Henry had now much business to attend to, I had none. I used to wander
into the back street just as the men's wives brought them their dinners,
so as to look at them. They were not allowed inside, but if the men
chose to eat inside they could do so, their wives waiting outside. Six
or eight men had their dinners brought, the rest went away. The women
most frequently sat on a door-step, or loitered over the gratings up
which we used to look at night; or squatted down against the wall. I had
once or twice looked up their clothes, but found little inviting, with
the exception of a plump little pair of legs which belonged to a Mrs.
Smith. She looked about twenty-six years of age, her husband twenty
years older, a good workman but a brutal fellow. He bore a bad character
among his fellows, and was thought a brute to his wife. Some said
his wife drank; there was often a row in the street between them at
dinner-time, he used to sit on the door-step and eat his dinner outside,
she standing near him, and her legs came at times over a grating. I used
to dodge downstairs at times at the workmen's dinner-hour, and have a
look up, and that is how I saw, and began to think of the legs of Mrs.
Smith.
I took a sort of fancy to her, or rather her legs, so plump and clean.
I saw she had a nice clean face with bright brown eyes, and then had
a desire to fuck her. I again had desisted from frigging, had sworn
to myself not to do so again, and now getting strength wanted a woman
badly. Our eyes had often met, I had even got out of her way when
passing her, a courtesy not often then shown by gentlemen to workpeople.
I used to stare at her so, that she began to look confused when I did.
The husband never seemed to notice anything but his dinner, at which he
usually swore. Sometimes I spoke to him about gun-making. I wanted to
poke Mrs. Smith, but there did not seem to be the remotest chance, nor
had I any intention of attempting it, but used to look at her with
my cock standing, and wondering what sort of cunt she had. I had been
brought up religiously, and the idea of having a married woman seemed
shocking. I was shocked when I found that Mary was married. At length I
nodded, smiled, and established a sort of intimacy in that way without
speaking, managing to meet her as it were, quite casually when going to,
or leaving the workshop.
One day the man dined on the step, his wife standing by his side; down I
went to peep up her clothes and heard him rowing. "Why the hell had
she not got him beef instead of mutton; God damn her, why were there
no potatoes!" That was his style. Angry words passed, the voices grew
louder, I heard a loud smack and a strong oath, he had hit his wife and
gone back into the work-shop.
There was a great gabbling of female voices over the grating round Mrs.
Smith. "I would not stand it," said one. "It is a shame," said another.
"He ought to be proud of such a wife, an old beast," said another. The
husband came out again. "I have done my best," said she, "you are not a
man anyhow, or anywhere, for two pins I would run away from you." A loud
oath, and another smack followed.
I heard Mrs. Smith sobbing. "I have had a little drink," said she, "I
told him so. He makes me so unhappy, I must; but I spend scarce a trifle
and it's what I earns myself. Ain't I clean? don't I bring him good
meals?" "You do, you do," said they. "It's a shame," she went on, "he is
not a man, not in bed, not anywhere, not anyhow, I don't aggravate him,
I put up with everything, it's full six months since he's been a husband
to me, although we sleeps in the same bed," she added in a significant
way, "yes, six months full." "Lor," said half a dozen voices together,
then said one, "Don't he do anything to you then?" Things quieted, off
went Mrs. Smith with some of the women, two remained waiting for their
husbands' platters, they squatted down on the step.
"They're a miserable couple," said one. "Yes, and likely, he is never at
home, no wonder she do take a drop of comfort." "No, it ain't." "She is
a nice little woman, and no man gets his meals nicer." "No, that they
don't." "He's too old for her, but he ain't jealous." "No, in course
not." "Why he ain't done it to her for six months," said one. They both
chuckled then. "Why, my old man don't forget me like that, and he is ten
years older than Smith," said the other. "Ah!" said the first, "he's a
bad 'up altogether, men be a bad lot, the best on 'em." The time-bell
rang, their husbands brought out their dinner-cans, and off the women
went.
I can scarcely tell what followed exactly or how it came about, for even
now to me it seems astonishing. I was but between eighteen and nineteen,
and had not had the remotest idea of getting Mrs. Smith, though I longed
for her lewedly when my cock stood. I was timid with women until I knew
them well, I could never begin with our own servants until they had
been in the house a few days; yet directly I heard this conversation, a
chance seemed in my way, and without meaning it I followed it up.
With but little idea of married life or habits, I saw that not only were
they a wretched couple, but that for months Smith had never touched his
wife. I imagined then that married people were always doing it, that
women were randier than men,--a common belief of young people. I
thought: how she must want a poke! how she would enjoy it! Out I went
to see if Mrs. Smith was about, and saw her walking off with a group of
sympathizers, who dropped off gradually, until she was left with one,
with whom she went into a public-house. In a few minutes they came out
and parted. On she went alone, and went into another public-house, and
then wiping her eyes as she came out, went her way alone; I after her,
lewed and thinking to myself, "she has not had it for six months," and
so on. She went into a public-house now by herself. I waited till she
came out, and saw she had been taking to many drops of comfort.