“And why not?”
“Before so many—and all of us men save one. Surely the matron——”
The canon rose to his feet again. “My young brother is naturally sensitive, my lord, but I assure him his delicate feelings are wasted on a girl like this. He forgets that the shame lies in the girl's sin, not in her just and necessary punishment.”
“Bring her in,” said the chairman. The matron whispered to the messenger, and he left the room.
“Pardon me, sir,” said John Storm; “if it is your expectation that I should question the nurse on her sin, as the canon says, I can not do so.”
“Can not?”
“Well, I will not.”
“And is that your idea of your duty as a chaplain?”
“It is the matron's duty, not the chaplain's, to——”
“The matron! The matron! This is your parish, sir—your parish. A great public institution is in danger of a disgraceful scandal, and you who are responsible for its spiritual welfare—really, gentlemen——”