Una put her arms round his neck.
“Oh, Charles,” she whispered, “don’t give up altogether. Indeed—indeed—He does save sinners. He always went after the bad ones.”
Charles looked into her eager, tear-filled eyes.
“Why, you’re the sort that can persuade people to turn religious,” he said. “Good-bye, little Una.”
He kissed her very affectionately, then took hold of Carrie’s hands.
“Good-bye,” he said. “Between you, you’ve made me wish I’d had a chance of being a decenter fellow.”
He stooped down, and kissed her forehead quickly and shyly, then went hurriedly away. Poor Carrie made no further protest. She cried bitterly, as well she might; for her first fresh fancy, and her girlish peace, had been sacrificed to the unjustifiable effort to escape from the inevitable consequences that follow on sinful lives.
Una stood still for a moment. Ideas always came to her in sudden flashes, and, with her erring, hopeless brother’s last words, there came before her the momentary vision of a possible future for herself.