A feeling of faintness reminded her that she had not eaten since morning.  She turned into a side street of shabby houses, with rows of ash-barrels behind bent area railings.  In a basement window she saw the sign Ladies’ Restaurant: a pie and a dish of doughnuts lay against the dusty pane like petrified food in an ethnological museum.  She entered, and a young woman with a weak mouth and a brazen eye cleared a table for her near the window.  The table was covered with a red and white cotton cloth and adorned with a bunch of celery in a thick tumbler and a salt-cellar full of grayish lumpy salt.  Julia ordered tea, and sat a long time waiting for it.  She was glad to be away from the noise and confusion of the streets.  The low-ceilinged room was empty, and two or three waitresses with thin pert faces lounged in the background staring at her and whispering together.  At last the tea was brought in a discolored metal teapot.  Julia poured a cup and drank it hastily.  It was black and bitter, but it flowed through her veins like an elixir.  She was almost dizzy with exhilaration.  Oh, how tired, how unutterably tired she had been!

She drank a second cup, blacker and bitterer, and now her mind was once more working clearly.  She felt as vigorous, as decisive, as when she had stood on the Van Siderens’ door-step—­but the wish to return there had subsided.  She saw now the futility of such an attempt—­the humiliation to which it might have exposed her...  The pity of it was that she did not know what to do next.  The short winter day was fading, and she realized that she could not remain much longer in the restaurant without attracting notice.  She paid for her tea and went out into the street.  The lamps were alight, and here and there a basement shop cast an oblong of gas-light across the fissured pavement.  In the dusk there was something sinister about the aspect of the street, and she hastened back toward Fifth Avenue.  She was not used to being out alone at that hour.

At the corner of Fifth Avenue she paused and stood watching the stream of carriages.  At last a policeman caught sight of her and signed to her that he would take her across.  She had not meant to cross the street, but she obeyed automatically, and presently found herself on the farther corner.  There she paused again for a moment; but she fancied the policeman was watching her, and this sent her hastening down the nearest side street...  After that she walked a long time, vaguely...  Night had fallen, and now and then, through the windows of a passing carriage, she caught the expanse of an evening waistcoat or the shimmer of an opera cloak...

Suddenly she found herself in a familiar street.  She stood still a moment, breathing quickly.  She had turned the corner without noticing whither it led; but now, a few yards ahead of her, she saw the house in which she had once lived—­her first husband’s house.  The blinds were drawn, and only a faint translucence marked the windows and the transom above the door.  As she stood there she heard a step behind her, and a man walked by in the direction of the house.  He walked slowly, with a heavy middle-aged gait, his head sunk a little between the shoulders, the red crease of his neck visible above the fur collar of his overcoat.  He crossed the street, went up the steps of the house, drew forth a latch-key, and let himself in...