She couldn't go back to Troy Wilkins's, nor to Mr. S. Herbert Ross and the little Pemberton stenographers who had enviously seen her go off to be married. But she made a real business of looking for a job. While Mr. Schwirtz stayed home and slept and got mental bed-sores and drank himself to death--rather too slowly--on another fifty dollars which he had borrowed after a Verdun campaign, Una was joyous to be out early, looking over advertisements, visiting typewriter companies' employment agencies. She was slow in getting work because she wanted twenty dollars a week. She knew that any firm taking her at this wage would respect her far more than if she was an easy purchase. Work was slow to come, and she, who had always been so securely above the rank of paupers who submit to the dreadful surgery of charity, became afraid. She went at last to Mamie Magen. Mamie was now the executive secretary of the Hebrew Young Women's Professional Union. She seemed to be a personage. In her office she had a secretary who spoke of her with adoring awe, and when Una said that she was a personal friend of Miss Magen the secretary cried: "Oh, then perhaps you'd like to go to her apartment, at ---- Washington Place. She's almost always home for tea at five." The small, tired-looking Una, a business woman again, in her old tailor-made and a new, small hat, walked longingly toward Washington Place and tea. In her seven years in New York she had never known anybody except S. Herbert Ross who took tea as a regular function. It meant to her the gentlest of all forms of distinction, more appealing than riding in motors or going to the opera. That Mamie Magen had, during Una's own experience, evolved from a Home Club girl to an executive who had tea at her apartment every afternoon was inspiriting; meeting her an adventure. An apartment of buff-colored walls and not bad prints was Mamie's, small, but smooth; and taking tea in a manner which seemed to Una impressively suave were the insiders of the young charity-workers' circle. But Mamie's uncouth face and eyes of molten heroism stood out among them all, and she hobbled over to Una and kissed her. When the cluster had thinned, she got Una aside and invited her to the "Southern Kitchen," on Washington Square. Una did not speak of her husband. "I want to get on the job again, and I wish you'd help me. I want something at twenty a week (I'm more than worth it) and a chance to really climb," was all she said, and Mamie nodded. And so they talked of Mrs. Harriet Fike of the Home Club, of dreams and work and the fight for suffrage. Una's marriage slipped away--she was ardent and unstained again. Mamie's nod was worth months of Mr. Schwirtz's profuse masculine boasts. Within ten days, Mamie's friend, Mr. Fein, of Truax & Fein, the real-estate people, sent for Una and introduced her to Mr. Daniel T. Truax. She was told to come to work on the following Monday as Mr. Truax's secretary, at twenty-one dollars a week.