The dawn had begun to break, revealing little by little the outlines of
cruel, ugly buildings, the great mill looming darkly at the end of the
street, and Janet found it scarcely believable that only a little while
ago she had hurried thither in the mornings with anticipation and joy in
her heart, eager to see Ditmar, to be near him! The sight of two
policemen hurrying toward them from the direction of the canal aroused
her. With sullen murmurs the group started to disperse, but the woman
with the baby, numb with cold, was slow in rising, and one of the
policemen thrust out his club threateningly.

"Move on, you can't sit here," he said.

With a lithe movement like the spring of a cat the Italian girl flung
herself between them--a remarkable exhibition of spontaneous
inflammability; her eyes glittered like the points of daggers, and, as
though they had been dagger points, the policeman recoiled a little. The
act, which was absolutely natural, superb, electrified Janet, restored in
an instant her own fierceness of spirit. The girl said something swiftly,
in Italian, and helped the woman to rise, paying no more attention to the
policeman. Janet walked on, but she had not covered half the block before
she was overtaken by the girl; her anger had come and gone in a flash,
her vivacity had returned, her vitality again found expression in an
abundant good nature and good will. She asked Janet's name, volunteering
the information that her own was Gemma, that she was a "fine speeder" in
the Chippering Mill, where she had received nearly seven dollars a week.
She had been among the first to walk out.

"Why did you walk out?" asked Janet curiously.

"Why? I get mad when I know that my wages is cut. I want the money--I get