But it was not altogether sad; we were often cheered by gayer visitors. The grocer’s wife on the corner and the widow with six children who kept the lunch room up the street dropped in to wish us luck, and the fat old German baker whose wife gave out handbills to everybody passing the door sent regular donations of doughnuts. Whenever the pressure became so overwhelming that we could not go out for a meal we were sure to hear Mrs. Rabinowitz call downstairs, “If I bring some hot tea now, will you stop the people coming?” Two jovial policemen paused at the doorway each morning to discuss the weather. Reporters looked in speculating on how long we were going to last. The postman delivering his customary fifty to a hundred letters had his little pleasantry, “Farewell, ladies; hope I find you here tomorrow.” Although the line outside was enough to arouse police attention, nine days went by without interference. Then one afternoon when I, still undiscouraged, was out interviewing a doctor, a woman, large of build and hard of countenance, entered and said to Fania she was the mother of two children and that she had no money to support more. She did not appear overburdened or anxious and, because she was so well fed as to body and prosperous as to clothes, did not seem to belong to the community. She bought a copy of _What Every Girl Should Know_ and insisted on paying two dollars instead of the usual ten-cent fee. Fania, who had an intuition about such matters, called Ethel aside and said warningly she was certain this must be a policewoman. But Ethel, who was not of the cautious type, replied, “We have nothing to hide. Bring her in anyhow.” She talked with the woman in private, gave her our literature and, when asked about our future plans, related them frankly. The sceptical Fania pinned the two-dollar bill on the wall and wrote underneath, “Received from Mrs. —— of the Police Department, as her contribution.” Hourly after that we expected trouble. We had known it must occur sooner or later, but would have preferred it to come about in a different way. The next day Ethel and Fania were both absent from the clinic. The waiting room was filled almost to suffocation when the door opened and the woman who had been described to me came in. “Are you Mrs. Sanger?” “Yes.” “I’m a police officer. You’re under arrest.”