He was appealed to in the presence of nearly a dozen of his fellow-students as to the name of one of the low songs there given; he was asked if he was going to be there to-night, and he was invited to join this party and that in similar expeditions to similar places.

And to all these questions and greetings he was constrained to reply in keeping with his assumed character of a gay spark.

How sick, how vile he felt; yet in that one day how hardened and desperate he became! It was not in Tom Drift to cry "I have sinned! I will return!" No, once loose from his moorings, he let himself float down the stream, watching the receding banks in mute despair, raising no shout for succour, venturing no plunge for safety.
You, who by this time have given him up, disgusted at his weakness, his vanity, his low instincts, his cowardliness--who say let him wallow in the mire he has prepared for himself, who know so glibly what you would have done, what you would have said, what you would have felt, remember once more that Tom Drift was not such as you; and unfortunately did not know you.

He was not gifted with your heroic resolution or your all- penetrating wisdom.

He was an ordinary sinful being of flesh and blood, relying only on his own poor strength; and therefore, reader, try to realise all he went through before you fling your stone.
The toils were closing round him fast.