Some one had said once to him a great many years ago—“It is not life that matters but the Courage that you bring to it.” Well, that was untrue. He would like to tell the man who had said that that he was a liar. No Courage could be enough if life chose to be hard. No Courage—
Nevertheless, the thought of somewhere a long time ago when some one had said that to him, slowly filled his tired brain with a distaste for the little inn with the bow-windows. He would not go there yet, just a little while and then he would go.
Almost dreaming—certainly seeing nothing about him that he recognised—he stumbled confusedly down to the Embankment. Here there was at any rate air, he drew his shabby blue coat more closely about him and sat down on a wooden bench, in company with a lady who wore a large damaged feather in her hat and a red stained blouse with torn lace upon it and a skirt of a bright and tarnished blue.
The lady gave him a nod.
“Cheer, chucky,” she said.
Peter made no reply.
“Down on your uppers? My word, you look bad—Poor Kid! Well, never say die—strike me blimy but there's a good day coming—”
“I sat here once before,” said Peter, leaning forward and addressing her very earnestly, “and it was the first time that I ever heard the noise that London makes. If you listen you can hear it now—London's a beast you know—”
But the lady had paid very little attention. “Men are beasts, beasts,” she said, scowling at a gap in the side of her boots, “beasts, that's what they are. 'Aven't 'ad any luck the last few nights. Suppose I'm losin' my looks sittin' out 'ere in the mud and rain. There was a time, young feller, my lad, when I 'ad my carriage, not 'arf!” She spat in front of her—“'E was a good sort, 'e was—give me no end of a time . . . but the lot of men I've been meetin' lately ain't fit to be called men—they ain't—mean devils—leavin' me like this, curse 'em!” She coughed. The sun had set now and the lights were coming out, like glass beads on a string on the other side of the river. “Stoppin' out all night, ducky? Stayin' 'ere? 'Cause I got a bit of a cough!—disturbs fellers a bit . . . last feller
