She sat shivering under the thin cape beneath the glow of the gas light, tears trailing down her cheeks. She felt no one cared whether she lived or died, or for that matter, even existed. As she looked around the corner, she saw a well dressed man approaching her. A chill of fear went through her as he approached. He reached down and placed a handful of currency in her tattered glove. “The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.” he quietly spoke. “What does that mean?” she spoke to herself. She stood up, wiped her tears and realized someone did care. She just wondered who it was.