“Oh, you poor thing,” I cried, “fancy you with a baby at this life!”
“I wanted a baby”, she cried defiantly. “I wouldn’t be without her for anything! I always wanted a baby: there’s lots of girls like that.”
“Really?” I cried astounded.
“Do you know her father?” I went on.
“Of course I do,” she retorted. “He’s working in the stock yards; but he’s tough and won’t keep sober.”
“I suppose you’d marry him if he would go straight?” I asked.
“Any girl would marry a decent feller!” she replied.
“You’re pretty,” I said.
“D’ye think so?” she asked eagerly pushing her hair back from the sides of her head. “I used to be but now—this life—” and she shrugged her shoulders expressively.
“You don’t like it?” I asked.