Dolly. You’d despise me forever.  Belle would despise me!

Jack. But that’s impossible, Dolly.

Dolly (she stares into his face, then suddenly clutches his arm; in a hoarse whisper) I sold myself to save her!

Jack. My God!

Dolly. Ah, don’t look at me like that.  I told you not to ask me!

Jack (half frenzied). But Dolly; you don’t understand!

Dolly. Understand what?

Jack. I’ve been living on your money! (They stare at each other.)

Dolly. Jack, don’t do like that!  You didn’t know it!

Jack (covers his face with his hands). Oh, how dared you?

Dolly. Don’t go on so!  You know I couldn’t help it.  What else could we do?  We hadn’t a dollar in the house. (She catches him by the arm.) Don’t be selfish, Jack!

Jack. Selfish!

Dolly. You’re thinking of yourself—­not of me and Belle.

Jack. When was it?  To-night?

Dolly. This wasn’t the first time.  But it was always for Belle.

Jack (in a whisper). For Belle!

Dolly. I’ve worked till I was ready to drop.  I’ve slaved day and night—­but I couldn’t make enough.  And so, every now and then, I’d go to a house.

Jack. When did it begin!

Dolly. Nearly a year ago.

Jack. Belle has never guessed it?

Dolly. Good God!  She would kill herself!  Listen—­I’ll tell you the story.  What does it matter now—­you’ll never see me again.  It began in a department store—­twelve dollars a week.  Fine wages, with two to care for!  It was slave—­slave all day.  Never a holiday, never a joy; nothing beautiful, nothing new!  No hope, no future; just slave—­slave!  And there was a young man—­what they call a gentleman.  He took me to dinners, and I went, because I was near starving.  In the end he got me, of course.  And then he threw me over, and I went to work again.  You see?

Jack. I see.

Dolly. After that it was worse.  I was spoiled.  But I was afraid Belle might suspect, so I kept straight for a long time.  But it was no go.  She was working herself to death—­and

I’d see her ill, and I couldn’t stand it.  I’d tell her I had a job in a hotel uptown.  I’d be gone all night—­and I’d bring her money.  That’s my life!

Jack (in a low voice). Are there many like that?

Dolly. The town is full of them.  I know a girl who went to a church home.  They said they couldn’t help her—­they were for ’fallen women.’  She came back again and told them they could help her now—­she was a fallen woman.

Jack. God!

Dolly. She was starving, that was what drove her.  That’s what drives thousands.  And for that we’re despised.  The good women—­they spit upon us!  I sometimes wonder—­do they think we like it? (Laughs harshly.) That a woman should like to give herself to any brute that comes along! (Seizing Jack by the arm.) Tell me!  What does it mean?  Whose sins do we pay for?