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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"


Whatever fortune held in store for me here at least I had an inalienable
possession. For some time we said nothing, and when our eyes met she
smiled. I think she had never felt my heart so near to hers. At last we
broke the silence and talked of ordinary things. I told her of my vigil
overnight and my undertaking to look after the Judds. She listened
with great interest. When I had finished my tale, she said almost
passionately:
"Oh, I wish I could do something like that!"
"You?"
"Why not? I came from those people. My grandfather swept the cages in
Jamrach's down by the docks. He died of drink. He used to live in one
horrible, squalid room near by. I remember my father taking me to see
him when I was a little girl--we ourselves weren't very much better off
at that time. I've been through it," she shivered. "I know what that
awful poverty is. Sometimes it seems immoral of me to live luxuriously
as I do now without doing a hand's turn to help."
"_Chacun a son metier_, my dear," said I. "There's no need to reproach
yourself.


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