"Some man'll get it," said Sally.
"Sally," said Mr. Bentley, turning in his chair, "Mr. Holder's been telling me about a rather unusual woman in that apartment house just above Fourteenth Street, on the south side of Dalton."
"I think I know her—by sight," Sally corrected herself. She appealed. to Holder. "Red hair, and lots of it—I suppose a man would call it auburn. She must have been something of a beauty, once."
The rector assented, in some astonishment.
"Couldn't do anything with her, could you? I reckoned not. I've noticed her up and down Dalton Street at night."
Holder was no longer deceived by her matter-of-fact tone.
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Holder," she went on, energetically, "there's not a particle of use running after those people, and the sooner you find it out the less worry and trouble you give yourself."
"Mr. Holder didn't run after her, Sally," said Mr. Bentley, in gentle reproof.
Holder smiled.
"Well," said Miss Grower, "I've had my eye on her. She has a history —most of 'em have. But this one's out of the common. When they're brazen like that, and have had good looks, you can nearly always tell. You've. got to wait for something to happen, and trust to luck to be on the spot, or near it. It's a toss-up, of course. One thing is sure, you can't make friends with that kind if they get a notion you're up to anything."