"Betsie rang", the very artificial haired woman, stuck her head in through the lone rusty window in the room.

A few heads rose to look at her. A few hands dropped their brushes and lipsticks and turned towards the window.

"Oh, she did? She just wrote to me last week. She must miss us a lot", a raspy voice from the center of the room averted all the attention to her.

"She did?", another one sat on the edge of her chair, "God, she didn't write to me. What did she say? Hey, Leslie, what'd she say?"

Leslie had already gone back to skimming through her fashion magazine. Her blonde hair were perfect today and her slender legs were sprawled on the couch before her, oh so nobly. Her bathrobe did nothing to take her charm away from her.

"This and that. I can never make sense of that girl", she answered carelessly.

"What'd she have to say Rache?", another girl asked the lady in the window.

"Oh poor Betsie!", Rache, short for Rachel, started with a sigh, "She's so bitter."

All attention returned to Rachel, except Leslie's.

"Why, what'd she say?"

"God, she was just about at the end of her rope. Hey Les, you don't think she'll come back here, do you?", Rachel kept the mystery going.

Leslie had started working on a cigarette by the time the girls turned back to her.

"Oh, dear Rae, I wish you'd stop worrying your pretty little head over little Betsie. She'll be just fine, I assure you. And by all means, rest assured she won't come back here", Leslie didn't raise her head from the magazine.

"You think?"

"Yes, dear Rae. I believe so", Leslie answered.

"What'd she say anyway?", one of the girls intruded.

"This and that, for god's sake. Leave the kid alone. She's just fussing about going to a big city. What's new? She'll fit right in, just give her time", Leslie was beginning to get annoyed but her answer closed the case for the time being.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The girls went back to powdering their noses. For the next half hour, there was nothing but rouge passing from one dressing table to the other and a parade of colors finding their way to the spotless faces of the young girls. All through that, Leslie sat with the magazine and her unlimited supply of Marlboros, as if all of it had nothing to do with her.

When the hubbub was over, it was just Leslie and the remains of makeup in a brightly lit room with the pinkest furniture in the world. Her smoke didn't go well with the theme of the room but she couldn't care less. She tossed the magazine on the wooden coffee table and let her head fall back.

"For goodness sake, dear Rae, could you not lurk around?"

Rachel appeared in the rusty window again.

"What did Betsie write to you, Les?"

"Oh God, it's Betsie again. Could you leave the child alone? And don't scare the other girls, for goodness sake, Rae."

"Just tell me what she wrote, Les", Rachel knew her habit of discretion all too well.

With Leslie, everything was a secret, highly classified information that needed to be kept under as many wraps as would constitute an onion.

"You know Betsie, she's always been a little in over her head", Leslie sighed.

"She didn't sound alright, Les. Poor kid's really havin' it rough out there", Rachel leaned back at the window sill.

"Let me read it to you, Rae", Leslie suddenly got out of her comfortable seat and went over to a table that was separate from all others.

She produced the letter that still looked fresh.

Rachel waited until Leslie had found her way back to the comfort of her seat again. It took a while before Leslie could find a snug spot in the cushions for her legs.

She then sat back and lighted a new cigarette, before unfolding the letter.

"Girls at the college sleep with at least six men a week and that's more than anyone does in the House. I wonder why they still call us the 'bad women'. It makes no sense to me, I wish I could drown myself."

Leslie read the one part of the letter that seemed to have carried the most weight to her.

Rachel turned around and looked at Leslie, concerned.

"Is that girl going to come back or what?"

"Oh, dear Rae, I'm telling you she won't. She's just now seeing the reality of things, but the kid's got a smart head. She won't come back to this slum, trust me."

"That's what scares me, Les", Rachel was visibly worried, "That she really won't come back here."

"You know how smart she is. You do know, dear Rae, don't you? If that kid can't handle the world, she isn't woman enough. Leave her be. As for me, I don't intend to answer her", Leslie tossed the letter to the same place she'd tossed the magazine.

"You don't have to be so insensitive, Les", Rachel said, before disappearing from the window.

Her heart was a little at rest at least.

Leslie looked at the window and stared at it for a good 30 minutes. After having confirmed that Rachel really had gone, she picked up the letter and folded it neatly before securing it in the top drawer of her dressing table.

That night she wrote on a flimsy paper a small passage. And the top of it read: "My dear Betsie".