Rita and her husband lived opposite Martin’s yard. As he came out of it, René was confronted by Ann leaving their house with a basin under her arm.
“I’ve been seeing Rita,” she said. “Joe’s been out of work since the coal strike, and he’s going on the drink. Her time’s coming, and someone’s got to do for her. It was for her I took the money.”
“I—I beg your pardon, Ann. Why didn’t you say so before?”
“It was the way you looked, Renny, dear. You do frighten me so.”
“I’m sorry. Can I do anything to help?”
“It may be to-morrow. Anyway, soon. Would you mind keeping Joe away? He’s not your sort, I know, but he must be kept away.”
“All right. He shall be kept away. Is she in for a bad time?”
“I’m afraid she is. Work’s been so skeery of Joe these times that it’s been all she’s been able to do to feed the children.”
“That’s bad. But she ought to have thought of herself.”
“Sometimes,” said Ann, “there isn’t room for everybody to be thought of. If you can get through a day or two it’s as much as you can manage without thinking what’s going to happen in a month’s time.”