He was a shabby
little man and his thin bony hands beat restlessly upon his knees.
The little man said, "Good evening, sir."
"Good evening," said Peter, staring desperately in front of him.
"It's all this blasted government--"
"I beg your pardon--"
"This blasted government--This income tax and all--"
"It's more than that," said Peter, wishing that the man would cease beating
his knees with his hands--
"It's them blasted stars--it's Gawd. That's what it is. Curse Gawd--that's
what I say--Curse Gawd!"
"What's He done?" said Peter.
"I've just broken in my wife's 'ead with a poker. Killed 'er I expect--I
dunno--going back to see in a minute--"
"Why did you do it?"
"'Ad to--always nagging--that's what she was--always nagging. Wanted
things--all sorts o' things--and there were always children coming--So we
'ad a blasted argyment this evening and I broke 'er 'ead open--Gawd did
it--that's what I say--"
Peter said nothing.
"You can call a bloomin' copper if you want to," the little man said.
"It's no business of mine," said Peter and he got up and left him. All
shadows--only the sinister noise that London makes is real, that and
Clare's suffering.
He left the Park turned into Knightsbridge and came upon a toyshop. The
shutters had not been put up and the lights of a lamp shone full upon its
windows.
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