‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. Michelle moaned and Lucy, unable to help herself, stroked her hair. The horse-soldiers wheeled round and cleared a path: the foot closed in upon the cart. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe.
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