"
The fancy still possessed me; and I went with her through one dingy back
street after another. She seemed to be purposely taking an indirect road,
to mislead me as to my whereabouts; but after a half-hour's walking,
I knew, as well as she, that we were in one of the most miserable
slop-working nests of the East-end.
She stopped at a house door, and hurried me in, up to the first floor,
and into a dirty, slatternly parlour, smelling infamously of gin; where
the first object I beheld was Jemmy Downes, sitting before the fire,
three-parts drunk, with a couple of dirty, squalling children on the
hearthrug, whom he was kicking and cuffing alternately.
"Och, thin, ye villain, beating the poor darlints whinever I lave ye a
minute." And pouring out a volley of Irish curses, she caught up the
urchins, one under each arm, and kissed and hugged them till they were
nearly choked. "Och, ye plague o' my life--as drunk as a baste; an' I
brought home this darlint of a young gentleman to help ye in the business."
Downes got up, and steadying himself by the table, leered at me with
lacklustre eyes, and attempted a little ceremonious politeness.
Pages:
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526