She remembered, with sudden understanding, what red-haired Gert had said
in the finishing room; some people weren't content with a good job; they
had to have a good time with it. She told herself that she was one of
these; she wanted to be good and do what was expected of her; she wanted
fervently to please Dan Lewis, but she couldn't go on like this, she
couldn't, she couldn't!
And yet she did. With a certain dogged commonsense, she stayed at her
post, suppressing herself in a thousand ways, stifling her laughter,
smothering the song on her lips, trying to make her prancing feet keep
pace with the feeble steps of age. She lived through each day on the
meager hope that something would happen at the end of it, that elusive
"something" that always waits around the corner for youth, with adventure
in one hand and happiness in the other and limitless promise in its
shining eyes.
Almost a year crawled by before her hope was realized. Then one Tuesday
morning as she was coming to work, she spied a bill poster announcing
the appearance of the "Rag-Time Follies." Rows upon rows of saucy girls
in crimson tights and gauzy wings smiled down upon her, smiled and
seemed to beckon.
Since Birdie's departure from the alley, eighteen months ago, Nance had
heard no word of her. Long ago she had given up the hope of escape in
that direction. But the knowledge that she was in the city and the
possibility of seeing her, wakened all manner of vague hopes and exciting
possibilities.
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