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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Memoirs of My Dead Life"

You remember how,
years ago, I used to catch you doing acts of kindness? What has become
of the two blind women you used to help?"
"So you haven't forgotten them. You used to say that it was wonderful
that a blind woman should be able to get her living."
"Of course it is. It has always seemed to me extraordinary that any
one should be able to earn his living."
"You see, dear, you have not been forced to get yours, and you do not
realise that ninety per cent of men and women have to get theirs."
"But a blind woman! To get up in the morning and go out to earn enough
money to pay for her dinner; think of it! Getting up in the dark,
knowing that she must earn four, five, ten shillings a day, whatever
it is. Every day the problem presents itself, and she always in the
dark."
"Do you remember her story?"
"I think so. She was once rich, wasn't she? In fairly easy
circumstances, and she lost her fortune. It all went away from her bit
by bit. It is all coming back to me, how Fate in the story as you told
it seemed like a black shadow stretching out a paw, grabbing some part
of her income again and again till the last farthing was taken. Even
then Fate was not satisfied, and your friend must catch the smallpox
and lose her eyes.


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