Getting
What We Deserve
It is always a terrible thing to come back
to Mott Street [where she lived]. To come back in a driving rain to men
crouched on the stairs, huddled in doorways, without overcoats because they
sold their overcoats—perhaps the week before when it was warm, to satisfy their
hunger or thirst, who knows. Those without love would say, ‘It serves them
right, drinking up their clothes, selling their clothes to buy booze, it serves
them right.’ But God help us if we got what we deserve!
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