loathed to touch her. But her soul might be as pure and groping as
little Susy's.

"I wish I could help you, girl," he said. "But I'm a moral man. I have
to be careful of my reputation. Besides, I couldn't bring you under the
same roof with my child."

She was quiet now.

"I know. There's not one of those Christian women up in the town yonder
'ud take Lot into their kitchens to give her a chance to save herself
from hell. Do you think I care? It's not for myself I'm sorry. It's too
late."

Yet as this child, hardly a woman, gave her soul over forever, she could
not keep her lips from turning white.

"There's thousands more of us. Who cares? Do preachers and them as sits
in the grand churches come into our dens to teach us better?"

Pumphrey grew uneasy.

"Who taught you to sing?" he said.

The girl started. She did not answer for a minute.

"What did you say?" she said.

"Who taught you?"