'Why, sir,' said one of the fellows, pocketing his V, and giving the other to his companion--'we can't exactly let you go, but if you tip us over and run for it, perhaps we shan't be able to overtake you.' 'I understand you,' said Radcliff, and he gave each of those _faithful_ officers a slight push, scarce sufficient to disturb the equilibrium of a feather, whereupon one of them reeled out into the street to a distance of twenty feet, while the other fell down flat on the sidewalk in an apparently helpless condition, and the prisoner walked away at a leisurely pace, without the slightest molestation. Meanwhile, Frank Sydney escorted Sophia to the door of her residence in Washington street. The young lady warmly thanked her deliverer, as she termed him. 'No thanks are due me, miss,' said Frank--'I have but done my duty, in protecting you from the insults of a villain. I now leave you in safety with your friends.' 'Friends!' said the fair girl, with a deep sigh--'alas, I have no friends on earth.' The tone and manner of these words went to the heart of our hero; he turned for a moment to conceal a tear--then raised her hand respectfully to his lips, bade her farewell, and departed. Sophia entered the house, and found her mother and sister in the parlor. They greeted her with smiles. 'My darling Soph,' said Mrs. Franklin--'that charming fellow was much disappointed to find that you had gone out. We told him that you had probably gone to walk on the Common, and he went in search of you.' Sophia related all that had occurred to her during her absence. She complained of the libertine's treatment of her with mingled indignation and grief. 'Pooh! sis,' exclaimed Josephine,--'you mustn't think so hard of Mr. Radcliff's attentions. You must encourage him, for he is very rich, and _we need money_.' 'Must you have money at the expense of my honor?' demanded Sophia, with unwonted spirit. 'And why not?' asked her mother in a severe tone. 'Must we starve on account of your silly notions about virtue, and such humbug? Your sister and I have long since learned to dispose of our persons for pecuniary benefit, as well as for our sensual gratification--for it is as pleasurable as profitable; and you must do the same, now that you are old enough.' 'Never--never!' solemnly exclaimed Sophia--'my poor, dead father--' 'What of him?' eagerly demanded both mother and daughter, in the same breath. 'He seems to look down on me from Heaven, and tell me to commit no sin,' replied the young girl. 'Nonsense,' cried the mother--'but go now to your chamber, and retire to bed; to-night at least, you shall rest undisturbed.' Sophia bade them a mournful good night, and left the room. When the door closed upon her, Josephine glanced at her mother with a look of satisfaction.