Time and again she had succeeded in attaching herself to some wild young set, and in so doing had not alone shown them their folly, but had also brought those who preyed upon them to justice.
“It’s not always easy to place money on the board,” she said one night, “on the gaming board, with a hand that does not tremble, when you realize that there are those watching who would gladly kill you, did they but know who you were.
“Twice I was discovered and locked up. One of these times I let myself out of the window to the street two floors below on a rope made of my own skirt. The other time a squad wagon came in time to release me.
“Listen to this!” Her eyes burned brightly. “Never believe the stories you read in cheap magazines. These stories tell you that crooks are really good sports, generous, chivalrous and all that. They are not—not one in a thousand. They are hard as flint; cruel, heartless, ready for any savage deed that will give them liberty and the wild life they crave.”
After this outburst on that second rainy night, she lapsed into silence.
In time she sprang to her feet and drew on her raincoat. “I am going out for a row alone in the dark,” she said. “Stay here and keep the fire burning. It’s not late. I’ll be back in an hour.”
She left the cabin. Tillie and Florence sat by the fire.
“Ever hear how this cabin came here?” Tillie asked.
“No,” Florence replied quickly.
“It’s sort of interesting. I’ll tell you.”