"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.