"Albert, don't you know me?"
"My Gawd!" He grasped his head between his hands and rocked himself in bewilderment. "You, M'y—you!"
"Yes, me. W'y not? Oh, Albert, don't be frightened. Did you think I was a ghos'? My goodness, it's only your own little May come to you! Your nerves are shockin' bad, ain't they, dearie?" She wrapped her arms about him again.
"'Ow the 'ell did you come 'ere?" he demanded, trying again to extricate himself. She held him to her firmly, her hands clasped between his shoulder blades.
"I couldn't wait no longer. I reely couldn't. And I saved—pinched and saved. And there was a guessing contest and I won the prize—five pounds; and I found a stone out of a ring on the street and got a reward—three pounds more—oh, Albert, everything's been comin' my w'y! And now I've come yours—to st'y, for ever and ever. Say you're glad."
"Glad—" he moaned—"'ow the 'ell can I be glad! You 'ave made a bloody mess o' things! Well, you may just as well 'ave it now as any time, M'y! I'm married. Yus. To a gal out 'ere. In this town. 'Ave you got that in yer noddle? I'm married. Now don't go screamin' or you'll 'ave the 'ole bloomin' bar in 'ere. 'Ang on to yerself. It weren't my fault. She reg'larly chivied me into it. Now you know."
Her arms had dropped from him like the antennæ of a devil-fish when the body has been wounded. He breathed more freely and peered through the dimness to see her face. If his had looked like the full moon, hers was now its shrunken, wan, last quarter.
"Married," she repeated. "You went and got married. And me in England, believin' you was savin' for me to
