"Oh, somewhere in Greenwich Village. But she'll be up at the Woman's
League after the meeting."
He went up to the Woman's League and found the office crowded with women and men. He asked for Miss Heffer.
"I'll take your name," said the young woman, and then came back with the answer that "he'd have to wait."
So he took a seat and waited. He felt feverish and sick, as if he could no longer carry this burden with him. It seemed impossible to sit still. And yet he waited over an hour, waited until it was eight at night, all the gas-jets lit.
The young woman came up to him.
"You want to see Miss Heffer? Come this way."
He was led up a flight of stairs to a little narrow hall-room. Sally Heffer was there at a roll-top desk, still in her little brown coat—quiet, pale, her clear eyes remarkably penetrating. She turned.
"Yes?"
He shook pitifully,… then he sat down, holding his hat in his hands.
"I'm Joe Blaine…."