"Well, who cares about a new house?"
"That's right," said Lillian. "After all it won't be for long."
"Of course not."
Remembering that it wouldn't be for long, keeping firmly in her mind that thought, Lillian went out next day again to hunt for a new home. Inwood's slum row. Gray houses with dirty window panes and screeching janitresses. After all, it wouldn't be for long—
"Have you a vacancy? Two rooms and kitchenette."
The apartment faced the street. The sun shone in one room. But what a small room! The walls were painted a bilious yellow and the woodwork was a dark brown. There were no outlets here. Just a chandelier that hung disconsolately from the ceiling. The kitchenette was in a closet, a small, rusty black stove, a sink, and one shelf for dishes. The ice-box was in the hall. The bathroom was dark and small. No shower. The bedroom was a box with a window and a closet.
"How much?" asked Lillian.
"Thirty-five dollars."
Well, it wouldn't be for long. Hubert would be surprised, too, that she had been able to get an apartment so cheap. Of course if it was going to be an indefinite stay she couldn't bear it. But for a month or two what difference did it make?
"I'll take it," said Lillian.
The janitress looked out the window at the trim, clean little roadster. "You'll take it?" she said.
"Yes, from the first of next month."
