— — —Belle, Lily Mason, Moll and the little boy all slept in the kitchen that night with the fire kept going — the gas turned low, all resting as best they could on chairs and mattresses on the floor. The other women were huddled somehow into Mrs. Bulke’s bedroom; a constable kept guard in the parlour.
Belle had procured herself another good meal, and a glass of old sherry from Mrs. Bulke’s store. She had washed again in warm water, with a cake of good soap that Lily Mason had shyly proffered. She felt refreshed — raised in her own esteem, as if she were a more estimable member of society than she had been the day before.
Yes, even lying on a mattress in the kitchen that was so much cleaner and neater than it had been yesterday, even part of this sordid excitement and wretched upset, she
