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。
