John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas.
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