"She wants to go back to Elk Mountain with you," pleaded Fleda gently.
"She couldn't do that if the law took hold of you."

"Ain't there to be any punishment for men like him?" demanded Dennis,
stubbornly yet helplessly. "Why didn't I let him burn! I'd have been
willing to burn myself to have seen him sizzling. Ain't men like that to
be punished at all?"

"When he knows who has saved him, he'll sizzle inside for the rest of his
life," remarked Ingolby. "Don't think he hasn't got a heart. He's done
wrong and gone wrong; he has belonged to the sewer, but he isn't all bad,
and maybe this is the turning-point. Drink'll make a man do anything."

"His kind are never sorry for what they do," commented Dennis bitterly.
"They're sorry for what comes from what they do, but not for the doing of
it. I can't think the thing out. It makes me sick. I was hunting for
him to kill him; I was watching this town like a lynx, and I've been and
gone and saved his body from Hell on earth."

"Well, perhaps you've saved his soul from Hell below," said Fleda. "Ah,
come! Your face and hands are burned, your hair is scorched--your
clothes need mending. Arabella is waiting for you. Come home with
me to Arabella."

With sudden resolve Dennis squared his shoulders. "All right," he said.
"This thing's too much for me. I can't get the hang of it. I've lost my
head."

"No, I won't come, I can't come now," said Ingolby, in response to an