th as to her
having been in prison. The man had a kindly heart, and, in addition,
he ran little risk in the matter, so he allowed her to remain. When,
presently, the police called his attention to the girl's criminal
record, he paid no heed to their advice against retaining her services.
But such action on his part offended the greatness of the law's dignity.
The police brought pressure to bear on the man. They even called in the
assistance of Edward Gilder himself, who obligingly wrote a very severe
letter to the girl's employer. In the end, such tactics alarmed the
man. For the sake of his own interests, though unwillingly enough, he
dismissed Mary from his service.

It was then that despair did come upon the girl. She had tried with all
the strength of her to live straight. Yet, despite her innocence,
the world would not let her live according to her own conscience. It
demanded that she be the criminal it had branded her--if she were to
live at all. So, it was despair! For she would not turn to evil, and
without such turning she could not live. She still walked the streets
falteringly, seeking some place; but her heart was gone from the quest.
Now, she was sunken in an apathy that saved her from the worst pangs
of misery. She had suffered so much, so poignantly, that at last her
emotions had grown sluggish. She did not mind much even when her tiny
hoard of money was quite gone, and she roamed the city, starving....
Came an hour when she thought of the river, and was glad!

Mary remembered, with a wan smile, how, long ago, she had thought with
amazed horror of suicide, unable to imagine any trouble sufficient
to drive one to death as the only relief. Now, however, the thing was
simple to her. Since there was nothing else, she must turn to that--to
death. Indeed, it was so very simple, so final, and so easy, after the
agonies she had endured, that she marveled over her own folly in not
having sought such escape before.... Even with the first wild fancy, she
had unconsciously bent her steps westward toward the North River. Now,
she quickened her pace, anxious for the plunge that should set the term
to sorrow. In her numbed brain was no flicker of thought as to whatever
might come to her afterward. Her sole guide was that compelling
passion of desire to be done with this unbearable present. Nothing else
mattered--not in the least!

So, she came through the long stretch of ill-lighted streets, crossed
some railroad tra