"He's very clever," declared Hattie. "I think he's terribly handsome."
"Terribly," agreed Louella.
As the days wore on, the house grew irksome to Louella. Don Raymond was in many ways a good manager. He visited various poolrooms and drummed up trade. But gradually he attempted to manage her as well as his wife. She thought of John Rott. She must never repeat those blunders. If she remained with Hattie she knew that gradually she would get into the clutches of Don. Many of the men who came to the house she recognized as underworld characters. She didn't want to get mixed up with his friends. They could only lead to ultimate ruin. Finally she told Hattie one morning that she intended to leave.
Hattie took the announcement hard.
"Don't go," she pleaded. "I think a tremendous lot of you." It was the year 1893. The World's Fair had just opened in Chicago. Louella had read a great deal about it in the newspapers, one of the most stupendous expositions ever presented in the history of the world. She desired to see the great buildings, the gorgeous canals and fountains. One building she had heard was a thousand feet long.
Louella placed her arm fondly about Hattie's shoulder.
"You're a grand girl," she said, "and I've never had a friend I've cared for more. But I'm tired. I've never had a vacation since I left home. And I've got a longing to go to the Fair in Chicago. Perhaps afterward I'll come back."
But even as Louella Leota spoke she knew that she would never come back. She had a dread of returning to former scenes. She dreaded remorse. She tried not to regret anything. She lived solely in the present. The past was forgotten. At least she pretended it was. On the road she had chosen there was no returning.
26
