Cora was watching George with a puzzled expression in her eyes. “Can we sleep here tonight, Ernie?” she asked.
Little Ernie nodded. “Sure,” he said. “’E can ’ave my room and you can ’ave the spare room, unless you and ’im want to kip together.”
George felt the blood rush to his face. He got up and walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up his gun, keeping his back turned to them so they should not see his embarrassment. He wanted to say that Cora and he would share a room, but his nerve failed.
“I want a bed to myself,” Cora said in a cold, tight voice.
George drew in a quick breath. What else had he expected? he thought angrily. There was time for that when they got a place of their own.
“That’s settled, then,” Little Ernie said. “Well, I’ve got to shoot off. Must ’ave a word with the girls before turning in, you know. Gotta encourage ’ern, bless their sweet ’carts. I’ll be seeing you. Make yourself at ’ome,” he went on, looking at George. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded, gave Cora a quick, searching glance, and went off, moving softly, like a ghost.
George and Cora stood silent until they heard the front door click shut, and then Cora said sharply, “You dotty or something? Ernie can help us. What do you want to bark at him for?”
“He’s a filthy little rat,” George said, clenching his fists. “I saw the way he kept looking at you.”
“So what?” Cora said, sitting on the settee. “Why should you care, if I don’t?”
George stood over her. This was the time. It was now or never. One of them had to be master, and if he were to have any peace in his life, it must not be Cora.