And then?

Why then he would be sent to gaol, or at the best he would lose his
employment: his food and that of his family would be taken away. That
was why he only ground his teeth and cursed and beat the wall with his
clenched fist. So! and so! and so!

If it were not for them!

Owen's imagination ran riot.

First he would seize him by the collar with his left hand, dig his
knuckles into his throat, force him up against the wall and then, with
his right fist, smash! smash! smash! until Hunter's face was all cut
and covered with blood.

But then, what about those at home? Was it not braver and more manly
to endure in silence?

Owen leaned against the wall, white-faced, panting and exhausted.

Downstairs, Misery was still going to and fro in the house and walking
up and down in it. Presently he stopped to look at Sawkins' work.
This man was painting the woodwork of the back staircase. Although
the old paintwork here was very dirty and greasy, Misery had given
orders that it was not to be cleaned before being painted.

`Just dust it down and slobber the colour on,' he had said.
Consequently, when Crass made the paint, he had put into it an extra
large quantity of dryers. To a certain extent this destroyed the