at mattered.

In the course of an hour or so the nausea left me. I felt braced by the
grimness of the thing, and during the paroxysms I had no time to think
of anything but the mechanical work in hand. It was all that Campion and
I, both fairly able-bodied men, could do to keep the puny little tailor
in his bed. Horrible shapes menaced him from which he fought madly to
escape. He writhed and shrieked with terror. Once he caught my hand in
his teeth and bit it, and Campion had some difficulty in relaxing
the wretch's jaw. Between the paroxysms Campion and I sat on the bed
watching him, scarcely exchanging a word. The wife, poor creature,
whimpered on her mattress. It was not a pleasant vigil. It lasted till
the grey dawn crept in, pitilessly intensifying the squalor of the room,
and until the dawn was broadening into daylight. Then two of Campion's
men from Barbara's Building arrived to relieve us. Before we went,
however, the neighbour who had taken charge of the children came in to
help the slatternly wife light a fire and make some tea. I have enjoyed
few things more than the warm, bitter stuff which I drank out of the
broken mug in that strange and depressing company.

I went out into the street with racked head and nerves and muscles.
Campion kept his cloth cap in his hand, allowing the morning wind to
ruffle his shaggy black hair, and drew a long breath.

"I think the worst is over now. As soon as he can be moved, I'll get him
down to the annexe at Broadstairs. The sea air will pull him round."

"Isn't it rather hopeless?" I asked.

He turned on me. "Nothing's hopeless. If you once start the hopeless
game down here you'd better distribute cyanide of potassium instead of
coals and groceries. I've made up my mind to get that man decent again,
and, by George, I'm going to do it! Fancy those two weaklings producing
healthy offspring. But they have. Two of the most intelligent kids
in the district. If you hold up your hands and say it's awful to
contemplate their upbringing you're speaking the blatant truth. It's
the contemplation that's awful. But why contemplate when you can do
something?"

I admitted the justice of the remark. He went on.

"Look at yourself now. If you had gone in with me last night and just
stared at the poor devil howling with D.T. in that filthy place, you'd
have come out sick and said it was awful. Instead of that, you buckled
to and worked and threw off everything save our common humanity