“And here, you!”
“I wasn’t going, Bill,” said the woman meekly.
“Who said you was?” growled the ruffian; “don’t you be so sharp, now, then. Now, where’s that money?”
“What money, Bill?”
The next moment the ruffian had seized her by the front of her dress and dragged her to him, so that she went down upon her knees. “Don’t you try to put none of your games on me. What did she give you when I was out of sight?” And he put his black face down close to hers, as, half from fear, half from bitterness, her lower lip worked as she tried to keep back the tears, and to answer; but no words would come.
“D’yer hear? What did she give yer?”
“Nothing, Bill,” whispered the woman.
He looked at her fiercely; but though faded and lack-lustre, her eyes blenched not, but gave him back the same true steady look that had always shone for him since—young, ignorant, ill-taught, weak—she had believed he cared for her, and she could be happy with him: not the first of Eve’s daughters that has made the same mistake.
“Get up!” snarled Jarker, loosing his hold; and his wife rose hastily without a word.
“Pint of porter, with half-a-quartern of gin in it.”