''
Jane nodded. ``Whenever I'm difficult to get on with, I'm always
not quite well.''
``I can see that your disposition is perfect, when you are
well,'' said Selma.
``And yours,'' said Jane.
``Oh, I'm never out of humor,'' said Selma. ``You see, I'm never
sick--not the least bit.''
``You are Miss Gordon, aren't you?''
``Yes--I'm Selma Gordon.''
``My name is Jane Hastings.'' Then as this seemed to convey
nothing to Selma, Jane added: ``I'm not like you. I haven't an
individuality of my own--that anybody knows about. So, I'll have
to identify myself by saying that I'm Martin Hastings'
daughter.''
Jane confidently expected that this announcement would cause some
sort of emotion--perhaps of awe, perhaps of horror, certainly of
interest. She was disappointed. If Selma felt anything she did
not show it--and Jane was of the opinion that it would be well
nigh impossible for so direct and natural a person to conceal.
Jane went on:
``I read in your paper about your fund for sick children. I was
riding past your office--saw the sign --and I've come in to give
what I happen to have about me.'' She drew out the small roll of
bills and handed it to Selma.
The Russian girl--if it is fair thus to characterize one so
intensely American in manner, in accent and in speech--took the
money and said:
``We'll acknowledge it in the paper next week.''
Jane flushed and a thrill of alarm ran through her.
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