Marion Marlowe's Christmas Eve, or, The Treachery of a Factory Inspector — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

20 poor Fannie is a cripple! Neither of us girls have any work, and we don’t - know where to | took for any. Am I to blame if I try to bet- ter my condition, and at the same time help iny two miserable friends ?” “But will you be bettering yourself, dear?” “Will you not be selling all that you have that is best in this asked Marion, eagerly. world at the risk of its not being in any way appreciated? Men are so fickle in all those attachments, Sadie, and when a woman is oice down, how is she going to recover? Think well before you leap, dear Sadie, do; for it is a terrible leap—one that you can ever get back from!” “Tt doesn’t matter,’ said the girl again. “There’s nothing in life but pain and sorrow. A few days of shame will not make it any miore bitter!” “Oh, yes they will, indeed !’’ cried Marion, quickly. “As you are to-day, you can hold up your head with the proudest lady in the land; as you may be to-morrow—oh, Sadie, where will you be to-morrow ?” “Don’t! don’t! Miss Marlowe,” broke in the poor girl, piteously. “I was crazy to think of it, but I was almost desperate.” Marion clasped her arms qgbout her and kissed her tenderly, at the same time slipping a ten-dollar bill into the trembling fingers. “Keep your soul free from that sin,” she murmured, eagerly; “for no gold or jewels can efface the stain. The sin will eat at your heart like a malignant cancer, and every ray of life’s sunshine will be blotted out forever.” Sadie burst out crying, but they were tears of gratitude. She seemed to realize all at once what Marion had done for her. A moment later they parted, expecting to meet again soon, for neither could, by any possibility, foresee store for what was in them. As Marion hurried hack to the office, she met Tom, the office boy. MY QUEEN. “Frenchy says to meet her here right a#way!"’ he said, grinning as he ducked his cap, with an attempt at politeness. | Marion took the scrap of paper that he handed her and looked at the address upon it. She was not familiar with the locality mentioned. Tom was off like a flash, so Marion walked on. She had a vague idea that she was go- ‘ing in the right direction, and after turning two or three corners she saw the name of the street upon a lamp-post. When she reached the address given, she found it to be a tall six-story tenement house, situated in the middle of the block. The buildings on both sides were factories of various sorts and from all: about came the busy whir of machinery and the smell of oil. From the windows of the tenement house occasionally peered a black-bearded man or a dark-eyed woman, and Marion at once real- ized that they were the lowest type of He- brews. | She entered the hall, and was at once plunged into semi-darkness. She hesitated for a mofient, and was half inclined to wait. on the sidewalk for Miss French, but there was no way of knowing that the inspector was not ahead of her. “Pshaw !" she said to herself as she set her foot on the first step of the dirty stairs. ‘The idea of me—Marion Marlowe—being ner- vous! I must be growing morbid at the sight A Gree. why! me me - of all this misery!” She made her way up to the room desig- nated in the note, which was on the top floor. She heard a busy hum through the closed door, and then, turning the knob, stepped resolutely inside, ; There was a score of men in the room, all of them dark-skinned, dirty and repulsive, — with tangled, unkempt black beards, like the proverbial beards of the prophets. They seemed to be having a sort of confertnce Eomicbooks.co a ae)