The Dwelling Place of Light, Volume 2

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"I think I'll go out for a while, mother," she said.

"You'd ought to," Hannah replied. "There's no use settin' around here."

The silence of the flat was no longer to be endured. And Janet, putting
on her coat and hat, descended the stairs. Not once that morning had her
mother mentioned Lise; nor had she asked about her own plans--about
Ditmar. This at least was a relief; it was the question she had feared
most. In the street she met the postman.

"I have a letter for you, Miss Janet," he said. And on the pink envelope
he handed her, in purple ink, she recognized the unformed, childish
handwriting of Lise. "There's great doings down at the City Hall," the
postman added "the foreigners are holding mass meetings there." Janet
scarcely heard him as she tore open the envelope. "Dear Janet," the
letter ran. "The doctor told me I had a false alarm, there was nothing to
it. Wouldn't that jar you? Boston's a slow burg, and there's no use of my
staying here now. I'm going to New York, and maybe I'll come back when
I've had a look at the great white way. I've got the coin, and I gave him
the mit to-night. If you haven't anything better to do, drop in at the
Bagatelle and give Walters my love, and tell them not to worry at home.
There's no use trying to trail me. Your affectionate sister Lise."

Janet thrust the letter in her pocket. Then she walked rapidly westward
until she came to the liver-coloured facade of the City Hall, opposite
the Common. Pushing through the crowd of operatives lingering on the
pavement in front of it, she entered the building....