id this happen?'' he said. I looked at Maud. She had not moved since stepping from him as he began to fall. She had kept still as me, her eyes upon his face. ''How can this be?'' He looked wildly about him—at John, at Mr Ibbs, at me. ''Why do you stand and watch me? Bring a doctor. Bring a surgeon!''
I think Dainty took a step. Mr Ibbs caught her arm.
''No surgeons here,'' he said firmly. ''No men like that, to this
house.''
''No men like that?'' cried Gentleman. The cigarette fell. ''What are you saying? Look at me! Christ! Don''t you know a crooked man? Look at me! I''m dying! Mrs Sucksby, you love me. Bring a man, I beg you.''
''Dear boy, be still,'' she said, still pressing the towel to the cut. He cried out in pain and fear.
''Damn you!'' he said. ''You bitches! John—''
John put down the lamp and raised his hand to his eyes. He was weeping and trying to hide it.
''John, go for a surgeon! Johnny! I''ll pay you! Fuck!'' The blood spurted again. Now his face was white, his whiskers black but matted, here and there, with red, his cheek gleaming like lard.
John shook his head. ''I can''t! Don''t ask me!''
Gentleman turned to me. ''Suky!'' he said. ''Suky, they''ve killed me—''
''No surgeons,'' said Mr Ibbs again, when I looked at him. ''Bring a man like that, and we''re done for.''
''Take him to the street,'' I said. ''Can''t you? Call a doctor to the street.''