"
"You took money?" said Dart.
The thief's head dropped.
"No. I was caught when I was
taking it. I wasn't sharp enough.
Someone came in and saw me, and
there was a crazy row. I was sent
to prison. There was no more trying
after that. It's nearly two years
since, and I've been hanging about
the streets and falling lower and
lower. I've run miles panting after
cabs with luggage in them and not
had strength to carry in the boxes
when they stopped. I've starved
and slept out of doors. But the
thing I wanted to work out is in
my mind all the time--like some
machine tearing round. It wants
to be finished. It never will be.
That's all."
Glad was leaning forward staring
at him, her roughened hands with
the smeared cracks on them clasped
round her knees.
"Things 'AS to be finished," she
said. "They finish theirselves."
"How do you know?" Dart
turned on her.
"Dunno 'OW I know--but I do.
When things begin they finish. It's
like a wheel rollin' down an 'ill."
Her sharp eyes fixed themselves on
Dart's. "All of us 'll finish somethin'--
'cos we've begun. You will
--Polly will--'e will--I will."
She stopped with a sudden sheepish
chuckle and dropped her forehead
on her knees, giggling. "Dunno wot
I 'm talking about," she said, "but
it's true."
Dart began to understand that it
was. And he also saw that this
ragged thing who knew nothing
whatever, looked out on the world
with the eyes of a seer, though she
was ignorant of the meaning of her
own knowledge.
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