"Brave daddy!" murmured Ruth.
"Yes, he is brave," said Alice "and we've got to be brave, too."
"Where are you going?" asked Ruth, as she saw her sister dressing for
the street.
"Out."
"Out where? I must know."
"Well, if you must, I'm going to make the rounds of the manicuring
parlors."
"Oh, Alice, I hate to have you do it. Some of those places where men
go----"
"I'm only going to apply at the ladies' parlors."
"Oh, well, I--I suppose it's the only thing to do."
"And if worse comes to worst!" cried Alice, gaily, "I'll get some
orange-sticks and we'll stew them for soup. It can't be much worse
than boot-leg consomme."
"Oh, Alice!" cried Ruth. "You are hopeless."
"Hopeless--but not--helpless! _Auf Wiedersehen!_"
But in spite of her gay laugh as she closed the hall door after her,
Alice DeVere's face wore a look of despondency. She knew how little
chance she stood in New York--in big New York.
And perhaps it was this despondent look that caused Russ Dalwood to
utter an exclamation as he met her down at the street door of the
apartment house.
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