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to be counted on； going home。”
“Nor going t’other way； neither； ’t seems to me； Rachael？”
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“No； Stephen。”
He looked at her with some disappointment in his face； but with
a respectful and patient conviction that she must be right in
whatever she did。 The expression was not lost upon her； she laid
her hand lightly on his arm a moment as if to thank him for it。
“We are such true friends； lad； and such old friends； and getting
to be such old folk； now。”
“No； Rachael； thou’rt as young as ever thou wast。”
“One of us would be puzzled how to get old； Stephen； without
t’other getting so too； both being alive；” she answered； laughing；
“but； any ways； we’re such old friends； that t’ hide a word of
honest truth fro’ one another would be a sin and a pity。 ’Tis better
not to walk too much together。 ’Times； yes！ ’Twould be hard；
indeed； if ’twas not to be at all；” she said； with a cheerfulness she
sought to communicate to him。
“’Tis hard； anyways； Rachel。”
“Try to think not； and ’twill seem better。”
“I’ve tried a long time； and ’ta’nt got better。 But thou’rt right；
’tmight mak fok talk； even of thee。 Thou hast been that to me；
Rachel； through so many year： thou hast done me so much good；
and heartened of me in that cheering way； that thy word is a law to
me。 Ah lass； and a bright good law！ Better than some real ones。”
“Never fret about them； Stephen；” she answered quickly； and
not without an anxious glance at his face。 “Let the laws be。”
“Yes；” he said； with a slow nod or two。 “Let ’em be。 Let
everything be。 Let all sorts alone。 ’Tis a muddle； and that’s aw。”
“Always a muddle？” said Rachael； with another gentle touch
upon his arm； as if to recall him out of the thoughtfulness； in
which he was biting the long ends of his loose neckerchief as he
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walked along。 The touch had its instantaneous effect。 He let them
fall； turned a smiling face upon her； and said； as he broke into a
good…humoured laugh； “Ay； Rachael； lass； awlus a muddle。 That’s
where I stick。 I come to the muddle many times and agen； and I
never get beyond it。”
They had walked some distance； and were near their own
homes。 The woman’s was the first reached。 It was in one of the
many small streets for which the favourite undertaker （who
turned a handsome sum out of the one poor ghastly pomp of the
neighbourhood） kept a black ladder； in order that those who had
done their daily groping up and down the narrow stairs might
slide out of this working world by the windows。 She stopped at the
corner； and putting her hand in his； wished him good night。
“Good night； dear lass； good night！”
She went； with her neat figure and her sober womanly step；
down the dark street； and he stood looking after her until she
turned into one of the small houses。 There was not a flutter of her
coarse shawl； perhaps； but had its interest in this man’s eyes； not a
tone of her voice but had its echo in his innermost heart。
When she was lost to his view； he pursued his homeward way；
glancing up sometimes at the sky； where the clouds were sailing
fast and wildly。 But； they were broken now； and the rain had
ceased； and the moon shone—looking down the high chimneys of
Coketown on the deep furnaces below； and casting Titanic
shadows of the steam engines at rest； upon the walls where they
were lodged。 The man seemed to have brightened with the night；
as he went on。
His home； in such another street as the first； saving that it was
narrower； was over a little shop。 How it came to pass that any
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people found it worth their while to sell or buy the wretched little
toys； mixed up in its window with cheap newspapers and pork
（there was a leg to be raffled for tomorrow night）； matters not
here。 He took his end of candle from a shelf； lighted it at another
end of candle on the counter； without disturbing the mistress of
the shop who was asleep in her little room； and went upstairs into
his lodging。
It was a room； not unacquainted with the black ladder under
various tenants； but as neat； at present； as such a room could be。 A
few books and writings were on an old bureau in a corner； the
furniture was decent and sufficient； and though the atmosphere
was tainted； the room was clean。
Going to the hearth to set the candle down upon a round three…
legged table standing there； he stumbled against something。 As he
recoiled； looking down at it； it raised itself up into the form of a
woman in a sitting attitude。
“Heaven’s mercy； woman！” he cried； falling farther off from the
figure。 “Hast thou come back again！”
Such a woman！ A disabled； drunken creature； barely able to
preserve her sitting posture by steadying herself with one
begrimed hand on the floor； while the other was so purposeless in
trying to push away her tangled hair from her face； that it only
blinded her the more with the dirt upon it。 A creature so foul to
look at； in her tatters； stains and splashes； but so much fouler than
that in her moral infamy； that it was a shameful thing even to see
her。
After an impatient oath or two； and some stupid clawing of
herself with the hand not necessary to her support； she got her
hair away from her eyes sufficiently to obtain a sight of him。 Then
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she sat swaying her body to and fro； and making gestures with her
unnerved arm； which seemed intended as the accompaniment to a
fit of laughter； though her face was stolid and drowsy。
“Eigh lad？ What； yo’r there？” Some hoarse sounds meant for
this； came mockingly out of her at last； and her head dropped
forward on her breast。
“Back agen？” she screeched； after some minutes； as if he had
that moment said it。 “Yes！ And back agen。 Back agen ever and
ever so often。 Back？ Yes； back。 Why not？”
Roused by the unmeaning violence with which she cried it out；
she scrambled up； and stood supporting herself with her shoulders
against the wall； dangling in one hand by the strings； a dunghill…
fragment of a bonnet； and trying to look scornfully at him。
“I’ll sell thee off again； and I’ll sell thee off again； and I’ll sell
thee off a score of times！” she cried； with something between a
furious menace and an effort at a defiant dance。 “Come awa’ from
th’ bed！” He was sitting on the side of it； with his face hidden in his
hands。 “Come awa’ from ’t。 ’Tis mine； and I’ve a right to ’t！”
As she staggered to it； he avoided her with a shudder； and
passed—his face still hidden—to the opposite end of the room。 She
threw herself upon the bed heavily； and soon was snoring hard。
He sunk into a chair； and moved but once all that night。 It was to
throw a covering over her； as if his hands were not enough to hide
her； even in the darkness。
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Chapter 11
No Way Out
he Fairy palaces burst into illumination； before pal