I endeavored so hard to discover some opening; I even sought domestic service, and was examined as though I was a horse on sale.

I walked the streets; I refused to despair, or permit myself to believe failure possible.

I went home at night, tired out, to a little rented room in Forty-Ninth Street, prayed as I used to when a child, cried myself to sleep, only to wake up the next morning determined to continue.

I was not weak then; I was as strong as any girl could be; I--I fought it out to the very last," her head suddenly drooping, "but--but the end came just the same.

Perhaps I should never have hung on so long; perhaps it would have been better to have sent word to my mother, and asked help to go home.