A woman's touch redeems and
softens, and they needed such redemption and softening instead of each
day growing harsh and harsher. And I wondered where these women were,
and heard a "harlot's ginny laugh." Leman Street, Waterloo Road,
Piccadilly, The Strand, answered me, and I knew where they were.
CHAPTER XXI--THE PRECARIOUSNESS OF LIFE
I was talking with a very vindictive man. In his opinion, his wife had
wronged him and the law had wronged him. The merits and morals of the
case are immaterial. The meat of the matter is that she had obtained a
separation, and he was compelled to pay ten shillings each week for the
support of her and the five children. "But look you," said he to me,
"wot'll 'appen to 'er if I don't py up the ten shillings? S'posin', now,
just s'posin' a accident 'appens to me, so I cawn't work. S'posin' I get
a rupture, or the rheumatics, or the cholera. Wot's she goin' to do, eh?
Wot's she goin' to do?"
He shook his head sadly. "No 'ope for 'er. The best she cawn do is the
work'ouse, an' that's 'ell. An' if she don't go to the work'ouse, it'll
be a worse 'ell. Come along 'ith me an' I'll show you women sleepin' in
a passage, a dozen of 'em.
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