" "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. It is better that you go away now, I think. "You've but a sorry lodging, Mrs. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. "Suppose we go and have tea? I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the Victoria instead. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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