“Go on home, Bella,” commanded Martin, addressing the woman on the steps. “What are ye doin’ around here, anyway? Youse must t’ink I’m a chump, don’t ye, to have youse follyin’ me up this way.”
“Just a minute, Mart,” pleaded Bella: “I won’t be longer than a minute, so help me God!”
“Ah, git away from me!”
“Mart!”
“Go on, Kelly,” said Daily; “don’t talk to a bundle o’ skirts that way. See what she wants; we’ll wait for youse at Mintzers.”
Daily and Foley cut across the street to where the lights of a saloon flared redly through the mist; Martin and the girl started up the street, slowly. She gave one upward glance at the windows of the hall, and sighed to see the dancers whirl gayly by. That was of the bright past; and the future was black enough for her.
Chapter XII
“When we were lovers, you were my downfall,
Now I am sneered at and jeered at by all.”
Songs of the Curb.