"Then he was gone two days and nights leaving me alone. He reappeared the third evening in the worst condition I had ever seen him. He acted like a veritable savage, cursing and striking at me, and finally drove me from the house, flourishing a revolver in my face, and locking the door behind me. I—I sat there on the steps an hour, and endeavored to go back, but there was no response. I walked the streets, and then—having a little money with me—found a place to lodge. The next day I went back, but the flat was locked still, and neighbors said my husband had left with a traveling bag. I—I was actually thrown out upon the streets to starve."
Her voice lowered, so that I was compelled to lean closer to catch the rapidly spoken words.
"At first I—I was not altogether sorry. I thought it would be easy to find work. I was not afraid of that—but—but it was not easy. Oh! how hard I tried. I faced open insult; cowardly insinuation; brutal coarseness. I never dreamed before how men could treat women seeking honorable employment. Scarcely a courteous word greeted me. Refusal was blunt, imperative, or else, in those cases where vague encouragement was given, it was so worded as to cause my withdrawal in shame. If I had been skilled in any business line my reception might have been different; if I possessed recommendations, or could have frankly confessed the truth, perhaps I might have been given a chance. But as it was everywhere, suspicion was aroused by my reticence, my inability to explain, and the interview ended in curt dismissal, or suggestive innuendo."
She paused again, her bosom rising and falling, her cheeks flushed.
"Go on," I said, encouragingly. "Do not fear I shall misunderstand. I have been through the same mill."
She gave me a quick glance of gratitude, pressing back a straggling strand of hair.
"But you were not a woman," she insisted, "and could defend yourself from insult. I endeavored so hard to discover some opening; I even sought domestic service, and was examined as though I was a horse on sale. I walked the streets; I refused to despair, or permit myself to believe failure possible. I went home at night, tired out, to a little rented room in Forty-Ninth Street, prayed as I used to when a child, cried myself to sleep, only to wake up the next morning determined to continue. I was not weak then; I was as strong as any girl could be; I—I fought it out to the very last," her head suddenly drooping, "but—but the end came just the same. Perhaps I should never have hung on so long; perhaps it would have been better to have sent word to my mother, and asked help to go home. But—but I kept hoping to succeed, until it was too late. I spent all the little money I had, and pawned my rings. I had married against my mother's wish. I could not turn to her for help. Oh, I was tempted; I think you must know what I mean! You realize what temptation is; how it weakens, and conquers the soul?"
I closed my hand firmly over hers.
"Yes, I know."
Her sensitive face brightened; her eyes clearing of mist.