the white moll-第2部分

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never　find　that　address；　Rhoda…or　our　friend　the　Bussard；　either！〃

But　she　had　found　both　the　Bussard　and　the　address；　and　destitution
and　a　squalor　unspeakable。　　Pathetic　still；　but　the　vernacular　of
the　underworld　where　men　called　their　women　by　no　more　gracious
names　than　〃molls〃　and　〃skirts〃　no　longer　strange　to　her　ears；　there
came　to　her　again　now　the　Bussard's　words　in　which　he　had　paid　her
tribute　on　that　morning　long　ago；　and　with　which　he　had　introduced
her　to　a　shrunken　form　that　lay　upon　a　dirty　cot　in　the　barefloored
room：

〃Meet　de　moll　I　was　tellin'　youse　about；　Mag。　　She's　white　…　all　de
way　up。　　She's　white；　Mag；　she's　a　white　moll　…　take　it　from　me。〃

The　White　Moll！

The　firm　little　chin　came　suddenly　upward；　but　into　the　dark　eyes
unbidden　came　a　sudden　film　and　mist。　　Her　father's　health　had　been
too　far　undermined；　and　he　bad　been　unable　to　withstand　the　shock
of　the　operation；　and　he　had　died　in　the　hospital。　　There　weren't
any　relatives；　except　distant　ones　on　her　mother's　side；　somewhere
out　in　California；　whom　she　had　never　seen。　　She　and　her　father
had　been　all　in　all　to　each　other；　chums；　pals；　comrades；　since　her
mother's　death　many　years　ago。　　She　had　gone　everywhere　with　him
save　when　the　demands　of　her　education　had　necessarily　kept　them
apart；　she　had　hunted　with　him　in　South　America；　ridden　with　him
in　sections　where　civilization　was　still　in　the　making；　shared　the
crude；　rough　life　of　mining　camps　with　him　…　and　it　had　seemed　as
though　her　life；　too；　had　gone　out　with　his。

She　brushed　her　hand　hastily　across　her　eyes。　　There　hadn't　been
any　friends　either；　apart　from　a　few　of　her　father's　casual
business　acquaintances；　no　one　else　…　except　the　Bussard。　　It　was
very　strange！　　Her　reward　for　that　one　friendly　act　had　come　in　a
manner　little　expected；　and　it　had　come　very　quickly。　　She　had
sought　and　found　a　genuine　relief　from　her　own　sorrow　in　doing
what　she　could　to　alleviate　the　misery　in　that　squalid；　one…room
home。　　And　then　the　sphere　of　her　activities　had　broadened；　slowly
at　first；　not　through　any　preconceived　intention　on　her　part；　but
naturally；　and　as　almost　an　inevitable　corollary　consequent　upon
her　relations　with　the　Bussard　and　his　ill…fortuned　family。

The　Bussard's　circle　of　intimates　was　amongst　those　who　lay　outside
the　law；　those　who　gambled　for　their　livelihood　by　staking　their
wits；　to　win　against　the　toils　of　the　police；　and　so；　more　and　more；
she　had　come　into　close　and　intimate　contact　with　the　criminal
element　of　New　York；　until　to…day；　throughout　its　length　and　breadth；
she　was　known；　and；　she　had　reason　to　believe；　was　loved　and　trusted
by　every　crook　in　the　underworld。　　It　was　a　strange　eulogy；
self…pronounced！　　But　it　was　none　the　less　true。　　Then；　she　had
been　Rhoda　Gray；　now；　even　the　Bussard；　doubtless；　had　forgotten
her　name　in　the　one　with　which　he　himself；　at　that　queer　baptismal
font　of　crimeland；　had　christened　her　…　the　White　Moll。　　It　even
went　further　than　that。　　It　embraced　what　might　be　called　the
entourage　of　the　underworld；　the　police　and　the　social　workers　with
whom　she　inevitably　came　in　contact。　　These；　too；　had　long　known
her　as　the　White　Moll；　and　had　come；　since　she　had　volunteered　no
further　information；　tacitly　to　accept　her　as　such；　and　nothing　more。

Again　she　shook　her　head。　　It　wasn't　altogether　a　normal　life。　　She
was　only　a　woman；　with　all　the　aspirations　of　a　woman；　with　all　the
yearning　of　youth　for　its　measure　of　gayety　and　pleasure。　　True；　she
had　not　made　a　recluse　of　herself　outside　her　work；　but；　equally；
on　the　other　hand；　she　had　not　made　any　intimate　friends　in　her　own
station　in　life。　　She　had　never　purposed　continuing　indefinitely　the
work　she　was　doing；　nor　did　she　now；　but；　little　by　little；　it　had
forced　its　claims　upon　her　until　those　claims　were　not　easy　to
ignore。　　Even　though　the　circumstances　in　which　her　father　had　left
her　were　barely　more　than　sufficient　for　a　modest　little　flat　uptown；
there　was　still　always　a　little　surplus；　and　that　surplus　counted
in　certain　quarters　for　very　much　indeed。　　But　it　wasn't　only　that。
The　small　amount　of　money　that　she　was　able　to　spend　in　that　way
had　little　to　do　with　it。　　The　bonds　which　linked　her　to　the　sordid
surroundings　that　she　had　come　to　know　so　well　were　stronger　far
than　that。　　There　wasn't　any　money　involved　in　this　visit；　for
instance；　that　she　was　going　now　to　make　to　Gypsy　Nan。　　Gypsy　Nan
was。。。

Rhoda　Gray　had　halted　before　the　doorway　of　a　small；　hovel…like；
two…story　building　that　was　jammed　in　between　two　tenements；　which；
relatively；　in　their　own　class；　were　even　more　disreputable　than
was　the　little　frame　house　itself。　　A　secondhand…clothes　store
occupied　a　portion　of　the　ground　floor；　and　housed　the　proprietor
and　his　family　as　well；　permitting　the　rooms　on　the　second　floor
to　be　〃rented　out〃；　the　garret　above　was　the　abode　of　Gypsy　Nan。

There　was　a　separate　entrance；　apart　from　that　into　the
secondhand…clothes　store；　and　she　pushed　this　door　open　and　stepped
forward　into　an　absolutely　black　and　musty…smelling　hallway。　　By
feeling　with　her　hands　along　the　wall　she　reached　the　stairs　and
began　to　make　her　way　upward。　　She　had　found　Gypsy　Nan　last　night
huddled　in　the　lower　doorway；　and　apparently　in　a　condition　that
was　very　much　the　worse　for　wear。　　She　had　stopped　and　helped　the
woman　upstairs　to　her　garret；　whereupon　Gypsy　Nan；　in　language　far
more　fervent　than　elegant；　had　ordered　her　to　begone；　and　had
slammed　the　door　in　her　face。

Rhoda　Gray　smiled　a　little　wearily；　as；　on　the　second　floor　now；
she　groped　her　way　to　the　rear；　and　began　to　mount　a　short；
ladder…like　flight　of　steps　to　the　attic。　　Gypsy　Nan's　lack　of
cordiality　did　not　absolve　her；　Rhoda　Gray；　from　coming　back
to…night　to　see　how　the　woman　was　…　to　crowd　one　more　visit　on　her
already　over…expanded　list。　　She　had　never　had　any　personal
knowledge　of　Gypsy　Nan　before；　but；　in　a　sense；　the　woman　was　no
stranger　to　her。　　Gypsy　Nan　was　a　character　known　far　and　wide
in　the　under…world　as　one　possessing　an　insatiable　and　unquenchable
thirst。　　As　to　who　she　was；　or　what　she　was；　or　where　she　got　her
money　for　the　gin　she　bought；　it　was　not　in　the　ethics　of　the　Bad
Lands　to　inquire。　　She　was　just　Gypsy　Nan。　　So　that　she　did　not
obtrude　herself　too　obviously　upon　their　notice；　the　police
suffered　her；　so　that　she　gave　the　underworld　no　reason　for
complaint；　the　underworld　accepted　her　at　face　value　as　one　of　its
own！

There　was　no　hallway　here　at　the　head　of　the　ladder…like　stairs；
just　a　sort　of　narrow　platform　in　front　of　the　attic　door。　　Rhoda
Gray；　groping　out　with　her　hands　again；　felt　for　the　door；　and
knocked　softly　upon　it。　　There　was　no　answer。　　She　knocked　again。
Still　receiving　no　reply；　she　tried　the　door；　found　it　unlocked；
and；　opening　it；　stood　for　an　instant　on　the　threshold。　　A　lamp；
almost　empty；　ill…trimmed　and　smoking　badly；　stood　on　a　chair
beside　a　cheap　iron　bed；　it　threw　a　dull；　yellow　glow　about　its
immediate　vicinity；　and　threw　the　remainder　of　the　garret　into
deep；　impenetrable　shadows；　but　also　it　disclosed　the　motionless
form　of　a　woman　on　the　bed