She thought again. “This week, kid, you hunt up some hack driver you can trust and tell him what you want to do. You can have him in the alley with his hack. I’ll throw the clothes out. You put them in the hack. Then I’ll come downstairs, go out through the kitchen, and over the back fence into the alley. Nobody will pay any attention to me going out in my parlor wrapper without a hat.

“Next Saturday when you come with your bill I’ll see you in the hall and tell you what night to come and what time.” Julia was herself again; all animation, chattering like a sparrow. “It can’t fail, kid. I can feel myself out of there already. All you have to do is get a hack driver, a big, tough one that won’t get scared and run away. That’s all settled, and it’s time for me to get back to Miss Kate’s. It’s not so hard to go now.”

Again she insisted on paying the bill. I said good night in front of the restaurant. She shook hands with me heartily, boyishly; her hand was hard, firm, and her grip something to inspire confidence. “Saturday,” she said, darting away.