To her mother the additional mirth added the final touch of hysteria to the situation. Pressing her handkerchief to her mouth she giggled irrepressibly. It was more than nervousness—she felt that in a peculiar way she was laughing with her child—they were laughing together.
It was in a way a defiance—those two against the world.
While Markey rushed upstairs to the bathroom for ointment, his wife was walking up and down rocking the yelling boy in her arms.
‘Please go home!’ she broke out suddenly. ‘The child’s badly hurt, and if you haven’t the decency to be quiet, you’d better go home.’
‘Very well,’ said Edith, her own temper rising. ‘I’ve never seen anyone make such a mountain out of—’
‘Get out!’ cried Mrs Markey frantically. ‘There’s the door, get out—I never want to see you in our
