That swept down everything.
The one remaining window of the woman's soul was open and I dared not close it.
I looked down at my child—so pure, so sweet, so stainless; I looked up at the woman—so foul, so gross, so degraded.
There was a moment of awful struggle and then . . . the woman and I were walking side by side.
And the harlot was carrying my baby down the street.
NINETY-FOURTH CHAPTER
At five o'clock I was once more alone.
I was then standing (with baby in my own arms now) under the statue which is at the back of Bow Church.
I thought I could walk no farther, and although every penny I had in my pocket belonged to Isabel (being all that yet stood between her and want) I must borrow a little of it if she was to reach Mrs. Oliver's that night.