THE HOUSE OF INTRIGUE
69
the water, when they're mere babies, so as to learn to swim. They've got to swim. Well, I was thrown into the streets, in just about the same way. And to swim, I suppose, became an instinct with me. Bud realized that from the first, I feel sure, and I always respected him for at least respecting my privacy of life.
But back in that city I didn't find any jobs cutting the curb-corners to run me down. After my second day of making the want-ad rounds I began to see I wasn't equipped for anything. All I was especially trained for was a come-on in petticoats—and those are the positions that are never advertised for. Then I tried the Bureau of Social Employment, paid my fee like a man, and woke up to the fact that I couldn't budge an inch without references. And the only reference I could think of was Wendy Washburn. In a case like that, though, I was ashamed to make use of him. And a week later I was glad that I hadn't, for I met him almost face to face at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Twenty-Seventh Street. I was sure that he saw me, and I was equally sure that he avoided me. He turned hurriedly into Brentano's without so much as a smile of recognition. It hurt me more than I could explain, more than I could understand.