Better complete, thought she, the other and smaller pieces--one a fichu of Brussels lace, and the others some embroidered handkerchiefs on which she was to place monograms.

These she would finish and take to Mangan.
When he saw how tired she was, he would accept her excuses and give her another day for the large and more important piece.

She did not have to leave the house until four o'clock, and as Martha was to be out most of the day, she could work on without distraction of any kind.
When, at noon, Martha left her, with a caressing pat of the hand, promising to be back in time for supper, the anxious, weary woman picked up her needle again, her fingers darting in and out like shuttles, her shoulders aching with the strain, her mind still intent on the problems which had tortured her all night, and only rousing herself when the clock in a neighboring tower struck four.

Then she gathered up her work, wrapped the whole in the same sheet of tissue-paper in which the several pieces had been packed, and, adjusting her hat and cloak, started for Rosenthal's.
Mangan, who was in charge of the department, had been waiting for her in a small room off the repair shop, and as he caught sight of her frail figure making her way toward him, rose to greet her.

"Well, I'm glad you've come," he began, as she reached his desk.