Where do you live?"
"South-the-water,--one room,--five and sixpence a week. Aren't you making fun
of me about that three quid?"
"You'll see later on. And, Bessie, next time you come, remember, you needn't
wear that paint. It's bad for the skin, and I have all the colours you'll be
likely to need."
Bessie withdrew, scrubbing her cheek with a ragged pocket-handkerchief. The two
men looked at each other.
"You're a man," said Torpenhow.
"I'm afraid I've been a fool. It isn't our business to run about the earth
reforming Bessie Brokes. And a woman of any kind has no right on this landing."
"Perhaps she won't come back."
"She will if she thinks she can get food and warmth here. I know she will,
worse luck. But remember, old man, she isn't a woman; she's my model; and be
careful."
"The idea! She's a dissolute little scarecrow,--a gutter-snippet and nothing
more."
"So you think. Wait till she has been fed a little and freed from fear. That
fair type recovers itself very quickly. You won't know her in a week or two,
when that abject fear has died out of her eyes. She'll be too happy and smiling
for my purposes."
"But surely you're not taking her out of charity?--to please me?"
"I am not in the habit of playing with hot coals to please anybody.
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