nation to speak to me or my colleagues after the service, but she never actually did so. Eventually she called on Ripon, and confessed her way of life. Her repentance seemed sincere, and she was anxious to turn over a new leaf. It appeared that the girl was a rather well-known dancer at one of the burlesque theatres, and I must have seen her portrait on the hoardings and advertisements of these places. She had been touched by something in one of my sermons, it seems, and Ripon requested me to go and see her. I did so, in the flat where she lived, and we had a chat. The poor thing was suffering from an internal disease, and had only a year or two to live. She seemed a kindly, sensible creature enough, vulgar and pleasure-loving, but without any very great wickedness about her, despite her wretched life. She wanted to get right away, to bury herself in the country, and live a pure and quiet life until she died. The great difficulty in the way was the man whose mistress she was, and of whom she seemed in considerable fear. I explained to her that, with the help of Father Ripon and myself, no harm should come to her from him, and that her quiet disappearance from the scenes of her past life could be very easily managed. Then it came out that the man in whose power she was was none other than Sir Robert Llwellyn. She told me that he had been for some time in Palestine. She was expecting him back every day. While we were talking Sir Robert actually entered the room, fresh from his journey. We had a fearful row, of course, and he would not go until I threatened to use force, and then only because he was afraid of the scandal. But before he went he seemed filled with a sort of coarse triumph even in a moment of what must have been great discomfiture for him. I had to explain what had happened to him. I told him frankly that Miss Hunt — that was the woman's
