Then came a Saturday night which seemed a climax of her troubles.  She was told not to come back to work until further notice, and that was as bad as being discharged.  How could she tell her stepfather?  Of late he had been hard with her.  She dared not tell him.  The money she earned was little enough, but during his idleness it had served to keep them.

Rose had scarcely gone a block when she encountered Dick Swann.  He stopped her—­turned to walk with her.  It was a melancholy gift of Rose’s that she could tell when men were even in the slightest under the influence of drink.  Swann was not careless now or indifferent.  He seemed excited and gay.

“Rose, you’re just the girl I’m looking for,” he said.  “I really was going to your home.  Got that job yet?”

“No,” she replied.

“I’ve got one for you.  It’s at the Telephone Exchange.  They need an operator.  My dad owns the telephone company.  I’ve got a pull.  I’ll get you the place.  You can learn it easy.  Nice job—­short hours—­you sit down all the time—­good pay.  What do you say, Rose?”

“I—­I don’t know—­what to say,” she faltered.  “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’ve had you in mind for a month.  Rose, you take this job.  Take it whether you’ve any use for me or not.  I’m not rotten enough to put this in your way just to make you under obligations to me.”

“I’ll think about it.  I—­I do need a place.  My father’s out of work.  And he’s—­he’s not easy to get along with.”

“I tell you what, Rose.  You meet me to-night.  We’ll take a spin in my car.  It’ll be fine down the river road.  Then we can talk it over.  Will you?”

Rose looked at him, and thought how strange it was that she did not like him any better, now when she ought to.

“Why have you tried to—­to rush me?” she asked.

“I like you, Rose.”

“But you don’t want me to meet you—­go with you, when I—­I can’t feel as you do?”

“Sure, I want you to, Rose.  Nobody ever likes me right off.  Maybe you will, after you know me.  The job is yours.  Don’t make any date with me for that.  I say here’s your chance to have a ride, to win a friend.  Take it or not.  It’s up to you.  I won’t say another word.”

Rose’s hungry, lonely heart warmed toward Swann.  He seemed like a ray of light in the gloom.

“I’ll meet you,” she said.

They arranged the hour and then she went on her way home.

The big car sped through River Park.  Rose shivered a little as she peered into the darkness of the grove.  Then the car shot under the last electric light, out into the country, with the level road white in the moonlight, and the river gleaming below.  There was a steady, even rush of wind.  The car hummed and droned and sang.  And mingled with the dry scent of dust was the sweet fragrance of new-mown hay.  Far off a light twinkled or it might have been a star.

Swann put his arm around Rose.  She did not shrink—­she did not repulse him—­she did not move.  Something strange happened in her mind or heart.  It was that moment she fell.