“I will never do it. I would die first!” Fair replied, as she turned away, and the emphatic words were overheard by many. Many of Fair’s old friends and companions nodded and smiled at her as she passed them by, and if they had known that she was suffering and starving they would have divided their purses and their lunches with her, and some, perhaps, would have tried to find her a refuge for her defenseless head; but she had begun to think that not a friend remained to her in the whole world. She distrusted their smiles and friendly glances, and passed on in silence, followed by a sneer from Belva Platt and several others whom she had brought to her way of thinking. She went to the foreman’s office, and made her request for the place of errand girl, and the foreman gave it to her, promising that she should have her place at a machine again as soon as possible. Encouraged by his kindness, Fair timidly asked if she could get a very small sum in advance. If he had known that she was literally starving, he would not have refused her faltering request; but she would not tell him that she wished the money to buy food, so he answered that it was impossible, as it was against the rules. “And, by the way, you had better go at once to this address,” he said, handing her a card on which was engraved a name and number on Fifth Avenue. “We furnished a very handsome robe for a young girl who has just died there, and a note came just now, stating that some alteration must be made in the neck trimming. You can go there and do the necessary work.” Fair blessed the noble policeman again in her heart as she thought of the packet of car tickets he had given her. She would not have to walk to Fifth Avenue now. Indeed, she well knew that she could not have done it, for her limbs tottered painfully beneath her, and her head swam as she went out of the factory door, struggling bravely with the pangs of hunger, and longing for even a crust of bread with which to satisfy her terrible craving for food. She rode along in the car, starting as every person entered it, fearing lest Carl Bernicci’s unwelcome face should present itself; but although he was near the factory she had left, his thirst had driven him into a barroom just at the moment that she appeared upon the street, so he missed her, and while she was on her way to Fifth Avenue he was watching the factory and cursing at her delay in coming forth, for Belva had advised him that Fair’s place had been filled, and he could not imagine what had detained her so long. “I’ll make my lady pay for all I’ve endured since I married her, if ever I get her into my clutches!” he muttered fiercely.