"Because he has asked me to do so, and because he's most particular blind."
"Drunk?"
"No. 'Orspital blind. He can't see. That's him over there."
Dick was leaning against the parapet of the bridge as Mr. Beeton pointed him
out--a stub-bearded, bowed creature wearing a dirty magenta-coloured neckcloth
outside an unbrushed coat. There was nothing to fear from such an one. Even if
he chased her, Bessie thought, he could not follow far. She crossed over, and
Dick's face lighted up. It was long since a woman of any kind had taken the
trouble to speak to him.
"I hope you're well, Mr. Heldar?" said Bessie, a little puzzled. Mr. Beeton
stood by with the air of an ambassador and breathed responsibly.
"I'm very well indeed, and, by Jove! I'm glad to see--hear you, I mean, Bess.
You never thought it worth while to turn up and see us again after you got your
money. I don't know why you should. Are you going anywhere in particular just
now?"
"I was going for a walk," said Bessie.
"Not the old business?" Dick spoke under his breath.
"Lor, no! I paid my premium"--Bessie was very proud of that word--"for a
barmaid, sleeping in, and I'm at the bar now quite respectable. Indeed I am."
Mr. Beeton had no special reason to believe in the loftiness of human nature.
Pages:
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102