"Something must be done, Tilda," said the man. "We can't starve—we must do any thing rather than that. I am as hungry as the very devil now—and I know that if I had a good steak and some porter, it would put me all right again."
"But, my God! we have not even the means to buy a penny roll!" almost shrieked the young woman. "There isn't a thing left to pawn. I have nothing but this old gown on my back—every thing else has gone—gone!" she added hysterically, as she threw a wild glance around the naked and dismantled garret. "How cold it is, too! What can we do? what can we do?"
And she rocked herself to and fro in a manner denoting an utter despair.
"You keep asking what can be done," said Josh Pedler, brutally, "and yet you know all the time that there's only one thing to be done, and that it must come to that at last."
Matilda started, and turned a glance of horrified amazement upon her companion.
"Well—so I suppose you understand what I mean," continued the ruffian; "and, therefore, there's no use in gammoning about it no longer. We're starving, and there's the rent to pay: that's one side of the question. You're a good-looking young o'oman, and can do as other vimen do: that's t'other side of the question."
"Oh! Josh—and would you have me become a prostitute?" shrieked Matilda, in a tone of mingled horror and reproach.
"Come—none of your nonsense, my lady," said Josh Pedler; "or I shall precious soon know how to settle your hash. Either go and earn some tin, or cut your lucky altogether. If I starve, I'll starve by myself——"
"My God! I will not abandon you!" murmured the unhappy young creature, terrified by this menace of separation from one to whom she had grown greatly attached. "No—I cannot—I will not leave you, Josh: and yet——"
"Let's have no more of this humbug, Tilda!" exclaimed the man, brutally. "Leave off whimpering—or, ill as I am, I'll give you something worth crying for. Come, put on your bonnet and tramp; or, by hell——"