"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. "I can't see him. ’ ‘Now then, missie,’ began the sergeant severely, ‘just you hand over that dagger. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. He suddenly realized that he could not keep you for ever in this part of the world; so he sends you to your aunt.
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