"Now, now, dearest, to know that would be stepping into the muck after your shadow; the talk of such men is unimaginable to you."
"You don't mean Mr. Ramsey?"
"No; Mr. Ramsey is a different sort of man, and I don't suppose anything else would have brought him to blows with those rough men."
They sat looking straight forward.
"Oh, it's horrible, horrible!"
Her uncle tightened his arm about her.
"I suppose the knowledge of such lower deeps must come to you some day, but don't seek it now; I've told you all you ought to know. Ramsey meant well," he went on, after a silence, "but such things do little good, not enough to pay for the outlay of self-respect. He can't control their talk when he's out of hearing."
"But I supposed that if a woman was—good—I mean—I didn't know that men talked in that way about girls—like me. How could they?"
The abyss still fascinated her.
"My dear, such men are only half civilized. They have all the passions of animals, and all the vices of men. Ramsey was too hot-headed; their words do not count; they weren't worth whipping."