She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Leave Martin Chen and his family alone. “No doubt about that,” Meddoes continued. She had tried to shift the subject of conversation away from herself and was even managing successfully until Chen the father addressed her. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. Herein was the sum of human knowledge in essence. They trudged and talked, and Manning struggled, as he said, to “get the hang of it all. But just now there is nothing which you or anybody can do.
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