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Life in the Iron-Mills; or, the Korl Woman by Rebecca Harding Davis
page 23 of 58 (39%)
"They have ample facilities for studying anatomy," sneered
Kirby, glancing at the half-naked figures.

"Look," continued the Doctor, "at this bony wrist, and the
strained sinews of the instep! A working-woman,--the very type
of her class."

"God forbid!" muttered Mitchell.

"Why?" demanded May, "What does the fellow intend by the
figure? I cannot catch the meaning."

"Ask him," said the other, dryly, "There he stands,"--pointing
to Wolfe, who stood with a group of men, leaning on his ash-
rake.

The Doctor beckoned him with the affable smile which kind-
hearted men put on, when talking to these people.

"Mr. Mitchell has picked you out as the man who did this,--I'm
sure I don't know why. But what did you mean by it?"

"She be hungry."

Wolfe's eyes answered Mitchell, not the Doctor.

"Oh-h! But what a mistake you have made, my fine fellow! You
have given no sign of starvation to the body. It is strong,--
terribly strong. It has the mad, half-despairing gesture of
drowning."
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