“You are back again, Sal, and at your old ways,” said the vicar, in a low voice. “I see, all good advice and all encouragement are wasted on you.”
“I can’t help it, sir,” said the girl, sullenly. “I was born bad; I’m of a bad lot. It’s no use trying any more. It’s in the blood and the bone, and it’ll come out, in spite of everything.”
“Have you made much to-day?” asked the vicar.
“A shilling.”
“Where are you going to stop tonight?”
“At old Mary Henson’s, in Bara Street.”
“Then, go home at once, Sal,” said the vicar, giving her a half-crown. “Will you promise me?”
“Yes.”
“And you will speak to no man tonight? You promise?”
“Yes,” said the girl, taking the money, with a strange look of inquiry at the vicar.