‘It’s no case of forgiving. These things don’t happen really . . .
not with people like us.’
‘No, not with you and Hugo. . . . I should have known,’ she said.
We sat and talked together till very late that night. The lamps
were lit outside, those cheerless, darkened lamps, and the noise
in the streets went on.
We bathed John by the fire, in George’s big blue basin and we
put him to sleep on the sofa, and then we made our supper.
And Mollie talked of Salonika and what she had done there, and
we talked of little things, little everyday things, and I stayed
there that night, and in the morning, it was better.
The next day I went home. I told Walter where I had been. I told
him that I got caught in the crowd, and that Mollie had come
back, and he did not ask me questions.