Can't you give a few months to Amy now?"

And scowling at her "morbidness" in feeling dreary and forlorn, she
resolutely scanned the papers for news of lectures, plays and concerts.
She went to a few in the afternoons, and dressed for them as carefully
as though they were great social affairs. And in the intermissions when
a buzz of talk would rise, she would begin with quick animation to
converse with herself and be gay, or alert and argumentative. Her lips
would move inaudibly. Now and then she would brightly smile and nod
across the house at some friend she pretended to have seen. She
enrolled for a course of lectures upon "Mental Science." She resumed her
reading of magazines and books on all kinds of topics. It made her
think of high school days, and hungrily she reached back for that old.
zest and inquisitiveness about everything under the moon and stars.

And through this searching she caught hints of the presence in the city
of a life wider and deeper than shops and yet not antagonistic--a life
of gaiety, grace and ease, but with it all the brilliancy to which Amy
had been blind; the rich ferment of new ideas in women's lives,
discussions, work of many kinds, art, music, "movements" all combined
into one thrilling pulsing whole. And again she felt within herself
that rising tide of youth and eager vitality.

"Oh, what couldn't I do, my dear, if I only had a chance? Why doesn't
somebody see it at once--notice me now, right here on the street? You,
madam, in that limousine--look out and see me--don't go by! You're
losing the chance of a lifetime! You're missing me--me--Ethel Knight!"

As the dame in her car sped smoothly by, Ethel suddenly laughed aloud.
But her laughter had a dangerous note, and she added fiercely, biting