"Isn't she?" yawned Athalie.

Catharine jerked open another drawer: "It's always a man's doing. You
bet they'll find that some fellow had her on a string. What idiots
girls are!"

"I should worry," remarked Doris. "Any fresh young man who tries to
get me jingled will wish he hadn't."

"Don't talk that way," remonstrated Athalie.

"What way?"

"That slangy way you think is smart. What's the use of letting down
when you know better."

"What's the use of keeping up on fifteen per? I could do the Gladys to
any Percy on fifty. My talk suits my wages--and it suits me, too....
God!--I suppose it's fried ham again to-night," she added, jumping up
and walking into the kitchenette. And, pausing to look back at her
sisters: "If any Johnny asks me to-night I'll go!--I'm that hungry for
real food."

"Don't be a fool," snapped Catharine.

Athalie glanced at the alarm clock, passed her hands wearily across
her eyes, and rose: "It's after six, Doris. You haven't time for
anything very much." And she went into the kitchenette.

Once or twice during the preparation of the meal Doris swore in her
soft girlish voice, which made the contrast peculiarly shocking; and
finally Athalie said bluntly: "If I didn't know you were straight I
wouldn't think so from the way you behave."