'Yis, he belongs to me now--leastways he's my pal
now--whatever comes on it.'
'Then take him away, my wench. What's the matter with him? The old
complaint, I s'pose,' he added, lifting his hand to his mouth as
though drinking from a glass.
Sinfi gently put out her hand and brushed the man aside.
'I've bin a-followin' on you all the way, brother,' said Sinfi, as
we moved out of the cemetery, 'for your looks skeared me a bit. Let's
go away from this place.'
'But whither, Sinfi? I have no friend but you; I have no home.'
'No home, brother? The kairengros [Footnote] has got about
everythink, 'cept the sky an' the wind, an' you're one o' the richest
kairengros on 'em all--leastways so I wur told t'other day in
Kingston Vale. It's the Romanies, brother, as 'ain't got no home
'cept the sky an' the wind. Howsumever, that's nuther here nor there;
we'll jist go to the woman they told me on, an' if there's any truth
to be torn out of her, out it'll ha' to come, if I ha' to tear out
her windpipe with it.'
[Footnote: The house-dwellers.
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