And money in it, too.--How's your mother?'
'She died at Christmas,' said the young man.
'Dead! What!--our Anna!' The big man's eyes stared, and he recoiled in
fear. 'God, lad,' he said, 'that's three of 'em gone!'
The two men looked away at the people passing along the pale grey
pavements, under the wall of Trinity Church.
'Well, strike me lucky!' said the taxi driver at last, out of breath.
'She wor th' best o' th' bunch of 'em. I see nowt nor hear nowt from
any of 'em--they're not worth it, I'll be damned if they are--our
sermon-lapping Adela and Maud,' he looked scornfully at his nephew. 'But
she was the best of 'em, our Anna was, that's a fact.'
He was talking because he was afraid.
'An' after a hard life like she'd had. How old was she, lad?'
'Fifty-five.'
'Fifty-five ...' He hesitated. Then, in a rather hushed voice, he asked
the question that frightened him:
'And what was it, then?'
'Cancer.'
'Cancer again, like Julia! I never knew there was cancer in our family.
Oh, my good God, our poor Anna, after the life she'd had!--What, lad, do
you see any God at the back of that?--I'm damned if I do.'
He was glaring, very blue-eyed and fierce, at his nephew. Berry lifted
his shoulders slightly.
'God?' went on the taxi driver, in a curious intense tone, 'You've only
to look at the folk in the street to know there's nothing keeps it going
but gravitation.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197