CHAPTER XXII.
THE TRAP IS SPRUNG.
"It--it's all along o' that there Mr.Micolo!" the woman suddenly exclaimed, "Him an' his rent-bill! If he'd ha' let me in, there, tonight, I could ha' got Ed's things an' then started to my sister's, out to Scottsville.

But he wouldn't.

He claimed they was two-seventy-five still owin', and I didn't have but about fifty cents, so I couldn't pay it.

So he wouldn't let me in.

Natchally, anybody'd feel bad, like that, 'specially when a man told 'em he'd hold their kid's clothes an' things till they paid--which they couldn't!" "Naturally, of course," answered Gabriel, rather dazed by this sudden burst of details, with which she seemed to think he should already be quite familiar--details all sordid and commonplace, through which he seemed to perceive, dimly as in a dark glass, some mean and ugly tragedy of poverty and ignorance and sin.
"Are you hungry ?" he asked, all at once.