What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. ” She was cowed by the three dead faces that seemed to scream at her to restore order by any means possible, even if it meant forgetting the children of the whore and all the events that had led to her unfortunate situation.
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