"Yes, yes."
She stepped into the vehicle, looking more like an animated statue than aught human. The man stood touching what was once the brim of a hat, as he said—
"Where to, mum?"
Mrs. Lovett looked at him with an air of such abstraction that it was quite clear she did not see him, but she heard the question, that came to her like an echo in the air.
"Where to, mum?"
"To Fleet-street!"
Wheeze—creak—wheeze—creak—sway—sway, and the coach moved on again. Mrs. Lovett sunk down among the straw with which the lower part of the vehicle was plentifully strewed; and then, with her head resting upon the seat, her throbbing temples clasped in her hands, she tried to think. Yes—she called upon all that calmness—that decision—that talent or tact, call it which you will that had saved her for so long, not to desert her now in this hour of her dire extremity. She called upon everything for aid but upon Heaven! and then, to ease her mind, she cursed a little. Somebody says—
"Swearing when the passions are at war,
And light the chambers of the brain with angers flash.
Has an effect quite moral—a kind of safety valve,