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Caine, Hall, Sir, 1853-1931

"The Woman Thou Gavest Me Being the Story of Mary O'Neill"

. . you're a stranger to us, and if baby
was left on our hands . . . Not as we think you'd leave her chargeable
as the saying is, but if you were ever ill, and got a bit back with your
payments . . . we being only pore people. . . ."
While the poor woman was floundering on in this way my blood was boiling
and I was beginning to ask her if she supposed for one moment that I
meant to desert my child, when the man, who had finished the lacing of
his boots, rose to his feet, and said:
"You don't want yer baiby to be give over to the Guardians for the sake
of a week or two, do you?"
That settled everything. I took out my purse and with a trembling hand
laid my last precious sovereign on the table.
A moment or two after this Mr. Oliver, who had put on his coat and a
cloth cap, made for the door.
"Evenin', ma'am," he said, and with what grace I could muster I bade him
good-bye.
"You aren't a-going to the 'Sun' to-night, are you, Ted?" asked Mrs.
Oliver.
"Club," said the man, and the door clashed behind him.


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