"Well, I have," said Ernest, with a forced laugh; "I came out
three or four days ago after six months with hard labour."
Ellen did not believe him, but she looked at him with a "Lor'!
Master Ernest," and dried her eyes at once. The ice was broken between
them, for as a matter of fact Ellen had been in prison several
times, and though she did not believe Ernest, his merely saying he had
been in prison made her feel more at ease with him. For her there were
two classes of people, those who had been in prison and those who
had not. The first she looked upon as fellow-creatures and more or
less Christians, the second, with few exceptions, she regarded with
suspicion, not wholly unmingled with contempt.
Then Ernest told her what had happened to him during the last six
months, and by-and-by she believed him.
"Master Ernest," said she, after they had talked for a quarter of an
hour or so, "there's a place over the way where they sell tripe and
onions. I know you was always very fond of tripe and onions; let's
go over and have some, and we can talk better there."
So the pair crossed the street and entered the tripe shop; Ernest
ordered supper.
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