means despair.

Vessons was conscious that he was being generous.

'You can drink a sup of whisky if you like,' he said. 'Now I'm going,
afore that bird notices, or I shall never get away.'

The bird sat in preoccupied silence. He was probably thinking of the
woods and seeded dandelions. He was of the fellowship to which comfort
means little and freedom much. So was Hazel.

'Lock the door!' Vessons said in a sepulchral whisper from the stairs.

Hazel did so, and curled up to sleep in the creaking house, thoughtless
as the white mice, defenceless as they, as little grateful to Vessons
for his protection, and in as deep an ignorance of what the world could
do to her if it chose.




Chapter 6


Early next morning, while the finch still dreamed its heavy dream and
the mice were still motionless balls, Hazel was awakened by a knock at
the massive oak door. She ran across and opened it a crack, peering out
from amid her hair like a squirrel from autumn leaves.

Vessons stood there with a pint mug of beer, which he proffered. But