She has no terrors tonight; no haunting nightmares.
Her blood flows fast; her pulse thrills her; her thoughts burn with pleasing fire.
She is reckless. Why not? The world is a bed of roses.
Four months ago she wandered into the paths that lead to hell.
Six dollars a week as a clerk. No clothes, no delicacies, no amusements.
She learned the secrets of the girl who worked beside her; how she purchased the “good things” of life.
Her virginal innocence was the inestimable price!
Tonight she is an habitue of the brilliant cafe.
The path is still one of beauty and fascination. The tragedy is in its inception.
The bright eyes will become dull, the sweet voice harsh, the cheeks pale, the face haggard.