Great video.
I will go with hyphens, but will publishers mind?
The baby she was holding did not hide the letter 'A' sewed on the front of her dress. In other ways, too, she was differently clad from when I had last seen her; but that didn't make the identification any less positive. It was Rosalette!
Convinced, I began to push through the audience of queer-hatted men and over-dressed women. Meanwhile the barker was going on with his harangue.
"Now the re-markable thing about the scan-dalous conduct of this little lady is that she was not driv-en to it by any of the harsh nec-essities, a consid-eration for which makes us who have ten-der hearts con-done with if not par-don a har-lot's course of pro-cedure." He paused to smirk while his listeners exchanged knowing glances. "You will all excuse me, I am sure, if I do not choose to state what that course of pro-cedure is before a mixed au-dience.''
By that time I had elbowed my way to the front rank of onlookers. There Faustopheles caught up with me. He was glowering evilly, but I recalled my rights as explained by the custodian.
"I want to see this girl," I said, shaking off his hand. While speaking, I looked again to be sure, at close range, that I actually did know her. Feature by feature it was the face I remembered, though the stony control that held them all together was something new.
"What do you think you're going to do?" Faustopheles demanded; but I moved too quickly to be stopped.
I didn't know what I expected to accomplish myself, as I vaulted up on the platform. I was simply obeying an impulse to stand between defilement and something I honored. Whatever I believed or did not believe about myself or other people, it had not yet crossed my mind to think ill of her. If she was in any trouble, it must be somebody else's fault; but in any case she must not stand up there any longer to be a buckshow.
She glanced at me as I rose to confront her. Yet it was a bitterly self-contained look, with no hint of recognition.
"It's Shandon, Shandon Silverlock," I told her. "What are you doing here? Where's Aucando? What's happened?"
"He asks what has happened," the barker said, pushing me aside and winking at the crowd. "I have not time at this junc-ture to teach him the en-tire al-phabet of so-phistication; but I'll go as far as 'ABC' before pro-ceeding to disclose the mor-al lep-rosy of Hester here." With three quick taps of his pointer he indicated the letter on her dress, the infant she was holding, and the girl herself. "A's for adultery, B's for bastard, and C's for chippie." Picking me up by the nape of the neck, he dropped me off the platform. "Take him away, Faustopheles, I abjure you. This show is wasted on that degree of naiveté."
Baffled by the fact that the barker had used a strange name for the girl, I let myself be led off. We had gone perhaps a dozen paces before an explanation came to me. I balked.
"That's it! She's taking a rap that belongs to somebody else. They're calling that girl Hester, when it's not her name at all."