“Steal her. Well, no. That’s not to do; it’s done. She’s here. Mary Ellen, you’re going to sleep in a bed to-night, with sheets and a striped quilt on it like you see in the windows of the Co-op.”
“Oo—er,” said Mary Ellen.
“But,” said Walter, “you’re going to be washed first. The water won’t be cold. It’ll be warm, and it’ll be in a bath. You’ve heard of baths?”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said, “you ’ave ’em when you go to quod.”
Tom turned suddenly away and when he looked round there were marks of suffering on his face. “I’ve been living too soft, Walter,” he said. “I’ve been forgetting.”
“No,” said Walter, “your whole life is remembering. Education, Tom. Isn’t that the sovereign remedy?”
“I’m believing in nothing just now,” said Tom Bradshaw.
“Then I am. I’m believing in the voice of Mary Ellen and I’m going to educate it.”
“Will it ’urt?” asked Mary Ellen.
“No,” said Tom, “but I will if you’re not grateful to Mr. Pate. I’ll break your neck.”