If 'e ain't there, yer can go an' play in the lane till 'e comes back," she cried.
Her hands shook as she held the bottle, but with a supreme effort she controlled her muscles and drew the cork without a sound, an accomplishment that she had learned in the back parlour of the Angel.
She poured out half a glass, and swallowed it neat.

The fiery liquid burnt her throat and brought the tears to her eyes, but she endured it willingly for the sake of the blessed relief that always followed.

A minute later she repeated the dose and lay down on the bed.

In ten minutes the seductive liquid had calmed her nerves like oil on troubled waters.

She listened to the familiar sounds of the shop and the street with a delicious languor and sense of comfort in her body.