80. I met [a police officer] in June 1917.... I fell in love with him right away, to tell the truth. I had been having trouble with my husband and had tried to divorce him, but couldn’t. Anyhow, we were separated. When I was with my husband I was a good girl, and didn’t go out with other men.... I won’t say that he asked me to go into the life I began to lead. That was my own choice. I wasn’t any innocent child. But he told me he could “help” me a lot in the life. He told me, first, to keep within the bounds of his inspection district, and to walk Broadway between 42d Street and 109th, but never to go beyond those lines, or else he couldn’t protect me.... After I had taken a man home, and then the man had left the apartment, Ginton would come in and get some money. How much? Oh—25 per cent, sometimes, or 50 per cent, or maybe even 100 per cent. He was always saying, “Honey, I need money. I have to have $25”, or sometimes he would ask for $10 or $20—never less than $10. Oh, I couldn’t begin to figure how much I gave him. But I didn’t mind that. I loved him, and I always had plenty of money for myself, anyhow.... I don’t mind the money, but I do mind his saying he doesn’t know me. I’d have given him anything I had—I would even now, I think. See this ring? Well, that’s worth $3000. He asked me for it once, and I was going to give it to him, except the other girls wouldn’t let me. I’ve bought him lots of clothes—and you might ask him about the belt with the gold buckle I gave him for a present. Oh—he knows me, all right. After seeing my folks and talking to them and having them treat me nicely, I made up my mind that when I got back to New York I was going to give up the life I had been leading and get a job and go straight. So I got a place in a hairdresser’s shop at 85th Street and Broadway that paid me $25 a week. He didn’t like that, and told me so. I guess it was because he wasn’t getting any more money from me. Anyhow, I hadn’t been at work long before he came into the hairdresser’s and said to the boss, “You’d better get rid of that girl; she’s a prostitute.” So I was discharged. I made another try and got a job in a millinery shop on Broadway, near 95th Street. The same thing happened. He told the people I was working for that I was a street woman, so they had to let me go. He had me discharged from a third job in a store in the same neighborhood. It was impossible for me to get any kind of straight work because of him. I had to go back to the street.[89] Italians and Jews have been noticeably identified with white slavery. The Italian methods are particularly atrocious, showing the same desperation as their black-hand operations. At the same time Italian girls and Irish are the most intractable among the nationalities. The Jewish operations tend to the form of business organization.