She could not have been long in the water.

Probably about the time when he was walking home from work, she--He felt himself suffocating--the bare whitewashed walls grew dim and wavering.
The letter found upon her was the strangest appeal to his pity.

Her seducer had apparently left her; she was in dire straits, and there was, it seemed, no one but Sandy in all London on whose compassion she could throw herself.

She asked him, callously, for money to take her back to some Nice relations.

They need only know what she chose to tell them, as she calmly pointed out, and, once in Nice, she could make a living.