"I'm going now, Arthur.
But there's nothing much about yet.
Suppertime."
"Small cattle also make manure," declared Arthur.
"I'm going this minute."
"All right. . . ." Arthur tipped his bowler forward on his head. "Then I'll look in again around twelve."
He ambled off with his shuffling gait.
Rosa's eyes followed him blissfully.
He did not look round and left the door open behind him.
"Swine," muttered Alois shutting the door.
Rosa looked at us proudly.
"Isn't he wonderful?
Nothing can touch him, nothing soften him.
I wonder where he's been hiding all this time?" "You can see that from his skin," replied Wally. "In quod, of course.
A prize bastard."
"You don't know him—"
"All I want."
"You don't understand." Rosa stood up. "A real man he is.
None of your weeping Willy about him. . . .
Well, I must be off.
Cheerio, boys."
Rejuvenated, treading on air, she rocked out of the room.
Once more she had someone to hand over her money to, so that he could drink it and then beat her afterwards.
She was happy.
Half an hour later the others went also.
Only Lilly, with her stony face, remained.
I strummed on the piano a while longer, then had a sandwich and vanished likewise.
You couldn't stick it for long alone there with Lilly.
I roamed through the wet, dark streets.
Outside the graveyard the Salvation Army had taken up position.
To the sound of drums and trumpets they were singing "Jerusalem the Golden."
I stopped.
Suddenly I felt I could not go on alone, without Pat.
I looked at the bleak stones in the graveyard; I told myself I had been more alone a year ago—that then I did not even know Pat; that now if not actually with me, she was at least there; but it did not help —I was suddenly completely undone and at my wits' end.
At last I went to my room to see if, perhaps, there was any mail from her.
It was quite absurd—there could not possibly be anything yet—but I went all the same.
As I left again I met Orlow at the door.
He had a dress suit on under his open coat and was going to a dance at his hotel.
I asked him if he had heard anything of Frau Hasse in the meantime.
"No," said he. "She hasn't been here since.
Nor to the police.
It's just as well she shouldn't come back."
We walked together along the street.
At the corner a lorry was standing with bags of coal.
The driver lifted the bonnet up and did something to the engine.
Then he got back into his seat.
Just as we passed he started her up and stepped on the gas.
Orlow jumped.
I looked at him.
He was pale as death.