Mrs. Hughs paused in the dipping of a cloth; her tear-stained face expressed resentment, as though she had detected an attempt to find excuses for her husband.
“He didn't ought to treat me as he does,” she said.
All three now stood round the bed, over which the baby presided with solemn gaze.
Thyme said: “I wouldn't care what he did, Mrs. Hughs; I wouldn't stay another day if I were you. It's your duty as a woman.”
To hear her duty as a woman Mrs. Hughs turned; slow vindictiveness gathered on her thin face.
“Yes, miss?” she said. “I don't know what to do.
“Take the children and go. What's the good of waiting? We'll give you money if you haven't got enough.”
But Mrs. Hughs did not answer.
“Well?” said Martin, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
Thyme burst out again: “Just go, the very minute your little boy comes back from school. Hughs 'll never find you. It 'll serve him right. No woman ought to put up with what you have; it's simply weakness, Mrs. Hughs.”