“First time?”
“Yes. From Los Angeles.”
“And you have had four nights on the train?”
“Six. It was a slow tourist train. I sat up from Chicago——”
“Have you lived in Los Angeles long?”
“Always—in and around.”
“We don’t dare to think of Los Angeles much. To a lot of us here in New York, it’s a kind of heaven. Southern California—the sea and the mountains and the ten months of sunlight and the cool morning fogs and the ripe figs——”
“I’ve wanted New York like that,” the girl said. “I’ve wanted New York so badly that I was afraid on the train that it wouldn’t stay until I got here——”
“That’s the way to come,” the landlady said. “New York would wait for you. Oh, yes, New York waits for your kind. What are you going to do here?”
“Write.”