'Yes, worse luck.'

Again Gladys looked at him, this time with strong disapproval.

'I don't understand you. It is very dreadful, I think, that you should
talk like that.'

'Is it? Perhaps if you were me, and had it to do, you'd understand it. I
wish I was an orphan. When a man's an orphan he may get on, but he never
can if he has relations like mine.'

'Are they--are they wicked?' asked Gladys hesitatingly.

The lad answered by a short, bitter laugh.

'Well, perhaps not exactly. They only drink and quarrel, and drink
again, whenever they have a copper. Saturday and Sunday are their head
days, because Saturday's the pay. But I'm better off than Liz, because
she has to be there always.'

'Is Liz your sister?'

'Yes. She isn't a bad sort, if she had a chance, but she never will have
a chance there; an' perhaps by the time I'm able to take care of her it
will be too late.'

Gladys did not understand him, but forbore to ask any more questions.
She had got something fresh to ponder over, another of the many
mysteries of life.