“What d’you think it is?”
When he told her she grew deathly pale, and her lips even turned, yellow. she began to cry, hopelessly, quietly at first and then with choking sobs.
“I’m awfully sorry,” he said at last. “But I had to tell you.”
“I may just as well kill myself and have done with it.”
He took no notice of the threat.
“Have you got any money?” he asked.
“Six or seven pounds.”
“You must give up this life, you know. Don’t you think you could find some work to do? I’m afraid I can’t help you much. I only get twelve bob a week.”
“What is there I can do now?” she cried impatiently.
“Damn it all, you MUST try to get something.”