A morning of light snow covered the narrow, busy carriageway. Near noon, the small South Street behind the Dawling Building was filled with the smell of burnt bacon on both sides, lined with food stalls. Not far off, a slow, deep ship horn sounded from Pier 16 along the East River. Jenny's thoughts drifted from the street into the distance. After just a few steps on the cold street, she rounded the main entrance of the building and arrived at No. 8 Dover Street, a gray-vaulted red brick building. The building facing the street was the East Building. There was an arched passageway through it for carriages, and on one side of the passage was an inconspicuous small black door. Entering the small door, she came into a dim, narrow corridor. On one side was the porter's room, where a young messenger in a black tailcoat was dozing. They handed over their documents to register, then passed through the East Building into the inner courtyard. The small courtyard was paved with rough brick and stone; accumulated snow had been swept into piles on both sides. In the center stood two public hand pumps. Behind the courtyard was another dumbbell-shaped red brick building. It was adjacent to the surrounding buildings and had poor lighting. This was the South Building where girls like them would stay. The East Building, facing the street and more respectable, consisted entirely of suite apartments for department managers and editors of Dawling, even allowing families. The South Building was more miscellaneous: floors three to five housed female staff, floors one and two housed male staff. Only employees were allowed; no outsiders could be brought in. Besides Jenny and the others, there were over a dozen new female hires from today's interview, half typists and half clerks. At the moment, people were queuing on the third-floor corridor to get their keys from Mrs. Brown. Jenny felt as if she were back in her previous life reporting for college, squeezing into a line outside the dormitory supervisor Mrs. Brown's office. Mrs. Brown's office was actually a small room near the corridor gate, with no decent furnishings. Mrs. Brown was in her fifties, with gray-silver hair, slightly plump, her long face always looking down on others with raised eyes. She wore a high-collared black single-breasted bustle dress, tightly binding her neck and arms, appearing as a widow in mourning. She sat behind the desk, looking sternly at the girls coming in for keys, giving instructions word by word. "No outsiders allowed. No cooking after evening. No making noise. For water, go to the courtyard and pump it yourself. Prepare your own charcoal and coal for the stove, but be careful with fire. There is no curfew here. You can go to the company anytime, but keep the noise down. Don't disturb others. Move your luggage before 6 PM today. Get along well with your apartment mates. Do not do anything dishonorable here. If you do, you bear the consequences." Jenny walked in, her head bowed obediently as she listened, inching forward in the line. "What is your position? Who will you work under?" "Clerk, under Mr. Eliot and Mr. Clare." Upon hearing this, Mrs. Brown mentally weighed the hierarchy. She counted the room numbers, took three old keys already green with copper rust from a drawer, and handed them to Jenny. "Here, you'll be in Apartment 7 on the fifth floor, the left double room." Jenny took the keys. "Thank you." Polly, who was ahead of her, would also work under the same editor and be in the same room. They were to be roommates. Those working in the composing room or under less important editors would be assigned to quadruple rooms. Jenny examined the keys: one for the apartment door, one for the bedroom door, and one for the locker. After realizing Jenny was her roommate, Polly took her arm and they went upstairs together. Polly looked around and chatted with her new roommate. "Is it bad to live on the top floor? I saw only the third floor and below have been renovated. Will it leak?" "It's fine. At least on the top floor you won't hear footsteps from above," Jenny replied. "Oh, that's true." As Jenny spoke, they reached the fifth floor. The corridor did look older—warped floorboards and peeling walls. They came to Apartment 7, opened it, and found a small two-room unit partitioned with wooden boards. There was a dormitory on each side, presumably for two people each. In the middle was a room divided into two: a shared bathroom and kitchen. Although the other roommate had kept it clean, it was obvious the conditions were quite shabby. They quickly opened their own bedroom and both froze. Outside the window, the wall of the neighboring building was very close. The only bright window seemed to be in the kitchen; the other rooms and bedroom windows were dimly lit and drafty, with no heating. Jenny and Polly exchanged glances, their hearts sinking. "Well, we can manage with some tidying up. At least it's free, and the roommate seems clean," Jenny encouraged herself, taking a turn around the bedroom. On either side against the walls stood creaky wooden single beds. In the middle were two chests, and at the foot of each bed was a lockable trunk. There was not even a table. The aisle in between was barely enough for two people to pass. Jenny opened the trunk and drawers; they were dusty but not moldy, serviceable. She clapped her hands, mentally listing what to buy, but turned to see Polly still sitting on the bed, complaining gloomily. "Why give us such a lousy place? How can they judge people like this..." Jenny hesitated, then turned away to think for a moment. "My luggage is still at the hotel. I'll go get it, or it'll be too late. Maybe you should bring yours here first?" Seeing Jenny not responding, Polly felt stifled. But she stopped complaining, got up reluctantly, though she no longer spoke to Jenny. Jenny watched Polly's retreating back, narrowing her eyes slightly, then shook her head. Going downstairs, Jenny headed for the first floor. Polly turned in on the third floor, apparently to find Fujena, who was assigned to the third floor. Jenny didn't bother with her. She left the dormitory alone, took a carriage to the hotel, and brought back two trunks of luggage. Passing South Street, she got off early, lugging her suitcase towards the candy shop on the street. It was now lunchtime. Thin sunlight scattered on the street. The constant flow of people were workers and office staff looking for food. Jenny brushed past the crowd, entered the candy shop, and beckoned a small counter clerk. "What candies are most popular here?" The clerk recommended toffee, licorice, and lemon drops. Jenny saw these candies were cheap, about a dozen cents per pound. She thought they were even cheaper than what she had eaten in town, so she bought fifty cents' worth, had them wrapped in brown paper into two packs, tied them together, and headed back to the dormitory. Carrying them upstairs was a struggle. Jenny was sweating and out of breath, but she caught sight of her two other apartment mates during the meal time. "Hello, I just moved in today. I'm Jenny Jones, a new clerk for the magazine section of the weekly." In the kitchen, a tall and a short female staff member in their early twenties were making sandwiches around a small stove. They wore fine cotton dresses with ornate lace trimmings, accessories on their hands, and had permed hair, exuding a fashionable air. But their lunch was simple: a few slices of bread toasted, fried eggs and bacon, pickled cucumbers, salt and pepper, and a jar of oil-cured tomatoes—the only seasonings. The two women weren't very warm; they said "Oh" to Jenny and exchanged names. "I'm Leni, a clerk in the textbook editorial department. She's Denise." The tall clerk introduced. The shorter, Denise, added, "I'm a clerk in the distribution department." Jenny could see they were used to partnering up, just colleagues. Forcing her way in wouldn't be good, so she simply greeted them, put her luggage in the room, and handed them the candy. "A little gift for our first meeting. If anything comes up, feel free to talk to me." Jenny set the paper bag on the kitchen counter, not wanting to disturb their meal, and turned to leave. The tall Leni hesitated, then called out to Jenny. "Have you had lunch? If you don't mind, we have extra." Jenny turned back and declined with a smile. "No thanks, I'm not hungry. But if it's convenient, could I borrow a rag and a bucket?" The other nodded, didn't insist on her eating, and got up to fetch a few items for Jenny, including a bucket and a jar of soap liquid. For the next two hours, Jenny alone hauled half a bucket of water from the courtyard in a tin bucket, went upstairs, and scrubbed the entire bedroom: floor, window glass, wardrobe, bed boards, even the walls. She washed the rag and bucket clean and returned them, then began organizing her luggage. After finishing lunch, Leni walked out of the kitchen and saw the returned items, all washed clean. She saw Jenny as a qualified roommate, so she came to Jenny's door and discussed the arrangements while Jenny was still organizing. "The stove and kitchenware in the kitchen were bought by Denise and me. You can use them, but don't hold us up. Don't mix up the ingredients. The stove in the bathroom is part of the apartment, but you need to burn coal briquettes. You can order with us, fifty cents a week. Or buy your own, but don't use those smelly coal cinders here. If you use a laundry, choose the one on South Street. They pay a kickback to Mrs. Brown and can deliver to our floor." Leni had worked here for years, sounding straightforward and clear, even if not particularly friendly. Jenny quickly nodded, counted out fifty cents from her wallet, handed it to Leni, and thanked her. Jenny knew the price of coal; ordering together was much cheaper than alone. As for laundry, that was necessary. After she finished organizing, the two next door had already returned to the office. Jenny noticed it was afternoon. She hadn't eaten, so she hurried downstairs to a nearby general store, bought new bedding, mattress, sheets, and pillowcases, and took them to South Street for washing. When she finished, she counted her money: she had spent $4.30 on these items, and she was exhausted. She lay down at the foot of the bed, stomach growling, but at that moment felt quite at ease. However, her ease didn't last long. Her roommate Polly finally returned with her luggage.