ught it out to the very last," her head suddenly drooping,
"but--but the end came just the same. Perhaps I should never have hung
on so long; perhaps it would have been better to have sent word to my
mother, and asked help to go home. But--but I kept hoping to succeed,
until it was too late. I spent all the little money I had, and pawned
my rings. I had married against my mother's wish. I could not turn to
her for help. Oh, I was tempted; I think you must know what I mean!
You realize what temptation is; how it weakens, and conquers the soul?"

I closed my hand firmly over hers.

"Yes, I know."

Her sensitive face brightened; her eyes clearing of mist.

"It is a comfort to speak with a gentleman again. I--I had almost
begun to believe there were none left in the world. You give me
courage to go on, to acknowledge everything. Mr. Craig, I was a soul
tottering on the brink when I met you out yonder; a desperate,
disheartened girl, tempted to the point of surrender. I had lost hope,
pride, all redeeming strength of womanhood. I scarcely cared whether
death, or dishonor, claimed me. I do not know what fateful impulse
moves me now, but I can look into your eyes without sense of shame, and
confess this. I was, in all essential truth, a woman of the
street--not yet lowered utterly to that level, not yet sacrificed, but
with no moral strength left for resistance. No fear, no horror. Oh,
God! it seems like some awful dream--yet it was true, true! I had
ceased to struggle, to care; I had begun to drift; I had lost
everything a woman prizes, even my faith in God. I know you cannot
comprehend what this means--no man could. But I want you to try.
Think what it would mean to your sister, to some pure friend in whom
you have implicit trust. Oh, I know what the world would say--the
well-fed, well-clothed, well-housed, sneering world--but it is to you I
appeal for some slight mercy. You have also suffered, and grown weak,
and, because you told me your story first, I dare now to tell mine. I
was a soul on the brink, and--God forgive me!--not afraid of the rocks
below. Like one stupefied I looked down, hated myself and laughed."

CHAPTER VIII

FACING THE PROBLEM

My fingers closed yet more tightly over the small hand, but her face
remained rigid, the lines deep about the mouth.

"The landlady had turned me out," speaking now bitterly and swiftly,
"retaining my few belongings, and calling me a foul name