Six months later she was swapped again. This time to a man old enough to be her grandfather. He had a vicious nature besides being a bit of a sadist. For a week, she tolerated him. Then she fled.
She imagined that her life was ruined. That there was no chance of her ever returning home. There was nothing for her to do but bow to the inevitable and become a woman of the streets. Her decision was arrived at bravely after hours and hours of reasoning.
Not for a moment was she aware that her reasoning was wrong. There was no other road open to her. All she could do was to choose the streets she liked best.
She had heard about the establishment of Madame Leota through male members of the social set in which she had moved. Madame Leota, it was said, was a mistress at the gentle art of love. Madame Leota took an interest in her girls. She watched over them like a mother. So Reba decided she would go to see Madame.
Louella Leota was attracted by Reba the moment she beheld her. Here was no common girl. There was still a halo of innocence about her. Reba had seen much of life, though in rather a dazed sort of way as if she didn't know what it was all about. Madame Leota took her upstairs to her own apartment, a thing she seldom did with the new girls. When they were seated, she said crisply:
"Now tell me your story. I never bother with a girl until I know everything about her. Now come on, tell me everything there is to tell."
Without more ado Reba poured out her story, a story more hackneyed than a confession story in a magazine. The only item of originality in the whole narrative was that it took place in different rooms.
When she had finished, Madame took a pinch of snuff. Not till she had sneezed violently did she make any comment. Then she said: "And that is why you want to become a professional woman?"
"Yes," said Reba meekly.
"Ever been in a house before?"
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