‘Nothing,’ faltered Kitty, with quivering lips, lifting her face up to the pale moon. The other saw it in the full light and marked how pure and innocent it was.
‘Go home, dear,’ she said, in a soft tone, touching the girl kindly on the shoulder, ‘it’s not fit for you to be out at this hour. You are not one of us.’
‘My God! no,’ cried Kitty, shrinking away from her.
The other smiled bitterly.
‘Ah! you draw away from me now,’ she said, with a sneer; ‘but what are you, so pure and virtuous, doing on the streets at this hour? Go home in time, child, or you will become like me.’
‘I have no home,’ said Kitty, turning to go.
‘No home!’ echoed the other, in a softer tone; ‘poor child! I cannot take you with me—God help me; but here is some money,’ forcing a shilling into the girl’s hand, ‘go to Mrs Rawlins at Victoria Parade, Fitzroy—anyone will tell you where it is—and she will take you in.’
‘What kind of a place is it?’ said Kitty.
‘A home for fallen women, dear,’ answered the other, kindly.
‘I’m not a fallen woman!’ cried the girl, wildly, ‘I have left my home, but I will go back to it—anything better than this horrible life on the streets.’