“I don’t like either of them, if the truth is to be told,” cried the gipsy; “but, lord, they aint any of them worth much, as far as that is concerned. The whole biling of them are a set of bloodsuckers, but there, I dare say you will ask what’s a cove to do.”
“Yes, that’s just where it is. We can’t do without them, Bill—there aint any mistake about that. I look upon it that men and women prey upon one another like wild beasts. The ‘fence’ preys upon the ‘cracksman,’ the cracksman—well, he preys upon the public—that is, the rich public—and they in most cases have made their money out of the poor. From the lowest to the highest it is one system of cheating and robbing—that’s my view of the matter.”
“Oh, you are not far off the mark, it’s right enough,” returned Bill. “You are never so happy as when you are moralising,” he added, with a laugh.
“Ah, you may laugh,” cried Peace, “but pray tell me how many persons you know in this world as you can trust—just you answer that question.”
“Jolly few, if that’s what you mean. You may count ’em on your fingers, and not want all on ’em to do so.”
“No. I should think not.”
“But, I say, what blooming crib are yer bound for?” said the gipsy; “for we are coming to close quarters, now.”
“Oh, we will see what Simmonds says. I shall leave you to strike the bargain. Take one hamper into him, and see what he offers.”
“I tell yer what it is, Charlie, I don’t care about the job, cos why—he don’t like me, and I’ve no affection for him. You’ll do a deal better with him than what I can—so just pop down upon the old rascal, and I think I shall be able to work Isaac.”
“Oh, you prefer Isaac, do you?”