily.
"Here we are," she heard Miss Jones saying. She rapped on the door in a peculiar fashion. Presently the door opened, but no one stood beside it or behind it. It had opened from the top of a stair, which they mounted the moment they entered. This led to somewhere, but she followed.
Now they were at the top, and paused for a brief moment; then, turning to the right, they crossed a hallway and entered a room. The door closed behind them, and it was some time before her eyes became accustomed to the darkness within. Why was the room dark? She wondered; but just then it became a blaze of light. She looked all around her bewilderingly. It was a beautifully furnished room, with a soft, heavy carpet, while about the room were many heavy chairs. In the center was a table, and around the side were smaller tables. "What was this place?" she asked herself, feeling the back of one of the heavy chairs. To one side of the room was a huge buffet with a number of glasses, all thin and of many varying sizes, artistically arranged. On the other end was a piano, with an electric cord reaching it from above. And as she stood looking at it, a light within it flashed, and it began to play a song that made the room resound.
"Hark! What was that!" she cried, with her lips closed. She saw the eyes of her companion, as her ears listened to the music. A smile, a wild smile danced in the eyes of Miss Jones. She caught Mildred suddenly about the waist, and before she was aware of it, was whirling her about in a waltz. And the tune—was the Blue Danube!
In the midst of the sweet old tune, the door they had entered a moment ago swung open, and two men entered. They were striking looking men and were dressed in the latest style of clothes. They were both smoking cigars, and the room was soon filled with the aroma. But they must have been good cigars, because the odor they gave off was pleasant—so Mildred thought.