"This life," she continued, "don't suit me. Ernest is too good for me;
he wants a woman as shall be a bit better than me, and I want a man that
shall be a bit worse than him. We should have got on all very well if we
had not lived together as married folks, but I've been used to have a
little place of my own, however small, for a many years, and I don't want
Ernest, or any other man, always hanging about it. Besides he is too
steady: his being in prison hasn't done him a bit of good--he's just as
grave as those as have never been in prison at all, and he never swears
nor curses, come what may; it makes me afeared of him, and therefore I
drink the worse. What us poor girls wants is not to be jumped up all of
a sudden and made honest women of; this is too much for us and throws us
off our perch; what we wants is a regular friend or two, who'll just keep
us from starving, and force us to be good for a bit together now and
again. That's about as much as we can stand. He may have the children;
he can do better for them than I can; and as for his money, he may give
it or keep it as he likes, he's never done me any harm, and I shall let
him alone; but if he means me to have it, I suppose I'd better have
it.
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