"Oh, Christ! my baby," cried the woman; and she lay sobbing in his arms.
He led her to a seat, and she cried silently upon his shoulder for a long, long while. When she next spoke it was to wonder about the time. "Is it very long to nine o'clock?" she inquired. And the man said, "Not so very. You lie still, ole Emma: you're all right; you lie still."
Then Emma remembered that by moving the tin trunk which stood by the wash-stand to an empty niche beneath the table, a place of security might have been provided for that sugar-box. And they discussed all the other might-have-beens: and his beauty, and cheerfulness, and the surprising precocity of his speech. She trembled, and sobbed and sobbed, and her husband swore. They talked about all the other might-have-beens again; and the stupid man faced them, scratching his head, and saying:
"What is the use of all this argument?"
After which the constabulary arrived, and flashed lamps upon them; and they rose heavily, and moved away.
But I found them, presently, upon another seat. Emma's blue-white face was upon her husband's shoulder, and her lips were tightly clenched as she spoke to him. "'Ow long we got to wait till nine o'clock?" she asked.
"Not so long," replied the man.... "You lie still, ole Emma."
She sighed, very slowly. And I noticed that a hummock of shawl was caught up close beneath her arm.
XXXII
LOW FINANCE