each one of us. We know what Blake wants. We know what you want. And
I want something more than I 'm getting, just as you want something
more than writing reports and rounding up push-cart peddlers. I want
my end, as much as you want yours."

"And?" again prompted the First Deputy.

"I 've got to the end of my ropes; and I want to swing around. It's no
reform bee, mind! It's not what other women like me think it is. But
I can't go on. It doesn't lead to anything. It does n't pay. I want
to be safe. I 've _got_ to be safe!"

He looked up suddenly, as though a new truth had just struck home with
him. For the first time, all that evening, his face was ingenuous.

"I know what's behind me," went on the woman. "There 's no use digging
that up. And there 's no use digging up excuses for it. But there
_are_ excuses--good excuses, or I 'd never have gone through what I
have, because I feel I was n't made for it. I 'm too big a coward to
face what it leads to. I can look ahead and see through things. I can
understand too easily." She came to a stop, and sat back, with one
white hand on either arm of the chair. "And I 'm afraid to go on. I
want to begin over. And I want to begin on the right side!"

He sat pondering just how much of this he could believe. But she
disregarded his veiled impassivity.

"I want you to take Picture 3,970 out of the Identification Bureau, the
picture and the Bertillon measurements. And then I want you to give me
the chance I asked for."