When he asked me to marry him conditions were such that I accepted, even consented, under his urging, to an immediate ceremony.  We came to this city, were quietly married here, and occupied a flat on the north side.  My husband did no work, but received remittances from home, and apparently had plenty of means.  He told me little about himself, or his condition, but promised to take me to his people in a little while.  He said his father was wealthy, but eccentric; that he had told him of our marriage, but there had been a quarrel between them, and he could not take me there without an invitation.  I was never shown the letters, but they bore Southern postmarks.”

She paused, hesitating, her eyes full of pain.

“I—­I was afraid to question, for—­for he proved so different after our marriage.  He was a drunkard, abusive and quarrelsome.  I had never before been in intimate contact with anyone like that, and I was afraid of him.  Whatever of love I might have felt died within me under abuse.  He struck me the second day, and from that moment I dreaded his home-coming.  For weeks I scarcely saw him sober, and his treatment of me was brutal.”

Tears were in her eyes, but she held them back, forcing herself to go on.

“Then he was gone two days and nights leaving me alone.  He reappeared the third evening in the worst condition I had ever seen him.  He acted like a veritable savage, cursing and striking at me, and finally drove me from the house, flourishing a revolver in my face, and locking the door behind me.  I—­I sat there on the steps an hour, and endeavored to go back, but there was no response.  I walked the streets, and then—­having a little money with me—­found a place to lodge.  The next day I went back, but the flat was locked still, and neighbors said my husband had left with a traveling bag.  I—­I was actually thrown out upon the streets to starve.”

Her voice lowered, so that I was compelled to lean closer to catch the rapidly spoken words.

“At first I—­I was not altogether sorry.  I thought it would be easy to find work.  I was not afraid of that—­but—­but it was not easy.  Oh! how hard I tried.  I faced open insult; cowardly insinuation; brutal coarseness.  I never dreamed before how men could treat women seeking honorable employment.  Scarcely a courteous word greeted me.  Refusal was blunt, imperative, or else, in those cases where vague encouragement was given, it was so worded as to cause my withdrawal in shame.  If I had been skilled in any business line my reception might have been different; if I possessed recommendations, or could have frankly confessed the truth, perhaps I might have been given a chance.  But as it was everywhere, suspicion was aroused by my reticence, my inability to explain, and the interview ended in curt dismissal, or suggestive innuendo.”

She paused again, her bosom rising and falling, her cheeks flushed.