The girl turned to Dr. Brattle again.
“Doctor,” she said, “you are a clergyman. You are the shepherd of the flock. Are you, too, deaf to the appeal that goes up daily from the sinks of this city,—from hundreds of ruined girls? Do you, too, stand by while wolves rend the lambs? Do you deny the existence of the wolf?”
“We can only strive to educate these women, to teach them the error of their way,” pleaded the shepherd.
“But, doctor, while you are educating one, the wolves are tearing down twenty. They ‘educate,’ too, and their facilities are better than yours.”
The girl stopped breathlessly and, stooping swiftly, kissed her aunt. There were tears in her eyes.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said.
Then suddenly she crossed the room and threw open the door. The maid, Anna, stood there with a satchel at her feet and Mary’s cloak upon her arm. Mary picked up the satchel and turned toward the street door.
“The time for theory alone is over,” she said, addressing the company. “Someone has got to go into action against the wolves.”
The door swung behind her and she stepped out into the boulevard.