But with the continued repetition it seemed as if some depth in her nature had been stirred.

Constance could not help feeling that the girl had really found herself.
She had risen and was facing Constance, both hands pressed to her throbbing temples as if to keep her head from bursting.

Constance had assisted her off with her coat and hat, and now the sartorial wreck of her masses of blonde hair was apparent.
"I suppose," she cried incoherently, "I'm just one more of the thousands of girls who drop out of sight every year." Constance listened in amazement.

As the spell of her influence seemed to calm the overwrought mind of the girl there succeeded a hardness in her tone that was wholly out of keeping with her youth.

There was something that breathed of a past where there should have been nothing but the thought of a future.
"Tell me why," soothed Constance with an air that invited confidence.
The girl looked up and again passed her hand over her white forehead with its mass of tangled fallen hair.