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Updated: June 4, 2025
The two were separated before further harm came of the little misunderstanding, but Jack went to the tea-tables vowing vengeance. Poor Pennyloaf shed tears as Bob led her to the place where the band had begun playing. Only her husband's anger prevented her from yielding to utter misery.
A few moments and Jane came running downstairs. 'Pennyloaf! Ah! that was the voice that did good. How it comforted and blessed, after the hospital, and the miserable room in which the dead child was left lying, and the rainy street! About this time Mr. Scawthorne received one morning a letter which, though not unexpected, caused him some annoyance, and even anxiety.
To Michael he had said nothing of what he knew concerning Clara; a fresh occasion of uneasy thought. Bob Hewett so John said had no knowledge of his sister's situation, otherwise Pennyloaf might have come to know about it, and in that case, perchance, Jane herself. Why not? Into what a wretched muddle of concealments and inconsistencies and insincerities had he fallen!
Clem amused herself in listening to them for a few minutes; then she became absent, moving a finger round and round on her plate. A disagreeable flush still lingered under her eyes. 'Have you told her about Clara? 'Told who? 'Who? Pennyloaf, of course. 'No, I haven't. Why should I? 'Oh, you're such a affectionate couple! See, you're only to give her two shillin's next week.
You'll never be required to say or do anything that you haven't already said and done many a time, quite naturally. Why, it's some time since you began the kind of work of which your grandfather has been speaking. 'I have begun it? How? 'Who has been such a good friend to Pennyloaf, and helped her as nobody else could have done? 'Oh, but that's nothing!
He whistled a few bars of the last song he had learnt at the music-hall. 'Say, Penny, he remarked at length, with something of shamefacedness, 'there's a namesake of mine here as I shan't miss, if you can do any good with it. He held a shilling towards her under his hand. Pennyloaf turned away, casting down her eyes and looking troubled. 'We can get on for a bit, she said indistinctly.
Poor Pennyloaf was in a great degree responsible for the ills of her married life; not only did she believe Bob to be the handsomest man who walked the earth but in her weakness she could not refrain from telling him as much. At the present moment he was intensely self-conscious; with Pennyloaf's eye upon him, he posed for effect.
Strange; the voice was again different, very feeble, a thick whisper. 'Yes, there's nobody else. Can I come in? There was a shuffling sound, then the key turned in the lock, Pennyloaf entered, and found herself in darkness. She shrank back. 'Who's there? Is it you, mother? Is it you, Stephen? Some one touched her, at the same time shutting the door; and the voice whispered: 'Penny it's me Bob.
She wished to see Jane Snowdon, but had a fear of going up to the door and knocking. Jane might not be at home, and, if she were, Pennyloaf did not know in what words to explain her coming and say what had happened. She was in a dazed, heavy, tongue-tied state; indeed she did not clearly remember how she had come thus far, or what she had done since leaving the hospital at midday.
Sitting there in drunken lassitude, he breathed nothing but threats of future vengeance. An hour later noises of a familiar kind sounded beneath the window. A woman's voice was raised in the fury of mad drunkenness, and a man answered her with threats and blows. 'That's mother, sobbed Pennyloaf. 'I knew she wouldn't get over to-day. She never did get over a Bank-holiday. Mrs.
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