"God bless you!"
Back toward his room he now walked, and at times stumbled. But all the way the words of that woman rang in his ears: "God bless you!" "God," he murmured, "do You know these people? Are You acquainted with these women who are sinning? They don't know You! Their souls are burning now in hell!" He didn't know the direction he was going, nor did he hear the invitations; but soon he came to one of those walls, and looked up. Yes, they were inside.... Those who had known this life in the infinite long ago. And they were waiting for those others....
"Brown Skin," he now heard, and then much gayety followed; but he looked up and saw the others, who were likewise waiting. "Sin on little girl. Satan's got your soul, and you'll burn in hell some day."
He went a block where, on one side the gray silence greeted him, while on the other gay life was the order.
"Come in boy, I've something to tell you." But Sidney Wyeth made no answer; all the while he could feel that silent spectre, the grave. And it seemed to say: "We are waiting, waiting, waiting."
He went now in the direction of his room, and as he went along, the gray court kept telling him: "These are mine—all of them. And, do you know, they come to me each day. Oh, they are gay—now! The devil's got their souls, but I always get the rest. Meanwhile I am waiting, patiently waiting."
Gay music came from the doors of a cabaret, and he saw it was for colored people. White people were not allowed within. He entered. The accustomed crowd lined the walls. The same girls came each night—he now saw. They welcomed those who wished for drinks, which came at fifteen cents apiece; a half of which they received at the end of the night, and that was how they lived.
He avoided them. On the floor were the dancers. The music was inspiring, and "balling the jack" was the order. A rain of nickels came down upon them, and they quit only when they were exhausted.
He was awakened by a waiter, at the table where he had fallen asleep. So he ordered a drink, gulped it down with an effort, and took his leave. He emerged, and had walked a few steps, when someone touched him. He looked down into the face of the woman who had been hungry.
"Who're you?" she said. "Who're you?" she repeated, "to feed a starving wench and ask nothing. Don't look at me so strangely. I followed you. I saw you enter there. I would have followed you in; but they don't allow us in there.... They don't allow us anywhere but—oh, well, I didn't come to tell you my troubles. And then," she added, "I wouldn't wish to disgrace you by having others see; but won't you come back?"