The room was a wretched enough place. One of the windows was stuffed with brown paper; a ragged strip of carpet covered only a section of the cracked and dirty boards. There was a grimy bed; the fireplace was filled with rubbish.
Tom helped Maria on to the bed and looked about him. Then in a sudden fit of irritation he went up to the old man and shook him by the shoulder.
"Look here," he said. "This won't do. You've got to do something for her. She may die in the night, or anything. I'll fetch a doctor, if that's what you want, or get something from the chemist's----"
"Oh! go to hell!" said the old man without turning.
An impulse of rage seized Tom, and he caught the old man by the collar, swung him out of the chair, shook him until he was breathless and coughing, then said:
The old man collapsed on the bed near his sister, struggled for breath, then screamed:
"You damned aristocrat! I'll have you up before the courts for this; invading a man's peaceable 'ome----"
Then Maria unexpectedly interfered. She sat up, smoothing her hair with her old trembling fingers. "I'm sure," she said, in a mincing, apologetic voice, "that we ought to be grateful to the gentleman, Andrew. If it 'adn't been for him, I'm sure I don't know where we'd 'ave been. It's your wicked temper you're always losing. I've told you of it again and again--I'm much better now, thank you, sir, and I'm sure I'm properly grateful."
Tom looked around him, then back at the two old people.
"What a filthy place," he said. "Haven't you got anybody to look after you?"
"Me daughter run away with a musical gentleman," said Maria. "Me 'usband died of D.T.'s three years back. Andrew and meself's alone now. We get the Old Age Pension, and manage very nicely, thank you."
"Well, I'm coming back to-morrow," said Tom fiercely, turning on the old man. "Do you hear that?"
"If yer do," said Andrew, "I'll 'ave the perlice after you."
"Oh, no 'e won't," said Maria. "That's only 'is little way. I'm sure we'll be pleased to see you."
Out in the street he paused. What was the matter with him? He stood in the street looking up at the Westminster Cathedral Tower and the thin sheeting of sky now clear--a pale, boundless sea in which two or three little stars were remotely sailing. What was the matter with him?