With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. One who—who—tres. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner.
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