"Gawd!" she broke out; "ten pounds 'd send Apple Blossom Court to
'eving. Leastways, it'd take some of it out o' 'ell."

"Take me to it," he said roughly. "Take me."

She began to walk quickly, breathing fast. The fog was lighter, and it
was no longer a blinding thing.

A question occurred to Dart.

"Why don't you ask me to give the money to you?" he said bluntly.

"Dunno," she answered as bluntly. But after taking a few steps farther
she spoke again.

"I 'm cheerfler than most of 'em," she elaborated. "If yer born
cheerfle yer can stand things. When I gets a job nussin' women's bibies
they don't cry when I 'andles 'em. I gets many a bite an' a copper 'cos
o' that. Folks likes yer. I shall get on better than Polly when I'm
old enough to go on the street."

The organ of whose lagging, sick pumpings Antony Dart had scarcely been
aware for months gave a sudden leap in his breast. His blood actually
hastened its pace, and ran through his veins instead of crawling--a
distinct physical effect of an actual mental condition. It was produced
upon him by the mere matter-of-fact ordinariness of her tone. He had
never been a sentimental man, and had long ceased to be a feeling one,
but at that moment something emotional and normal happened to him.