Free Jeremy Poldark by Winston Graham

case of shops the porticoes were
often used for the display of goods, pedestrians found themselves out in the
road much of the time. Such an arrangement might have served for the normal life
of the town; it was inadequate now.
    The street was crammed with people, milling
about, pushing up one side and down the other, rough but good-tempered so far:
A few yards from the Queen's Head she came to a stop, unable to go farther
because of the press. Something was going on at the hotel, but at first she
could only see the scarlet and orange banners which hung from the upper
windows. People were shouting, and laughing. Near the portico against which she
was standing a blindman was whining and trying to find his way through; a woman
quarrelled with a brass worker over the price of a bell; a man, half drunk, was
sitting on a stone step used for mounting horses, stroking the cheek of a
vacant-faced full-bosomed young country girl on the step below. Two ragged
urchins in cut-down coats came suddenly to blows and rolled over, scratching
and biting, in the dried mud. A half dozen people laughed and formed a ring, hiding
them from view.
    There was a sudden shout and a rush towards the
Queen's Head, and the press here was eased. A window of the upper room of the
inn had been opened and people were cheering and shouting at the figures in the
window. Others were rolling and fighting, in the road just below. Another great
cheer and a rush. The people above were throwing things down, scattering them
in the road. An urchin came doubling and ducking through the crowd, holding his
hands under his armpits, his face contorted but triumphant. Three men were
fighting, and Demelza had to duck under the portico to avoid them. One crashed
into the stall of the brass worker, who came out with a flood of shouts and
curses to drive them off.
    "What's to do?" Demelza asked him.
"What are they about?"
    .The man eyed her, up and down.
    "Scattering red-hot coins, they be From a
frying pan. Tis the custom."
    "Red-hot coins?"
    "'Tis the custom, I tell ee." He went
in.
    She worked her way nearer and could see the cook
at the window in his tall hat, and two men with huge red and gold favours in
their buttonholes. There was a great scream and a rush as more money was flung
down. The human beings milling together in the flame and shadow had lost some;
part of their individuality and moved with a mass impulse not quite their own,
not quite the sum of all the separate souls. She felt if she was not careful
she might become a part of the mob in the yellow dark, be caught up in it, and
lose her individual purpose and volition, being sucked towards the window with
each wave that broke. She found herself beside the blind man.
    "You'll not get through by yourself, old
man, she said. "Where do you want to go?
    "Guildhall, Mrs.," he said, showing
broken teeth. "Tes up along, no more'n a short way."
    Take; my arm. I'll help you." She waited
for the next rush, and then thrust her way forward, finding comfort in being
able to join with somebody, be of use to somebody, against the rest.
    The blind man breathed gin over her. "Tes
rare an' kind of ee t'elp a poor old man. I'll do the same for ee one
day." He cackled as they got through the worst of the press. "Tis a
rare dring tonight, you; an' worse to follow,' I misdoubt."
    Where is the Basset headquarters?" she asked,
peering up the street. "I thought this afternoon it was up here?"
    The blind man squeezed her arm. Well, tes no
more'n a few paces now. But 'ow would it be if ye came along of me up Arnold's
Passage. I can give ee a nice little drop o' dripshan. Warm ee up,
twould."
    She tried to get her arm free, but his fingers
were tight and playing a little tune on her arm.
    "Leave me go," she said.
    No offence, Mrs. 'No 'arm meant. I thought you
was a docy little maid. I can see naught, ye follow so tes all a question of
feel wi' me, and ye feel young and friendly. Young and friendly."
    Two riders came down the street, picking a