"Is it poison?" she asked. Can you imagine how dreadful it must be for them? Most of them arrive here almost penniless. The little old lady struck like a projectile upon the resounding chest of the foremost of these, and then Ann Veronica had got past and was ascending the steps. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Unless they remind him now and then not to. His voice now had lost its ironies. Her sister had told him that it was true. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood.
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