They _were_ in by this time having been urged by their hostess into the very narrowest, darkest and smelliest passage that Peter had ever encountered. Somewhere behind the walls, the world was moving. On every side of him above and below, children were crying, voices swearing, murmuring, complaining, arguing; Peter could feel Mrs. Williams' breath hot against his cheek. Up the wheezy stairs she panted, they following her. Peter had never heard such loquacity. It poured from her as though she meant nothing whatever by it and was scarcely aware indeed of the things that she was saying. “And it's a long time, Mr. Brant, since we 'ad the pleasure of seeing you. My last 'usband's left me since yer was 'ere--indeed 'e 'av--all along of a fight 'e 'ad with old Colly Moles down Three Barrer walk--penal servitude, poor feller and all along of 'is nasty temper as I was always tellin' 'im. Why the very morning before it 'appened I remember sayin' to 'im when 'e up and threw a knife at me for contradictin' 'is words I remember sayin' to 'im that 'is temper would be the settlin' of me but 'e wouldn't listen, not 'e. Obstinate! Lord! that simply isn't the word for it ... but 'ere's the room and nobody been in it since Sairy Grace and she was always bringin' men along with 'er, dirty slut and that's a month since she's been and gone and I always like 'aving yer, Mr. Brant, for you're quiet enough and no trouble at all--and your friend looks pleasant I must say.” The room was, indeed, remarkably respectable--not blessed with much furniture in addition to two beds and two chairs but roomy and with a large and moderately clean window. “Now what about terms for me and my friend?” said Stephen. Now followed friendly argument in which the lady and Stephen seemed perfectly to understand one another. After asserting that under no circumstances whatever could she possibly take less than at least double the price that Stephen offered her she suddenly, at the sound of a child's shrill crying from below, shrugged her shoulders with: “There's young 'Lisbeth Anne again ... well, Mr. Brant, 'ave it your own way--I'm contented enough I'm sure,” and vanished. But the little discussion had brought Peter to a sharp realisation of the immediate business of ways and means. Sitting on one of the beds afterwards with Stephen beside him he inquired-- “How much have we got, Stephen? I've got thirty bob.” “Never you mind, Peter. We'll soon be gettin' work.” “Why, of course. I'll force 'em to take me. That's all you want in these things--to look fierce and say you won't go until they give you something--a trial anyhow.”