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Caine, Hall, Sir, 1853-1931

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

But I did my best
to control my trembling mouth, and when he asked me how much I wanted on
the miniature I answered, with a gulp in my throat:
"Two pounds ten, if you please, sir."
"Couldn't do it," said the pawnbroker.
I stood speechless for a moment, not knowing what to say next, and then
the pawnbroker, with apparent indifference, said:
"I'll give you two ten for it out and out."
"You mean I am to _sell_ . . ."
"Yus, take it or leave it, my dear."
It is no use saying what I suffered at that moment. I think I became ten
years older during the few minutes I stood at that counter.
But they came to an end somehow, and the next thing I knew was that I
was on my way back to Ilford; that the damp air had deepened into rain;
that miserable and perhaps homeless beings, ill-clad and ill-fed, were
creeping along in the searching cold with that shuffling sound which bad
boots make on a wet pavement; and that I was telling myself with a
fluttering heart that the sheltering wings of my beautiful mother in
heaven had come to cover my child.


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