She shook herself and paced up and down again.
Prisoners form the habit of talking to themselves—this was the suggestion that floated through her mind—that cell idea again.
"I've got to get out of this!" said Martha, stopping short. "It's enough to drive a girl crazy!"
The driving process was stayed by a knock at the door. "Excuse me for coming up," said a voice. "It's Mrs. MacAvelly."
Martha knew this lady well. She was a friend of Miss Podder at the Girls' Trade Union Association. "Come in. I'm glad to see you!" she said hospitably. "Have the chair—or the bed's really more comfortable!"
"I was with Miss Podder this evening and she was anxious to know whether your union has gained any since the last meeting—I told her I'd find out—I had nothing else to do. Am I intruding?"
"Intruding!" Martha, gave a short laugh. "Why, it's a godsend, Mrs.
MacAvelly! If you knew how dull the evenings are to us girls!"
"Don't you—go out much? To—to theaters—or parks?" The lady's tone was sympathetic and not inquisitive.
"Not very much," said Martha, rather sardonically. "Theaters—two girls, two dollars, and twenty cents carfare. Parks, twenty cents—walk your feet off, or sit on the benches and be stared at. Museums—not open evenings."
"But don't you have visitors—in the parlor here?"