She said he was almost always in the West, and anyway his lease is up next year, and he thinks he'll give up his rooms.

She says he has made piles of money in mines somewhere out West, and he only keeps those rooms because they used to belong to a man who picked him out of the street when he was a little boy selling newspapers.

That caretaker's wife seems to be a mighty kind-hearted creature, but she talks as if she was never goin' to stop." "I think I could afford to take an apartment in Park Avenue," returned Gabriella, dismissing the name of O'Hara; "but, of course, I want to save as much as I can in order to invest in the business.

If it wasn't for that, I could stop scraping and pinching.

I can't bear, though, to think of leaving nothing for the children when I die." "Go away from here, honey.