As Anna stepped into the dimly lit office of Mrs. Patterson, the marriage broker, a flicker of determination flashed in her tired eyes. Mrs. Patterson, a stout woman with a kind face and sharp eyes, assessed Anna with a mixture of pity and pragmatism.
"You're looking to become a mail-order bride, I presume?" Mrs. Patterson's voice was gentle, but businesslike.
Anna's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I-I have nothing left here, and I need a fresh start."
Mrs. Patterson studied Anna for a moment before pulling out a worn leather ledger. "I have a few potential matches that might suit you. They're decent men out West looking for companionship and a helping hand on their farms."
Anna's heart fluttered with a mix of apprehension and hope. She knew this was her best chance at escaping the relentless cycle of poverty and despair that had plagued her life in the city.
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