A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. The villagers were thronging to church. Poor little one. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world.
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