One night, when the winds were biting and the sky was laden with chilly mist, Marion was hurrying home from another day of fruitless searching.
A carriage passed her with its lanterns glowing brightly, and, as Marion gave a sharp glance into the vehicle, she saw her aunt and uncle leaning back in the cushions.
“Oh, this is horrible! horrible!” she whispered to herself. “They are fairly rolling in wealth, while their own nieces are starving.”
She turned into a side street and hurried along. Right in the middle of a dark block two men confronted her.
“Ha! So I have met you again, my beauty,” said a hateful voice which Marion recognized instantly. It was the man who had accosted her once before in a similar manner.
“You’re just the girl we were hoping to meet. Come on, little sweetheart, and we’ll treat you royally.”
There was not a person to be seen in the block, and the long rows of houses looked dark and gloomy.
Marion gave a quick glance around and then uttered a shrill cry as she felt the man’s hand fall familiarly on her shoulder.
“Don’t you dare to touch me, you scoundrel!” she almost screamed. “Oh, why is it that such a ruffian is not in prison?”
“I’ll tell you why, if you’re dead anxious to know,” said the other man, chuckling. “Our friend here is too slippery, the police can’t catch him.”