Youth and its rights for her were
gone beyond returning.
She would not sit down; grew rigid when I tried to make her. "You want
to see me?" She looked from me to Mrs. Mundy and back again to me.
"What do you want to see me about? Why did you want me to come here?"
"We want to talk to you, to see what is best for you to do." I spoke
haltingly. It was difficult to speak at all with her eyes upon me.
They were strange eyes for a girl of eighteen.
"Best for me to do?" She laughed witheringly and turned from the fire,
her hands twisting in nervous movements. "There are only two things
ahead of me. Death--or worse. Which would you advise me--to do?"
Without waiting for answer the slight shoulders straightened and went
back. Scorn, hate, bitterness were in her unconscious pose, and from
her eyes came fire. "If you sent for me to preach you can quit before
you start. There ain't anything you can do for me. I'm done for.
What do people like you care what becomes of girls like us? Maybe we
send ourselves to hell, but you see to it that we stay there.
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