She turned to him impetuously.  “I want to tell you!  Then maybe it will go.  I couldn’t tell Katie.  But I don’t know—­I don’t know why—­but I could tell you anything.”

He nodded, not clear-eyed, and took one of her hands and stroked it.

Her cheeks grew more red; her eyes glitteringly bright.  “You see—­it’s men—­things like—­that’s what makes it hard for girls.”

He pressed her hand more firmly, though his own was shaking.

“Katie told you—­Katie must have told you about—­the first of it—­” She faltered.  He drew in his breath sharply and held it for an instant.  “And after that—­” She turned upon him passionately. “Do they know? Does it make a difference?”

He did not get her meaning for an instant and when he did it brought the color to his face; he had always been a man of great reserve.  But Ann seemed unconscious.  This was the reality that realities make.

He shook his head.  “No.  You only imagine.”

“No, I don’t imagine.  They pretend.  Pretend they know.”

He gritted his teeth.  So those were the things she had had to meet!

“They lie,” he said briefly.  “Bluff.”  And for an instant he covered his eyes with her hand.

“You see after—­after that,” she went on, “I couldn’t go back to the telephone office.  I don’t know that I can explain why—­but it seemed the one thing I couldn’t do, so—­oh I did several things—­was in a store—­and then a girl got me on the stage—­in the chorus of ‘Daisey-Maisey.’  I thought perhaps I could be an actress, and that being in the chorus would give me a chance.”

She laughed bitterly.  “There are lots of silly people in the world, aren’t there?” was her one comment on her mistake.

“That night—­the last night—­” she told it in convulsive little jerks—­“the manager said something to me. He pretended.  And when he saw how frightened I was—­and how I loathed him—­it made him furious—­and he said things—­vowed things—­and he kissed me—­and oh he was so terrible—­his face—­his lips—­”

She hid her face, rocking back and forth.  He sat on the bed beside her, put his arm around her as he would around Katie or Worth, holding her tenderly, protectingly, soothingly, his own face white, biting his lips.

“He vowed things—­he claimed—­I knew I couldn’t stay with the company.  I was even afraid to stay until it was over that night.  I had a chance to run away—­Oh I was so frightened.”  She kept repeating—­“I was so frightened.

“I can’t explain it—­you’d have to see him—­his lips—­his thick, loose awful lips!”

“Ann,” he whispered.  “Please, dear—­don’t talk about it—­don’t think about it!”

“But I want it to go away!  I don’t want to be alone with it.  I want somebody to know.  I want you to know.”

“All right,” he murmured.  “All right.  I want to hear.”  His whole body was set for pain he knew must come.