522 ANGEL PAVEMENT

of it. The rotten telephone's out of order—been out of
order for two days. Come on, let's get away. You turn
the lights out, Lilian; I'm going to look after this fellow.
Hurry up, for God's sake."

It was a long, long journey. For the first five minutes
or so, nothing was s»aid, but after that Mr. Golspie, out
of sheer impatience, began to ask questions, and piece by
wretched piece, he dragged the whole miserable story
out of Turgis, who sat facing him, on one of the little
seats, trembling, afraid every minute that Mr, Golspie
was going to hurl himself across the tiny space at him.
His misery was so great, now that his brain was clearer,
that he felt that he would not mind being killed, but
nevertheless Mr. Golspie's huge violence, repressed, but
apparently ready to burst out any moment, terrified him.
Miss Matfield hardly spoke a word the whole time, and
when she did it was in a very soft shaky voice. But she
stared at Turgis, and when the lights flashed in, he saw
that her face was pale. It never occurred to him to
wonder what she was doing there so late with Mr.
Golspie.

"It just shows you, doesn't it?" said Mr. Golspie to
Miss Matfield. "If I hadn't suddenly thought during
dinner I ought to slip back there for quarter of an hour,
to tot those figures up to show that chap in the morning,
we'd never have seen this fellow. What were you doing
there, anyhow? I don't know that it's much good asking
you, because you seem to me wrong in your damned
head—but what were you doing there?"

"I don't know," Turgis muttered. "I just went there.
I didn't know where I was going. I suppose when I got
to the City, well, I just went to Angel Pavement—sort of
force of habit/'