"This life," she continued, "don't suit me. Ernest is too good for
me; he wants a woman as shall be a bit better than me, and I want a
man that shall be a bit worse than him. We should have got on all very
well if we had not lived together as married folks, but I've been used
to have a little place of my own, however small, for a many years, and
I don't want Ernest, or any other man, always hanging about it.
Besides, he is too steady: his being in prison hasn't done him a bit
of good- he's just as grave as those as have never been in prison at
all, and he never swears nor curses, come what may; it makes me
afeared of him, and therefore I drink the worse. What us poor girls
wants is not to be jumped up all of a sudden and made honest women of;
this is too much for us and throws us off our perch; what we wants
is a regular friend or two, who'll just keep us from starving, and
force us to be good for a bit together now and again. That's about
as much as we can stand. He may have the children; he can do better
for them than I can; and as for his money, he may give it or keep it
as he likes; he's never done me any harm, and I shall let him alone;
but if he means me to have it, I suppose I'd better have it.
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