She stood looking at the closed door a moment. Something in her head was ready to snap. She went to the rack and taking his long heavy overcoat slipped it on. It nearly touched the floor. She seized a soft broad-brimmed hat and umbrella and walked out. Just what she meant to do she did not know, but somehow she must save her husband and herself from evil. She hurried to the Willard Hotel and watched, walking up and down the opposite sidewalk. A woman brushed by her and looked her in the face.
“Hell! I thought you was a man,” she said. “Is this a new gag?”
Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell looked down at herself involuntarily and smiled wanly. She did look like a man, with her hat and coat and short hair. The woman peered at her doubtingly. She was, as Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell noticed, a young woman, once pretty, perhaps, and a little overdressed.
“Are you walking?” she asked.
‚ÄúWhat do you mean?‚Äù asked Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell, and then in a moment it flashed upon her. She took the woman‚Äôs arm and walked with her. Suddenly she stopped.
‚ÄúWhere‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚ÄîNell‚Äôs?‚Äù
The woman frowned. “Oh, that’s a swell place,” she said. “Senators and millionaires. Too high for us to fly.”
Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell winced. ‚ÄúBut where is it?‚Äù she asked.
“We’ll walk by it if you want to.”
And Mary Cresswell walked in another world. Up from the ground of the drowsy city rose pale gray forms; pale, flushed, and brilliant, in silken rags. Up and down they passed, to and fro, looking and gliding like sheeted ghosts; now dodging policemen, now accosting them familiarly.