..
I have often thought of the possibility, and at the present moment I am
not sure that she would not do our sex an infinite and eternal wrong.
We are compounded so strangely of good and bad, truth and falsehood,
that it requires the most delicate touch to unravel the tangled skein of
our natures and find the starting point.
No man is capable of the task.
During recent years it has become the fashion for notorious women to
publish their reminiscences in the form of a diary. But has any woman
reader discovered in all this literature a single intimate feature, a
single frank revelation of all that is kept hidden behind a thousand
veils?
If indeed one of these unhappy women ventured to write a plain,
unvarnished, but poignant, description of her inner life, where would
she find a publisher daring enough to let his name appear on the cover
of the book?
I once knew a man who, stirred by a good and noble impulse, and
confident of his power, endeavoured to "save" a very young girl whom he
had rescued from a house of ill-fame.
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