'Are you hurt?' Emma asked.
'No, I'm not hurt, no.'
Two children had come down the stairs, and were clinging to Emma,
crying with fright. For the noise at the door was growing terrific.
'Who is there in the house?' Mutimer asked.
'No one, I think. The landlady and two other women who live here are
outside. My sister is away somewhere.'
'Can I get off by the back?'
'No. There's a little yard, but the walls are far too high.'
'They'll break the door through. If they do, the devils are as
likely to kill you as me. I must go upstairs to a window and speak
to them. I may do something yet. Sooner than put you in danger I'll
go out and let them do their worst Listen to them! That's the
People, that is! I deserve killing, fool that I am, if only for the
lying good I've said of them. Let me go up into your room, if it has
a window in the front.'
He led up the stairs, and Emma showed him the door of her room--the
same in which she had received the visit of Daniel Dabbs. He looked
about it, saw the poverty of it. Then he looked at Emma.
'Good God! Who has hit you?'
There was a great cut on her cheek, the blood was running down upon
her dress.
'Somebody threw a stick,' she answered, trying to smile. 'I don't
feel it; I'll tie a handkerchief on it.'
Again a fit of sobbing seized him; he felt as weak as a child.
Pages:
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790