Nelly had known from childhood that certain men and women habitually committed sin together; sin for which the women were locally denounced as “right down bad uns,” or “demmyrips,” or purely as whores—while the men reaped no blame whatever. She was too simple to dream of injustice—she sometimes wondered why, that was all.
The first glance had told Nelly that Pink Bonnet was a “bad un.” The whiff of cheap musk that emanated from the tawdry garments—the smell of spirits that breathed from the leering painted lips, had sprung the rattle of warning, before—in a voice brazen and hoarse with drink, excess, and midnight brawling, Pink Bonnet addressed Joshua Horrotian as “her ducky,” and asked him to “stand a drain.”
Never, never! would Nelly forget the turn that creature gave her—not if she lived to be ever so old....
With Josh, as red as fire, or the coat of the infantryman sitting in front of him, saying in a sheepish, bashful voice, not at all like his usual robust one:
“Excuse me, Miss!—I’m a married man!”....
Why Pink Bonnet, on the receipt of this intelligence, should become vociferous and abusive, calling Josh a low, imperent soger, and a great many worse names, Mrs. Joshua could only wonder. Indeed, so forcible and lurid became her language, that cries of “Order!—Or-der!” rose up about them; and the row of backs of heads in front became a row of faces, full of round, staring eyes and grinning mouths. And then a huge man in a Scotch cap and shirt-sleeves looked over a wooden partition at the back of the gallery, and presently came striding down the narrow gangway, followed by a chimney-pot-hatted policeman. And Scotch Cap said, beckoning with one immense finger: “Come! Out o’ this, Polly, since you dunno’ how to behave yourself!” Upon Polly’s launching into a torrent of sulphurous invective, the policeman added, warningly: “You ought to know by this time, my gal, that cussing makes it worse!” And as Polly—still fulminating threats of ultimate vengeance, wreaked upon somebody’s eyes, heart, and liver, was hustled out and vanished, followed by her tall, pimply-faced companion, Nelly whispered to Josh, as a vast breath of relief heaved the big ribs that pressed against her side:
“Her were quite a stranger to ’e—weren’t her, Josh, love?”
And heard him answer, as he wiped the standing sweat-drops from his high, tanned forehead, with a big hand that shook a little:
“I never saw her before in all my born days.”