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Updated: June 28, 2025
So I went to London Bridge, and again took my station on the spot by the booth where I had stood on the former occasion. The booth, however, was empty; neither the apple-woman nor her stall was to be seen. I looked over the balustrade upon the river; the tide was now, as before, rolling beneath the arch with frightful impetuosity.
And they all moved forward. He found then that this new sense or God-like power detracted a little from the excitements of the Market Place, although the flower-stall was dazzling with flowers; there was a new kind of pig that lifted its tail and lowered it again on the toy stall, and the apple-woman was as fat as ever and had thick clumps of yellow bananas hanging most richly around her head.
Why, look here, my son; there's an old apple-woman at the corner of Burling Slip, where I stop every day and buy apples; she's sixty years old, and through thick and thin, under a dripping wreck of an umbrella when it rains, under the sky when it shines warming herself by a foot-stove in winter, by the sun in summer there the old creature sits.
A few minutes after George arrived, Theo would come downstairs with a fluttering heart, may be, and a sweet nosegay in her cheeks, just culled, as it were, fresh in his honour; and I suppose she must have been constantly at that window which commanded the street, and whence she could espy his generosity to the sweep, or his purchases from the apple-woman.
I commenced reading the book, and was soon engrossed by it; hours passed away, once or twice I lifted up my eyes, the apple-woman was still confronting me: at last my eyes began to ache, whereupon I returned the book to the apple-woman, and, giving her another tanner, walked away.
As Miss Haldin looked at her inquisitively she began to describe the emaciated face of the man, his fleshless limbs, his destitution. The room into which the apple-woman had led her was a tiny garret, a miserable den under the roof of a sordid house. The plaster fallen off the walls covered the floor, and when the door was opened a horrible tapestry of black cobwebs waved in the draught.
"That's it, is it? The money you were to spend as you liked. What did you buy with it? I should like to hear something about that." He drew his shaggy eyebrows together and looked at the child sharply. He was secretly curious to know in what way the lad had indulged himself. "Oh!" said Lord Fauntleroy, "perhaps you didn't know about Dick and the apple-woman and Bridget.
‘Don’t tell any one, dear; don’t—don’t,’ and the apple-woman burst into tears. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ said I, staring at her. ‘You want to take my book from me?’ ‘Not I, I care nothing about it; keep it, if you like, only tell me what’s the matter?’ ‘Why, all about that book.’ ‘The book?’ ‘Yes, they wanted to take it from me.’ ‘Who did?’ ‘Why, some wicked boys. I’ll tell you all about it.
I am a rough man, but I'm not so bad as you may think." "That's what I told her, Tim," said Mrs. O'Keefe. "I told Florence there was worse men than you." "Thank you, Mrs. O'Keefe. Can I offer you a glass of whiskey?" The apple-woman was about to accept, but she felt an alarmed tug at her arm, and saw that Florence would be placed in an embarrassing position if she accepted.
To her, another lady, apple-woman by trade, who had saved a fortune of ten thousand pounds and hidden it 'here and there, in cracks and corners, behind bricks and under the flooring. To her, a French gentleman, who had crammed up his chimney, rather to the detriment of its drawing powers, 'a leather valise, containing twenty thousand francs, gold coins, and a large quantity of precious stones, as discovered by a chimneysweep after his death.
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