Under the glare of the electric arc Murchison’s face had a haggard look as he took Gwen up like a baby in his arms. Jack was hanging to his mother’s hand, garrulous and ecstatic, a slab of warm chocolate browning his fingers.
“Let’s go in the tram, mother with her, he would sanction
everything at oncehe answered.
.”
Catherine was following her husband’s powerful figure, as the crowd with Gwen lying in his arms. Murchison had hailed a cab, a luxury that he had not allowed himself for many a long week. The wife caught a glimpse of her husband’s face as he turned to her. There was something in his eyes that made her look at Gwen.
“I say, daddy, how that old—”
“Quiet, dear, quiet.”
The boy’s shrill voice died down abruptly. He looked puzzled, and a little offended, and began cramming chocolate into his mouth. Murchison had opened the cab door.
“Gwen?”
Catherine’s eyes interrogated her husband.
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