her try to force herself to see through the darkness, as though she were
sending a speechless message to the unknown. Then, feeling Emmy still
sobbing in her arms, she looked down, laying her face against her
sister's face. A little contemptuous smile appeared in her eyes, and her
brow furrowed. Well, Emmy could cry. _She_ couldn't. She didn't want to
cry. She wanted to go out in the darkness that so pleasantly enwrapped
the earth, back to the stir and glitter of life somewhere beyond.
Abruptly Jenny sighed. Her vision had been far different from this
scene. It had carried her over land and sea right into an unexplored
realm where there was wild laughter and noise, where hearts broke
tragically and women in the hour of ruin turned triumphant eyes to the
glory of life, and where blinding streaming lights and scintillating
colours made everything seem different, made it seem romantic,
rapturous, indescribable. From that vision back to the cupboard-like
house in Kennington Park, and stodgy Alf Rylett, and supper of stew and
bread and butter pudding, and Pa, and this little sobbing figure in her
arms, was an incongruous flight. It made Jenny's mouth twist in a smile
so painful that it was almost a grimace.

"Oh lor!" she said again, under her breath, as she had said it earlier.
"_What_ a life!"




CHAPTER II: THE TREAT


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