‘I want to see someone besides you,—I want to see the master.’
‘Then you won’t see the master!’
He moved the door swiftly to; but, prepared for such a manoeuvre, I thrust my foot sufficiently inside to prevent his shutting it. I continued to address him.
‘Are you sure that the ward is full?’
‘Full two hours ago!’
‘But what am I to do?’
‘I don’t know what you’re to do!’
‘Which is the next nearest workhouse?’
‘Kensington.’
Suddenly opening the door, as he answered me, putting out his arm he thrust me backwards. Before I could recover the door was closed. The man in rags had continued a grim spectator of the scene. Now he spoke.