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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"


Therefore he dissolved himself like a mist and returned to his gas-plugs
without a word of apology. Bessie watched the flight with a certain uneasiness;
but so long as Dick appeared to be ignorant of the harm that had been done to
him . . .
"It's hard work pulling the beer-handles," she went on, "and they've got one of
them penny-in-the-slot cash-machines, so if you get wrong by a penny at the end
of the day--but then I don't believe the machinery is right. Do you?"
"I've only seen it work. Mr. Beeton."
"He's gone.
"I'm afraid I must ask you to help me home, then. I'll make it worth your
while. You see." The sightless eyes turned towards her and Bessie saw.
"It isn't taking you out of your way?" he said hesitatingly. "I can ask a
policeman if it is."
"Not at all. I come on at seven and I'm off at four. That's easy hours."
"Good God!--but I'm on all the time. I wish I had some work to do too. Let's go
home, Bess."
He turned and cannoned into a man on the sidewalk, recoiling with an oath.
Bessie took his arm and said nothing--as she had said nothing when he had
ordered her to turn her face a little more to the light. They walked for some
time in silence, the girl steering him deftly through the crowd.


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