In the normal evolution of his sympathy Stevie had become angry on discovering that he had no shilling in his pocket.

In his inability to relieve at once Mrs Neale's "little 'uns'," privations he felt that somebody should be made to suffer for it.

Mrs Verloc rose, and went into the kitchen to "stop that nonsense." And she did it firmly but gently.
She was well aware that directly Mrs Neale received her money she went round the corner to drink ardent spirits in a mean and musty public-house--the unavoidable station on the _via dolorosa_ of her life.
Mrs Verloc's comment upon this practice had an unexpected profundity, as coming from a person disinclined to look under the surface of things.
"Of course, what is she to do to keep up?
If I were like Mrs Neale I expect I wouldn't act any different." In the afternoon of the same day, as Mr Verloc, coming with a start out of the last of a long series of dozes before the parlour fire, declared his intention of going out for a walk, Winnie said from the shop: "I wish you would take that boy out with you, Adolf." For the third time that day Mr Verloc was surprised.

He stared stupidly at his wife.

She continued in her steady manner.