She was going she didn't know where when I looked at her 'cross the car and she saw me.
"'Martha!' she cried, and was on the seat next me, my two arms about her.

She was sobbing like a lost child who has found its mother again.
There were two other women in the car, and they wanted to help, but I told them it was only my baby back again.

We were near 10th Street at the time and I got her out and brought her here and put her to bed--Listen! Keep still a moment! That's her step! Yes, thank God, she's alone! I'm always scared lest he should come with her.

Get in there behind the curtain!" Martha had lifted the lamp again as she spoke, and was holding it over the banister, one hand down-stretched toward a woman whose small white fingers were clutching the mahogany rail, pulling herself up one step at a time.
"Don't hurry, my child.

It's a hard climb, I know.