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 thought of the pipe he had slid down, what it cost, why they put it there, who the man was that he ran against at Luck Row, whether or not he hurt him, what the police would do with the bloaters and cake and bacon at the shop, and, again, of the smell of stale pickles.

Father Sturt was up and dressed, standing guard on the landing outside the Perrotts' door. The stairs were full of Jagos—mostly women—constantly joined by new-comers, all anxious to batter the door and belabour the hidden family with noisy sympathy and sedulous inquiries: all, that is, except the oldest Mrs. Walsh in the Jago, who, possessed by an unshakable conviction that Josh's wife must have "druv 'im to it," had come in a shawl and a petticoat to give Hannah a piece of her mind. But all were driven back and sent grumbling away by Father Sturt.

Every passage from the Jago was held