“And why not?” demanded Jarvis.  “It takes a solicitor and the solicited to make a crime.  What kind of laws are these which hound women into the trade and hound them for following it?”

“It is neither the time nor the place to discuss that.  The case is dismissed.  This court has no time to waste, Flynn, in cases where there’s no evidence,” he added, sternly, to the detective.

The girl nodded to Jarvis and beckoned him, but instead of following her he went back to his seat.  He would follow this ghastly puppet show to its end.

At a word from the judge a tall, handsome, gray-haired woman approached the bench.  She wore no hat, and Jarvis marked her broad brow and pleasant smile and the wise, philosophic eyes.  Her face looked cheerful and normal in this place of abnormalities.

“Who is that woman?” Jarvis asked his neighbour.

“Probation officer,” came the answer.

Jarvis watched her with passionate interest.  He noted her low-voiced answers to the judge’s questions about the girl in hand.  The curiosity seekers in the audience could not hear, no matter how they craned their necks.  He watched her calm smile as she turned to take the girl off into her own office.  He made up his mind to talk with her before the night was over.

Case followed case as the night wore on.  It seemed to Jarvis that this bedraggled line had neither beginning nor end.  He saw it winding through this place night after night, year after year, the old-timers and the new recruits.  Uptown reputable citizens slept peacefully in their beds; this was no concern of theirs.  He was no better than the rest, with his precious preaching about the brotherhood of man.  What the body politic needed was a surgeon to cut away this abscess, eating its youth and strength.

The screams of a girl who had just been given a sentence to Bedford startled him out of his thoughts.  She pleaded and cried, she tried to throw herself at the judge’s feet, but the policeman dragged her out, the crowd craning forward with avid interest.  She was the last case before the court adjourned.  Jarvis leaned across the rail and asked the probation officer if he might speak to her.

“Perhaps you will walk along with me toward my home?” she suggested.  He gladly assented.  In a few moments she came out, hatted and ready for the street.  She looked keenly at this tall, serious youth who had so unexpectedly arraigned the court.

“My name is Jarvis Jocelyn,” he began.  “There are so many things I want to ask you about.”

“I shall be glad to tell you what I can,” she said quietly.

“Have you been in this work long?”

“Eleven years.”

“Good God! how can you be so calm?  How can you look so hopeful?”

“Because I am hopeful.  In all the thousands of cases I have known I have never once lost hope.  When I do, my work is over.”

“You’re wonderful!” he exclaimed.