, from the same reason, kept on shuffling his feet,
as though the floor under the table were uncomfortably hot. When Mr. Verloc
returned to sit in his place, like the very embodiment of silence, the character
of Mrs. Verloc's stare underwent a subtle change, and Stevie ceased to fidget
with his feet, because of his great and awed regard for his sister's husband. He
directed at him glances of respectful compassion. Mr. Verloc was sorry. His
sister Winnie had impressed upon him (in the omnibus) that Mr. Verloc would be
found at home in a state of sorrow, and must not be worried. His father's anger,
the irritability of gentlemen lodgers, and Mr. Verloc's predisposition to
immoderate grief, had been the main sanctions of Stevie's self-restraint. Of
these sentiments, all easily provoked, but not always easy to understand, the
last had the greatest moral efficiency - because Mr. Verloc was good. His mother
and his sister had established that ethical fact on an unshakable foundation.
They had established, erected, consecrated it behind Mr. Verloc's back, for
reasons that had nothing to do with abstract morality. And Mr. Verloc was not
aware of it. It is but bare justice to him to say that he had no notion of
appearing good to Stevie. Yet so it was. He was even the only man so qualified
in Stevie's knowledge, because the gentlemen lodgers had been too transient and
too remote to have anything very distinct about them but perhaps their boots;
and as regards the disciplinary measures of his father, the desolation of his
mother and sister shrank from setting up a theory of goodness before the victim.
It would have been too cruel. And it was even possible that Stevie would not
have believed them. As far as Mr. Verloc was concerned, nothing could stand in
the way of Stevie's belief. Mr. Verloc was obviously yet mysteriously good. And
the grief of a good man is august.
    Stevie gave glances of reverential compassion to his brother-in-law. Mr.
Verloc was sorry. The brother of Winnie had never before felt himself in such
close communion with the mystery of that man's goodness. It was an
understandable sorrow. And Stevie himself was sorry. He was very sorry. The same
sort of sorrow. And his attention being drawn to this unpleasant state, Stevie
shuffled his feet. His feelings were habitually manifested by the agitation of
his limbs.
    »Keep your feet quiet, dear,« said Mrs.