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Adrien Leroy

Page 27

"I will not think of the beautiful place. I will not think of him, she

told herself passionately.

"But oh! will he be sorry that I ran away, or will he laugh, and ask

that proud servant to see that I haven't stolen anything?"

She shook her head mournfully at her own distorted reflection in the

cracked mirror, then she sighed and went downstairs.

Johann had returned, wonderful to relate, still fairly sober; but this

was probably due to the necessity of maintaining at least the appearance

of sobriety in his transaction on behalf of the gang concerning the sale

of the picture.

He was counting the coins on the table, some of them gold--for Jessica's

quick eyes caught the shimmer of it--and he looked up half fiercely,

half contemptuously as the girl entered.

"Well, where have been? You're like a cat or a policeman--never to

be found when you're wanted. There was a fine lady came to see you this

morning--a real swell, my girl." He laughed coarsely. "But of course,

you were out of the way. Where had you got to?"

"Anywhere, nowhere," replied Jessica, who did not fear him when he was

sober, though she hated him always.

"Ah, that's the style! The swell lady ought to have heard you talk like

that. She'd say I was bringing you up well. Come here and let's have a

look at you."

Jessica did not move, but stared at him steadily.

"What! You won't come?" he said with a grin. "Well, there's something

for your obstinacy, you little mule!"

He flung a half-crown across to her, and Jessica took it up, then looked

him questioningly in the face.

"You're thinking I'm mighty generous, eh? So I am, my girl--foolishly

generous." He laughed mockingly, "Well, what do you say if all the lot's

for you, eh?"

"All for me!" repeated the girl, stopping short in her task of making

the mantelshelf neat; "all for me!"

"Yes, when you get it, little cat! All for you, indeed! No! it's for me;

and I've a good mind to take the half-crown back. A fool and his money's

soon parted; but he's more idiotic to part with other people's. I'm

going out. I shall want some grub when I get back--'arf a pound of

steak, an' a pot of porter, an' don't forget the gin. Mind you remember

now, or I'll break every bone in your body." With which forcible

admonition the man shuffled out.

After a few hours he returned, not blindly drunk, but spiteful,

ill-tempered, and stupidly brutal.

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