trull. Sir, do you suppose I do not know?”

She looked up at the stare, and then quietly at me.

“The open comradeship of any man with me but marks us both. Only his taste is criticized, not his morals. But the world’s judgment leaves me nothing to cover me except the silk or rags I chance to wear.

And if I am brave and fine it would be said of me, ‘The hussy’s gown is brave and fine!’ And if I go in tatters, ‘What slattern have we here, flaunting her boldness in the very sun?’ So a comradeship with any man is all one to me. And I go my way, neither a burden nor a plaything, a scandal only to myself, involving no man high or low save where their advances wrong us both in the world’s eyes — as did those of your friend, yonder by a dead fire asleep.”