And she went out into the rain. The Crown Vest Company was on East Fourth Street, just off Washington Square. As Yetta turned the corner from Broadway she was nearly blown off her feet. All the winds of heaven--the biting, penetrating winds of a late spring storm--were caught in Washington Square as in a funnel, and escaped through the narrow cañon of East Fourth Street. Although Yetta was late, she was surprised to find no other picket before the Crown Vest Company. They were always assigned in couples. Her surprise turned to distress when she recognized the "private detective" in the doorway. His real name nobody knew. He called himself Brennan, but the girls called him "Pick-Axe." He was the one they dreaded more than any other. He thought himself a wit. It was his custom to tilt a chair against the wall by the doorway and, lighting his pipe, amuse himself by trying to make the girls blush. There was no limit to the brutality or nastiness of his tongue. "Come in out of the rain, Dearie," he said when he saw Yetta. "There's room for two on this chair." She tried not to hear him and began a sentry-like tread back and forth before the door. At least she was glad it was raining. Sometimes in good weather a crowd of depraved loungers would gather to listen to Pick-Axe's wit. "It's too bad to have to work on a day like this, Little One," he called as she passed again. "Let's go over to the saloon and have a drink. There are nice warm rooms upstairs." Yetta felt she would not shiver so hard if it were not for his cold, stinging voice. She decided it would be cowardly to let him drive her out of earshot. That would please him too much. She wondered why the other picket was not there. "You needn't be so proud"--when she was again opposite him. "The first girl this morning tried to be proud. But she got over it. What's the use? Better come and have a drink, same as she did." Yetta knew it was a lie. And yet--good God, it was cold! She had had her fill of eggs and hot coffee that morning. She wouldn't be hungry till noon, and she was so near home, she could get a good lunch. Some of the girls were always hungry. Few of them had warm clothes for such weather. How could they stand it? She wished she had asked the name of the other girl detailed to the Crown. "I felt right sorry for her," Pick-Axe went on. "Gawd! she was hungry. You ought to have seen her eat. Pretty little girl, too. Now she's having a good sleep." Of course it was a lie. But Yetta felt herself getting colder and colder. Pick-Axe got up and came towards her. She tried not to notice him, but she wanted very much to run. "Come on," he said. "What's the use of being a fool? Nobody's outdoors. They ain't no scabs coming to-day. Let's go over to the saloon and make friends." Yetta having reached the end of her beat turned mechanically and started back towards where he stood. "That's a sensible girl," he said. But she walked on past him as if he were a lamppost.