“Not you,” retorted Lou curtly. “Send one of your waiters here with a plain lemonade, a glass of milk and some of that beef stew.”
“Milk, eh?” said the man, “and lemonade. On the wagon again, Lou?”
“Run along now,” returned the girl. “If you keep on asking questions someone is going to tell you lies.”
The man went into another room, spoke to someone there and rejoined the card players. In a few moments a negro waiter appeared with the viands Lou had ordered.
Elsie began to eat famishedly. The other girl watched her approvingly.
“Go to it, girlie,” she advised. “I know how you feel. I’ve been hungry myself.”
She sipped her lemonade until Elsie had finished. Then, as though it had not been interrupted, she resumed the conversation they had begun in the street.
“The same old game,” she said cynically. “You came to Chicago because you loved him. He strung you along—” Her glance fell on Elsie’s wedding ring. “You fell for that ‘I do take thee’ thing. Then he shook you. Is that right, girlie?”
Elsie shook her head. A stupor due to the food and the reaction from her nervous and physical exhaustion came over her. She felt too languid to grapple with the problem of existence.
The tall girl arched her eyebrows in surprise.