itself in the vapours of patchouli and coffins, and streams
from the eyes like gaslight from a tavern. And yet the line is ill to
draw between them. It is very dreadful. These are women.'

'They are in God's hands,' answered Falconer. 'He hasn't done with them
yet. Shall it take less time to make a woman than to make a world? Is
not the woman the greater? She may have her ages of chaos, her centuries
of crawling slime, yet rise a woman at last.'

'How much alike all those women were!'

'A family likeness, alas! which always strikes you first.'

'Some of them looked quite modest.'

'There are great differences. I do not know anything more touching than
to see how a woman will sometimes wrap around her the last remnants of a
soiled and ragged modesty. It has moved me almost to tears to see such
a one hanging her head in shame during the singing of a detestable song.
That poor thing's shame was precious in the eyes of the Master, surely.'

'Could nothing be done for her?'

'I contrived to let her know where she would find a friend if she wanted
to be good: that is all you can do in such cases. If the horrors of
their life do not drive them out at such an open door, you can do
nothing else, I fear--for the time.'

'Where are you going now, may I ask?'

'Into the city--on business,' he added with a smile.

'There will be nobody there so late.'

'Nobody! One would think you were the beadle of a city church, Mr.
Gordon.'

We came into a very narrow, dirty street. I do not know where it is. A
slatternly woman advanced from an open door, and said,

'Mr. Falconer.'

He looked at her for a moment.

'Why, Sarah, have you come to this already?' he said.

'Never mind me, sir. It's no more than you told me to expect. You knowed
him better than I did. Leastways I'm an honest woman.'

'Stick to that, Sarah; and be good-tempered.'

'I'll have a try anyhow, sir. But there's a poor cretur a dyin'
up-stairs; and I'm afeard it'll go hard with her, for she throwed a
Bible out o' window this very morning, sir.'

'Would she like to see me? I'm afraid not.'

'She's got Lilywhite, what's a sort of a reader, readin' that same Bible
to her now.'

'There can be no great harm in just looking in,' he said, turning to me.

'I shall be happy to follow you--anywhere,' I returned.

'She's awful ill, sir; cholerer or summat,' said Sarah, as she led the
way up the creaking stair.

We half entered the room softly. Two or three w