She was nearly dead. “Come upstairs,” she said, “and I will show you your room. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. Wood. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. “A man like that taints a girl by looking at her, by his mere conversation.
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