"
An elderly man with lank hair and a feeble grin pushed between them. "It
was like this: I says to her on'y the night before: if you don't take
and quit, I says to her..."
Someone pulled him back and sent him reeling against a bench along the
wall, where he dropped down muttering his unheeded narrative.
There was a silence; then the young woman who had been lolling against
the table suddenly parted the group, and stood in front of Charity.
She was healthier and robuster looking than the others, and her
weather-beaten face had a certain sullen beauty.
"Who's the girl? Who brought her here?" she said, fixing her eyes
mistrustfully on the young man who had rebuked her for not having a
candle ready.
Mr. Miles spoke. "I brought her; she is Mary Hyatt's daughter."
"What? Her too?" the girl sneered; and the young man turned on her with
an oath. "Shut your mouth, damn you, or get out of here," he said;
then he relapsed into his former apathy, and dropped down on the bench,
leaning his head against the wall.
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