"Don't touch those. No one else shall have them," cried Mavis, as
she wildly snatched them.

"You're welcome to that rubbage, and as you've given me all this, in
return I'll give you a tip as is worth a king's money box."

"You needn't bother."

"You shall 'ave it. I've never told a soul. It's 'ow you can earn a
living on the streets like me, and keep, like me, as good a maid as
any lady married at St George's, 'Anover Square."

"Thank you, but--".

"Listen; listen; listen! It's dress quiet, pick up soft-looking
gents, refuse drink, and pitch 'em a Sunday school yarn," said Miss
Ewer impressively.

"But--".

"It's four pound a week I'm giving away. Tell 'em it's the first
time you're going wrong; talk about your dead 'usband in 'is grave,
an' the innocent little lovely baby girl in 'er cot (the gentlemen
like baby girls better'n boys), as prayed for 'er mummy before she
went to sleep. Then, squeeze a tear an' see if that don't touch
their 'earts an' their pockets."

"Let me go! Let me go!" cried Mavis, horrified at the woman's
communication.