"Go and get your mother's medicine,"she whispered,putting the money into Ray's hand;"but don't tell her that you met me,or she may scold you."Ray turned in at the side door,and Clara,white to the lips,hurried round the corner.
It took Ray half an hour to cover the short distance between the Angel and the Silver Shoe,with a bottle of brandy swinging carelessly in the millet-bag.Cassidy himself,all smiles,had carefully wrapped it in paper.Ray had promised to hurry home with the medicine for his mother,but,as usual,the shop windows were irresistible.Some of his early trips to the "Angel"had taken half a day.
Meanwhile Ada lay on the bed in an agony of attention,atrociously alert to every sound,hearing with every nerve in her body.Her nerves had collapsed under the repeated debauches,and the scream of an engine shunting in the railway yards went through her like a knife.The confused rumble of carts in Regent Street,the familiar sounds from the shop below,the slamming of a door,a voice raised in inquiry,the monotonous,kindly echoes of life,struck on the raw edges of her nerves,exasperating her to madness.
And through it all her ears sought for two sounds with agonizing acuteness--the firm,rapid step of Jonah mounting the stairs winding from the shop,or the nonchalant,laggard footfall of Ray ascending from the stairs at the rear.Would Cassidy send the bottle and trust her for the other eighteen pence?Would Jonah hurry back to meet Miss Grimes?
Presently her ear distinguished the light,uncertain step of Ray.Every nerve in her body leapt for joy when she saw the bottle.She looked at the clock,it was nearly four.She had at least an hour clear,for Jonah would be in no hurry now that he had missed the music-lesson.She snatched the bag from the astonished child.
"Go an'see if yer father's in the shop.If 'e ain't there,yer can go an'play in the lane till 'e comes back,"she cried.