But a girl is soiled not only by evil but by the proximity of evil, and a reputation for rashness may do her as serious an injury as really reprehensible conduct. She will not confide in me. “Excuse me a moment. I must have something in hand. " "I sha'n't want these curtains. ‘And what is it you’re to rescue her from, I should like to know. But ——” A look checked him. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances.
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