herman'sarm.
Thelightfromthearclampdrenchedhimfromheadtotoe.Hestoodforaminutemotionlessbeneathit.Shadowschequeredthestreet.Otherfigures,singleandtogether,pouredout,waveredacross,andobliteratedFlorindaandtheman.
ThelightdrenchedJacobfromheadtotoe.Youcouldseethepatternonhistrouserstheoldthornsonhisstickhisshoelacesbarehandsandface.
Itwasasifastoneweregroundtodustasifwhitesparksflewfromalividwhetstone,whichwashisspineasiftheswitchbackrailway,havingswoopedtothedepths,fell,fell,fell.Thiswasinhisface.
Whetherweknowwhatwasinhismindisanotherquestion.Grantedtenyears'seniorityandadifferenceofsex,fearofhimcomesfirstthisisswallowedupbyadesiretohelp—overwhelmingsense,reason,andthetimeofnightangerwouldfollowcloseonthat—withFlorinda,withdestinyandthenupwouldbubbleanirresponsibleoptimism."Surelythere'senoughlightinthestreetatthismomenttodrownallourcaresingold!"Ah,what'stheuseofsayingit?EvenwhileyouspeakandlookoveryourshouldertowardsShaftesburyAvenue,destinyischippingadentinhim.Hehasturnedtogo.Asforfollowinghimbacktohisrooms,no—thatwewon'tdo.
Yetthat,ofcourse,ispreciselywhatonedoes.Helethimselfinandshutthedoor,thoughitwasonlystrikingtenononeofthecityclocks.Noonecangotobedatten.Nobodywasthinkingofgoingtobed.ItwasJanuaryanddismal,butMrs.Waggstoodonherdoorstep,asifexpectingsomethingtohappen.Abarrel-organplayedlikeanobscenenightingalebeneathwetleaves.Childrenranacrosstheroad.Hereandthereonecouldseebrownpanellinginsidethehalldoor….Themarchthatthemindkeepsbeneaththewindowsofothersisqueerenough.Nowdistractedbybrownpanellingnowbyaferninapothereimprovisingafewphrasestodancewiththebarrel-organagainsnatchingadetachedgaietyfromadrunkenmanthenaltogetherabsorbedbywordsthepoorshoutacrossthestreetateachother(sooutright,solusty)—yetallthewhilehavingforcentre,formagnet,ayoungmanaloneinhisroom.
"Lifeiswicked—lifeisdetestable,"criedRoseShaw.
Thestrangethingaboutlifeisthatthoughthenatureofitmusthavebeenapparentto