The beautiful young man followed John into the carriage and sank back into his seat opposite. "It's a shilling for my hand, two for anything else."
John closed the carriage door firmly. "I'm not going to pay you for anything." The prostitute started up, indignant, but John put up a hand. "No, stop, listen. I'm here to offer you a way out."
"A way out," the man repeated icily.
"Asylum," John continued. "We have established a residence…"
The prostitute recoiled. "You're from the Christian Mission."
John spread his hands imploringly. "I am only here to offer you another way. I'm not passing judgment on, er…."
John trailed off, but now the young man was leaning toward him, eyes narrowed.
"You mean it, don't you?" The prostitute's hostility had evaporated, and he now seemed curious. "Tell me, if you are not concerned to rescue me from a life of sin, what are you doing?"
"There is your health to think of," replied John. "I am a doctor, and…"
"You're an invert," the prostitute declared. "And since Cleveland Street, you are worried about your fellow mandrakes' misuse of the young."
John gaped, but the man laughed. "I shan't tell. I am also in disguise."
"You are?"
"For a case. But I must also maintain appearances." He winked. "Shall we get down to business?"