I felt irritated because she did not realise that I couldn’t let her alone, that man’s code compelled me to torture her, and that nothing in the world could allow me to let her alone.
‘Let me help you,’ I said, feeling that I behaved like a considerable idiot. ‘What is it?’
She opened her eyes a little, and murmured: ‘I’ve taken something.’
‘Taken something?’ I repeated, vaguely thinking of theft. ‘What do you mean? Taken something.’
‘Poison,’ she said. Then again: ‘Let me alone.’
I hear the shrillness of my voice as I cried out: ‘Poison!’; then I found myself hurrying her along the pavement; ‘What is it?’ I said to her, as we went. ‘Is it laudanum? You’ve got to walk, you know,’ and to the man: ‘Hurry up. Get a cab.’ There was no cab to be seen. ‘Come along!’ I shouted. ‘Run ahead and get a cab.’ After a moment’s hesitation he waddled away, not much faster than we. And now the girl was almost weeping, while I tortured her with questions, tried to make her run, this one idea of laudanum in my mind. At last she answered: ‘Spirits of salt.’
It took us very long, I think, to get up North Audley Street, and I felt rent by her youth and her prettiness, for the fair hair was coming unbound on my shoulder. There was a tenderness in me as I lifted her at last into the cab. I remember saying to the man, ‘You’ve been pretty slow about it. I hope you haven’t killed her. What were you doing staring at her instead of doing something?’
Then he said: ‘Oh, well, one doesn’t want to be mixed up.’
THE HEART OF THE CITY