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Updated: May 22, 2025
She seemed to see again the girl lying so white and void of hope when robbed by death of her own just-born babe. Yes; surely it was worth trying. An hour later, her cab stopped before the Wagges' door in Frankland Street. But just as she was about to ring the bell, a voice from behind her said: "Allow me; I have a key. What may I Oh, it's you!" She turned. Mr.
Roth did not care so much for the loss of the gun as for the fact that Pete might have stolen it. Later Roth discovered a crudely printed slip of paper among the trinkets in the showcase. "I took a gun and cartriges for my wagges. You never giv me Wages." Which was true enough, the storekeeper figuring that Pete's board and lodging were just about offset by his services.
"I did think she'd have run straight this time " And while she was fumbling at the outer door, his red, pudgy face, with its round grey beard, protruded almost over her shoulder. "If you're going to see her, I hope you'll " Gyp was gone. In her cab she shivered. Once she had lunched with her father at a restaurant in the Strand. It had been full of Mr. Wagges.
Pete blinked in the glare of the lamp, shuffled his feet as he slowly counted out eighteen dollars and a half. "It's for the gun I took," he explained. Roth hesitated, then took the money. "All right, Pete. I'll give you a receipt. Just wait a minute." Pete gazed curiously at the crumpled bit of paper that Roth fetched from the bedroom. "I took a gun an' cartriges for Wagges.
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