"And you may go after it." "And what are we to do now, George ?" "The best we can." "But the baby, George?
I shall lie-in in three months." "You must take your chance, and the baby too.

As long as there's any money going you'll get some of it.

If you wrote to your father you might get some." "I'll never do that," she said.
"Won't you ?" said he; "I'll starve you into it when money gets scarce." Things remained like this till it came to be nearly ten months from their marriage.

Mary had never written home but once, from Brighton, and then, as we know, the answer had miscarried; so she, conceiving she was cast off by her father, had never attempted to communicate with him again.

The time grew nigh that she should be confined, and she got very sick and ill, and still the man Maitland lived in the house, and he and George spent much of their time at night, away together.
Yet poor Mary had a friend who stayed by her through it all--Captain Saxon, the great billiard sharper.