The two young fools laughed until they cried. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. It’s not far from twilight. He had chosen his time well. Very romantic and all that. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks.
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