"It must be getting late," she said, looking towards where the sun was
setting. The river rippled, and the edges of the warehouses had
perceptibly softened; a wind, too, had come up with the tide, and the
women shivered as they passed under the arch of Waterloo Bridge. They
ascended a flight of high steps and walked through a passage into the
Strand.
"I was miserable enough with him; we used to have hardly anything to eat;
but I'm more miserable away from him. Esther, I know you'll laugh at me,
but I'm that heart-broken... I can't live without him... I'd do anything
for him."
"He isn't worth it."
"That don't make no difference. You don't know what love is; a woman who
hasn't loved a man who don't love her, don't. We used to live near here.
Do you mind coming up Drury Lane? I should like to show you the house."
"I'm afraid it will be out of our way."
"No, it won't. Round by the church and up Newcastle Street.... Look,
there's a shop we used to go to sometimes. I've eaten many a good sausage
and onions in there, and that's a pub where we often used to go for a
drink."
The courts and alleys had vomited their population into the Lane. Fat
girls clad in shawls sat around the slum opening nursing their babies. Old
women crouched in decrepit doorways, fumbling their aprons; skipping ropes
whirled in the roadway.
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