"May I ask you where you were going?" he inquired in a subdued voice.
"Don't ask me!" cried Mrs Verloc with a shuddering, repressed violence.
All her strong vitality recoiled from the idea of death. "Never mind
where I was going. . . ."
Ossipon concluded that she was very much excited but perfectly sober. She
remained silent by his side for moment, then all at once she did
something which he did not expect. She slipped her hand under his arm.
He was startled by the act itself certainly, and quite as much too by the
palpably resolute character of this movement. But this being a delicate
affair, Comrade Ossipon behaved with delicacy. He contented himself by
pressing the hand slightly against his robust ribs. At the same time he
felt himself being impelled forward, and yielded to the impulse. At the
end of Brett Street he became aware of being directed to the left. He
submitted.
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