"
"They can pierce like a dagger," I mused.
"And leave an open wound behind that requires dressing," Travers added,
unsuspecting. Practical man, Travers!
"But WHY do they get assaulted--the women of this type?" I asked, still
bewildered.
"Number 87 has her mother just come to see her," my sorceress
interposed. "SHE'S an assault case; brought in last night; badly kicked
and bruised about the head and shoulders. Speak to the mother. She'll
explain it all to you."
Travers and I moved over to the cot her hand scarcely indicated. "Well,
your daughter looks pretty comfortable this afternoon, in spite of the
little fuss," Travers began, tentatively.
"Yus, she's a bit tidy, thanky," the mother answered, smoothing her
soiled black gown, grown green with long service. "She'll git on naow,
please Gord. But Joe most did for 'er."
"How did it all happen?" Travers asked, in a jaunty tone, to draw her
out.
"Well, it was like this, sir, yer see. My daughter, she's a lidy as
keeps 'erself TO 'erself, as the sayin' is, an' 'olds 'er 'ead up. She
keeps up a proper pride, an' minds 'er 'ouse an' 'er little uns. She
ain't no gadabaht.
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