"'Ow was I born, I ask?
Wot was my old man?
A drunk, a chronic.

An' my old woman?
Talk of Whitechapel! 'Oo guv a cent for me, or 'ow I was dragged up?
'Oo cared a rap, I say?
'Oo cared a rap ?" A sudden revulsion came over Corliss.

"Hold your tongue!" he ordered.
The Virgin raised her head, her loosened hair streaming about her like a Fury's.

"Wot is she ?" she sneered.

"Sweet'eart ?" Corliss whirled upon her savagely, face white and voice shaking with passion.
The Virgin cowered down and instinctively threw up her hands to protect her face.