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her sister； whom Janet had seen that day were oneimmutably one。 This；
then； was what it meant to be a mother！ All the years of deadening hope
had not availed to kill the cravingeven in this withered body it was
still alive and quick。 The agony of that revelation was scarcely to be
borne。 And it seemed that Lise； even in the place where she was； must
have heard that cry and heeded it。 And yetthe revelation of Lise's
whereabouts； of Lise's contemplated act Janet had nearly been goaded into
making； died on her lips。 She could not tell Hannah！ And Lise's child
must not come into a world like this。 Even now the conviction remained；
fierce； exultant； final。 But if Janet had spoken now Hannah would not
have heard her。 Under the storm she had begun to rock； weeping
convulsively。。。。 But gradually her weeping ceased。 And to Janet；
helplessly watching； this process of congealment was more terrible even
than the release that only an unmitigated violence of grief had been able
to produce。 In silence Hannah resumed her shrunken duties； and when
these were finished sat awhile； before going to bed； her hands lying
listless in her lap。 She seemed to have lived for centuries； to have
exhausted the gamut of suffering which； save for that one wild outburst；
had been the fruit of commonplace； passive； sordid tragedy that knows no
touch of fire。。。。
The next morning Janet was awakened by the siren。 Never； even in the
days when life had been routine and commonplace； had that sound failed to
arouse in her a certain tremor of fear； with its first penetrating
shriek； terror invaded her： then； by degrees； overcoming her numbness；
came an agonizing realization of tragedy to be faced。 The siren blew and
blew insistently； as though it never meant to stop； and now for the first
time she seemed to detect in it a note of futility。 There were those who
would dare to defy it。 She； for one； would defy it。 In that reflection
she found a certain fierce joy。 And she might lie in bed if she wished
how often had she longed to！ But she could not。 The room was cold；
appallingly empty and silent as she hurried into her clothes。 The
dining…room lamp was lighted； the table set； her mother was bending over
the stove when she reached the kitchen。 After the pretence of breakfast
was gone through Janet sought relief in housework； making her bed；
tidying her room。 It was odd； this morning； how her notice of little；
familiar things had the power to add to her pain； brought to mind
memories become excruciating as she filled the water pitcher from the
kitchen tap she found herself staring at the nick broken out of it when
Lise had upset it。 She recalled Lise's characteristically flippant
remark。 And there was the streak in the wall…paper caused one night by
the rain leaking through the roof。 After the bed was made and the room
swept she stood a moment； motionless； and then； opening the drawer in the
wardrobe took from it the rose which she had wrapped in tissue paper and
hidden there； and with a perverse desire as it were to increase the
bitterness consuming her； to steep herself in pain； she undid the parcel
and held the withered flower to her face。 Even now a fragrance； faint
yet poignant； clung to it。。。。 She wrapped it up again； walked to the
window； hesitated； and then with a sudden determination to destroy this
sole relic of her happiness went to the kitchen and flung it into the
stove。 Hannah； lingering over her morning task of cleaning； did not seem
to notice the act。 Janet turned to her。
〃I think I'll go out for a while； mother；〃 she said。
〃You'd ought to；〃 Hannah replied。 〃There's no use settin' around here。〃
The silence of the flat was no longer to be endured。 And Janet； putting
on her coat and hat； descended the stairs。 Not once that morning had her
mother mentioned Lise； nor had she asked about her own plansabout
Ditmar。 This at least was a relief； it was the question she had feared
most。 In the street she met the postman。
〃I have a letter for you； Miss Janet；〃 he said。 And on the pink envelope
he handed her； in purple ink； she recognized the unformed； childish
handwriting of Lise。 〃There's great doings down at the City Hall；〃 the
postman added 〃the foreigners are holding mass meetings there。〃
Janet scarcely heard him as she tore open the envelope。 〃Dear Janet；〃
the letter ran。 〃The doctor told me I had a false alarm； there was
nothing to it。 Wouldn't that jar you？ Boston's a slow burg； and there's
no use of my staying here now。 I'm going to New York； and maybe I'll
come back when I've had a look at the great white way。 I've got the
coin； and I gave him the mit to…night。 If you haven't anything better to
do； drop in at the Bagatelle and give Walters my love； and tell them not
to worry at home。 There's no use trying to trail me。 Your affectionate
sister Lise。〃
Janet thrust the letter in her pocket。 Then she walked rapidly westward
until she came to the liver…coloured faeade of the City Hall； opposite
the Common。 Pushing through the crowd of operatives lingering on the
pavement in front of it； she entered the building。。。。
End of The Dwelling Place of Light； V2
by Winston Churchill
THE DWELLING…PLACE OF LIGHT
BY WINSTON CHURCHILL
VOLUME 3。
CHAPTER XV
Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method
of the movies。 Another night has passed； and we are called upon to
imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through
bare trees on the heads of a multitude。 A large portion of Hampton
Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have
gathered there； trampling down the snow； to listen wistfully and eagerly
to a new doctrine of salvation。 In the centre of this throng on the
bandstandreminiscent of concerts on sultry； summer nightsare the
itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism； exhorting by turns in
divers tongues。 Antonelli had spoken； and many others； when Janet；
impelled by a craving not to be denied； had managed to push her way
little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood
almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language
she recognized as Italian。 Her curiosity was aroused； she was unable to
classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a
pointed brown beard； whose lips gleamed red as he spoke； whose slim hands
were eloquent。 The artist as propagandistthe unsuccessful artist with
more facility than will。 The nose was classic； and wanted strength； the
restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows
of a burning house： the fire that stirred her was also consuming him。
Though he could have been little more than five and thirty； his hair was
thinned and greying at the temples。 And somehow emblematic of this
physiognomy and physique； summing it up and expressing it in terms of
apparel； were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow。
Janet longed to know what he was saying。 His phrases； like music； played
on her emotions； and at last； when his voice rose in crescendo at the
climax of his speech； she felt like weeping。
〃Un poeta！〃 a woman beside her exclaimed。
〃Who is he？〃 Janet asked。
〃Rolfe；〃 said the woman。
〃But he's an Italian？〃
The woman shrugged her shoulders。 〃It is his name that is all I know。〃
He had begun to speak again； and now in English； with an enunciation； a
distinctive manner of turning his phrases new to such gatherings in
America； where labour intellectuals are little known； surprising to
Janet； diverting her attention； at first； from the meaning of his words。
〃Labour；〃 she heard； 〃labour is the creator of all wealth； and wealth
belongs to the creator。 The wage system must be abolished。 You； the
creators； must do battle against these self…imposed masters until you
shall come into your own。 You who toil miserably for nine hours and
produce； let us say； nine dollars of wealthdo you receive it？ No； what
is given you is barely enough to keep the slave and the slave's family
alive！ The master； the capitalist； seizes the rightful reward of your
labour and spends it on luxuries； on automobiles and fine houses and
women； on food he can't eat； while you are hungry。 Yes； you are slaves；〃
he cried； 〃because you submit like slaves。〃
He waited； motionless and scornful； for the noise to die down。 〃Since I
have come here to Hampton； I have heard some speak of the state； others
of the unions。 Yet the state is your enemy； it will not help you to gain
your freedom。 The legislature has shortened your hours；but why？
Because the politicians are afraid of you； and because they think you
will be content with a little。 And now that the masters have cut your
wages； the state sends its soldiers to crush you。 Only fifty cents； they
sayonly fifty cents most of you miss from your envelopes。 What is
fifty cents to them？ But I who speak to you have been hungry； I know
that fifty cents will buy ten loaves of bread； or three pounds of the
neck of pork； or six quarts of milk for the babies。 Fifty cents will
help pay the rent of the rat…holes where you live。〃 Once more