He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. ‘And housebreaking,’ added Gerald calmly.
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