“It doesn't suit you?” she said, very softly. “Good! I was in hopes it wouldn't. So, here's another plan.” Her voice had become very winning. “Suppose you could go West—some place where you would have a fair chance, with money enough so you could live like a human being till you got a start?”
There came a tensing of the relaxed form, and the head lifted a little so that the girl could look at her questioner. And, this time, the glance, though of the briefest, was less furtive.
“I will give you that chance,” Mary said simply, “if you really want it.”
That speech was like a current of strength to the wretched girl. She sat suddenly erect, and her words came eagerly.
“Oh, I do!” And now her hungry gaze remained fast on the face of the woman who offered her salvation.
Mary sprang up and moved a step toward the girl who continued to stare at her, fascinated. She was now all wholesome. The memory of her own wrongs surged in her during this moment only to make her more appreciative of the blessedness of seemly life. She was moved to a divine compassion over this waif for whom she might prove a beneficent providence. There was profound conviction in the emphasis with which she spoke her warning.
“Then I have just one thing to say to you first. If you are going to live straight, start straight, and then go through with it. Do you know what that means?”
“You mean, keep straight all the time?” The girl spoke with a force drawn from the other's strength.
“I mean more than that,” Mary went on earnestly. “I mean, forget that you were ever in prison. I don't know what you have done—I don't think I care. But whatever it was, you have paid for it—a pretty big price, too.” Into these last words there crept the pathos of one who knew. The sympathy of it stirred the listener to fearful memories.
“I have, I have!” The thin voice broke, wailing.