After spending the night in the Tombs, she was returned the next morning to the Federal District Court of Brooklyn on a writ of habeas corpus as a means of suspending sentence pending appeal. Daylight had brought no change in her determination to continue with the hunger strike. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet,” she declared, and, remembering the tale that one hunger striker had received nourishment in her cups of water, she added, “and, if they send me back, I shan’t drink anything either.” Neither J.J. nor I considered such a short sentence worth breaking your life for. Furthermore, the cause did not mean to Ethel what it did to me. “Think this over very carefully,” I reminded her. “A hunger strike is not necessary, and if you once start you’ll have to keep it up.” She insisted that she was ready to die if need be; she had made her will and arranged for the disposition of her two children—the hunger strike was to go on. The writ was refused and she was remanded to the Workhouse. On her way there she told the women with whom she shared the patrol wagon the salient facts of birth control. When Commissioner of Correction Burdette G. Lewis was asked to comment on Ethel’s decision he scoffed. “Others have threatened hunger strikes. It means nothing.” At first no food at all was brought her, but after the publicity began the authorities were in despair to make her eat. This was a case they did not know how to handle; they were mentally unprepared for prisoners who were guilty of performing a legal wrong in order to win a legal right. Ethel had gone one hundred and three hours without eating when Commissioner Lewis established a precedent in American prison annals by ordering her forcibly fed, the first woman to be so treated in this country. He stated optimistically to the press how simple the process was, consisting of merely rolling her in a blanket so she could not struggle, and then having milk, eggs, and a stimulant forced into her stomach through a rubber tube. He stressed how healthy she continued to be, how little opposition she offered, how foolish the whole thing appeared to him anyhow; he was going to charge her for the expense incurred in calling in an expert to feed her. As soon as I heard my sister was “passive under the feeding” I became desperately anxious about her; nothing but complete loss of strength could have lessened her resistance. After one interview Commissioner Lewis had barred all reporters and given out a statement of his own. “I have not much patience with Mrs. Byrne’s efforts to get advertising for her cause, and I won’t help such a campaign along by issuing bulletins.” But bulletins were being issued, nevertheless—and printed.