Harry said, “Here, steady, old man. ‘What’s the use of Scripture?’”
“Well, what is the use? It’s all rot. You know it isn’t true.”
Time flashed his blade and struck her terribly.
She called out dreadfully, “Huggo!”
“Mother, you know it’s all made up!”
She cried out in a girl’s voice and with a girl’s impulsive gesture of her arm across the table towards him, “It isn’t! It isn’t!”
Her voice, her gesture, the look upon her face could not but startle him. He was red, rather frightened. He said mumblingly, “Well, mother, you’ve never taught me any different.”
She was seen by Harry to let fall her extended arm upon the table and draw it very slowly to her and draw her hand then to her heart and slowly lean herself against her chair-back, staring at Huggo. No one spoke. She then said to Huggo, her voice very low, “Darling, run now to see everything is in your playbox. Doda, help him. Take Benji, darlings. Benji, go and see the lovely playbox things.”
When they had gone she was seen by Harry to be working with her fingers at her key-ring. In one hand she held the ring, in the other a key that she seemed to be trying to remove. It was obstinate. She wrestled at it. She looked up at Harry. “I want to get this”—the key came away in her hand—“off.”
He recognised it for her office pass-key.