ThiswasthemoresubtlesanctionofMrsVerloc’smother’sheroismandunscrupulousness。Heractofabandonmentwasreallyanarrangementforsettlinghersonpermanentlyinlife。Otherpeoplemadematerialsacrificesforsuchanobject，sheinthatway。Itwastheonlyway。Moreover，shewouldbeabletoseehowitworked。Illorwellshewouldavoidthehorribleincertitudeonthedeath—bed。Butitwashard，hard，cruellyhard。
　　Thecabrattled，jingled，jolted;infact，thelastwasquiteextraordinary。
　　Byitsdisproportionateviolenceandmagnitudeitobliteratedeverysensationofonwardmovement;andtheeffectwasofbeingshakeninastationaryapparatuslikeamedievaldeviceforthepunishmentofcrime，orsomeverynew—fangledinventionforthecureofasluggishliver。Itwasextremelydistressing;andtheraisingofMrsVerloc’smother’svoicesoundedlikeawailofpain。
　　`Iknow，mydear，you’llcometoseemeasoftenasyoucansparethetime。Won’tyou？’
　　`Ofcourse，’answeredWinnie，shortly，staringstraightbeforeher。
　　Andthecabjoltedinfrontofasteamy，greasyshopinablazeofgasandinthesmelloffriedfish。
　　Theoldwomanraisedawailagain。
　　`And，mydear，ImustseethatpoorboyeverySunday。Hewon’tmindspendingthedaywithhisoldmother——’
　　Winniescreamedoutstolidly:
　　`Mind！Ishouldthinknot。Thatpoorboywillmissyousomethingcruel。
　　Iwishyouhadthoughtalittleofthat，mother。’
　　Notthinkofit！Theheroicwomanswallowedaplayfulandinconvenientobjectlikeabilliardball，whichhadtriedtojumpoutofherthroat。
　　Winniesatmuteforawhile，poutingatthefrontofthecab，thensnappedout，whichwasanunusualtonewithher:
　　`IexpectI’llhaveajobwithhimatfirst，he’llbethatrestless——’
　　`Whateveryoudo，don’tlethimworryyourhusband，mydear。’
　　Thustheydiscussedonfamiliarlinesthebearingsofanewsituation。
　　Andthecabjolted。MrsVerloc’smotherexpressedsomemisgivings。CouldSteviebetrustedtocomeallthatwayalone？Winniemaintainedthathewasmuchless`absent—minded’now。Theyagreedastothat。Itcouldnotbedenied。Muchless—hardlyatall。Theyshoutedateachotherinthejinglewithcomparativecheerfulness。Butsuddenlythematernalanxietybrokeoutafresh。Thereweretwoomnibusestotake，andashortwalkbetween。
　　Itwastoodifficult！Theoldwoman’gavewaytogriefandconsternation。
　　Winniestaredforward。
　　`Don’tyouupsetyourselflikethis，mother。Youmustseehim，ofcourse。
　　`No，mydear。I’lltrynotto。Shemoppedherstreamingeyes。’
　　`Butyoucan’tsparethetimetocomewithhim，andifheshouldforgethimselfandlosehiswayandsomebodyspoketohimsharply，hisnameandaddressmaysliphismemory，andhe’llremainlostfordaysanddays——’
　　ThevisionofaworkhouseinfirmaryforpoorStevie—ifonlyduringinquiries—wrungherheart。Forshewasaproudwoman。Winnie’sstarehadgrownhard，intent，inventive。
　　`Ican’tbringhimtoyoumyselfeveryweek，’shecried。`Butdon’tyouworry，mother。I’llseetoitthathedon’tgetlostforlong。’
　　Theyfeltapeculiarbump;avisionofbrickpillarslingeredbeforetherattlingwindowsofthecab;asuddencessationofatrociousjoltinganduproariousjinglingdazedthetwowomen。Whathadhappened？Theysatmotionlessandscaredintheprofoundstillness，tillthedoorcameopen，andarough，strainedwhisperingwasheard:
　　`’Ereyouare！’
　　Arangeofgabledlittlehouses，eachwithonedimyellowwindow，onthegroundfloor，surroundedthedarkopenspaceofagrassplotplantedwithshrubsandrailedofffromthepatchworkoflightsandshadowsitthewideroad，resoundingwiththedullrumbleoftraffic。Beforethedoorofoneofthesetinyhouses—onewithoutalightinthelittledownstairswindow—the’cabhadcometoastandstill。MrsVerloc’smothergotoutfirst，backwards，withakeyinherhand。Winnielingeredontheflagstonepathtopaythecabman。Stevie，afterhelpingtocarryinsidealotofsmallparcels，cameoutandstoodunderthelightofagas—lampbelongingtotheCharity。Thecabmanlookedatthepiecesofsilver，which，appearingveryminuteinhisbig，grimypalm，symbolizedtheinsignificantresultswhichrewardtheambitiouscourageandtoilofamankindwhosedayisshortonthisearthofevil。
　　Hehadbeenpaiddecently—fourone—shillingpieces—andhecontemplatedtheminperfectstillness，asiftheyhadbeenthesurprisingtermsofamelancholyproblem。Theslowtransferofthattreasuretoaninnerpocketdemandedmuchlaboriousgropinginthedepthsofdecayedclothing。Hisformwassquatandwithoutflexibility。Stevie，slender，hisshouldersalittleup，andhishandsthrustdeepinthesidepocketsofhiswarmovercoat，stoodattheedgeofthepath，pouting。
　　Thecabman，pausinginhisdeliberatemovements，seemedstruckbysomemistyrecollection。
　　`Oh！’Ereyouare，youngfellow，’hewhispered。`You’llknowhimagain—wontyou？’
　　Steviewasstaringatthehorse，whosehindquartersappearedundulyelevatedbytheeffectofemancipation。Thelittlestifftailseemedtohavebeenfittedinforaheartlessjoke;andattheotherendthethin，flatneck，likeaplankcoveredwitholdhorse—hide，droopedtothegroundundertheweightofanenormousbonyhead。Theearshungatdifferentangles，negligently;andthemacabrefigureofthatmutedwellerontheearthsteamedstraightupfromribsandbackboneinthemuggystillnessoftheair。
　　ThecabmanstrucklightlyStevie’sbreastwiththeironhookprotrudingfromaragged，greasysleeve。
　　`Look’ereyoungfeller。’Owdyouliketositbehindthis’ossuptotwoo’clockinthemorningp’raps？’
　　Stevielookedvacantlyintothefiercelittleeyeswithred—edgedlids。
　　`Heain’tlame，’pursuedtheother，whisperingwithenergy。`Heain’tgotnosoreplaceson’im。’Ereheis。’Owwouldyoulike——’
　　Hisstrained，extinctvoiceinvestedhisutterancewithacharacterofvehementsecrecy。Stevie’svacantgazewaschangingslowlyintodread。
　　`Youmaywelllook！Tillthreeandfouro’clockinthemorning。Coldand’ungry。Lookingforfares。Drunks。’
　　Hisjovialpurplecheeksbristledwithwhitehairs;andlikeVirgil’sSilenus，who，hisfacesmearedwiththejuiceofberries，discoursedofOlympianGodstotheinnocentshepherdsofSicily，hetalkedtoStevieofdomesticmattersandtheaffairsofmenwhosesufferingsaregreatandimmortalitybynomeansassured。
　　`Iamanightcabby，Iam，’hewhispered，withasortofboastfulexasperation。
　　`I’vegottotakeoutwhattheywillbloomingwellgivemeattheyard。
　　I’vegotmymissusandfourkidsat’ome。
　　Themonstrousnatureofthatdeclarationofpaternityseemedtostriketheworlddumb。Asilencereigned，duringwhichtheflanksoftheoldhorse，thesteedofapocalypticmisery，smokedupwardsinthelightofthecharitablegas—lamp。
　　Thecabmangrunted，thenaddedinhismysteriouswhisper:`Thisain’taneasyworld。’
　　Stevie’sfacehadbeentwitchingforsometimeandatlasthisfeelingsburstoutintheirusualconcisefoam。
　　`Bad！Bad！’
　　Hisgazeremainedfixedontheribsofthehorse，self—consciousandsombre，asthoughhewereafraidtolookabouthimatthebadnessoftheworld。Andhisslenderness，hisrosylipsandpale，clearcomplexion，gavehimtheaspectofadelicateboy，notwithstandingthefluffygrowthofgoldenhaironhischeeks。Hepoutedinascaredwaylikeachild。Thecabman，shortandbroad，eyedhimwithhisfiercelittleeyesthatseemedtosmartinaclearandcorrodingliquid。
　　`’Ardon’osses，butdam’sight’arderonpoorchapslikeme，’hewheezedjustaudibly。
　　`Poor！Poor！’stammeredoutStevie，pushinghishandsdeeperintohispocketswithconvulsivesympathy。Hecouldsaynothing;forthetendernesstoallpainandallmisery，thedesiretomakethehorsehappyandthecabmanhappy，hadreachedthepointofabizarrelongingtotakethemtobedwithhim。Andthat，heknew，wasimpossible。ForSteviewasnotmad。
　　Itwas，asitwere，asymboliclonging;andatthesametimeitwasverydistinct，becausespringingfromexperience，themotherofwisdom。Thuswhenasachildhecoweredinadarkcornerscared，wretched，sore，andmiserablewiththeblack，blackmiseryofthesoul，hissisterWinnieusedtocomealongandcarryhimofftobedwithher，asintoaheavenofconsolingpeace。Stevie，thoughapttoforgetmerefacts，suchashisnameandaddressforinstance，hadafaithfulmemoryofsensations。Tobetakenintoabedofcompassionwasthesupremeremedy，withtheonlyonedisadvantageofbeingdifficultofapplicationonalargescale。Andlookingatthecabman，Stevieperceivedthisclearly，becausehewasreasonable。
　　ThecabmanwentonwithhisleisurelypreparationsasifSteviehadnotexisted。Hemadeasiftohoisthimselfonthebox，butatthelastmoment，fromsomeobscuremotive，perhapsmerelyfromdisgustwithcarriageexercise，desisted。Heapproachedinsteadthemotionlesspartnerofhislabours，andstoopingtoseizethebridle，liftedupthebig，wearyheadtotheheightofhisshoulderwithoneeffortofhisrightarm，likeafeatofstrength。
　　`Comeon，’hewhispered，secretly。
　　Limping，heledthecabaway。Therewasanairofausterityinthisdeparture，thescrunchedgravelofthedrivecryingoutundertheslowlyturningwheels，thehorse’sleanthighsmovingwithasceticdeliberationawayfromthelightintotheobscurityoftheopenspacebordereddimlybythepointedroofsandthefeeblyshiningwindowsofthelittlealmshouses。
　　Theplaintofthegraveltravelledslowlyallroundthedrive。Betweenthelampsofthecharitablegatewaytheslowcortegereappeared，lightedupforamoment，theshort，thickmanlimpingbusily，withthehorse’sheadheldaloftinhisfist，thelankanimalwalkinginstiffandforlorndignity，thedark，lowboxonwheelsrollingbehindcomicallywithanairofwaddling。Theyturnedtotheleft。Therewasapubdownthestreet，withinfiftyyardsofthegate。
　　Stevie，leftalonebesidetheprivatelamp—postoftheCharity，hishandsthrustdeepintohispockets，glaredwithvacantsulkiness。Atthebottomofhispocketshisincapable，weakhandswereclenchedhardintoapairofangryfists。Inthefaceofanythingwhichaffecteddirectlyorindirectlyhismorbiddreadofpain，Stevieendedbyturningvicious。
　　Amagnanimousindignationswelledhisfrailchesttobursting，andcausedhiscandideyestosquint。Supremelywiseinknowinghisownpowerlessness，Steviewasnotwiseenoughtorestrainhispassions。Thetendernessofhisuniversalcharityhadtwophasesasindissolublyjoinedandconnectedasthereverseandobversesidesofamedal。Theanguishofimmoderatecompassionwassucceededbythepainofaninnocentbutpitilessrage。
　　Thosetwostatesexpressingthemselvesoutwardlybythesamesignsoffutilebodilyagitation，hissisterWinniesoothedhisexcitementwithouteverfathomingitstwofoldcharacter。MrsVerlocwastednoportionofthistransientlifeinseekingforfundamentalinformation。Thisisasortofeconomyhavingalltheappearancesandsomeoftheadvantagesofprudence。Obviouslyitmaybegoodforonenottoknowtoomuch。Andsuchaviewaccordsverywellwithconstitutionalindolence。
　　OnthateveningonwhichitmaybesaidthatMrsVerloc’smotherhavingpartedforgoodfromherchildrenhadalsodepartedthislife，WinnieVerlocdidnotinvestigateherbrother’spsychology。Thepoorboywasexcited，ofcourse。AfteroncemoreassuringtheoldwomanonthethresholdthatshewouldknowhowtoguardagainsttheriskofStevielosinghimselfforverylongonhispilgrimagesoffilialpiety，shetookherbrother’sarmtowalkaway。Steviedidnotevenmuttertohimself，butwiththespecialsenseofsisterlydevotiondevelopedinherearliestinfancy，shefeltthattheboywasverymuchexcitedindeed。Holdingtighttohisarm，undertheappearanceofleaningonit，shethoughtofsomewordssuitabletotheoccasion。
　　`Now，Stevie，youmustlookwellaftermeatthecrossings，andgetfirstintothebus，likeagoodbrother。’
　　ThisappealtomanlyprotectionwasreceivedbySteviewithhisusualdocility。Itflatteredhim。Heraisedhisheadandthrewouthischest。
　　`Don’tbenervous，Winnie。Mustn’tbenervous！Busallright，’heansweredinabrusque，slurringstammerpartakingofthetimorousnessofachildandtheresolutionofaman。Headvancedfearlesslywiththewomanonhisarm，buthislowerlipdrooped。Nevertheless，onthepavementofthesqualidandwidethoroughfare，whosepovertyinalltheamenitiesoflifestoodfoolishlyexposedbyamadprofusionofgas—lights，theirresemblancetoeachotherwassopronouncedastostrikethecasualpassers—by。
　　Beforethedoorsofthepublic—houseatthecorner，wheretheprofusionofgas—lightreachedtheheightofpositivewickedness，afour—wheeledcabstandingbythekerbstone，withnooneonthebox，seemedcastoutintothegutteronaccountofirremediabledecay。MrsVerlocrecognizedtheconveyance。Itsaspectwassoprofoundlylamentable，withsuchaperfectionofgrotesquemiseryandweirdnessofmacabredetail，asifitweretheCabofDeathitselfthatMrsVerloc，withthatreadycompassionofawomanforahorse（whensheisnotsittingbehindhim），exclaimedvaguely！
　　`Poorbrute。’
　　Hangingbacksuddenly，Stevieinflictedanarrestingjerkuponhissister。
　　`Poor！Poor！’heejaculatedappreciatively。`Cabmanpoor，too。Hetoldmehimself。’
　　Thecontemplationoftheinfirmandlonelysteedovercamehim。Jostled，butobstinate，hewouldremainthere，tryingtoexpresstheviewnewlyopenedtohissympathiesofthehumanandequinemiseryincloseassociation。
　　Butitwasverydifficult。`Poorbrute，’poorpeople！’wasallhecouldrepeat。Itdidnotseemforcibleenough，andhecametoastopwithanangrysplutter。`Shame！’Steviewasnomasterofphrases，andperhapsforthatveryreasonhisthoughtslackedclearnessandprecision。Buthefeltwithgreatcompletenessandsomeprofundity。Thatlittlewordcontainedallhissenseofindignationandhorroratonesortofwretchednesshavingtofeedupontheanguishoftheother—asthepoorcabmanbeatingthepoorhorseinthename，asitwere，ofhispoorkidsathome。AndStevieknewwhatitwastobebeaten。Heknewitfromexperience。Itwasabadworld。Bad！Bad！
　　MrsVerloc，hisonlysister，guardian，andprotector，couldnotpretendtosuchdepthsofinsight。Moreover，shehadnotexperiencedthemagicofthecabman’seloquence。Shewasinthedarkastotheinwardnessoftheword`Shame’。Andshesaidplacidly:
　　`Comealong，Stevie。Youcan’thelpthat。’
　　ThedocileSteviewentalong;butnowhewentalongwithoutpride，shamblingly，andmutteringhalfwords，andevenwordsthatwouldhavebeenwholeiftheyhadnotbeenmadeupofhalvesthatdidnotbelongtoeachother。
　　Itwasasthoughhehadbeentryingtofitallthewordshecouldremembertohissentimentsinordertogetsomesortofcorrespondingidea。And，asamatteroffact，hegotitatlast。Hehungbacktoutteritatonce。
　　`Badworldforpoorpeople。’
　　Directlyhehadexpressedthatthoughthebecameawarethatitwasfamiliartohimalreadyinallitsconsequences。Thiscircumstancestrengthenedhisconvictionimmensely，butalsoaugmentedhisindignation。Somebody，hefelt，oughttobepunishedforit—punishedwithgreatseverity。Beingnosceptic，butamoralcreature，hewasinamanneratthemercyofhisrighteouspassions。
　　`Beastly！’headded，concisely。
　　ItwascleartoMrsVerlocthathewasgreatlyexcited。
　　`Nobodycanhelpthat，’shesaid。`Docomealong。Isthatthewayyou’retakingcareofme？’
　　Steviemendedhispaceobediently。Hepridedhimselfonbeingagoodbrother。Hismorality，whichwasverycomplete，demandedthatfromhim。
　　YethewaspainedattheinformationimpartedbyhissisterWinnie—whowasgood。Nobodycouldhelpthat！Hecamealonggloomily，butpresentlyhebrightenedup。Liketherestofmankind，perplexedbythemysteryoftheuniverse，hehadhismomentsofconsolingtrustintheorganizedpowersoftheearth。
　　`Police，’hesuggested，confidently。
　　`Thepolicearen’tforthat，’observedMrsVerloc，cursorily，hurryingonherway。
　　Stevie’sfacelengthenedconsiderably。Hewasthinking。Themoreintensehisthinking，theslackerwasthedroopofhislowerjaw。Anditwaswithanaspectofhopelessvacancythathegaveuphisintellectualenterprise。
　　`Notforthat？’hemumbled，resignedbutsurprised。`Notforthat？’
　　Hehadformedforhimselfanidealconceptionforthemetropolitanpoliceasasortofbenevolentinstitutionforthesuppressionofevil。Thenotionofbenevolenceespeciallywasverycloselyassociatedwithhissenseofthepowerofthemeninblue。Hehadlikedallpoliceconstablestenderly，withaguilelesstrustfulness。Andhewaspained。Hewasirritated，too，byasuspicionofduplicityinthemembers’oftheforce。ForSteviewasfrankandasopenasthedayhimself。Whatdidtheymeanbypretendingthen？Unlikehissister，whoputhertrustinfacevalues，hewishedtogotothebottomofthematter。Hecarriedonhisinquirybymeansofanangrychallenge。
　　`Whataretheyforthen，Winn？Whataretheyfor？Tellme。’
　　Winniedislikedcontroversy。ButfearingmostafitofblackdepressionconsequentonSteviemissinghismotherverymuchatfirst，shedidnotaltogetherdeclinethediscussion’。Guiltlessofallirony，sheansweredyetinaformwhichwasnotperhapsunnaturalinthewifeofMrVerloc，DelegateoftheCentralRedCommittee，personalfriendofcertainanarchists，andavotaryofsocialrevolution。
　　`Don’tyouknowwhatthepolicearefor，Stevie？Theyaretheresothatthemashavenothingshouldn’ttakeanythingawayfromthemwhohave。’
　　Sheavoidedusingtheverb`tosteal’，becauseitalwaysmadeherbrotheruncomfortable。ForSteviewasdelicatelyhonest。Certainsimpleprincipleshadbeeninstilledintohimsoanxiously（onaccountofhis`queerness’）
　　thatthemerenamesofcertaintransgressionsfilledhimwithhorror。Hehadbeenalwayseasilyimpressedbyspeeches。Hewasimpressedandstartlednow，andhisintelligencewasveryalert。
　　`What？’heaskedatonce，anxiously。`Noteveniftheywerehungry？
　　Mustn’tthey？’
　　Thetwohadpausedintheirwalk。
　　`Notiftheywereeverso，’saidMrsVerloc，withtheequanimityofapersonuntroubledbytheproblemofthedistributionofwealthandexploringtheperspectiveoftheroadwayforanomnibusoftherightcolour。`Certainlynot。Butwhat’stheuseoftalkingaboutallthat？Youaren’teverhungry。
　　Shecastaswiftglanceattheboy，likeayoungman，byherside。Shesawhimamiable，attractive，affectionateandonlyalittle，averylittlepeculiar。Andshecouldnotseehimotherwise，forhewasconnectedwithwhattherewasofthesaltofpassioninhertastelesslife—thepassionofindignation，ofcourage，ofpity，andevenofself—sacrifice。Shedidnotadd:`Andyouaren’tlikelyevertobeaslongasIlive。’Butshemightverywellhavedoneso，sinceshehadtakeneffectualstepstothatend。MrVerlocwasaverygoodhusband。Itwasherhonestimpressionthatnobodycouldhelplikingtheboy。Shecriedoutsuddenly:
　　`Quick，Stevie。Stopthatgreenbus。’
　　AndStevie，tremulousandimportantwithhissisterWinnieonhisarm，flunguptheotherhighabovehisheadattheapproachingbus，withcompletesuccess。
　　AnhourafterwardsMrVerlocraisedhiseyesfromanewspaperhewasreading，oratanyratelookingat，behindthecounter，andintheexpiringclatterofthedoor—bellbeheldWinnie，hiswife，enterandcrosstheshoponherwayupstairs，followedbyStevie，hisbrother—in—law。ThesightofhiswifewasagreeabletoMrVerloc。Itwashisidiosyncrasy。Thefigureofhisbrother—in—lawremainedimperceptibletohimbecauseofthemorosethoughtfulnessthatlatelyhadfallenlikeaveilbetweenMrVerlocandtheappearancesoftheworldofsenses。Helookedafterhiswifefixedly，withoutaword，asthoughshehadbeenaphantom。Hisvoiceforhomeusewashuskyandplacid，butnowitwasheardnotatall。Itwasnotheardatsupper，towhichhewascalledbyhiswifeintheusualbriefmanner:
　　`Adolf。’Hesatdowntoconsumeitwithoutconviction，wearinghishatpushedfarbackonhishead。Itwasnotdevotiontoanoutdoorlife，butthefrequentationofforeigncafeswhichwasresponsibleforthathabit，investingwithacharacterofunceremoniousimpermanencyMrVerloc’ssteadyfidelitytohisownfireside。Twiceattheclatterofthecrackedbellhearosewithoutaword，disappearedintotheshop，andcamebacksilently。
　　DuringtheseabsencesMrsVerloc，becomingacutelyawareofthevacantplaceatherrighthand，missedhermotherverymuchandstaredstonily;
　　whileStevie，fromthesamereason，keptonshufflinghisfeet，asthoughthefloorunderthetablewereuncomfortablyhot。WhenMrVerlocreturnedtositinhisplace，liketheveryembodimentofsilence，thecharacterofMrsVerloc’sstareunderwentasubtlechange，andStevieceasedtofidgetwithhisfeet，becauseofhisgreatandawedregardforhissister’shusband。
　　Hedirectedathimglancesofrespectfulcompassion。MrVerlocwassorry。
　　HissisterWinniehadimpresseduponhim（intheomnibus）thatMrVerlocwouldbefoundathomeinastateofsorrow，andmustnotbeworried。Hisfather’sanger，theirritabilityofgentlemenlodgers，andMrVerloc’spredispositiontoimmoderategrief，hadbeenthemainsanctionsofStevie’sself—restraint。Ofthesesentiments，alleasilyprovoked，butnotalwayseasytounderstand，thelasthadthegreatestmoralefficiency—becauseMrVerlocwasgood。Hismotherandhissisterhadestablishedthatethicalfactonanunshakablefoundation。Theyhadestablished，erected，consecrateditbehindMrVerloc’sback，forreasonsthathadnothingtodowithabstractmorality。AndMrVerlocwasnotawareofit。ItisbutbarejusticetohimtosaythathehadnonotionofappearinggoodtoStevie。
　　Yetsoitwas。HewaseventheonlymansoqualifiedinStevie’sknowledge，becausethegentlemenlodgershadbeentootransientandtooremotetohaveanythingverydistinctaboutthembutperhapstheirboots;andasregardsthedisciplinarymeasuresofhisfather，thedesolationofhismotherandsistershrankfromsettingupatheoryofgoodnessbeforethevictim。Itwouldhavebeentoocruel。AnditwasevenpossiblethatSteviewouldnothavebelievedthem。AsfarasMrVerlocwasconcerned，nothingcouldstandinthewayofStevie’sbelief。MrVerlocwasobviouslyyetmysteriouslygood。Andthegriefofagoodmanisaugust。
　　Steviegaveglancesofreverentialcompassiontohisbrother—in—law。
　　MrVerlocwassorry。ThebrotherofWinniehadneverbeforefelthimselfinsuchclosecommunionwiththemysteryofthatman’sgoodness。Itwasanunderstandablesorrow。AndSteviehimselfwassorry。Hewasverysorry。
　　Thesamesortofsorrow。Andhisattentionbeingdrawntothisunpleasantstate，Stevieshuffledhisfeet。Hisfeelingswerehabituallymanifestedbytheagitationofhislimbs。
　　`Keepyourfeetquiet，dear，’saidMrsVerloc，withauthorityandtenderness;
　　thenturningtowardsherhusbandinanindifferentvoice，themasterlyachievementofinstinctivetact:`Areyougoingouttonight？’sheasked。
　　ThemeresuggestionseemedrepugnanttoMrVerloc。Heshookhisheadmoodily，andthensatstillwithdowncasteyes，lookingatthepieceofcheeseonhisplateforawholeminute。Attheendofthattimehegotup，andwentout—wentrightoutintheclatteroftheshop—doorbell。
　　Heactedthusinconsistently，notfromanydesiretomakehimselfunpleasant，butbecauseofanunconquerablerestlessness。Itwasnoearthlygoodgoingout。HecouldnotfindanywhereinLondonwhathewanted。Buthewentout。
　　Heledacortegeofdismalthoughtsalongdarkstreets，throughlightedstreets，inandoutoftwoBashbars，asifinahalf—heartedattempttomakeanightofit，andfinallybackagaintohismenacedhome，wherehesatdownfatiguedbehindthecounter，andtheycrowdedurgentlyroundhim，likeapackofhungryblackhounds。Afterlockingupthehouseandputtingoutthegashetookthemupstairswithhim—adreadfulescortforamangoingtobed。Hiswifehadprecededhimsometimebefore，andwithherampleformdefinedvaguelyunderthecounterpane，herheadonthepillow，andahandunderthecheek，offeredtohisdistractiontheviewofearlydrowsinessarguingthepossessionofanequablesoul。Herbigeyesstaredwideopen，inertanddarkagainstthesnowywhitenessofthelinen。Shedidnotmove。
　　Shehadanequablesoul。Shefeltprofoundlythatthingsdonotstandmuchlookinginto。Shemadeherforceandherwisdomofthatinstinct。
　　ButthetaciturnityofMrVerlochadbeenlyingheavilyuponherforagoodmanydays。Itwas，asamatteroffact，affectinghernerves。Recumbentandmotionless，shesaidplacidly:
　　`You’llcatchcoldwalkingaboutinyoursockslikethis。’
　　Thisspeech，becomingthesolicitudeofthewifeandtheprudenceofthewoman，tookMrVerlocunawares。Hehadlefthisbootsdownstairs，buthehadforgottentoputonhisslippers，andhehadbeenturningaboutthebedroomonnoiselesspadslikeabearinacage。Atthesoundofhiswife’svoicehestoppedandstaredatherwithasomnambulistic，expressionlessgazesolongthatMrsVerlocmovedherlimbsslightlyunderthebedclothes。
　　Butshedidnotmoveherblackheadsunkinthewhitepillow，onehandunderhercheekandthebig，dark，unwinkingeyes。
　　Underherhusband’sexpressionlessstare，andrememberinghermother’semptyroomacrossthelanding，shefeltanacutepangofloneliness。Shehadneverbeenpartedfromhermotherbefore。Theyhadstoodbyeachother。
　　Shefeltthattheyhad，andshesaidtoherselfthatnowmotherwasgone—goneforgood。MrsVerlochadnoillusions。Stevieremained，however。
　　Andshesaid:
　　`Mother’sdonewhatshewantedtodo。There’snosenseinitthatI
　　cansee。I’msureshecouldn’thavethoughtyouhadenoughofher。It’sperfectlywicked，leavinguslikethat。’
　　MrVerlocwasnotawell—readperson;hisrangeofallusivephraseswaslimited，buttherewasapeculiaraptnessincircumstanceswhichmadehimthinkofratsleavingadoomedship。Heverynearlysaidso。Hehadgrownsuspiciousandembittered。Coulditbethattheoldwomanhadsuchanexcellentnose？Buttheunreasonablenessofsuchasuspicionwaspatent，andMrVerlocheldhistongue。Notaltogether，however。Hemuttered，heavily:
　　`Perhapsit’sjustaswell。’
　　Hebegantoundress。MrsVerlockeptverystill，perfectlystill，withhereyesfixedinadreamy，quietstare。Andherheartforthefractionofasecondseemedtostandstill，too。Thatnightshewas`notquiteherself’，asthesayingis，anditwasborneuponherwithsomeforcethatasimplesentencemayholdseveraldiversemeanings—mostlydisagreeable。Howwasitjustaswell？Andwhy？Butshedidnotallowherselftofallintotheidlenessofbarrenspeculation。Shewasratherconfirmedinherbeliefthatthingsdidnotstandbeinglookedinto。