'
'Do you eat opium?'
'Smokes it,' she replies with difficulty, still racked by her
cough. 'Give me three-and-sixpence, and I'll lay it out well, and
get back. If you don't give me three-and-sixpence, don't give me a
brass farden. And if you do give me three-and-sixpence, deary,
I'll tell you something.'
He counts the money from his pocket, and puts it in her hand. She
instantly clutches it tight, and rises to her feet with a croaking
laugh of satisfaction.
'Bless ye! Hark'ee, dear genl'mn. What's your Chris'en name?'
'Edwin.'
'Edwin, Edwin, Edwin,' she repeats, trailing off into a drowsy
repetition of the word; and then asks suddenly: 'Is the short of
that name Eddy?'
'It is sometimes called so,' he replies, with the colour starting
to his face.
'Don't sweethearts call it so?' she asks, pondering.
'How should I know?'
'Haven't you a sweetheart, upon your soul?'
'None.'
She is moving away, with another 'Bless ye, and thank'ee, deary!'
when he adds: 'You were to tell me something; you may as well do
so.'
'So I was, so I was. Well, then. Whisper. You be thankful that
your name ain't Ned.'
He looks at her quite steadily, as he asks: 'Why?'
'Because it's a bad name to have just now.'
'How a bad name?'
'A threatened name. A dangerous name.'
'The proverb says that threatened men live long,' he tells her,
lightly.
'Then Ned--so threatened is he, wherever he may be while I am a-
talking to you, deary--should live to all eternity!' replies the
woman.
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