"Bramble, a fifty to one chance, not a man in a hundred backed her; King of Trumps, there was some place money lost on him; Young Hopeful, a rank outsider. What a day for the bookies!" "You mustn't think of them things no more," said Esther. "You've got the Book; it'll do you more good." "If I'd only have thought of Bramble... I could have had a hundred to one against Matchbox and Bramble coupled." "What's the use of thinking of things that's over? We should think of the future." "If I'd only been able to hedge that bet I should have been able to leave you something to go on with, but now, when everything is paid for, you'll have hardly a five-pound note. You've been a good wife to me, and I've been a bad husband to you." "Bill, you mustn't speak like that. You must try to make your peace with God. Think of Him. He'll think of us that you leave behind. I've always had faith in Him. He'll not desert me." Her eyes were quite dry; the instinct of life seemed to have left her. They spoke some little while longer, until it was time for visitors to leave the hospital. It was not until she got into the Fulham Road that tears began to run down her cheeks; they poured faster and faster, like rain after long dry weather. The whole world disappeared in a mist of tears. And so overcome was she by her grief that she had to lean against the railings, and then the passers-by turned and looked at her curiously. XLIV With fair weather he might hold on till Christmas, but if much fog was about he would go off with the last leaves. One day Esther received a letter asking her to defer her visit from Friday to Sunday. He hoped to be better on Sunday, and then they would arrange when she should come to take him away. He begged of her to have Jack home to meet him. He wanted to see his boy before he died. Mrs. Collins, a woman who lived in the next room, read the letter to Esther. "If you can, do as he wishes. Once they gets them fancies into their heads there's no getting them out." "If he leaves the hospital on a day like this it'll be the death of him." Both women went to the window. The fog was so thick that only an outline here and there was visible of the houses opposite. The lamps burnt low, mournful, as in a city of the dead, and the sounds that rose out of the street added to the terror of the strange darkness. "What do he say about Jack? That I'm to send for him. It's natural he should like to see the boy before he goes, but it would be cheerfuller to take him to the hospital." "You see, he wants to die at home; he wants you to be with him at the last." "Yes, I want to see the last of him. But the boy, where's he to sleep?" "We can lay a mattress down in my room--an old woman like me, it don't matter."