the woman at the desk was saying. "That is why I sent an urgent message. A lady wishes a competent, well-bred young woman to perform secretarial work. It is of a social character. She will pay a good salary to the right person. We are giving you the first opportunity because of the unusually good references you possess."

There it was again. References! Mary's soul winced.

"The lady, Miss Marshall—here is her address—is known to us by reputation. We have given her an outline of your qualifications. She will wish, of course, to see your references, so take them with you. She expects you to call at three o'clock this afternoon."

"Oh—thank you!"

There was something so fervent in the words that even Mary, dulled with her own woes, did not fail to observe it. She was conscious of a faint sense of surprise that such a confident and evidently competent person as this Miss Norcross should yield to an ardent protestation of gratitude. She had good references; unusually good ones, the woman said. Why, therefore, be so eagerly thankful?

"It's nothing at all, if you have references," whispered Mary to her inner self, as she walked toward the door. It was a bitter, hopeless whisper.

Once in the outer hall, Mary Wayne paused. She had closed the door behind which crouched that cold-blooded[Pg 7] monster—the Brain Workers' Exchange. Again she read the neatly lettered sign. What a mockery it was! Brain Workers, indeed! It was merely a meeting-place for the elect, for those who had the mystic password to the inner shrine. And she—she had everything but the mere password.

[Pg 7]

Abruptly she brushed her hand across her eyes, then began fumbling in a beaded bag.

"I'm going to cry," she said, half aloud. "And I won't!"

Yet she would and did, and she certainly was crying when the door of the Brain Workers' Exchange opened again and closed with a joyous click behind the young woman who had the unusually good references.

"Oh—I'm sorry," said the young woman, looking at Mary.

Mary hated herself and loathed the weakness of her tears.

"I saw you inside," continued the person named Norcross. "You've had bad luck, of course."

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