The Dawn of a To-morrow | Page 9

no fog can lose me," she answered, shuffling along by his
side; " 'sides, it's goin' to lift. Look at that man comin' to'ards us."
It was true that they could see through the orange-colored mist the
approaching figure of a man who was at a yard's distance from them.
Yes, it was lifting slightly--at least enough to allow of one's making a
guess at the direction in which one moved.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Apple Blossom Court," she answered. "The cawfee-stand's in a street
near it--and there's a shop where I can buy things."
"Apple Blossom Court!" he ejaculated. "What a name!"
"There ain't no apple-blossoms there," chuckling; "nor no smell of 'em.
'T ain't as nice as its nime is--Apple Blossom Court ain't."
"What do you want to buy? A pair of shoes?" The shoes her naked feet
were thrust into were leprous-looking things through which nearly all
her toes protruded. But she chuckled when he spoke.
"No, I 'm goin' to buy a di'mond tirarer to go to the opery in," she said,
dragging her old sack closer round her neck. "I ain't ad a noo un since I
went to the last Drorin'- room."
It was impudent street chaff, but there was cheerful spirit in it, and
cheerful spirit has some occult effect upon morbidity. Antony Dart did
not smile, but he felt a faint stirring of curiosity, which was, after all,
not a bad thing for a man who had not felt an interest for a year.
"What is it you are going to buy?"
"I'm goin' to fill me stummick fust," with a grin of elation. "Three thick
slices o' bread an' drippin' an' a mug o' cawfee. An' then I'm goin' to get
sumethin' 'earty to carry to Polly. She ain't no good, pore thing!"
"Who is she?"

Stopping a moment to drag up the heel of her dreadful shoe, she
answered him with an unprejudiced directness which might have been
appalling if he had been in the mood to be appalled.
"Ain't eighteen, an' tryin' to earn 'er livin' on the street. She ain't made
for it. Little country thing, allus frightened to death an' ready to bust out
cryin'. Gents ain't goin' to stand that. A lot of 'em wants cheerin' up as
much as she does. Gent as was in liquor last night knocked 'er down an'
give 'er a black eye. 'T wan't ill feelin', but he lost his temper, an' give
'er a knock casual. She can't go out to-night, an' she's been 'uddled up
all day cryin' for 'er mother."
"Where is her mother?"
"In the country--on a farm. Polly took a place in a lodgin'-'ouse an' got
in trouble. The biby was dead, an' when she come out o' Queen
Charlotte's she was took in by a woman an' kep'. She kicked 'er out in a
week 'cos of her cryin'. The life didn't suit 'er. I found 'er cryin' fit to
split 'er chist one night --corner o' Apple Blossom Court-- an' I took
care of 'er."
"Where?"
"Me chambers," grinning; "top loft of a 'ouse in the court. If anyone
else 'd 'ave it I should be turned out. It's an 'ole, I can tell yer-- but it 's
better than sleepin' under the bridges."
"Take me to see it," said Antony Dart. "I want to see the girl."
The words spoke themselves. Why should he care to see either cockloft
or girl? He did not. He wanted to go back to his lodgings with that
which he had come out to buy. Yet he said this thing. His companion
looked up at him with an expression actually relieved.
"Would yer tike up with 'er?" with eager sharpness, as if confronting a
simple business proposition. "She's pretty an' clean, an' she won't drink
a drop o' nothin'. If she was treated kind she'd be cheerfler. She's got a
round fice an' light 'air an' eyes. 'Er 'air 's curly. P'raps yer'd like 'er."
"Take me to see her."
"She'd look better to-morrow," cautiously, "when the swellin 's gone
down round 'er eye."
Dart started--and it was because he had for the last five minutes
forgotten something.
"I shall not be here to-morrow," he said. His grasp upon the thing in his
pocket had loosened, and he tightened it.

"I have some more money in my purse," he said deliberately. "I meant
to give it away before going. I want to give it to people who need it
very much."
She gave him one of the sly, squinting glances.
"Deservin' cases?" She put it to him in brazen mockery.
"I don't care," he answered slowly and heavily. "I don't care a damn."
Her face changed exactly as he had seen it change on the bridge