You can't afford to send Bob to jail and your people to the poorhouse just because--" The girl looked up piteously and then cried out: "Oh, John--don't, don't--I can't.

It's awful, John--I can't." "But, Molly," he replied as gently as he could, "you must.

You can't afford to be squeamish about this business.

This is a woman's job, Molly, not a child's." She rose and looked at him a fleeting moment as if in search of some mercy in his face.

Then she looked away.