“I don’t care a snap of the fingers what you, or the bishop, or time Press have to say,” Brooks rejoined, equably; “but lest there should be those here who agree with your point of view, let them hear this from me at once, to prevent misunderstanding.  We are here to help to the best of our ability all who need help, whatsoever their characters.  They are equally welcome to what we have to offer, whether they be thieves, or prostitutes, or drunkards, or respectable men and women.  But if I were asked what really brought me here, for what class of people in the world my sympathy and the sympathies of my friends have been most warmly kindled, I should say, for such as that young woman who has just presented herself here.  If she asks for them, she will have from us food and clothes and the use of our baths and reading-rooms whenever she chooses, and I will guarantee that not one of my women friends here who come in contact with her will ask a single question as to her mode of life, until she invites their confidence.  If you think that she is responsible for her present state, you and I differ—­if you think that one shadow of blame rests upon her, we differ again.  And if there are any more like her in the room, let them come out, and they shall have all that they ask for, that it is within our power to give.”

“Hear, hear, guv’nor!”

“That’s ginger for ’im.”

“Out of this, old white choker.  There’s beans for you.”

They let him pass through.  On the threshold he turned and faced Brooks again.

“At least,” he said, “I can promise you this.  God’s blessing will never be upon your work.  I doubt whether you will be allowed to continue it in this Christian country.”

Brooks rose to his feet.

“Mr. Deeling,” he said, “you and your mission system of work amongst the poor have been fighting a losing battle in this country for fifty years and more.  A Christian country you call it.  Go outside in the streets.  Look north and south, east and west, look at the people, look at their children, look at their homes.  Is there one shadow of improvement in this labyrinth of horrors year by year, decade by decade?  You know in your heart that there is none.  Therefore if new means be chosen, do not condemn them too rashly.  Your mission houses, many of them, have been nothing but breeding-places for hypocrisy.  It is time the old order was changed.  Now, sir, you are next.  What can we do for you?”

A weary-looking man with hollow eyes and nervously-twitching fingers found himself pushed before the desk.  He seemed at first embarrassed and half dazed.  Brooks waited without any sign of impatience.  When at last he spoke, it was without the slightest trace of any Cockney accent.

“I—­I beg your pardon, sir!  I ought not perhaps to intrude here, but I don’t know who needs help more than I do.”

“He’s orl right, sir,” sung out the costermonger.  “He is a bit queer in the ’ead, but he’s a scholar, and fair on his uppers.  Speak up, Joe.”