"And what has been your employment?"
"They don't know. I don't want them to know. I gave them as an excuse that I was tired of the place."
"I'm not asking your employer's name. What kind of work was it?"
"I was assistant cashier in a drug store."
"And before that?"
"I answered the bell for a doctor."
"I see. I don't wish to pry into your affairs; but do you belong here? Are your parents living?"
"I don't mind telling. There's not much to tell. My father and mother are dead. I was born about a hundred miles from here and attended the public school. I had my living to make, so I came to Benham about two years ago. I had acquaintances, and was crazy to go into a store. But a girl who came from the same town as I was going to be married, and got me her place to look after the doctor's bell and tidy up. He was a dentist. He lost his health and had to go to Colorado for his lungs, and then I went to the drug store. That's all there is to tell, lady—that is, except one thing, which doesn't count much now."
"You might as well tell me that also."
"Oh, well, I'd been thinking of training to be a nurse when I got into trouble. I'd got used to doctors and medicine, and they told me I had the sort of hands for it." She exhibited her strong, flexible fingers. "If I had got rid of my baby, I was going to apply to a hospital. So you see I've got some ambition, lady. I wanted to be of some use. I'm not altogether bad."