Even her small, finely-shaped hands, gloveless as they were, had not lost their whiteness.
Little by little, in answer to his questions, the sad story of the woman came out.

There is no need to relate it here; it is told over and over again in police reports and paragraphs about attempted suicides.
"My name is Rebecca Murdoch," said the woman, as she ended.

"I have nine-pence left, and I thought of spending it at the chemist's over the way in securing a passage to the other world.

Whatever it is, it can't be worse to me than this, so why should I stop here ?" Besides the natural compassion and sadness moved in his heart by what he heard, Isaac felt within him some mysterious influence at work all the time the woman was speaking which utterly confused his ideas and almost deprived him of his powers of speech.

All that he could say in answer to her last reckless words was that he would prevent her from attempting her own life, if he followed her about all night to do it.