He drew it forth, and was about to thrust it in his pocket when his wife sprang forward and grasped his hand.
“John—John!” she ejaculated, in a tone of terror; “what would you do? Give it to me.”
“I shan’t do anything of the sort.”
“It is not yours. It is my hard earnings, and it’s all I’ve got to pay the rent. If you meddle with it we shall be turned into the street—you know that as well as I do.”
“Let go, I say!” he ejaculated. “I’ll soon show you who is master here. Let go, will yer?”
“No I will not. You cannot be so cruel as to rob me of this?”
“Cruel—rob!” he cried, in a fury. “Leave the matter to me. I’ll pay the rent when it suits me.”
Here he burst out into another mocking laugh.
“John,” said his wife, in a beseeching tone, “you are not going to serve me like this. You shall not spend this money in drink, not if I die for it.”
“Oh—oh! indeed. You are likely to die, let me tell you that, if you don’t mind what you are about.”