118
TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
" How long has she been away?"
"More than an hour."
"And you don't know where she went to?"
"No, sir."
Nothing more was said, but I heard the landlord's heavy feet moving backward and forward across the room for some minutes.
"Why, Ann! where have you been?" The door of the next room had opened and shut.
"Where I wish you had been with me," was answered in a very firm voice.
"Where?"
"To Joe Morgan's."
"Humph!" Only this ejaculation met my ears. But something was said in a low voice, to which Mrs. Slade replied with some warmth:
"If you don't have his child's blood clinging for life to your garments, you may be thankful."
"What do you mean?" he asked, quickly.
