"
"Come, marm, come," said George, "draw it mild from that tap."
"You won't believe me, won't you?" said the woman, on whom the liquor
was now beginning to take its full effect; "then I'll show you," and
she staggered to a desk, unlocked it and took from it a folded paper,
which she opened.
It was a properly certified copy of a marriage certificate, or
purported so to be; but George, who was not too quick at his reading,
had only time to note the name Quest, and the church, St.
Bartholomew's, Hackney, when she snatched it away from him and locked
it up again.
"There," she said, "it isn't any business of yours. What right have
you to come prying into the affairs of a poor lone woman?" And she sat
down upon the sofa beside him, threw her long arm round him, rested
her painted face upon his shoulder and began to weep the tears of
intoxication.
"Well, blow me!" said George to himself, "if this ain't a master one!
I wonder what my old missus would say if she saw me in this fix. I
say, marm----"
But at that moment the door opened, and in came Johnnie, who had
evidently also been employing the interval in refreshing himself, for
he rolled like a ship in a sea.
"Well," he said, "and who the deuce are you? Come get out of this, you
Methody parson-faced clodhopper, you.
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