She pitied the poor young gentleman for having no one to look after him.

Out of the smudgy little window you could see an immense expanse of sad-looking sky, and whenever there were clouds they looked very worn, old clouds, frayed at the edges, with holes in them, or dark stains like tea.
While the water was heating, Ma Parker began sweeping the floor.

"Yes," she thought, as the broom knocked, "what with one thing and another I've had my share.

I've had a hard life." Even the neighbours said that of her.

Many a time, hobbling home with her fish bag she heard them, waiting at the corner, or leaning over the area railings, say among themselves, "She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker." And it was so true she wasn't in the least proud of it.