A young man with a fierce scar on his face that looked as if it had been made by hot metal told me his meeting had already started, so I was too late. He had no notion when it might finish. His manner wasn’t especially obstructive, but not welcoming either. I strolled around in the warm evening. Most of the invalids had gone back to their hotels for early dinners and the sociable part of the evening hadn’t properly begun. The assembly rooms and the Literary and Philosophical Institution were closed. The main signs of life were a phaeton clopping along the Promenade, taking a party for an airing, and voices from the open doorway of a public house. A small breeze from the west stirred the dust. I wondered what kind of welcome Amos had found when he came home to his people and whether he’d sold the nervous charger. I missed him. All the time my mind was running on what Mrs Dell had said. Because of that, I followed her route to St James Square, looking for the workhouse. Even though I expected it, the place still came as a shock.
What do You think about The Path Of The Wicked (2013)?
