out tears. "Oh, I would have worked till I dropped--I did work
till I dropped. I kept fainting--Oh! I would have been glad and thankful
and grateful----"

"Yes," said Miss Amory, "life got worse and worse--they all treated you
as if you were a dog. Those common virtuous people are like the torturers
of the Inquisition. You were hungry and cold--cold and hungry----"

"You don't know what it's like," Susan moaned. "You don't know. When you
get sick and hollow and cramped, and stagger about in your bare room--and
call out to yourself to ask what made you and where is it. And the wind's
like ice--and you huddle in a heap----"

"And there are lights in the streets," said Miss Amory, "and it seems as
if there must be something there to be given to you by somebody--somebody.
And you go out."

Susan got up, panting, and stared at her.

"You do know," she cried, almost with passion. "Somehow you've found out
what it's like. I wanted you to know. I don't want you--not to understand
and then of a sudden to send me away. I'm so _afraid_ of you sending me
away."

"I shall not send you away for anything you have done in the past," said
Miss Amory.

"I don't know what I should have done in the future, if you hadn't taken
me in," Susan said. "Perhaps I should have thrown myself under a train.
But, oh!" with starting dampness in her skin, which she wiped off with a
sick gesture, "I did _hate_ to let myself think of it. It wasn't the
being killed--that's nothing--but feeling yourself crushed and torn and
twisted--I used to stand and shake all over thinking of it. And I
couldn't have gone on. I hated myself--I hated everything--most of all I
hated the Thing that made me. What right had it? I hadn't done nothing to
it before I was born. Seemed like it had made me just for the fun of
pushing me under them wheels and seeing them tear and grind me. Oh! how I
hated it!"

"So have I," said Miss Amory, her steady eyes looking more like a hawk's
than ever.

Susan stared more than before. "I suppose I ought to have hated Jack
Williams," she went on, her throat evidently filling, "but I never did. I
loved him. Seemed like I was just his wife, that it did. I believe it
always will. That's the way girls get into trouble. Some man that's got
an affectionate way makes 'em believe they're as good as married. An'
then they find out it's all a lie."

"Perhaps some day you may see Jack Williams again," said Miss Amory.

"He wouldn't look at m