You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. "We'll do it. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. Miss Ellicot pursed her lips and sat a little more upright. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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