"Take her back to Flanagan." But Pinky would not touch the child, nor could threat or persuasion lead her to do so.

While they were contending, Flanagan, who had fired herself up with half a pint of whisky, came storming through the door in a blind rage and screaming out, "Where's my Nell?
I want my Nell!" Catching sight of the child's inanimate form lying on the settee, she pounced down upon it like some foul bird and bore it off, cursing and striking the senseless clay in her insane fury.
Pinky, horrified at the dreadful sight, and not sure that the child was really dead, and so insensible to pain, made a movement to follow, but Norah caught her arm with a tight grip and held her back.
"Are you a fool ?" said the queen, sternly.

"Let Flanagan alone.

Nell's out of her reach, and I'm glad of it." "If I was only sure!" exclaimed Pinky.
"You may be.

I know death--I've seen it often enough.