Violet saw that she had made a fatal error, but she did not know how to end it except by proceeding.
"You know," she stammered, "there was a man——"
The stranger raised a plump, gloved hand.
"Don't tell me that," she said. "I have no right to the details. I think I understand your motive, and it's creditable, I must say. But, my dear, I am by no means a beautiful woman and I have a very susceptible husband—very. I'm afraid I must be going along."
And along she went, leaving Violet in a tossing sea of emotion. Mrs. Turner had lied, which meant the girl must lie; this later employer had said that the woman who had been enticed was generally supposed anxious to entice others, a theory that also meant that Violet must lie. She returned to the agency, convinced that her error had lain only in a lack of skill at deception.
No other customers appeared during the rest of the afternoon, and when the agency closed its doors for the night Violet, too alarmed by the stories she had heard to trust herself to one of its beds, sought the nearest policeman—she was losing her fear of policemen at last—and had him direct her to a cheap but respectable hotel. She had a little money and she paid gladly for a room that was nearly comfortable; but she could not sleep, and she returned to the employment-office early in the morning with red eyes and swollen cheeks.
Until long after noon she sat there, waiting. She watched everyone that entered; she looked at first eagerly and at last appealingly at every possible employer; but somehow the woman in the inner room never sent for her.
At last Violet herself walked through the rear door.
The frowzy person with the calculating eyes looked at her sharply.
"You back?" she asked.