in a gulp, and then continued turning the empty glass between the tips
of his fingers.

"It seems to me," he said, "that it is a great pity." He looked up
interrogatively at the other man, but Mr. Caruthers met his glance
without any returning show of interest. "I say," repeated Van
Bibber--"I say it seems a pity that a child like that should be
allowed to go on in that business. A grown woman can go into it with
her eyes open, or a girl who has had decent training can too. But it's
different with a child. She has no choice in the matter; they don't
ask her permission; and she isn't old enough to know what it means;
and she gets used to it and fond of it before she grows to know what
the danger is. And then it's too late. It seemed to me that if there
was any one who had a right to stop it, it would be a very good thing
to let that person know about her--about this child, I mean; the one
who made the hit--before it was too late. It seems to me a
responsibility I wouldn't care to take myself. I wouldn't care to
think that I had the chance to stop it, and had let the chance go by.
You know what the life is, and what the temptation a woman--" Van
Bibber stopped with a gasp of concern, and added, hurriedly, "I mean
we all know--every man knows."

Mr. Caruthers was looking at him with his lips pressed closely
together, and his eyebrows drawn into the shape of the letter V. He
leaned forward, and looked at Van Bibber intently.

"What is all this about?" he asked. "Did you come here, Mr. Van
Bibber, simply to tell me this? What have you to do with it? What have
I to do with it? Why did you come?"