w the
finest and fragilest things of a poorly-furnished world into such a
hopeless struggle with devildom.

"I have been here several times before," she said presently, in a faint
voice, "and there has never been any trouble. By day the street is not
much worse than others--though, of course, it has a bad name. There is a
little boy on the next floor very ill with typhoid. Many of the women in
the house are very good to him and his mother. This poor thing--used to
come in and out--when I was nursing him--Oh, I wish--I _wish_ they would
come!" she broke off in impatience, looking at the deathly form--"every
moment is of importance!"

As Aldous went to the door to see if the stretcher was in sight, it
opened, and the police came in. Marcella, herself helpless, directed the
lifting of the bloodstained head; the police obeyed her with care and
skill. Then Raeburn assisted in the carrying downstairs, and presently
the police with their burden, and accompanied apparently by the whole
street, were on their way to the nearest hospital.

Then Aldous, to his despair and wrath, saw that an inspector of police,
who had just come up, was talking to Marcella, no doubt instructing her
as to how and where she was to give her evidence. She was leaning
against the passage wall, supporting her injured arm with her hand, and
seemed to him on the point of fainting.

"Get a cab at once, will you!" he said peremptorily to Peabody; then
going up to the inspector he drew him forward. They exchanged a few
words, the inspector lifted his cap, and Aldous went back to Marcella.

"There is a cab here," he said to her. "Come, please, directly. They
will not trouble you any more for the present."

He led her out through the still lingering crowd and put her into the
cab. As they drove along, he felt every jolt and roughness of the street
as though he were himself in anguish. She was some time before she
recovered the jar of pain caused her by the act of getting into the cab.
Her breath came fast, and he could see that she was trying hard to
control herself and not to faint.

He, too, restrained himself so far as not to talk to her. But the
exasperation, the revolt within, was in truth growing unmanageably. Was
this what her new career--her enthusiasms--meant, or might mean!
Twenty-three!--in the prime of youth, of charm! Horrible, unpardonable
waste! He could not bear it, could not submit himself to it.

Oh! let her marry Wharton, or any one