"Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. There was something very wrong. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. . Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him.
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