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"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off." But then, in the depth of her heart, Mrs. Roxie had a feeling that God's purposes were more or less like everybody else's, rather subordinate to her own. Now this girl was such a miserable wretch, such a come-down from the trim pretty Nessie Sutton of Sunday-school and church, that she decided Nessie had had enough. So she said laconically, "The best thing for you to do is to git out of town, or they'll run you out."

Thus, perhaps, the very kindest act, the single deed unaffected by religious vanity which Mrs. Biggers ever performed in all her life was when she violated her conscience, betrayed her accomplices, and contravened the will of her God.

Nessie stopped breathing, and then whispered, wide-eyed, "Yes, they told me that."

This somehow irritated Mrs. Roxie.

"Who did?" she probed sharply.

The name of the Negro boy was on the tip of Nessie's tongue, but she checked herself.

"I promised not to tell," she said feebly.

The old woman was furious that any one else had exposed her plans, so she simply repeated in a hard tone, "Well, the best thing for you to do is to git out o' town."

"But, Miss Roxie, where must I go?" trembled the girl.

The old woman withdrew into her door. "You know better'n I do where women like you go to, and that's all I got to say, so good-bye." Then she added in a less angry and more corrective tone, "I hope God'll touch your heart, Nessie, an' turn you away from your sins," and she closed her door in the unfortunate's face.

A violent trembling seized the girl at this implication of her class and forewarning of her future. She was so unsteady she could hardly get off the porch and to the gate. . . . "You know better than I do where women like you go . . ." Women like her . . . prostitutes. . . . Ah, to what bourne did prostitutes journey?

For several moments Nessie stood before the gate with her