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Updated: June 4, 2025
However, nothing but what was agreeable manifested itself in her intercourse with Michael and Jane; the former found her ardent spirit very congenial, and the latter was soon at ease in her company. It was a keen distress to Jane when she heard from Pennyloaf that Bob would allow no future meetings between them.
'I want to stop here over the night, replied the other, speaking with difficulty. 'I can't go home. There's something up. 'With Pennyloaf? 'No. I've got to hide away. And I'm feeling bad awful bad. Have you got anything to drink? Stephen, having listened with a face of a somnambulist, went to the mantel-piece and looked into the teapot. It was empty.
Pennyloaf was not a bit more womanly in figure than on the day of her marriage; her voice was still an immature treble; the same rueful irresponsibility marked her features; but all her poor prettiness was wasted under the disfigurement of pains and cares, Incongruously enough, she wore a gown of bright-patterned calico, and about her neck had a collar of pretentious lace; her hair was dressed as if for a holiday, and a daub recently made on her cheeks by the baby's fingers lent emphasis to the fact that she had but a little while ago washed herself with much care.
It takes me sometimes, you know. I've been thinkin', when I'd oughtn't. 'Same with me, Pennyloaf. We can't help thinking, can we? What a good thing if we'd nothing more to think about than these children! Where's little Bob? Why, Bob, I thought you were old clothes; I did, really! You may well laugh! The laughter was merry, and Jane encouraged it, inventing all sorts of foolish jokes.
She does her best to get Bob quickly away, but Clem keeps close in their neighbourhood. Just as they issue from the station Pennyloaf feels herself bespattered from head to foot with some kind of fluid; turning, she is aware that all her enemies have squirts in their hands, and are preparing for a second discharge of filthy water.
As Pennyloaf drew near to the house, a wild, discordant voice suddenly broke forth somewhere in the darkness, singing in a high key, 'All ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord, praise Him and magnify Him for ever! It was Mad Jack, who had his dwelling in the Court, and at all hours was wont to practise the psalmody which made him notorious throughout Clerkenwell.
In the Gardens themselves volumes of dense smoke every now and then came driven along by the cold gusts; the air had a stifling smell and a bitter taste. Pennyloaf found nothing remarkable in this phenomenon; it is hard to say what would have struck her as worthy of indignant comment in her world of little ease.
Griffin told what she knew concerning Bob Hewett's accident and capture; his death had taken place early this morning, and Pennyloaf was all but crazy with grief. To Jane these things sounded so extraordinary that for some time she could scarcely put a question, but sat in dismay, listening to the woman's prolix description of all that had come to pass since Wednesday evening.
Since he had found a way of keeping his own pocket tolerably well supplied from time to time, he was becoming so penurious at home that Pennyloaf had to beg for what she needed copper by copper. Excepting breakfast, he seldom took a meal with her.
Pennyloaf's eyes gleamed at the compliment, and she turned them to her husband. 'She's nothing to boast of, said Bob, judicially and masculinely. 'All women are pretty much alike. And Pennyloaf tried to smile at the snub. Having devoted one evening to domestic quietude, Bob naturally felt himself free to dispose of the next in a manner more to his taste.
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