But the wind, dashed with
ice-cold rain, blew them closer to one another. He could feel the warmth
of her arm against his. It was difficult to seem prosaic and casual.
"That's just it. Worth while. Why do people want 'chances' and
'equality' and things made smooth for them? What's the use of anything
if there isn't a top and a bottom to it? What's the use of having enough
to eat if you haven't been hungry? I'm going to be a doctor, and I might
have slumped into the gutter. I'm jolly glad there is a gutter to slump
into----" He broke off, and then went on more deliberately.
"Christine and I mapped it out one night when I was ten years old. After
school hours I used to run errands and sell newspapers. On half-holidays
I went down into the West End and hunted taxis for people coming out of
theatres. I took my exams and scholarship one after the other. We
counted on that. I kept on earning in one way or another all through my
first M.B. and during the two years I've walked the Wards. Now I've had
to drop out for a bit to make enough to carry through my finals.
Christine's illness was the only thing we hadn't reckoned with."
Her voice had an odd, troubling huskiness.
"You must be frightfully strong. But then you always were. You used to
beat everyone----"
"I'm like that now. I've got a dozen lives--like a cat. And one life
doesn't know what the other one's doing." He laughed. "Before breakfast
I wash down the car of the man who owns our garage.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146