Then she had fallen sick, and since
emerging from the hospital had been unable to find anything to do. She
wasn't feeling up to much, and the last two nights had been spent in the
street.
Between them they stowed away a prodigious amount of food, this man and
woman, and it was not till I had duplicated and triplicated their
original orders that they showed signs of easing down.
Once she reached across and felt the texture of my coat and shirt, and
remarked upon the good clothes the Yanks wore. My rags good clothes! It
put me to the blush; but, on inspecting them more closely and on
examining the clothes worn by the man and woman, I began to feel quite
well dressed and respectable.
"What do you expect to do in the end?" I asked them. "You know you're
growing older every day."
"Work'ouse," said he.
"Gawd blimey if I do," said she. "There's no 'ope for me, I know, but
I'll die on the streets. No work'ouse for me, thank you. No, indeed,"
she sniffed in the silence that fell.
"After you have been out all night in the streets," I asked, "what do you
do in the morning for something to eat?"
"Try to get a penny, if you 'aven't one saved over," the man explained.
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