I don’t defend it. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. "We shall never be able to get you out unseen, Jack," whispered Poll Maggot. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. ‘Obstinate fool!’ She saw Gosse raise a hand, and dug into her nun’s habit for the knife she had not thought to need.
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