She was constantly pained by the sight of the white-faced, ragged men who slopped desperately by her in a sort of wretched mental stupor.

The poorly clad girls who went blowing by her window evenings, hurrying home from some of the shops of the West Side, she pitied from the depths of her heart.

She would stand and bite her lips as they passed, shaking her little head and wondering.

They had so little, she thought.

It was so sad to be ragged and poor.