The “no more” is sharply uttered, and evidently Siebel comprehends the meaning behind the words, for he reseats himself sullenly, muttering:
“It ain’t enough, ye cursed cantin’ old skinflint, but fork it out; I’ve got to have money.”
At this instant there comes a short, sharp, single knock upon the street-door, and Papa hastens to open it, admitting a squalid, blear-eyed girl, or woman, who enters with reluctant step, and sullen demeanor.
“Oh, it’s you, Nance,” says Papa, going back to the table and beginning to count out some money, eyeing the girl keenly meanwhile. “One dollar,—sit down, Nance,—two dollars, fifty; there! Now, Nance,” turning sharply toward the girl, “what have you got, eh?”
“The rag picker can be an honest man as well as another, Josef.”—[page 117].
“Nothin’,” replies Nance sullenly; “nothin’ that will suit you. I ain’t had no luck.”
“Nobody left nothin’ lyin’ round loose, I s’pose,” says Siebel with a coarse laugh, as he pockets the price of his day’s labor. “Wal, ye’ve come ter a poor place for sympathy, gal.” And he rises slowly and shuffles toward the door.
But Papa makes a gesture to stay him.