any longer,
and I rushed out. I don't remember much more. My brain seemed on
fire. I just walked and walked till I was brought here."

"Well, well!" said the sergeant sympathetically, "you have been treated
badly, outrageously; but you are not to blame unless you married the
man hastily and foolishly."

"That's what everyone will think, but it don't seem to me that I did.
It's a long story, and I can't tell it."

"But you ought to tell it, my poor woman. You ought to sue the man for
damages and send him to State prison."

"No, no!" cried Alida passionately. "I don't want to see him again, and
I won't go to a court before people unless I am dragged there."

The sergeant looked up at the policeman who had arrested her and said,
"This story is not contrary to anything you saw?"

"No, sir; she was wandering about and seemed half out of her mind."

"Well, then, I can let you go."

"But I don't know where to go," she replied, looking at him with
hunted, hollow eyes. "I feel as if I were going to be sick. Please
don't turn me into the streets. I'd rather go back to the cell--"

"That won't answer. There's no place that I can send you to except the
poorhouse. Haven't you any money?"

"No, sir. I just rushed away and left everything when I learned the
truth."

"Tom Watterly's hotel is the only place for her," said the policeman
with a nod.

"Oh, I can't go to a hotel."

"He means the almshouse," explained the sergeant. "What is your name?"

"Alida--that's all now. Yes, I'm a pauper and I can't work just yet.
I'll be safe there, won't I?"

"Certainly, safe as in your mother's house."

"Oh, mother, mother; thank God, you are dead!"

"Well, I AM sorry for you," said the sergeant kindly. "'Taint often we
have so sad a case as yours. If you say so, I'll send for Tom
Watterly, and he and his wife will take charge of you. After a few
days, your mind will get quieter and clearer, and then you'll prosecute
the man who wronged you."

"I'll go to the poorhouse until I can do better," she replied wearily.
"Now, if you please, I'll return to my cell where I can be alone."

"Oh, we can give you a better room than that," said the sergeant. "Show
her into the waiting room, Tim. If you prosecute, we can help you with
our testimony. Goodbye, and may you have better days!"

Watterly was telegraphed to come down with a conveyance for the
almshouse was in a suburb. In due time he appeared, and was briefly
tol