"We must change the subject," remarked Thornhill, pausing in his task; "this will never do. But a girl is soiled not only by evil but by the proximity of evil, and a reputation for rashness may do her as serious an injury as really reprehensible conduct. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. Anna said nothing. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Too much, perhaps. I didn’t believe him and I said so. One could go to him and tell him one loved him.
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