"Goodness! the idea of picking over 'em! Don't you ever let one get by you Nance - even if he's a few dollars shy. But of course you're joking - millionaires don't think about working girls like us."

    "It might be better for them if they did," said Nancy, with cool wisdom. "Some of us could teach them how to take care of their money."

    "If one was to speak to me," laughed Lou, "I know I'd have a duck-fit."

    "That's because you don't know any. The only difference between swells and other people is you have to watch 'em closer. Don't you think that red silk lining is just a little bit too bright for that coat, Lou?"

    Lou looked at the plain, dull olive jacket of her friend.

    "Well, no I don't - but it may seem so beside that faded-looking thing you've got on."

    "This jacket," said Nancy, complacently, "has exactly the cut and fit of one that Mrs. Van Alstyne Fisher was wearing the other day. The material cost me $3.98. I suppose hers cost about $100. more."

    "Oh, well," said Lou lightly, "it don't strike me as millionaire bait. Shouldn't wonder if I catch one before you do, anyway."

    Truly it would have taken a philosopher to decide upon the values of the theories held by the two friends. Lou, lacking that certain pride and fastidiousness that keeps stores and desks filled with girls working for the barest living, thumped away gaily with her iron in the noisy and stifling laundry. Her wages supported her even beyond the point of comfort; so that her dress profited until sometimes she cast a sidelong glance of impatience at the neat but inelegant apparel of Dan - Dan the constant, the immutable, the undeviating.

    As for Nancy, her case was one of tens of thousands. Silk and jewels and laces and ornaments and the perfume and music of the fine world of good-breeding and taste - these were made for woman; they are her equitable portion.