“Good God,” shouted Aunt Betty, suddenly putting her hands to her breasts. She backed to the wall, staring furtively at the fur-coated woman. She was in the power of one of her “visions.” Gypo stared at the woman in the fur coat with his arms hanging loosely by his sides. “Listen,” continued the woman, “I don’t bear any of you any malice. You can’t help it, any of you. I don’t bear even you any malice, Aunt Betty. I know very well that were it not for you I would starve or . . . or be in a worse place. I have been in your house a month now and you’ve been kind to me. I know very well nobody can help anything. I’m English, an army officer’s wife, so it’s only natural that you girls would be prejudiced against me——” “It’s nothing o’ the kind,” cried Connemara Maggie; “it’s yer stuck-up ways that——” “Let her have her say, Maggie,” cried another. “I had no right to come in here,” cried the woman, bursting into tears. “I should have gone to the police and got them——” “The police!” yelled Gypo suddenly, starting as if he had been awakened from his sleep. “None o’ that talk. Keep away from the police. What d’ye want the police for?” “I want to get back home,” sobbed the woman. “Where’s yer home?” “It’s . . . it’s near London.” “Well, what are ye doin’ over here then?” “I got this,” cried the woman, becoming hysterical again. She put a trembling hand to her disfigured cheek. “I got this a year ago. It’s driven me mad. My husband took another woman. I sold everything I had and came over to Dublin. I wanted to go to work. Honest to God, I did. But I could get nothing. Then a man brought me down here. Good God, the shame of telling you all this in a place like this . . . the . . .” “D’ye want to go home now?” cried Gypo angrily. She did not reply, but looked at him with large eyes, as if in amazement. “What’ll bring ye home?” he continued. “How much will it cost?” “A little over two pounds,” she replied in a low voice. “Here,” he cried, taking out his money, “here’s yer fare. One, two, three,” he paused and was going to add a fourth, but he put it back. He handed her the three notes. She shrank backwards, looking at the money with large eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” he said in a strange, dreamy voice. “Take the money an’ get outa here. That’s enough to take ye home. Go back home. Yer not wanted here. You an’ yer husband and the police. Ye better keep away from the police, I’m tellin’ ye. Go on. Beat it. Get outa here.” Staring him in the face, trembling, with her mouth open, she seized the notes suddenly. Then uttering an exclamation, she looked about her once and rushed to the door. “Go off now,” cried Gypo after her. “Go off now.” Everybody stared at the door through which she disappeared, banging it after her. There was silence. Then Aunt Betty spoke: “That’s all very well,” she sniggered; “but she owes me two pound ten. Who’s goin’ to pay me that? It’s all very well doin’ the——”