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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12654-0.txt b/12654-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b09875 --- /dev/null +++ b/12654-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13580 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12654 *** + +THE ROLL-CALL + + +BY + + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +THIRD EDITION + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +NOVELS + +A Man from the North +Anna of the Five Towns +Leonora +A Great Man +Sacred and Profane Love +Whom God hath Joined +Buried Alive +The Old Wives' Tale +The Glimpse +Helen with the High Hand +Clayhanger +Hilda Lessways +These Twain +The Card +The Regent +The Price of Love +The Lion's Share +The Pretty Lady + +FANTASIAS + +The Ghost +The Grand Babylon Hotel +The Gates of Wrath +Teresa of Watling Street +The Loot of Cities +The City of Pleasure + +SHORT STORIES + +Tales of the Five Towns +The Grim Smile of the Five Towns +The Matador of the Five Towns + +BELLES-LETTRES + +Journalism for Women +Fame and Fiction +How to become an Author +The Truth about an Author +How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day +Mental Efficiency +The Human Machine +Literary Taste +Those United States +Paris Nights +Friendship and Happiness +Married Life +Liberty +Over There +The Author's Craft +Books and Persons +Self and Self-Management + +DRAMA + +Polite Farces +Cupid and Common Sense +What the Public Wants +The Honeymoon +The Great Adventure +The Title +Judith +Milestones (in collaboration with EDWARD KNOBLOCK) + +(In collaboration with EDEN PHILLPOTTS) +The Sinews of War: A Romance +The Statue: A Romance + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + + +BY + + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +THIRD EDITION + + +_LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO. +PATERNOSTER ROW_ + +NOTE +This novel was written before "The Pretty Lady", and is the first of the +author's war-novels. +A.B. + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAP. + I. THE NEW LODGING + II. MARGUERITE + III. THE CHARWOMAN + IV. THE LUNCHEON + V. THE TEA + VI. THE DINNER + VII. THE RUPTURE +VIII. INSPIRATION + IX. COMPETITION + + +PART II + + I. THE TRIUMPH + II. THE ROLL-CALL + III. IN THE MACHINE + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +THE NEW LODGING + +I + + +In the pupils' room of the offices of Lucas & Enwright, architects, +Russell Square, Bloomsbury, George Edwin Cannon, an articled pupil, +leaned over a large drawing-board and looked up at Mr. Enwright, the +head of the firm, who with cigarette and stick was on his way out after +what he called a good day's work. It was past six o'clock on an evening +in early July 1901. To George's right was an open door leading to the +principals' room, and to his left another open door leading to more +rooms and to the staircase. The lofty chambers were full of lassitude; +but round about George, who was working late, there floated the tonic +vapour of conscious virtue. Haim, the factotum, could be seen and heard +moving in his cubicle which guarded the offices from the stairs. In the +rooms shortly to be deserted and locked up, and in the decline of the +day, the three men were drawn together like survivors. + +"I gather you're going to change your abode," said Mr. Enwright, having +stopped. + +"Did Mr. Orgreave tell you, then?" George asked. + +"Well, he didn't exactly tell me...." + +John Orgreave was Mr. Enwright's junior partner; and for nearly two +years, since his advent in London from the Five Towns, George had lived +with Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave at Bedford Park. The Orgreaves, too, sprang +from the Five Towns. John's people and George's people were closely +entwined in the local annals. + +Pupil and principal glanced discreetly at one another, exchanging in +silence vague, malicious, unutterable critical verdicts upon both John +Orgreave and his wife. + +"Well, I am!" said George at length. + +"Where are you going to?" + +"Haven't settled a bit," said George. "I wish I could live in Paris." + +"Paris wouldn't be much good to you yet," Mr. Enwright laughed +benevolently. + +"I suppose it wouldn't. Besides, of course----" + +George spoke in a tone of candid deferential acceptance, which flattered +Mr. Enwright very much, for it was the final proof of the prestige which +the grizzled and wrinkled and peculiar Fellow and Member of the Council +of the Royal Institute of British Architects had acquired in the +estimation of that extremely independent, tossing sprig, George Edwin +Cannon. Mr. Enwright had recently been paying a visit to Paris, and +George had been sitting for the Intermediate Examination. "You can join +me here for a few days after the exam., if you care to," Mr. Enwright +had sent over. It was George's introduction to the Continent, and the +circumstances of it were almost ideal. For a week the deeply experienced +connoisseur of all the arts had had the fine, eager, responsive virgin +mind in his power. Day after day he had watched and guided it amid +entirely new sensations. Never had Mr. Enwright enjoyed himself more +purely, and at the close he knew with satisfaction that he had put Paris +in a proper perspective for George, and perhaps saved the youth from +years of groping misapprehension. As for George, all his preconceived +notions about Paris had been destroyed or shaken. In the quadrangles of +the Louvre, for example, Mr. Enwright, pointing to the under part of the +stone bench that foots so much of the walls, had said: "Look at that +curve." Nothing else. No ecstasies about the sculptures of Jean Goujon +and Carpeaux, or about the marvellous harmony of the East facade! But a +flick of the cane towards the half-hidden moulding! And George had felt +with a thrill what an exquisite curve and what an original curve and +what a modest curve that curve was. Suddenly and magically his eyes had +been opened. Or it might have been that a deceitful mist had rolled away +and the real Louvre been revealed in its esoteric and sole authentic +beauty.... + +"Why don't you try Chelsea?" said Mr. Enwright over his shoulder, +proceeding towards the stairs. + +"I was thinking of Chelsea." + +"You were!" Mr. Enwright halted again for an instant. "It's the only +place in London where the structure of society is anything like Paris. +Why, dash it, in the King's Road the grocers know each other's +business!" Mr. Enwright made the last strange remark to the outer door, +and vanished. + +"Funny cove!" George commented tolerantly to Mr. Haim, who passed +through the room immediately afterwards to his nightly task of +collecting and inspecting the scattered instruments on the principal's +august drawing-board. + +But Mr. Haim, though possibly he smiled ever so little, would not +compromise himself by an endorsement of the criticism of his employer. +George was a mere incident in the eternal career of Mr. Haim at Lucas & +Enwright's. + +When the factotum came back into the pupils' room, George stood up +straight and smoothed his trousers and gazed admiringly at his elegant +bright socks. + +"Let me see," said George in a very friendly manner. "_You_ live +somewhere in Chelsea, don't you?" + +"Yes," answered Mr. Haim. + +"Whereabouts, if it isn't a rude question?" + +"Well," said Mr. Haim, confidentially and benignantly, captivated by +George's youthful charm, "it's near the Redcliffe Arms." He mentioned +the Redcliffe Arms as he might have mentioned the Bank, Piccadilly +Circus, or Gibraltar. "Alexandra Grove. No. 8. To tell you the truth, I +own the house." + +"The deuce you do!" + +"Yes. The leasehold, that is, of course. No freeholds knocking about +loose in that district!" + +George saw a new and unsuspected Mr. Haim. He was impressed. And he was +glad that he had never broken the office tradition of treating Mr. Haim +with a respect not usually accorded to factotums. He saw a +property-owner, a tax-payer, and a human being behind the spectacles of +the shuffling, rather shabby, ceremonious familiar that pervaded those +rooms daily from before ten till after six. He grew curious about a +living phenomenon that hitherto had never awakened his curiosity. + +"Were you really looking for accommodation?" demanded Mr. Haim suavely. + +George hesitated. "Yes." + +"Perhaps I have something that might suit you." + +Events, disguised as mere words, seemed to George to be pushing him +forward. + +"I should like to have a look at it," he said. He had to say it; there +was no alternative. + +Mr. Haim raised a hand. "Any evening that happens to be convenient." + +"What about to-night, then?" + +"Certainly," Mr. Haim agreed. For a moment George apprehended that Mr. +Haim was going to invite him to dinner. But Mr. Haim was not going to +invite him to dinner. "About nine, shall we say?" he suggested, with a +courtliness softer even than usual. + +Later, George said that he would lock up the office himself and leave +the key with the housekeeper. + +"You can't miss the place," said Mr. Haim on leaving. "It's between the +Workhouse and the Redcliffe." + + +II + + +At the corner dominated by the Queen's Elm, which on the great route +from Piccadilly Circus to Putney was a public-house and halt second only +in importance to the Redcliffe Arms, night fell earlier than it ought to +have done, owing to a vast rain-cloud over Chelsea. A few drops +descended, but so warm and so gently that they were not like real rain, +and sentimentalists could not believe that they would wet. People, +arriving mysteriously out of darkness, gathered sparsely on the +pavements, lingered a few moments, and were swallowed by omnibuses that +bore them obscurely away. At intervals an individual got out of an +omnibus and adventured hurriedly forth and was lost in the gloom. The +omnibuses, all white, trotted on an inward curve to the pavement, +stopped while the conductor, with hand raised to the bell-string, +murmured apathetically the names of streets and of public-houses, and +then they jerked off again on an outward curve to the impatient double +ting of the bell. To the east was a high defile of hospitals, and to the +west the Workhouse tower faintly imprinted itself on the sombre sky. + +The drops of rain grew very large and heavy, and the travellers, instead +of waiting on the kerb, withdrew to the shelter of the wall of the +Queen's Elm. George was now among the group, precipitated like the rest, +as it were, out of the solution of London. George was of the age which +does not admit rain or which believes that it is immune from the usual +consequences of exposure to rain. When advised, especially by women, to +defend himself against the treacheries of the weather, he always +protested confidently that he would 'be all right.' Thus with a stick +and a straw hat he would affront terrible dangers. It was a species of +valour which the event often justified. Indeed he generally was all +right. But to-night, afoot on the way from South Kensington Station in a +region quite unfamiliar to him, he was intimidated by the slapping +menace of the big drops. Reality faced him. His scared thought ran: +"Unless I do something at once I shall get wet through." Impossible to +appear drenched at old Haim's! So he had abandoned all his pretensions +to a magical invulnerability, and rushed under the eave of the Queen's +Elm to join the omnibus group. + +He did not harmonize with the omnibus group, being both too elegant and +too high-spirited. His proper rĂ´le in the circumstances would have been +to 'jump into a hansom'; but there were no empty hansoms, and moreover, +for certain reasons of finance, he had sworn off hansoms until a given +date. He regarded the situation as 'rather a lark,' and he somehow knew +that the group understood and appreciated and perhaps resented his +superior and tolerant attitude. An omnibus rolled palely into the +radiance of the Queen's Elm lamp, the horses' flanks and the lofty +driver's apron gleaming with rain. He sprang towards the vehicle; the +whole group sprang. "Full inside!" snapped the conductor inexorably. +Ting, ting! It was gone, glimmering with its enigmatic load into the +distance. George turned again to the wall, humiliated. It seemed wrong +that the conductor should have included him with the knot of common +omnibus-travellers and late workers. The conductor ought to have +differentiated.... He put out a hand. The rain had capriciously ceased! +He departed gaily and triumphantly. He was re-endowed with the magical +invulnerability. + +The background of his mind was variegated. The incidents of the +tremendous motor-car race from Paris to Berlin, which had finished +nearly a week earlier, still glowed on it. And the fact that King Edward +VII had driven in a car from Pall Mall to Windsor Castle in sixty +minutes was beautifully present. Then, he was slightly worried +concerning the Mediterranean Fleet. He knew nothing about it, but as a +good citizen he suspected in idle moments, like a number of other good +citizens, that all was not quite well with the Mediterranean Fleet. As +for the war, he had only begun to be interested in the war within the +last six months, and already he was sick of it. He knew that the Boers +had just wrecked a British military train, and his attitude towards such +methods of fighting was rather severe and scornful; he did not regard +them as 'war.' However, the apparent permanence of the war was +splendidly compensated by the victory of the brothers Doherty over the +American lawn-tennis champions in the Gentlemen's Doubles at Wimbledon. +Who could have expected the brothers to win after the defeat of R.H. by +Mr. Gore in the Singles? George had most painfully feared that the +Americans would conquer, and their overthrowing by the twin brothers +indicated to George, who took himself for a serious student of affairs, +that Britain was continuing to exist, and that the new national +self-depreciative, yearning for efficiency might possibly be rather +absurd after all. + +In the midst of these and similar thoughts, and of innumerable minor +thoughts about himself, in the very centre of his mind and occupying +nearly the whole of it, was the vast thought, the obsession, of his own +potential power and its fulfilment. George's egotism was terrific, and +as right as any other natural phenomenon. He had to get on. Much money +was included in his scheme, but simply as a by-product. He had to be a +great architect, and--equally important--he had to be publicly +recognized as a great architect, and recognition could not come without +money. For him, the entire created universe was the means to his end. He +would not use it unlawfully, but he would use it. He was using it, as +well as he yet knew how, and with an independence that was as complete +as it was unconscious. In regard to matters upon which his instinct had +not suggested a course of action, George was always ready enough to be +taught; indeed his respect for an expert was truly deferential. But when +his instinct had begun to operate he would consult nobody and consider +nobody, being deeply sure that infallible wisdom had been granted to +him. (Nor did experience seem to teach him.) Thus, in the affair of a +London lodging, though he was still two years from his majority and had +no resources save the purse of his stepfather, Edwin Clayhanger, he had +decided to leave the Orgreaves without asking or even informing his +parents. In his next letter home he would no doubt inform them, +casually, of what he meant to do or actually had done, and if objections +followed he would honestly resent them. + +A characteristic example of his independence had happened when at the +unripe age of seventeen he left the Five Towns for London. Upon his +mother's marriage to Edwin Clayhanger his own name had been informally +changed for him to Clayhanger. But a few days before the day of +departure he had announced that, as Clayhanger was not his own name and +that he preferred his own name, he should henceforth be known as +'Cannon,' his father's name. He did not invite discussion. Mr. +Clayhanger had thereupon said to him privately and as one man of the +world to another: "But you aren't really entitled to the name Cannon, +sonny." "Why?" "Because your father was what's commonly known as a +bigamist, and his marriage with your mother was not legal. I thought I'd +take this opportunity of telling you. You needn't say anything to your +mother--unless of course you feel you must." To which George had +replied: "No, I won't. But if Cannon was my father's name I think I'll +have it all the same." And he did have it. The bigamy of his father did +not apparently affect him. Upon further inquiry he learnt that his +father might be alive or might be dead, but that if alive he was in +America. + +The few words from Mr. Enwright about Chelsea had sufficed to turn +Chelsea into Elysium, Paradise, almost into Paris. No other quarter of +London was inhabitable by a rising architect. As soon as Haim had gone +George had begun to look up Chelsea in the office library, and as Mr. +Enwright happened to be an active member of the Society for the Survey +of the Memorials of Greater London, the library served him well. In an +hour and a half he had absorbed something of the historical topography +of Chelsea. He knew that the Fulham Road upon which he was now walking +was a boundary of Chelsea. He knew that the Queen's Elm public-house had +its name from the tradition that Elizabeth had once sheltered from a +shower beneath an elm tree which stood at that very corner. He knew that +Chelsea had been a 'village of palaces,' and what was the function of +the Thames in the magnificent life of that village. The secret residence +of Turner in Chelsea, under the strange _alias_ of Admiral Booth, +excited George's admiration; he liked the idea of hidden retreats and +splendid, fanciful pseudonyms. But the master-figure of Chelsea for +George was Sir Thomas More. He could see Sir Thomas More walking in his +majestic garden by the river with the King's arm round his neck, and +Holbein close by, and respectful august prelates and a nagging wife in +the background. And he could see Sir Thomas More taking his barge for +the last journey to the Tower, and Sir Thomas More's daughter coming +back in the same barge with her father's head on board. Curious! He +envied Sir Thomas More. + +"Darned bad tower for a village of palaces!" he thought, not of the +Tower of London, but of the tower of the Workhouse which he was now +approaching. He thought he could design an incomparably better tower +than that. And he saw himself in the future, the architect of vast +monuments, strolling in a grand garden of his own at evening with other +distinguished and witty persons. + +But there were high-sounding names in the history of Chelsea besides +those of More and Turner. Not names of people! Cremorne and Ranelagh! +Cremorne to the west and Ranelagh to the east. The legend of these +vanished resorts of pleasure and vice stirred his longings and his +sense of romantic beauty--especially Ranelagh with its Rotunda. (He +wanted, when the time came, to be finely vicious, as he wanted to be +everything. An architect could not be great without being everything.) +He projected himself into the Rotunda, with its sixty windows, its +countless refreshment-boxes, its huge paintings, and the orchestra in +the middle, and the expensive and naughty crowd walking round and round +and round on the matting, and the muffled footsteps and the swish of +trains on the matting, and the specious smiles and whispers, and the +blare of the band and the smell of the lamps and candles.... Earl's +Court was a poor, tawdry, unsightly thing after that. + +When he had passed under the Workhouse tower he came to a side street +which, according to Haim's description of the neighbourhood, ought to +have been Alexandra Grove. The large lamp on the corner, however, gave +no indication, nor in the darkness could any sign be seen on the blind +wall of either of the corner houses in Fulham Road. Doubtless in daytime +the street had a visible label, but the borough authorities evidently +believed that night endowed the stranger with powers of divination. +George turned hesitant down the mysterious gorge, which had two dim +lamps of its own, and which ended in a high wall, whereat could be +descried unattainable trees--possibly the grove of Alexandra. Silence +and a charmed stillness held the gorge, while in Fulham Road not a +hundred yards away omnibuses and an occasional hansom rattled along in +an ordinary world. George soon decided that he was not in Alexandra +Grove, on account of the size of the houses. He could not conceive Mr. +Haim owning one of them. They stood lofty in the gloom, in pairs, +secluded from the pavement by a stucco garden-wall and low bushes. They +were double-fronted, and their doors were at the summits of flights of +blanched steps that showed through the bars of iron gates. They had +three stories above a basement. Still, he looked for No. 8. But just as +the street had no name, so the houses had no numbers. No. 16 alone could +be distinguished; it had figures on its faintly illuminated fanlight. He +walked back, idly counting. + +Then, amid the curtained and shuttered facades, he saw, across the road, +a bright beam from a basement. He crossed and peeped through a gate, and +an interior was suddenly revealed to him. Near the window of a room sat +a young woman bending over a table. A gas-jet on a bracket in the wall, +a few inches higher than her head and a foot distant from it, threw a +strong radiance on her face and hair. The luminous living picture, +framed by the window in blackness, instantly entranced him. All the +splendid images of the past faded and were confuted and invalidated and +destroyed by this intense reality so present and so near to him. +(Nevertheless, for a moment he thought of her as the daughter of Sir +Thomas More.) She was drawing. She was drawing with her whole mind and +heart. At intervals, scarcely moving her head, she would glance aside at +a paper to her left on the table.... She seemed to search it, to drag +some secret out of it, and then she would resume her drawing. She was +neither dark nor fair; she was comely, perhaps beautiful; she had +beautiful lips, and her nose, behind the nostrils, joined the cheek in a +lovely contour, like a tiny bulb. Yes, she was superb. But what mastered +him was less her fresh physical charm than the rapt and extreme vitality +of her existing.... He knew from her gestures and the tools on the table +that she could be no amateur. She was a professional. He thought: +Chelsea!... Marvellous place, Chelsea! He ought to have found that out +long ago. He imagined Chelsea full of such pictures--the only true home +of beauty and romance. + +Then the impact of a single idea startled his blood. He went hot. He +flushed. He had tingling sensations all down his back, and in his legs +and in his arms. It was as though he had been caught in a dubious +situation. Though he was utterly innocent, he felt as though he had +something to be ashamed of. The idea was: she resembled old Haim, +facially! Ridiculous idea! But she did resemble old Haim, particularly +in the lobal termination of the nose. And in the lips too. And there was +a vague, general resemblance. Absurd! It was a fancy.... He would not +have cared for anybody to be watching him then, to surprise him watching +her. He heard unmistakable footsteps on the pavement. A policeman darkly +approached. Policemen at times can be very apposite. George moved his +gaze and looked with admirable casualness around. + +"Officer, is this Alexandra Grove?" (His stepfather had taught him to +address all policemen as 'officer.') + +"It is, sir." + +"Oh! Well, which is No. 8? There're no numbers." + +"You couldn't be much nearer to it, sir," said the policeman dryly, and +pointed to a large number, fairly visible, on the wide gate-post. George +had not inspected the gate-post. + +"Oh! Thanks!" + +He mounted the steps, and in the thick gloom of the portico fumbled for +the bell and rang it. He was tremendously excited and expectant and +apprehensive and puzzled. He heard rain flatly spitting in big drops on +the steps. He had not noticed till then that it had begun again. The +bell jangled below. The light in the basement went out. He flushed anew. +He thought, trembling: "She's coming to the door herself!" + + +III + + +"It had occurred to me some time ago," said Mr. Haim, "that if ever you +should be wanting rooms I might be able to suit you." + +"Really!" George murmured. After having been shown into the room by the +young woman, who had at once disappeared, he was now recovering from the +nervousness of that agitating entry and resuming his normal demeanour of +an experienced and well-balanced man of the world. He felt relieved that +she had gone, and yet he regretted her departure extremely, and hoped +against fear that she would soon return. + +"Yes!" said Mr. Haim, as it were triumphantly, like one who had +whispered to himself during long years: "The hour will come." The hour +had come. + +Mr. Haim was surprising to George. The man seemed much older in his own +parlour than at the office--his hair thinner and greyer, and his face +more wrinkled. But the surprising part of him was that he had a home and +was master in it, and possessed interests other than those of the firm +of Lucas & Enwright. George had never until that day conceived the man +apart from Russell Square. And here he was smoking a cigarette in an +easy-chair and wearing red morocco slippers, and being called 'father' +by a really stunning creature in a thin white blouse and a blue skirt. + +The young girl, opening the front door, had said: "Do you want to see +father?" And instantly the words were out George had realized that she +might have said: "_Did_ you want to see father?" ... in the idiom of the +shop-girl or clerk, and that if she had said 'did' he would have been +gravely disappointed and hurt. But she had not. Of course she had not! +Of course she was incapable of such a locution, and it was silly of him +to have thought otherwise, even momentarily. She was an artist. Entirely +different from the blonde and fluffy Mrs. John Orgreave--(and a good +thing too, for Mrs. John with her eternal womanishness had got on his +nerves)--Miss Haim was without doubt just as much a lady, and probably a +jolly sight more cultured, in the true sense. Yet Miss Haim had not in +the least revealed herself to him in the hall as she indicated the +depository for his hat and stick and opened the door of the +sitting-room. She had barely smiled. Indeed she had not smiled. She had +not mentioned the weather. On the other hand, she had not been prim or +repellent. She had revealed nothing of herself. Her one feat had been to +stimulate mightily his curiosity and his imagination concerning +her--rampant enough even before he entered the house! + +The house--what he saw of it--suited her and set her off, and, as she +was different from Mrs. John, so was the house different from the +polished, conventional abode of Mrs. John at Bedford Park. To George's +taste it knocked Bedford Park to smithereens. In the parlour, for +instance, an oak chest, an oak settee, an oak gate-table, one tapestried +easy chair, several rush-bottomed chairs, a very small brass fender, a +self-coloured wall-paper of warm green, two or three old engravings in +maple-wood or tarnished gilt frames, several small portraits in +maple-wood frames, brass candlesticks on the mantelpiece and no clock, +self-coloured brown curtains across the windows (two windows opposite +each other at either end of the long room), sundry rugs on the +dark-stained floor, and so on! Not too much furniture, and not too much +symmetry either. An agreeable and original higgledy-piggledyness! The +room was lighted by a fairly large oil-lamp, with a paper shade +hand-painted in a design of cupids--delightful personal design, rough, +sketchy, adorable! She had certainly done it. + +George sat on the oak settle, fronting the old man in the easy chair. It +was a hard, smooth oak settle; it had no upholstering nor cushion; but +George liked it. + +"May I smoke?" asked George. + +"Please do. Please do," said Mr. Haim, who was smoking a cigarette +himself, with courteous hospitality. However, it was a match and not a +cigarette that he offered to George, who opened his own dandiacal case. + +"I stayed rather late at the office to-night," said George, as he blew +out those great clouds with which young men demonstrate to the world +that the cigarette is actually lighted. And as Mr. Haim, who was +accustomed to the boastings of articled pupils, made no comment, George +proceeded, lolling on the settle and showing his socks: "You know, I +like Chelsea. I've always had a fancy for it." He was just about to +continue cosmopolitanly: "It's the only part of London that's like +Paris. The people in the King's Road," etc., when fortunately he +remembered that Mr. Haim must have overheard these remarks of Mr. +Enwright, and ceased, rather awkwardly. Whereupon Mr. Haim suggested +that he should see the house, and George said eagerly that he should +like to see the house. + +"We've got one bedroom more than we want," Mr. Haim remarked as he led +George to the hall. + +"Oh yes!" said George politely. + +The hall had a small bracket-lamp, which Mr. Haim unhooked, and then he +opened a door opposite to the door of the room which they had quitted. + +"Now this is a bedroom," said he, holding the lamp high. + +George was startled. A ground-floor bedroom would have been unthinkable +at Bedford Park. Still, in a flat.... Moreover, the idea had piquancy. +The bedroom was sparsely furnished. Instead of a wardrobe it had a +corner curtained off with cretonne. + +"A good-sized room," said Mr. Haim. + +"Very," said George. "Two windows, too, like the drawing-room." Then +they went upstairs to the first floor, and saw two more bedrooms, each +with two windows. One of them was Miss Haim's; there was a hat hung on +the looking-glass, and a table with a few books on it. They did not go +to the second floor. The staircase to the second floor was boarded up at +the point where it turned. + +"That's all there is," said Mr. Haim on the landing. "The studio people +have the second floor, but they don't use my front door." He spoke the +last words rather defiantly. + +"I see," said George untruthfully, for he was mystified. But the mystery +did not trouble him. + +There was no bathroom, and this did not trouble him either, though at +Bedford Park he could never have seriously considered a house without a +bathroom. + +"You could have your choice of ground floor or first floor," said Mr. +Haim confidentially, still on the landing. He moved the lamp about, and +the shadows moved accordingly on the stairs. + +"Oh, I don't mind in the least," George answered. "Whichever would suit +you best." + +"We could give you breakfast, and use of sitting-room," Mr. Haim +proceeded in a low tone. "But no other meals." + +"That would be all right," said George cheerfully. "I often dine in +town. Like that I can get in a bit of extra work at the office, you +see." + +"Except on Sundays," Mr. Haim corrected himself. "You'd want your meals +on Sundays, of course. But I expect you're out a good deal, what with +one thing or another." + +"Oh, I am!" George concurred. + +The place was perfect, and he was determined to establish himself in it. +Nothing could baulk him. A hitch would have desolated him completely. + +"I may as well show you the basement while I'm about it," said Mr. Haim. + +"Do!" said George ardently. + +They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably at the +office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute correctness of an +educated Londoner. His deportment gave distinction and safety even to +the precipitous and mean basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by +the knees of pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about +along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient layers +of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted yellow, and some were +painted grey, and some were not painted. Mr. Haim exhibited first the +kitchen. George saw a morsel of red amber behind black bars, a white +deal table and a black cat crouched on a corner of the table, a chair, +and a tea-cloth drying over the back thereof. He liked the scene; it +reminded him of the Five Towns, and showed reassuringly--if he needed +reassurance, which he did not--that all houses are the same at heart. +Then Mr. Haim, flashing a lamp-ray on the coal-hole and the area door as +he turned, crossed the stone passage into the other basement room. + +"This is our second sitting-room," said Mr. Haim, entering. + +There she was at work, rapt, exactly as George had seen her from the +outside. But now he saw the right side of her face instead of the left. +It was wonderful to him that within the space of a few minutes he should +have developed from an absolute stranger to her into an acquaintance of +the house, walking about in it, peering into its recesses, disturbing +its secrets, which were hers. But she remained as mysterious, as +withdrawn and intangible, as ever. And then she shifted round suddenly +on the chair, and her absorbed, intent face softened into a most +beautiful, simple smile--a smile of welcome. An astonishing and +celestial change!... She was not one of those queer girls, as perhaps +she might have been. She was a girl of natural impulses. He smiled back, +uplifted. + +"My daughter designs bookbindings," said Mr. Haim. "Happens to be very +busy to-night on something urgent." + +He advanced towards her, George following. + +"Awfully good!" George murmured enthusiastically, and quite sincerely, +though he was not at all in a condition to judge the design. Strange, +that he should come to the basement of an ordinary stock-size house in +Alexandra Grove to see bookbindings in the making! This was a design for +a boy's book. He had possessed many such books. But it had never +occurred to him that the gay bindings of them were each the result of +individual human thought and labour. He pulled at his cigarette. + +There was a sound of pushing and rattling outside. + +"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. + +"It's the area door. I bolted it. I dare say it's Mrs. Lobley," said the +girl indifferently. + +Mr. Haim moved sharply. + +"Why did you bolt it, Marguerite? No, I'll go myself." + +He picked up the lamp, which he had put down, and shuffled quickly out +in his red morocco slippers, closing the door. + +Marguerite? Yes, it suited her; and it was among the most romantic of +names. It completed the picture. She now seemed to be listening and +waiting, her attention on the unseen area door. He felt shy and yet +very happy alone with her. Voices were distinctly heard. Who was Mrs. +Lobley? Was Mr. Haim a little annoyed with his daughter, and was +Marguerite exquisitely defiant? Time hung. The situation was slightly +awkward, he thought. And it was obscure, alluring.... He stood there, +below the level of the street, shut in with those beings unknown, +provocative, and full of half-divined implications. And all Chelsea was +around him and all London around Chelsea. + +"Father won't be a moment," said the girl. "It's only the charwoman." + +"Oh! That's quite all right," he answered effusively, and turning to the +design: "The outlining of that lettering fairly beats me, you know." + +"Not really!... I get that from father, of course." + +Mr. Haim was famous in the office as a letterer. + +She sat idly glancing at her own design, her plump, small hands lying in +the blue lap. George compared her, unspeakably to her advantage, with +the kind, coarse young woman at the chop-house, whom he had asked to +telephone to the Orgreaves for him, and for whom he had been conscious +of a faint penchant. + +"I can't colour it by gaslight," said Marguerite Haim. "I shall have to +do that in the morning." + +He imagined her at work again early in the morning. Within a week or so +he might be living in this house with this girl. He would be,--watching +her life! Seducing prospect, scarcely credible! He remembered having +heard when he first went to Lucas & Enwright's that old Haim was a +widower. + +"Do excuse me," said Mr. Haim, urgently apologetic, reappearing. + +A quarter of an hour later, George had left the house, having accepted +Mr. Haim's terms without the least argument. In five days he was to be +an inmate of No. 8 Alexandra Grove. The episode presented itself to him +as a vast, romantic adventure, staggering and enchanting. His luck +continued, for the rain-cloud was spent. He got into an Earl's Court +bus. The dimly perceived travellers in it seemed all of them in a new +sense to be romantic and mysterious.... "Yes," he thought, "I did say +good-night to her, but I didn't shake hands." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MARGUERITE + +I + + +More than two months later George came into the office in Russell Square +an hour or so after his usual time. He had been to South Kensington +Museum to look up, for professional purposes, some scale drawings of +architectural detail which were required for a restaurant then rising in +Piccadilly under the direction of Lucas & Enwright. In his room Mr. +Everard Lucas was already seated. Mr. Lucas was another articled pupil +of the firm; being a remote cousin of the late senior partner, he had +entered on special terms. Although a year older than George he was less +advanced, for whereas George had passed the Intermediate, Mr. Lucas had +not. But in manly beauty, in stylishness, in mature tact, and especially +in persuasive charm, he could beat George. + +"Hallo!" Lucas greeted. "How do you feel? Fit?" + +"Fit?" said George enthusiastically "I feel so fit I could push in the +side of a house." + +"What did I tell you?" said Lucas. + +George rubbed his hand all over Lucas's hair, and Lucas thereupon seized +George's other hand and twisted his arm, and a struggle followed. In +this way they would often lovingly salute each other of a morning. Lucas +had infected George with the craze for physical exercises as a remedy +for all ills and indiscretions, including even late nights and excessive +smoking. The competition between them to excel in the quality of fitness +was acute, and sometimes led to strange challenges. After a little +discussion about springing from the toes, Lucas now accused George's +toes of a lack of muscularity, and upon George denying the charge, he +asserted that George could not hang from the mantelpiece by his toes. +They were both men of the world, capable of great heights of dignity, +figures in an important business, aspirants to a supreme +art and profession. They were at that moment in a beautiful +late-eighteenth-century house of a stately and renowned square, and in a +room whose proportions and ornament admittedly might serve as an +exemplar to the student; and not the least lovely feature of the room +was the high carved mantelpiece. The morning itself was historic, for it +was the very morning upon which, President McKinley having expired, +Theodore Roosevelt ascended the throne and inaugurated a new era. +Nevertheless, such was their peculiar time of life that George, a minute +later, was as a fact hanging by his toes from the mantelpiece, while +Lucas urged him to keep the blood out of his head. George had stood on +his hands on a box and lodged his toes on the mantelpiece, and then +raised his hands--and Lucas had softly pushed the box away. George's +watch was dangling against his flushed cheek. + +"Put that box back, you cuckoo!" George exploded chokingly. + +Then the door opened and Mr. Enwright appeared. Simultaneously some +shillings slipped out of George's pocket and rolled about the floor. The +hour was Mr. Enwright's customary hour of arrival, but he had no fair +excuse for passing through that room instead of proceeding along the +corridor direct to the principals' room. His aspect, as he gazed at +George's hair and at the revealed sateen back of George's waistcoat, was +unusual. Mr. Enwright commonly entered the office full of an intense and +aggrieved consciousness of his own existence--of his insomnia, of the +reaction upon himself of some client's stupidity, of the necessity of +going out again in order to have his chin lacerated by his favourite and +hated Albanian barber. But now he had actually forgotten himself. + +"What _is_ this?" he demanded. + +Lucas having quickly restored the box, George subsided dangerously +thereon, and arose in a condition much disarrayed and confused, and +beheld Mr. Enwright with shame. + +"I--I was just looking to see if the trap of the chimney was shut," said +George. It was foolish in the extreme, but it was the best he could do, +and after all it was a rather marvellous invention. Lucas sat down and +made no remark. + +"You might respect the mantelpiece," said Mr. Enwright bitterly, and +went into the principals' room, where John Orgreave could be heard +dictating letters. George straightened his clothes and picked up his +money, and the two men of the world giggled nervously at each other. + +Mr. Haim next disturbed them. The shabby, respectable old man smiled +vaguely, with averted glance. + +"I think he's heard the result," said he. + +Both men knew that 'he' was Mr. Enwright, and that the 'result' was the +result of the open competition for the £150,000 Law Courts which a proud +provincial city proposed to erect for itself. The whole office had +worked very hard on the drawings for that competition throughout the +summer, while cursing the corporation which had chosen so unusual a date +for sending-in day. Even Lucas had worked. George's ideas for certain +details, upon which he had been engaged on the evening of his +introduction to Mr. Haim's household, had been accepted by Mr. Enwright. +As for Mr. Enwright, though the exigencies of his beard, and his regular +morning habit of inveighing against the profession at great length, and +his inability to decide where he should lunch, generally prevented him +from beginning the day until three o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. +Enwright had given many highly concentrated hours of creative energy to +the design. And Mr. Haim had adorned the sheets with the finest +lettering. The design was held to be very good. The principals knew the +identity of all the other chief competitors and their powers, and they +knew also the idiosyncrasies of the Assessor; and their expert and +impartial opinion was that the Lucas & Enwright design ought to win and +would win. This view, indeed, was widespread in the arcana of the +architectural world. George had gradually grown certain of victory. And +yet, at Mr. Haim's words, his hopes sank horribly away. + +"Have we won?" he asked sharply. + +"That I can't say, Mr. Cannon," answered Haim. + +"Well, then, how do you know he's heard? Has he told you?" + +"No," said the factotum mysteriously. "But I think he's heard." And upon +this Mr. Haim slouched off quite calmly. Often he had assisted at the +advent of such vital news in the office--news obtained in advance by the +principals through secret channels--and often the news had been bad. But +the firm's calamities seemed never to affect the smoothness of Mr. +Haim's earthly passage. + +The door into the principals' room opened, and Mr. Enwright's head +showed. The gloomy, resenting eyes fixed George for an instant. + +"Well, you've lost that competition," said Mr. Enwright, and he stepped +into full view. His unseen partner had ceased to dictate, and the +shorthand-clerk could be heard going out by the other door. + +"No!" said George, in a long, outraged murmur. The news seemed +incredible and quite disastrous; and yet at the same time had he not, in +one unvisited corner of his mind, always foreknown it? Suddenly he was +distressed, discouraged, disillusioned about the whole of life. He +thought that Everard Lucas, screwing up a compass, was strangely +unmoved. But Mr. Enwright ignored Lucas. + +"Who's got it?" George asked. + +"Whinburn." + +"That chap!... Where are _we_?" + +"Nowhere." + +"Not placed?" + +"Not in it. Skelting's second. And Grant third. I shouldn't have minded +so much if Grant had got it. There was something to be said for his +scheme. I knew _we_ shouldn't get it. I knew that perfectly well--not +with Corver assessing." + +George wondered that his admired principal should thus state the exact +opposite of what he had so often affirmed during the last few weeks. +People were certainly very queer, even the best of them. The perception +of this fact added to his puzzled woe. + +"But Whinburn's design is grotesque!" he protested borrowing one of Mr. +Enwright's adjectives. + +"Of course it is." + +"Then why does Sir Hugh Corver go and give him the award? Surely he must +know----" + +"Know!" Mr. Enwright growled, destroying Sir Hugh and his reputation and +his pretensions with one single monosyllable. + +"Then why did they make him Assessor--that's what I can't understand." + +"It's quite simple," rasped Mr. Enwright. "They made him assessor +because he's got so much work to do it takes him all his time to trot +about from one job to another on his blooming pony. They made him +assessor because his pony's a piebald pony. Couldn't you think of that +for yourself? Or have you been stone deaf in this office for two years? +It stands to reason that a man who's responsible for all the largest +new eyesores in London would impress any corporation. Clever chap, +Corver! Instead of wasting his time in travel and study, he made a +speciality of learning how to talk to committees. And he was always full +of ideas like the piebald pony, ever since I knew him." + +"It's that façade that did for us," broke in another voice. John +Orgreave stood behind Mr. Enwright. He spoke easily; he was not ruffled +by the immense disappointment, though the mournful greatness of the +topic had drawn him irresistibly into the discussion. John Orgreave had +grown rather fat and coarse. At one period, in the Five Towns, he had +been George's hero. He was so no longer. George was still fond of him, +but he had torn him down from the pedestal and established Mr. Enwright +in his place. George in his heart now somewhat patronized the placid +Orgreave, regarding him as an excellent person who comprehended naught +that was worth comprehending, and as a husband who was the dupe of his +wife. + +"You couldn't have any other façade," Mr. Enwright turned on him, +"unless you're absolutely going to ignore the market on the other side +of the Square. Whinburn's façade is an outrage--an outrage. Give me a +cigarette. I must run out and get shaved." + +While Mr. Enwright was lighting the cigarette, George reflected in +desolation upon the slow evolving of the firm's design for the Law +Courts. Again and again in the course of the work had he been struck +into a worshipping enthusiasm by the brilliance of Mr. Enwright's +invention and the happy beauty of his ideas. For George there was only +one architect in the world; he was convinced that nobody could possibly +rival Mr. Enwright, and that no Law Courts ever had been conceived equal +to those Law Courts. And he himself had contributed something to the +creation. He had dreamed of the building erected and of being able to +stand in front of some detail of it and say to himself: "That was my +notion, that was." And now the building was destroyed before its birth. +It would never come into existence. It was wasted. And the prospect for +the firm of several years' remunerative and satisfying labour had +vanished. But the ridiculous, canny Whinburn would be profitably +occupied, and his grotesque building would actually arise, and people +would praise it, and it would survive for centuries--at any rate for a +century. + +Mr. Enwright did not move. + +"It's no use regretting the façade, Orgreave," he said suddenly. +"There's such a thing as self-respect." + +"I don't see that self-respect's got much to do with it," Orgreave +replied lightly. + +("Of course you don't," George thought. "You're a decent sort, but you +don't see, and you never will see. Even Lucas doesn't see. I alone see." +And he felt savage and defiant.) + +"Better shove my self-respect away into this cupboard, I suppose!" said +Mr. Enwright, with the most acrid cynicism, and he pulled open one door +of a long, low cupboard whose top formed a table for portfolios, dusty +illustrated books, and other accumulations. + +The gesture was dramatic, and none knew it better than Mr. Enwright. The +cupboard was the cupboard which contained the skeleton. It was full of +designs rejected in public competitions. There they lay, piles and piles +of them, the earliest dating from the late seventies. The cupboard was +crammed with the futility of Enwright's genius. It held monuments enough +to make illustrious a score of cities. Lucas & Enwright was a successful +firm. But, confining itself chiefly to large public works, it could not +escape from the competition system; and it had lost in far more +competitions than it had won. It was always, and always would be, at the +mercy of an Assessor. The chances had always been, and always would be, +against the acceptance of its designs, because they had the fatal +quality of originality combined with modest adherence to the classical +tradition. When they conquered, it was by sheer force. George glanced at +the skeleton, and he was afraid. Something was very wrong with +architecture. He agreed with Mr. Enwright's tiresomely reiterated axiom +that it was the Cinderella of professions and the chosen field of +ghastly injustice. He had embraced architecture; he had determined to +follow exactly in the footsteps of Mr. Enwright; he had sworn to +succeed. But could he succeed? Suppose he failed! Yes, his faith +faltered. He was intensely, miserably afraid. He was the most serious +man in Russell Square. Astounding that only a few minutes ago he had +hung triumphantly by his feet from the mantelpiece! + +Mr. Enwright kicked-to the door of the cupboard. + +"Look here," he said to his partner, "I shan't be back just yet. I have +to go and see Bentley. I'd forgotten it." + +Nobody was surprised at this remark. Whenever Mr. Enwright was +inconveniently set back he always went off to visit Bentley, the +architect of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral at Westminster, on the +plea of an urgent appointment. + +"_You_ had a look at the cathedral lately?" he demanded of George as he +left. + +"No, I haven't," said George, who, by reason of a series of +unaccountable omissions, and of the fullness of his life as an architect +and a man of the world, had never seen the celebrated cathedral at all. + +"Well," said Mr. Enwright sarcastically, "better take just a glance at +it--some time--before they've spoilt the thing with decorations. There's +a whole lot of 'em only waiting till Bentley's out of the way to begin +and ruin it." + + +II + + +Before the regular closing hour of the office the two articled pupils +had left and were walking side by side through Bloomsbury. They skirted +the oval garden of Bedford Square, which, lying off the main track to +the northern termini, and with nothing baser in it than a consulate or +so, took precedence in austerity and selectness over Russell Square, +which had consented to receive a grand hotel or 'modern caravanserai' +and a shorthand school. Indeed the aspect of Bedford Square, where the +great institution of the basement and area still flourished in +perfection, and wealthy menials with traditional manners lived sensually +in caves beneath the spacious, calm salons of their employers and +dupes,--the aspect of Bedford Square gave the illusion that evolution +was not, and that Bloomsbury and the whole impressive structure of +British society could never change. Still, from a more dubious +Bloomsbury, demure creatures with inviting, indiscreet eyes were already +traversing the prim flags of Bedford Square on their way to the +evening's hard diplomacy. Mr. Lucas made quiet remarks about their +qualities, but George did not respond. + +"Look here, old man," said Lucas, "there's no use in all this gloom. You +might think Lucas & Enwright had never put up a building in their lives. +Just as well to dwell now and then on what they have done instead of on +what they haven't done. We're fairly busy, you know. Besides----" + +He spoke seriously, tactfully, with charm, and he had a beautiful voice. + +"Quite right! Quite right!" George willingly agreed, swinging his stick +and gazing straight ahead. And he thought: "This chap has got his head +screwed on. He's miles wiser than I am, and he's really nice. I could +never be nice like that." + +In a moment they were at the turbulent junction of Tottenham Court Road +and Oxford Street, where crowds of Londoners, deeply unconscious of +their own vulgarity, and of the marvellous distinction of Bedford +Square, and of the moral obligation to harmonize socks with neckties, +were preoccupying themselves with omnibuses and routes, and constituting +the spectacle of London. The high-heeled, demure creatures were lost in +this crowd, and Lucas and George were lost in it. + +"Well," said Lucas, halting on the pavement. "You're going down to the +cathedral." + +"It'll please the old cock," answered George, anxious to disavow any +higher motive. "You aren't coming?" + +Lucas shook his head. "I shall just go and snatch a hasty".... 'Cup of +tea' was the unuttered end of the sentence. + +"Puffin's?" + +Lucas nodded. Puffin's was a cosy house of sustenance in a half-new +street on the site of the razed slums of St. Giles's. He would not +frequent the orthodox tea-houses, which were all alike and which had +other serious disadvantages. He adventured into the unusual, and could +always demonstrate that what he found was subtly superior to anything +else. + +"That affair still on?" George questioned. + +"It's not off." + +"She's a nice little thing--that I will say." + +"It all depends," Lucas replied sternly. "I don't mind telling you she +wasn't so jolly nice on Tuesday." + +"Wasn't she?" George raised his eyebrows. + +Lucas silently scowled, and his handsomeness vanished for an instant. + +"However----" he said. + +As George walked alone down Charing Cross Road, he thought: "That girl +will have to look out,"--meaning that in his opinion Lucas was not a man +to be trifled with. Lucas was a wise and an experienced man, and knew +the world. And what he did could not be other than right. This notion +comforted George, who had a small affair of his own, which he had not +yet even mentioned to Lucas. Delicacy as well as diffidence had +prevented him from doing so. It was a very different affair from any of +Lucas's, and he did not want Lucas to misesteem it; neither did he want +Lucas to be under the temptation to regard him as a ninny. + +Not the cathedral alone had induced George to leave the office early. +The dissembler had reflected that if he called in a certain conventional +tea-shop near Cambridge Circus at a certain hour he would probably meet +Marguerite Haim. He knew that she had an appointment with one of her +customers, a firm of bookbinders, that afternoon, and that on similar +occasions she had been to the tea-shop. In fact he had already once +deliciously taken tea with her therein. To-day he was disappointed, to +the extent of the tea, for he met her as she was coming out of the shop. +Their greetings were rather punctilious, but beneath superficial +formalities shone the proofs of intimacy. They had had large +opportunities to become intimate, and they had become intimate. The +immediate origin of and excuse for the intimacy was a lampshade. George +had needed a lampshade for his room, and she had offered to paint one. +She submitted sketches. But George also could paint a bit. Hence +discussions, conferences, rival designs, and, lastly, an agreement upon +a composite design. Before long, the lampshade craze increasing in +virulence, they had between them re-lampshaded the entire house. Then +the charming mania expired; but it had done its work. During the summer +holiday George had written twice to Marguerite, and he had thought +pleasurably about her the whole time. He had hoped that she would open +the door for him upon his return, and that when he saw her again he +would at length penetrate the baffling secret of her individuality. She +had opened the door for him, exquisitely, but the secret had not yielded +itself. It was astonishing to George, how that girl could combine the +candours of honest intimacy with a profound reserve. + +"Were you going in there for tea?" she asked, looking up at him gravely. + +"No," he said. "I don't want any tea. I have to wend my way to the Roman +Catholic Cathedral--you know, the new one, near Victoria. I suppose you +wouldn't care to see it?" + +"I should love to," she answered, with ingenuous eagerness. "I think it +might do me good." + +A strange phrase, he thought! What did she mean? + +"Would you mind walking?" she suggested. + +"Let me take that portfolio, then." + +So they walked. She had her usual serious expression, as it were full of +the consciousness of duty. It made him think how reliable she would +always be. She held herself straight and independently, and her +appearance was very simple and very trim. He considered it wrong that a +girl with such beautiful lips should have to consult callous +bookbinders and accept whatever they chose to say. To him she was like a +lovely and valiant martyr. The spectacle of her was touching. However, +he could not have dared to hint at these sentiments. He had to pretend +that her exposure to the stresses of the labour-market was quite natural +and right. Always he was careful in his speech with her. When he got to +know people he was apt to be impatient and ruthless; for example, to +John Orgreave and his wife, and to his mother and stepfather, and +sometimes even to Everard Lucas. He would bear them down. But he was +restrained from such freedoms with Enwright, and equally with Marguerite +Haim. She did not intimidate him, but she put him under a spell. + +Crossing Piccadilly Circus he had a glimpse of the rising walls and the +scaffolding of the new restaurant. He pointed to the building without a +word. She nodded and smiled. + +In the Mall, where the red campanile of the cathedral was first +descried, George began to get excited. And he perceived that Marguerite +sympathetically responded to his excitement. She had never even noticed +the campanile before, and the reason was that the cathedral happened not +to be on the route between Alexandra Grove and her principal customers. +Suddenly, out of Victoria Street, they came up against the vast form of +the Byzantine cathedral. It was hemmed in by puny six-story blocks of +flats, as ancient cathedrals also are hemmed in by the dwellings of +townsfolk. But here, instead of the houses having gathered about the +cathedral, the cathedral had excavated a place for itself amid the +houses. Tier above tier the expensively curtained windows of dark +drawing-rooms and bedrooms inhabited by thousands of the well-to-do +blinked up at the colossal symbol that dwarfed them all. George knew +that he was late. If the watchman's gate was shut for the night he would +look a fool. But his confidence in his magic power successfully to run +risks sustained him in a gallant and assured demeanour. The gate in the +hoarding that screened the west front was open. With a large gesture he +tipped the watchman a shilling, and they passed in like princes. The +transition to the calm and dusty interior was instantaneous and almost +overwhelming. Immense without, the cathedral seemed still more immense +within. On one side of the nave was a steam-engine; on the other some +sort of a mill; and everywhere lay in heaps the wild litter of +construction, among which moved here and there little parties of aproned +pygmies engaged silently and industriously on sub-contracts; the main +army of labourers had gone. The walls rose massively clear out of the +white-powdered confusion into arches and high domes; and the floor of +the choir, and a loftier floor beyond that, also rose clear. +Perspectives ended in shadow and were illimitable, while the afternoon +light through the stone grille of the western windows made luminous +spaces in the gloom. + +The sensation of having the mysterious girl at his elbow in that +wonder-striking interior was magnificent. + +He murmured, with pride: + +"Do you know this place has the widest nave of any cathedral in the +world? It's a much bigger cathedral than St. Paul's. In fact I'm not +sure if it isn't the biggest in England." + +"You know," he said again, "in the whole of the nineteenth century only +one cathedral was built in England." + +"Which was that?" + +"Truro.... And you could put Truro inside this and leave a margin all +round. Mr. Enwright says this is the last cathedral that ever will be +built, outside America." + +They gazed, more and more aware of a solemn miracle. + +"It's marvellous--marvellous!" he breathed. + +After a few moments, glancing at her, a strong impulse to be +confidential mastered him. He was obliged to tell that girl. + +"I say, we've lost that competition--for the Law Courts." + +He smiled, but the smile had no effect. + +"Oh!" She positively started. + +He saw that her eyes had moistened, and he looked quickly away, as +though he had seen something that he ought not to have seen. She cared! +She cared a great deal! She was shocked by the misfortune to the firm, +by the injustice to transcendent merit! She knew nothing whatever about +any design in the competition. But it was her religion that the Lucas & +Enwright design was the best, and by far the best. He had implanted the +dogma, and he felt that she was ready to die for it. Mystery dropped +away from her. Her soul stood bare to him. He was so happy and so proud +that the intensity of his feeling dismayed him. But he was enheartened +too, and courage to surmount a thousand failures welled up in him as +from an unimagined spring. + +"I wonder who that is?" she said quietly and ordinarily, as if a +terrific event had not happened. + +On the highest floor, at the other extremity of the cathedral, in front +of the apse, a figure had appeared in a frock-coat and a silk hat. The +figure stood solitary, gazing around in the dying light. + +"By Jove! It's Bentley! It's the architect!" + +George literally trembled. He literally gave a sob. The vision of +Bentley within his masterpiece, of Bentley whom Enwright himself +worshipped, was too much for him. Renewed ambition rushed through him in +electric currents. All was not wrong with the world of architecture. +Bentley had succeeded. Bentley, beginning life as an artisan, had +succeeded supremely. And here he stood on the throne of his triumph. +Genius would not be denied. Beauty would conquer despite everything. +What completed the unbearable grandeur of the scene was that Bentley had +cancer of the tongue, and was sentenced to death. Bentley's friends knew +it; the world of architecture knew it; Bentley knew it.... "Shall I tell +her?" George thought. He looked at her; he looked at the vessel which he +had filled with emotion. He could not speak. A highly sensitive decency, +an abhorrence of crudity, restrained him. "No," he decided, "I can't +tell her now. I'll tell her some other time." + + +III + + +With no clear plan as to his dinner he took her back to Alexandra Grove. +The dusk was far advanced. Mounting the steps quickly Marguerite rang +the bell. There was no answer. She pushed up the flap of the +letter-aperture and looked within. + +"Have you got your latchkey?" she asked, turning round on George. +"Father's not come home--his hat's not hanging up. He promised me +certain that he would be here at six-thirty at the latest. Otherwise I +should have taken the big key." + +She did not show resentment against her father; nor was there impatience +in her voice. But she seemed to be firmly and impassively judging her +father, as his equal, possibly even as somewhat his superior. And George +admired the force of her individuality. It flattered him that a being so +independent and so strong should have been so meltingly responsive to +him in the cathedral. + +An adventurous idea occurred to him in a flash and he impulsively +adopted it. His latchkey was in his pocket, but if the house door was +once opened he would lose her--he would have to go forth and seek his +dinner and she would remain in the house; whereas, barred out of the +house, she would be bound to him--they would be thrust together into +exquisite contingencies, into all the deep potentialities of dark +London. + +"Dash it!" he said, first fumbling in one waistcoat pocket, and then +ledging the portfolio against a step and fumbling in both waistcoat +pockets simultaneously. "I must have left it in my other clothes." + +It is doubtful whether his conscience troubled him. But he had a very +exciting sense of risk and of romance and of rapture, as though he had +done something wonderful and irremediable. + +"Ah! Well!" she murmured, instantly acquiescent, and without the least +hesitation descended the steps. + +How many girls (he demanded) would or could have made up their minds and +faced the situation like that? Her faculty of decision was simply +masculine! He looked at her in the twilight and she was inimitable, +unparalleled. And yet by virtue of the wet glistening of her eyes in the +cathedral she had somehow become mystically his! He. permitted himself +the suspicion: "Perhaps she guesses that I'm only pretending about the +latchkey." The suspicion which made her an accessory to his crime did +not lower her in his eyes. On the contrary, the enchanting naughtiness +with which it invested her only made her variety more intoxicant and +perfection more perfect. His regret was that the suspicion was not a +certainty. + +Before a word could be said as to the next move, a figure in a grey suit +and silk hat, and both arms filled with packages, passed in front of the +gate and then halted. + +"Oh! It's Mr. Buckingham Smith!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Mr. Buckingham +Smith, we're locked out till father comes." She completed the tale of +the mishap, to George's equal surprise and mortification. + +Mr. Buckingham Smith, with Mr. Alfred Prince, was tenant of the studio +at the back of No. 8. He raised his hat as well as an occupied arm would +allow. + +"Come and wait in the studio, then," he suggested bluntly. + +"You know Mr. Cannon, don't you?" said Marguerite, embarrassed. + +George and Mr. Buckingham Smith had in fact been introduced to one +another weeks earlier in the Grove by Mr. Haim. Thereafter Mr. +Buckingham Smith had, as George imagined, saluted George with a kind of +jealous defiance and mistrust, and the acquaintance had not progressed. +Nor, by the way, had George's dreams been realized of entering deeply +into the artistic life of Chelsea. Chelsea had been no more welcoming +than Mr. Buckingham Smith. But now Mr. Buckingham Smith grew affable and +neighbourly. Behind the man's inevitable insistence that George should +accompany Miss Haim into the studio was a genuine, eager hospitality. + +The studio was lofty and large, occupying most of the garden space of +No. 8. Crimson rep curtains, hung on a thick, blackened brass rod, +divided it into two unequal parts. By the wall nearest the house a +staircase ran up to a door high in the gable, which door communicated by +a covered bridge with the second floor of No. 8, where the artists had +bedrooms. The arrangement was a characteristic example of the manner in +which building was added to building in London contrary to the intention +of the original laying-out, and George in his expert capacity wondered +how the plans had been kept within the by-laws of the borough, and by +what chicane the consent of the ground-landlord had been obtained. + +Mr. Alfred Prince, whom also George knew slightly, was trimming a huge +oil-lamp which depended by a wire from the scarcely visible apex of the +roof. When at length the natural perversity of the lamp had been +mastered and the metal shade replaced, George got a general view of the +immense and complex disorder of the studio. It was obviously very +dirty--even in the lamplight the dust could be seen in drifts on the +moveless folds of the curtains--it was a pigsty; but it was romantic +with shadowed spaces, and gleams of copper and of the pale arms of the +etching-press, and glimpses of pictures; and the fellow desired a studio +of his own! He was glad, now, that Mr. Buckingham Smith had invited them +in. He had wanted to keep Marguerite Haim to himself; but it was worth +while to visit the studio, and it was especially worth while to watch +her under the illumination of the lamp. + +"Lucky we have a clean tablecloth," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, opening +his packages and setting a table. "Brawn, Miss Haim! And beer, Miss +Haim! That is to say, Pilsener. From the only place in Chelsea where you +can get it." + +And his packages really did contain brawn and beer (four bottles of the +Pilsener); also bread and a slice of butter. The visitors learnt that +they had happened on a feast, a feast which Mr. Buckingham Smith had +conceived and ordained, a feast to celebrate the triumph of Mr. Alfred +Prince. An etching by Mr. Prince had been bought by Vienna. Mr. +Buckingham Smith did not say that the etching had been bought by any +particular gallery in Vienna. He said 'by Vienna,' giving the idea that +all Vienna, every man, woman, and child in that distant and enlightened +city where etchings were truly understood, had combined for the +possession of a work by Mr. Prince. Mr. Buckingham Smith opined that +soon every gallery in Europe would be purchasing examples of Alfred +Prince. He snatched from a side-table and showed the identical authentic +letter from Vienna to Mr. Alfred Prince, with its official heading, +foreign calligraphy, and stilted English. The letter was very +complimentary. + +In George's estimation Mr. Prince did not look the part of an etcher of +continental renown. He was a small, pale man, with a small brown beard, +very shabby, and he was full of small nervous gestures. He had the +innocently-red nose which pertains to indigestion. His trousers bagged +horribly at the knees, and he wore indescribable slippers. He said +little, in an extremely quiet, weak voice. His eyes, however, were +lively and attractive. He was old, probably at least thirty-five. Mr. +Buckingham Smith made a marked contrast to him. Tall, with newish +clothes, a powerful voice and decisive gestures, Mr. Buckingham Smith +dominated, though he was younger than his friend. He tried to please, +and he mingled the grand seigneurial style with the abrupt. It was he +who played both the parlourmaid and the host. He forced Marguerite to +have some brawn, serving her with a vast portion; but he could not force +her to take Pilsener. + +"Now, Mr. Cannon," he said, pouring beer into a glass with an up-and-down +motion of the bottle so as to put a sparkling head on the beer. + +"No, thank you," said George decidedly. "I won't have beer." + +Mr. Buckingham Smith gazed at him challengingly out of his black eyes. +"Oh! But you've got to," he said. It was as if he had said: "I am +generous. I love to be hospitable, but I am not going to have my +hospitality thwarted, and you needn't think it." + +George accepted the beer and joined in the toasting of Mr. Alfred +Prince's health. + +"Old chap!" Mr. Buckingham Smith greeted his chum, and then to George +and Marguerite, informingly and seriously: "One of the best." + +It was during the snack that Mr. Buckingham Smith began to display the +etchings of Mr. Alfred Prince, massed in a portfolio. He extolled them +with his mouth half-full of brawn, or between two gulps of Pilsener. +They impressed George deeply--they were so rich and dark and austere. + +"Old Princey boy's one of the finest etchers in Europe to-day, if you +ask me," said Mr. Buckingham Smith off-handedly, and with the air of +stating the obvious. And George thought that Mr. Prince was. The +etchings were not signed 'Alfred Prince,' but just 'Prince,' which was +quietly imposing. Everybody agreed that Vienna had chosen the best one. + +"It's a dry-point, isn't it?" Marguerite asked, peering into it. George +started. This single remark convinced him that she knew all about +etching, whereas he himself knew nothing. He did not even know exactly +what a dry-point was. + +"Mostly," said Mr. Prince. "You can only get that peculiar quality of +line in dry-point." + +George perceived that etching was an entrancing subject, and he +determined to learn something about it--everything about it. + +Then came the turn of Mr. Buckingham Smith's paintings. These were not +signed 'Smith' as the etchings were signed 'Prince.' By no means! They +were signed 'Buckingham Smith.' George much admired them, though less +than he admired the etchings. They were very striking and ingenious, in +particular the portraits and the still-life subjects. He had to admit +that these fellows to whom he had scarcely given a thought, these +fellows who existed darkly behind the house, were prodigiously +accomplished. + +"Of course," said Mr. Buckingham Smith negligently, "you can't get any +idea of them by this light--though," he added warningly, "it's the +finest artificial light going. Better than all your electricity." + +There was a pause, and Mr. Prince sighed and said: + +"I was thinking of going up to the Promenades to-night, but Buck won't +go." + +George took fire at once. "The Glazounov ballet music?" + +"Glazounov?" repeated Mr. Prince uncertainly. "No. I rather wanted to +hear the new Elgar." + +George was disappointed, for he had derived from Mr. Enwright positive +opinions about the relative importance of Elgar and Glazounov. + +"Go often?" he asked. + +"No," said Mr. Prince. "I haven't been this season yet, but I'm always +meaning to." He smiled apologetically. "And I thought to-night----" +Despite appearances, he was not indifferent after all to his great +Viennese triumph; he had had some mild notion of his own of celebrating +the affair. + +"I suppose this is what etchings are printed with," said George to Mr. +Buckingham Smith, for the sake of conversation, and he moved towards the +press. The reception given to the wonderful name of Glazounov in that +studio was more than a disappointment for George; he felt obscurely that +it amounted to a snub. + +Mr. Buckingham Smith instantly became the urbane and alert showman. He +explained how the pressure was regulated. He pulled the capstan-like +arms of the motive wheel and the blanketed steel bed slid smoothly under +the glittering cylinder. Although George had often been in his +stepfather's printing works he now felt for the first time the +fascination of manual work, of artisanship, in art, and he regretted +that the architect had no such labour. He could indistinctly hear Mr. +Prince talking to Marguerite. + +"This is a monotype," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, picking up a dusty +print off the window-sill. "I do one occasionally." + +"Did you do this?" asked George, who had no idea what a monotype was and +dared not inquire. + +"Yes. They're rather amusing to do. You just use a match or your finger +or anything." + +"It's jolly good," said George. "D'you know, it reminds me a bit of +CĂ©zanne." + +Of course it was in Paris that he had heard of the great original, the +martyr and saviour of modern painting. Equally of course it was Mr. +Enwright who had inducted him into the esoteric cult of CĂ©zanne, and +magically made him see marvels in what at the first view had struck him +as a wilful and clumsy absurdity. + +"Oh!" murmured Buck, stiffening. + +"What do you think of CĂ©zanne?" + +"Rule it out!" said Buck, with a warning cantankerous inflection, firmly +and almost brutally reproving this conversational delinquency of +George's. "Rule it out, young man! We don't want any of that sort of +mountebanking in England. We know what it's worth." + +George was cowed. More, his faith in CĂ©zanne was shaken. He smiled +sheepishly and was angry with himself. Then he heard Mr. Prince saying +calmly and easily to Miss Haim--the little old man could not in fact be +so nervous as he seemed: + +"I suppose _you_ wouldn't come with me to the Prom?" + +George was staggered and indignant. It was inconceivable, monstrous, +that those two should be on such terms as would warrant Mr. Prince's +astounding proposal. He felt that he simply could not endure them +marching off together for the evening. Her acceptance of the proposal +would be an outrage. He trembled. However, she declined, and he was +lifted from the rack. + +"I must really go," she said. "Father's sure to be home by now." + +"May I?" demanded Mr. Buckingham Smith, stooping over Marguerite's +portfolio of designs, and glancing round at her for permission to open +it. Already his hand was on the tape. + +"On no account!" she cried. "No! No!... Mr. Cannon, please take it from +him!" She was serious. + +"Oh! All right! All right!" Mr. Buckingham Smith rose to the erect +good-humouredly. + +After a decent interval George took the portfolio under his arm. +Marguerite was giving thanks for hospitality. They left. George was +singularly uplifted by the fact that she never concealed from him those +designs upon which Mr. Buckingham Smith had not been allowed to gaze. +And, certain contretemps and disappointments notwithstanding, he was +impressed by the entity of the studio. It had made a desirable picture +in his mind: the romantic paraphernalia, the etchings, the canvases, the +lights and shadows, the informality, the warm odours of the lamp and of +the Pilsener, the dazzling white of the tablecloth, the quick, positive +tones of Buckingham Smith, who had always to be convincing not only +others but himself that he was a strong man whose views were +unassailable, the eyes of Buckingham Smith like black holes in his +handsome face, the stylish gestures and coarse petulance of Buckingham +Smith, the shy assurance of little old Prince. He envied the pair. Their +existence had a cloistral quality which appealed to something in him. +They were continually in the studio, morning, afternoon, evening. They +were independent. They had not to go forth to catch omnibuses and +trains, to sit in offices, to utilize the services of clerks, to take +orders, to consider the idiosyncrasies of superiors. They were +self-contained, they were consecrated, and they were free. No open +competitions for them! No struggles with committees and with +contractors! And no waiting for the realization of an idea! They sat +down and worked, and the idea came at once to life, complete, without +the necessity of other human co-operation! They did not sit in front of +a painting or etching and say, as architects had too often to say in +front of their designs: "That is wasted! That will never come into +being." Architecture might be the art of arts, and indeed it was, but +there were terrible drawbacks to it.... + +And next he was outside in the dark with Marguerite Haim, and new, +intensified sensations thrilled him. She was very marvellous in the +dark. + +Mr. Haim had not returned. + +"Well!" she muttered; and then dreamily: "What a funny little man Mr. +Prince is, isn't he?" She spoke condescendingly. + +"Anyhow," said George, who had been respecting Mr. Alfred Prince, +"anyhow, I'm glad you didn't go to the concert with him." + +"Why?" she asked, with apparent simplicity. "I adore the Proms. Don't +you?" + +"Let's go, then," he suggested. "We shan't be very late, and what else +is there for you to do?" + +His audacity frightened him. There she stood with him in the porch, +silent, reflective. She would never go. For sundry practical and other +reasons she would refuse. She must refuse. + +"I'll go," she said, as if announcing a well-meditated decision. He +could scarcely believe it. This could not be London that he was in. + +They deposited the portfolio under the mat in the porch. + + +IV + + +When they got into the hall the band was sending forth a tremendous +volume of brilliant exhilarating sound. A vast melody seemed to ride on +waves of brass. The conductor was very excited, and his dark locks shook +with the violence of his gestures as he urged onward the fingers and +arms of the executants flying madly through the maze of the music to a +climax. There were flags; there was a bank of flowers; there was a +fountain; there were the huge crimson-domed lamps that poured down their +radiance; and there was the packed crowd of straw-hatted and +floral-hatted erect figures gazing with upturned, intent faces at the +immense orchestral machine. Then came a final crash, and for an instant +the thin, silvery tinkle of the fountain supervened in an enchanted +hush; and then terrific applause, with yells and thuds above and below +the hand-clapping, filled and inflamed the whole interior. The +conductor, recovering from a collapse, turned round and bowed low with +his hand on his shirt-front; his hair fell over his forehead; he +straightened himself and threw the hair back again, and so he kept on, +time after time casting those plumes to and fro. At last, sated with +homage, he thought of justice, and pointed to the band and smiled with +an unconvincing air of humility, as if saying: "I am naught. Here are +the true heroes." And on the end of his stick he lifted to their feet +eighty men, whose rising drew invigorated shouts. Enthusiasm reigned; +triumph was accomplished. Even when the applause had expired, enthusiasm +still reigned; and every person present had the illusion of a share in +the triumph. It was a great night at the Promenades. + +George and Marguerite looked at each other happily. They both were +inspired by the feeling that life was a grand thing, and that they had +reached suddenly one of the summits of existence. George, observing the +excitement in her eyes, thought how wonderful it was that she too should +be excited. + +"What was that piece?" she asked. + +"I don't quite know," he said. "There don't appear to be any programmes +about." He wished he had been able to identify the piece, but he was too +content to be ashamed of his ignorance. Moreover, his ignorance was hers +also, and he liked that. + +The music resumed. He listened, ready to put himself into the mood of +admiration if it was the Glazounov item. Was it Glazounov? He could not +be certain. It sounded fine. Surely it sounded Russian. Then he had a +glimpse of a programme held by a man standing near, and he peered at it. +"No. 4. Elgar--Sea-Pictures." No. 5 was the Glazounov. + +"It's only the Elgar," he said, with careless condescension, perceiving +at once, by the mere virtue of a label, that the music was not fine and +not Russian. He really loved music, but he happened to be at that age, +from which some people never emerge, at which the judgment depends +almost completely on extraneous suggestion. + +"Oh!" murmured Marguerite indifferently, responding to his tone. + +"Glazounov's next," he said. + +"I suppose we couldn't sit down," she suggested. + +Yet it was she who had preferred the Promenade to the Grand Circle or +the Balcony. + +"We'll find something," he said, with his usual assurance. And in the +corridor that surrounded the hemicycle they climbed up on to a narrow +ledge in the wall and sat side by side in perfect luxury, not dreaming +that they were doing anything unusual or undignified. As a fact, they +were not. Other couples were perched on other ledges, and still others +on the cold steam-pipes. A girl with a big face and heavy red lips sat +alone, lounging, her head aslant. She had an open copy of _Home Notes_ +in one hand. Elgar had sent the simple creature into an ecstasy, and she +never stirred; probably she did not know anyone named Enwright. +Promenaders promenaded in and out of the corridor, and up and down the +corridor, and nobody troubled to glance twice either at the +heavy-lipped, solitary girl or at the ledged couples. + +Through an arched doorway could be seen the orchestra and half the +auditorium. + +"This is the best seat in the hall," George observed proudly. Marguerite +smiled at him. + +When the "Sea-Pictures" were finished she gave a sigh of appreciation, +having forgotten, it seemed, that persons who had come to admire +Glazounov ought not to relish Elgar. And George, too, reflecting upon +the sensations produced within him by Elgar, was ready to admit that, +though Elgar could of course not be classed with the foreigner, there +might be something to be said for him after all. + +"This is just what I needed," she murmured. + +"Oh?" + +"I was very depressed this afternoon," she said. + +"Were you?" He had not noticed it. + +"Yes. They've cut down my price from a pound to seventeen and six." +'They' were the employing bookbinders, and the price was the fixed price +for a design--side and back. + +He was shocked, and he felt guilty. How was it that he had noticed +nothing in her demeanour? He had been full of the misfortune of the +firm, and she had made the misfortune her own, keeping silence about the +grinding harshness of bookbinders. He was an insensible egotist, and +girls were wondrous. At any rate this girl was wondrous. He had an +intense desire to atone for his insensibility and his egotism by +protecting her, spoiling her, soothing her into forgetfulness of her +trouble.... Ah! He understood now what she meant when she had replied to +his suggestion as to visiting the cathedral: "It might do me good." + +"How rotten!" he exclaimed, expressing his sympathy by means of disgust. +"Couldn't you tell them to go to the dickens?" + +"You have to take what they'll give," she answered. "Especially when +they begin to talk about bad trade and that sort of thing." + +"Well, it's absolutely rotten!" + +It was not the arbitrary reduction of her earnings that he resented, but +the fact of her victimhood. Scandalous, infamous, that this rare and +delicate creature should be defenceless against commercial brutes! + +The Glazounov ballet music, "The Seasons," started. Knowing himself +justified, he surrendered himself to it, to its exoticism, to its +Russianism, to its wilful and disconcerting beauty. And there was no +composer like Glazounov. Beneath the sensory spell of the music, his +memory wandered about through the whole of his life. He recalled days in +his mother's boarding-house at Brighton; musical evenings, at which John +Orgreave was present, at his stepfather's house in the Five Towns; and +in all kinds of scenes at the later home at Ladderedge Hall--scenes in +which his mother again predominated, becoming young again and learning +sports and horsewomanship as a girl might have learnt them.... And they +were all beautiful beneath the music. The music softened; the fountain +was heard; the striking of matches was heard.... Still, all was +beautiful. Then he touched Marguerite's hand as it rested a little +behind her on the ledge. The effect of contact was surprising. With all +his other thoughts he had not ceased to think of the idea of shielding +and enveloping her. But now this idea utterly possessed him. The music +grew louder, and as it were under cover of the music he put his hand +round her hand. It was a venturesome act with such a girl; he was +afraid.... The hand lay acquiescent within his! He tightened the +pressure. The hand lay acquiescent; it accepted. The flashing +realization of her compliance overwhelmed him. He was holding the very +symbol of wild purity, and there was no effort to be free. None +guessed. None could see. They two had the astonishing, the incredible +secret between them. He looked at her profile, taking precautions. No +sign of alarm or disturbance. Her rapt glance was fixed steadily on the +orchestra framed in the arched doorway.... Incredible, the soft, warm +delicacy of the cotton glove! + +The applause at the end of the number awoke them. He released her hand. +She slipped neatly down from the ledge. + +"I think I ought to be going back home.... Father ..." she murmured. She +met his eyes; but his embarrassed eyes would not meet hers. + +"Certainly!" he agreed quickly, though they had been in the hall little +more than half an hour. He would have agreed to any suggestion from her. +It seemed to him that the least he could do at that moment was to fulfil +unquestioningly her slightest wish. Then she looked away, and he saw +that a deep blush gradually spread over her lovely face. This was the +supreme impressive phenomenon. Before the blush he was devotional. + + +V + + +They walked down Regent Street almost in silence, enjoying +simultaneously the silence and solitude of the curving thoroughfare and +the memory of the bright, crowded, triumphant scene which they had left. +At Piccadilly Circus George inquired for the new open motor-buses which +had just begun to run between the Circus and Putney, passing the +Redcliffe Arms. Already, within a year, the time was historically +distant when a policeman had refused to allow the automobile of a Member +of Parliament to enter Palace Yard, on the ground that there was no +precedent for such a desecration. The new motor-buses, however, did not +run at night. Human daring had limits, and it was reported that at least +one motor-driver, succumbing to the awful nervous strain of guiding +these fast expresses through the traffic of the West End, had been taken +to the lunatic asylum. George called a hansom, of which there were +dozens idling about. Marguerite seemed tacitly to object to this act as +the germ of extravagance; but it was the only classic thing to do, and +he did it. + +The hansom rolled rapidly and smoothly along upon that well-established +novelty, india-rubber tyres. Bits of the jingling harness oscillated +regularly from side to side. At intervals the whip-thong dragged gently +across the horse's back, and the horse lifted and shook its head. The +shallow and narrow interior of the hansom was constructed with +exactitude to hold two. Neither occupant could move in any direction, +and neither desired to move. The splendidly lighted avenues, of which +every detail could be discerned as by day, flowed evenly past the +vehicle. + +"I've never been in a hansom before," said Marguerite timidly--because +the situation was so dismaying in its enchantment. + +He, from the height of two years of hansom-using, was touched, +delighted, even impressed. The staggering fact increased her virginal +charm and its protectiveness. He thought upon the simplicity of her +existence. Of course she had never been in a hansom! Hansoms were +obviously outside her scheme. He said nothing, but he sought for and +found her hand beneath the apron. She did not resist. He reflected "Can +she resist? She cannot." Her hand was in a living swoon. Her hand was +his; it was admittedly his. She could never deny it, now. He touched the +button of the glove, and undid it. Then, moving her passive hand, he +brought both his to it, and with infinitely delicate and considerate +gestures he slowly drew off the glove, and he held her hand ungloved. +She did not stir nor speak. Nothing so marvellous as her exquisite and +confiding stillness had ever happened.... The hansom turned into +Alexandra Grove, and when it stopped he pushed the glove into her hand, +which closed on it. As they descended the cabman, accustomed to peer +down on loves pure and impure, gave them a beneficent look. + +"He's not come in," said Marguerite, glancing through the flap of the +front door. She was exceedingly self-conscious, but beneath her +self-consciousness could be noticed an indignant accusation against old +Haim. She had rung the bell and knocked. + +"Are you sure? Can you see the hat-stand?" + +"I can see it enough for that." + +"Look here," George suggested, with false lightness, "I expect I could +get in through my window." His room was on the ground floor, and not +much agility was needed to clamber up to its ledge from the level of the +area. He might have searched his pockets again and discovered his +latchkey, but he would not. Sooner than admit a deception he would have +remained at the door with her all night. + +"Think you could?" + +"Yes. I could slide the window-catch." + +He jumped down the steps and showed her how he could climb. In two +minutes he was opening the front door to her from the inside. She moved +towards him in the gloom. + +"Oh! My portfolio!" She stopped, and bent down to the mat. + +Then she busily lighted the little hall-lamp with his matches, and +hurried down, taking the matches, to the kitchen. After a few moments +George followed her; he was obliged to follow her. She had removed her +coat; it lay on the sole chair. The hat and blouse which she wore seemed +very vivid in the kitchen--vestiges of past glorious episodes in +concert-halls and hansoms. She had lighted the kitchen-lamp and was +standing apparently idle. The alarum-clock on the black mantelpiece +ticked noisily. The cat sat indifferently on the corner of the clean, +bare table. George hesitated in the doorway. He was extremely excited, +because the tremendous fact of what he had done and what she had +permitted, with all the implications, had to be explicitly acknowledged +between them. Of course it had to be acknowledged! They were both fully +aware of the thing, she as well as he, but spoken words must +authenticate its existence as only spoken words could. + +She said, beginning sternly and finishing with a peculiar smile: + +"I do think this business of father and Mrs. Lobley is going rather +far." + +And George had a sudden new sense of the purely feminine adroitness of +women. In those words she had clearly conceded that their relations were +utterly changed. Never before had she made even the slightest, most +distant reference to the monstrous household actuality, unadmitted and +yet patent, of the wooing of Mrs. Lobley the charwoman by her father, +the widower of her mother. If Mr. Haim stayed away from home of an +evening, Mrs. Lobley was the siren who deflected him from the straight +domestic path. She knew it; George surmised it; the whole street had its +suspicions. But hitherto Marguerite had given no sign. She now created +George the confidant of her resentment. And her smile was not an +earnest of some indulgence for her father--her smile was for George +alone. + +He went boldly up to her, put his arms round her, and kissed her. She +did not kiss. But she allowed herself to be kissed, and she let her body +loose in his embrace. She looked at him with her eyes nearly upon his, +and her eyes glittered with a mysterious burning; he knew that she was +content. That she should be content, that it should please her to let +him have the unimaginable experience of holding that thrilled and +thrilling body close to his, seemed to him to be a marvellous piece of +sheer luck and overwhelming good fortune. She was so sensuous and yet so +serious. Her gaze stimulated not only love but conscience. In him +ambition was superlatively vigorous. Nevertheless he felt then as though +he had never really known ambition till that moment. He thought of the +new century and of a new life. He perceived the childishness and folly +of his favourite idea that an artist ought to pass through a phase of +Don Juanism. He knew that the task of satisfying the lofty and exacting +and unique girl would be immense, and that he could fulfil it, but on +the one condition that it monopolized his powers. Thus he was both +modest and proud, anxious and divinely elated. His mind was the scene of +innumerable impulses and sensations over which floated the banner of the +male who has won an impassioned allegiance. + +"Don't let's tell anyone yet," she murmured. + +"No." + +"I mean for a long time," she insisted. + +"No, we won't," he agreed, and added scornfully: "They'd only say we're +too young." + +The notion of secrecy was an enchanting notion. + +She cut magic cake and poured out magic milk. And they ate and drank +together, for they were hungry. And at this point the cat began to show +an interest in their doings. + +And after they were both in their beds, but not after they were asleep, +Mr. Haim, by the clicking of a latchkey in a lock, reminded them of +something which they had practically forgotten--his disordered +existence. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHARWOMAN + +I + + +George entered Alexandra Grove very early the next evening, having dined +inadequately and swiftly so that he might reach the neighbourhood of +Marguerite at the first moment justifiable. He would have omitted dinner +and trusted to Marguerite's kitchen, only that, in view of the secrecy +resolved upon, appearances had to be preserved. The secrecy in itself +was delicious, but even the short experiences of the morning had shown +both of them how extremely difficult it would be for two people who were +everything to each other to behave as though they were nothing to each +other. George hoped, however, that Mr. Haim would again be absent, and +he was anticipating exquisite hours. + +At the precise instant when he put his latchkey in the door the door was +pulled away from him by a hand within, and he saw a woman of about +thirty-five, plump but not stout, in a blue sateen dress, bonneted but +not gloved. She had pleasant, commonplace features and brown hair. +Several seconds elapsed before George recognized in her Mrs. Lobley, the +charwoman of No. 8, and when he did so he was a little surprised at her +presentableness. He had met her very seldom in the house. He was always +late for breakfast, and his breakfast was always waiting for him. On +Sundays he was generally out. If he did catch sight of her, she was +invariably in a rough apron and as a rule on her knees. Their +acquaintance had scarcely progressed far enough for him to call her +'Mrs. Lob' with any confidence. He had never seen her at night, though +upon occasion he had heard her below in the basement, and for him she +was associated with mysterious nocturnal goings and comings by the +basement door. That she should be using the front door was as startling +as that she should be so nobly attired in blue sateen. + +"Good evening--Mr. Cannon," she said, in her timid voice, too thin for +her body. He noticed that she was perturbed. Hitherto she had always +addressed him as 'sir.' + +"Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic air she slipped past him +and departed out of the house. + +Mr. Haim was visible just within the doorway of the sitting-room, and +behind him the table with the tea-things still on it. George had felt +considerably self-conscious in Mr. Haim's presence at the office; and he +was so preoccupied by his own secret mighty affair that his first +suspicion connected the strange apparition of a new Mrs. Lobley and the +peculiar look on Mr. Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and +dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, though +absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other way. + +"Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early to-night." + +"A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to read, you +know." He was using the word 'read' in the examination sense. + +"If you could spare me a minute," smiled Mr. Haim + +"Certainly." + +"Have a cigarette," said Mr. Haim, as soon as George had deposited his +hat and come into the room. This quite unprecedented offer reassured +George, who in spite of reason had continued to fear that the landlord +had something on his mind about his daughter and his lodger. Mr. Haim +presented his well-known worn cigarette-case, and then with precise and +calm gestures carefully shut the door. + +"The fact is," said he, "I wanted to tell you something. I told Mr. +Enwright this afternoon, as I thought was proper, and it seems to me +that you are the next person who ought to be informed." + +"Oh yes?" + +"I am going to be married." + +"The deuce you are!" + +The light words had scarcely escaped from young George before he +perceived that his tone was a mistake, and that Mr. Haim was in a state +of considerable emotion, which would have to be treated very carefully. +And George too now suddenly partook of the emotion. He felt himself to +be astonished and even shaken by Mr. Haim's news. The atmosphere of the +interview changed in an instant. Mr. Haim moved silently on slippered +feet to the mantelpiece, out of the circle of lamplight, and dropped +some ash into the empty fire-place. + +"I congratulate you," said George. + +"Thank you!" said Mr. Haim brightly, seizing gratefully on the fustian +phrase, eager to hall-mark it as genuine and put it among his treasures. +Without doubt he was flattered. "Yes," he proceeded, as it were +reflectively, "I have asked Mrs. Lobley to be my wife, and she has done +me the honour to consent." He had the air of having invented the words +specially to indicate that Mrs. Lobley was descending from a throne in +order to espouse him. It could not have occurred to him that they had +ever been used before and that the formula was classic. He smiled again, +and went on: "Of course I've known and admired Mrs. Lobley for a long +time. What we should have done without her valuable help in this house I +don't like to think. I really don't." + +"'Her help in this house,'" thought the ruthless George, behind +cigarette smoke. "Why doesn't he say right out she's the charwoman? If I +was marrying a charwoman, I should say I was marrying a charwoman." And +then he had a misgiving: "Should I? I wonder whether I should." And he +remembered that ultimately the charwoman was going to be his own +mother-in-law. He was aware of a serious qualm. + +"Mrs. Lobley has had an uphill fight since her first husband's death," +said Mr. Haim. "He was an insurance agent--the Prudential. She's come +out of it splendidly. She's always kept up her little home, though it +was only two rooms, and she'll only leave it because I can offer her a +better one. I have always admired her, and I'm sure the more you know +her the more you'll like her. She's a woman in a thousand, Mr. Cannon." + +"I expect she is," George agreed feebly. He could not think of anything +to say. + +"And I'm thankful I _can_ offer her a better home. I don't mind telling +you now that at one time I began to fear I shouldn't have a home. I've +had my ambitions, Mr. Cannon. I was meant for a quantity surveyor. I was +one--you may say. But it was not to be. I came down in the world, but I +kept my head above water. And then in the end, with a little money I had +I bought this house. £575. It needed some negotiation. Ground-rent £10 +per annum, and seventy years to run. You see, all along I had had the +idea of building a studio in the garden. I was one of the first to see +the commercial possibilities of studios in Chelsea. But of course I know +Chelsea. I made the drawings for the studio myself. Mr. Enwright kindly +suggested a few improvements. With all my experience I was in a position +to get it put up as cheaply as possible. You'd be surprised at the +number of people in the building line anxious to oblige me. It cost +under £300. I had to borrow most of it. But I've paid it off. What's the +consequence? The consequence is that the rent of the studio and the top +rooms brings me in over eight per cent on all I spent on the house and +the studio together. And I'm living rent free myself." + +"Jolly good!" + +"Yes.... If I'd had capital, Mr. Cannon, I could have made thousands out +of studios. Thousands. I fancy I've the gift. But I've never had the +capital. And that's all there is to it." He smacked his lips, and leaned +back against the mantelpiece. "You may tell me I've realized my +ambitions. Not all of them, Mr. Cannon. Not all of them. If I'd had +money I should have had leisure, and I should have improved myself. +Reading, I mean. Study. Literature. Music. Painting. History of +architecture. All that sort of thing. I've got the taste for it. I know +I've got the taste for it. But what could I do? I gave it up. You'll +never know how lucky you are, Mr. Cannon. I gave it up. However, I've +nothing to be ashamed of. At any rate I hope not." + +George nodded appreciatively. He was touched. He was even impressed. He +admitted the _naivetĂ©_ of the ageing man, his vanity, his +sentimentality. But he saw himself to be in the presence of an +achievement. And though the crown of Mr. Haim's achievement was to marry +a charwoman, still the achievement impressed. And the shabby man with +the lined, common face was looking back at the whole of his life--there +was something positively formidable in that alone. He was at the end; +George was at the beginning, and George felt callow and deferential. The +sensation of callowness at once heightened his resolve to succeed. All +George's sensations seemed mysteriously to transform themselves into +food for this great resolve. + +"And what does Miss Haim say to all this?" he asked, rather timidly and +wildly. It was a venturesome remark; it might well have been called an +impertinence; but the image of Marguerite was involved in all the +workings of his mind, and it would not be denied expression. + +Mr. Haim lifted his back from the mantelpiece sharply. Then he +hesitated, moving forward a little. + +"Mr. Cannon," he said, "it's curious you should ask that." His voice +trembled, and at the vibration George was suddenly apprehensive. Mr. +Haim had soon recovered from his original emotion, but now he seemed to +be in danger of losing control of himself. + +George nervously cleared his throat and apologized. + +"I didn't mean----" + +"I'd better tell you," Mr. Haim interrupted him, rather loudly. "We've +just had a terrible scene with my daughter, a terrible scene!" He seldom +referred to Marguerite by her Christian name, "Mr. Cannon, I had hoped +to get through my life without a scandal, and especially an open +scandal. But it seems as if I shouldn't--if I know my daughter! It was +not my intention to say anything. Far from it. Outsiders ought not to be +troubled.... I--I like you, Mr. Cannon. She left us a few minutes ago +And as she didn't put her hat on she must be either at the studio or at +Agg's...." + +"She went out of the house?" George questioned awkwardly. + +Mr. Haim nodded, and then without warning he dropped like an inert lump +on to a chair and let his head fall on to his hand. + +George was frightened as well as mystified. The spectacle of the old +man--at one moment boasting ingenuously of his career, and at the next +almost hysterical with woe--roused his pity in a very disconcerting +manner, and from his sight the Lucas & Enwright factotum vanished +utterly, and was supplanted by a tragic human being. But he had no idea +how to handle the unexampled situation with dignity; he realized +painfully his own lack of experience, and his over-mastering impulse was +to get away while it was still possible to get away. Moreover, he +desired intensely to see and hear Marguerite. + +"Perhaps I had better find out where she is," he absurdly suggested, and +departed from the room feeling like a criminal reprieved. + +The old man did not stir. + + +II + + +"Can I come in?" said George, hatless, pushing open the door of the +studio, which was ajar. + +There were people in the bright and rather chilly studio, and none of +them moved until the figure arriving out of the darkness was identified. +Mr. Prince, who in the far corner was apparently cleaning or adjusting +his press, then came forward with a quiet, shy, urbane welcome. +Marguerite herself stood nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg, +who was seated. The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in +her somewhat deep voice to Marguerite: + +"I must go." + +Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a broad-minded and +turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal headship of a hard-working +and successful barrister. She was a painter, and lived and slept in +semi-independence in a studio of her own in Manresa Road, but maintained +close and constant relations with the rest of the tribe. In shape and +proportions fairly tall and fairly thin, she counted in shops among the +stock-sizes; but otherwise she was entitled to call herself unusual. She +kept her hair about as short as the hair of a boy who has postponed +going to the barber's for a month after the proper time, and she +incompletely covered the hair with the smallest possible hat. Her coat +was long and straight and her skirt short. Her boots were high, reaching +well up the calf, but they had high heels and were laced in some +hundreds of holes. She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was +twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast with one +another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and liked it. + +"Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking hands. + +George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her father's house. +Having yet to learn the important truth that it takes all sorts to make +a world, he did not like her and wondered why she existed. He could +understand Agg being fond of Marguerite, but he could not understand +Marguerite being fond of Agg; and the friendship between these two, now +that he actually for the first time saw it in being, irked him. + +"Is anything the matter?... Have you seen father?" asked Marguerite in a +serious, calm tone, turning to him. Like George, she had run into the +studio without putting on any street attire. + +George perceived that there was no secret in the studio as to the crisis +in the Haim family. Clearly the topic had been under discussion. Prince +as well as Agg was privy to it. He did not quite like that. He was +vaguely jealous of both Prince and Agg. Indeed he was startled to find +that Marguerite could confide such a matter to Prince--at any rate +without consulting himself. While not definitely formulating the claim +in his own mind, he had somehow expected of Marguerite that until she +met him she would have existed absolutely sole, without any sentimental +connexions of any sort, in abeyance, waiting for his miraculous advent. +He was glad that Mr. Buckingham Smith was not of the conclave; he felt +that he could not have tolerated Mr. Buckingham Smith. + +"Yes, I've seen him," George answered. + +"Did he tell you?" + +"Yes." + +Mr. Prince, after a little hovering, retired to his press, and a wheel +could be heard creaking. + +"What did he tell you?" + +"He told me about--the marriage.... And I gathered there'd been a bit of +a scene." + +"Nothing else?" + +"No." + +Agg then interjected, fixing her blue eyes on George: + +"Marguerite is coming to live with me in my studio." + +And her challenging gaze met George's. + +"Oh!" George could not suppress his pained inquietude at this decision +having been made without his knowledge. Both girls misapprehended his +feeling. "That's it, is it?" + +"Well," said Agg, "what can Mr. Haim expect? Here Marguerite's been +paying this woman two shillings a day and her food, and letting her take +a parcel home at nights. And then all of a sudden she comes dressed up +for tea, and sits down, and Mr. Haim says she's his future wife. What +_does_ he expect? Does he expect Marguerite to kiss her and call her +mamma? The situation's impossible." + +"But you can't stop people from falling in love, Agg, you know. It's not +a crime," said Mr. Prince in his weak voice surprisingly from the press. + +"I know it's not a crime," said Agg sharply. "And nobody wants to stop +people from falling in love. If Mr. Haim chooses to go mad about a +charwoman, when his wife, and such a wife, 's been dead barely three +years, that's his concern. It's true the lady isn't much more than half +his age, and that the whole business would be screamingly funny if it +wasn't disgusting; but still he's a free agent. And Marguerite's a free +agent too, I hope. Of course he's thunder-struck to discover that +Marguerite _is_ a free agent. He would be!" + +"He certainly is in a state," said George, with an uneasy short laugh. + +Agg continued: + +"And why is he in a state? Because Marguerite says she shall leave the +house? Not a bit. Only because of what he thinks is the scandal of her +leaving. Mr. Haim is a respectable man. He's simply all respectability. +Respectability's his god--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Always has been. +He'd sacrifice everything to respectability--except the lovely Lobley. +It's not respectable in a respectable family for a girl to leave home on +account of her stepmother. And so he's in a state, if you please!... If +he wanted to carry on with Mrs. Lobley, let him carry on with her. But +no! That's not respectable. He's just got to marry her!" Agg sneered. + +George was startled, perhaps excusably, at the monstrous doctrine +implied in Agg's remarks. He had thought himself a man of the world, +experienced, unshockable. But he blenched, and all his presence of mind +was needed to preserve a casual, cool demeanour. The worst of the trial +was Marguerite's tranquil acceptance of the attitude of her friend. She +glanced at Agg in silent, admiring approval. He surmised that until that +moment he had been perfectly ignorant of what girls really were. + +"I see," said George courageously. And then, strangely, he began to +admire too. And he pulled himself together. + +"I think I shall leave to-morrow," Marguerite announced. "Morning. It +will be much better. She can look after him. I don't see that I owe any +duty ..." + +"Yes, you do, dear," Agg corrected her impressively. "You owe a duty to +your mother--to her memory. That's the duty you owe. I'll come round for +you to-morrow myself in a four-wheeler--let me see, about eleven." + +George hated the sound of the word 'duty.' + +"Thank you, dear," Marguerite murmured, and the girls shook hands; they +did not kiss. + +"Bye-bye, Princey." + +"Bye-bye, Agg." + +"Good night, Mr. Cannon." + +Agg departed, slightly banging the door. + +"I think I'll go back home now," said Marguerite, in a sweet, firm tone. +"Had they gone out?" + +"Who? Your father and What's-her-name? She's gone, but he hasn't. If you +don't want to meet him to-night again, hadn't you better----" + +"Oh! If she's gone, he'll be gone too by this time. Trust him!" + +Mr. Prince approached them, urging Marguerite soothingly to stay as long +as she liked. She shook her head, and pressed his hand affectionately. + + +III + + +When George and Marguerite re-entered No. 8 by the front door, Mr. Haim +was still sitting overcome at the tea-table. They both had sight of him +through the open door of the parlour. Marguerite was obviously disturbed +to see him there, but she went straight into the room. George moved into +the darkness of his own room. He heard the voices of the other two. + +"Then you mean to go?" Haim asked accusingly. + +Marguerite answered in a calm, good-humoured, sweet tone: + +"Of course, if you mean to marry Mrs. Lobley." + +"Marry Mrs. Lobley! Of course I shall marry her!" Haim's voice rose. +"What right have you to settle where I shall marry and where I shan't?" + +"I've fixed everything up with Celia Agg," said Marguerite very quietly. + +"You've soon arranged it!" + +No reply from Marguerite. The old man spoke again: + +"You've no right--It'll be an open scandal." + +Then a silence. George now thought impatiently that a great fuss was +being made about a trifle, and that a matter much more important +deserved attention. His ear caught a violent movement. The old man came +out of the parlour, and, instead of taking his hat and rushing off to +find the enchantress, he walked slowly and heavily upstairs, preceded by +his immense shadow thrown from the hall-lamp. He disappeared round the +corner of the stairs. George, under the influence of the apparition, was +forced to modify his view that all the fuss was over a trifle. He +tiptoed into the parlour. Marguerite was standing at the table. As soon +as George came in she began to gather the tea-things together on the +tray. + +"I _say_!" whispered George. + +Marguerite's bent, tranquil face had a pleasant look as she handled the +crockery. + +"I shall get him a nice breakfast to-morrow," she said, also in a +whisper. "And as soon as he's gone to the office I shall pack. It won't +take me long, really." + +"But won't Mrs. Lobley be here?" + +"What if she is? I've nothing against Mrs. Lobley. Nor, as far as that +goes, against poor father either--you see what I mean." + +"He told me you'd had a terrible scene. That's what he said'--a terrible +scene." + +"It depends what you call a scene," she said smoothly. "I was rather +upset just at first--who wouldn't be?--but ..." She stopped, listening, +with a glance at the ceiling. There was not the slightest sound +overhead. "I wonder what he's doing?" + +She picked up the tray. + +"I'll carry that," said George. + +"No! It's all right. I'm used to it. You might bring me the tablecloth. +But you won't drop the crumbs out of it, will you?" + +He followed her with the bunched-up tablecloth down the dangerous +basement steps into the kitchen. She passed straight into the little +scullery, where the tray with its contents was habitually left for the +attention of Mrs. Lobley the next morning. When she turned again, he +halted her, as it were, at the entrance from the scullery with a +question. + +"Shall you be all right?" + +"With Agg?" + +"Yes." + +"How do you mean--'all right'?" + +"Well, for money, and so on." + +"Oh yes!" She spoke lightly and surely, with a faint confident smile. + +"I was thinking as they'd cut down your prices----" + +"I shall have heaps. Agg and I--why, we can live splendidly for next to +nothing. You'll see." + +He was rebuffed. He felt jealous of both Agg and Prince, but especially +of Prince. It still seemed outrageous to him that Prince should have +been taken into her confidence. Prince had known of the affair before +himself. He was more than jealous; he had a greater grievance. +Marguerite appeared to have forgotten all about love, all about the +mighty event of their betrothal. She appeared to have put it away, as +casually as she had put away the tray. Yet ought not the event to count +supreme over everything else--over no matter what? He was desolate and +unhappy. + +"Did you tell Agg?" he asked. + +"What about?" + +"Our being engaged--and so on." + +She started towards him. + +"Dearest!" she protested, not in the least irritated or querulous, but +kindly, affectionately. "Without asking you first? Didn't we agree we +wouldn't say anything to anybody? But we shall have to think about +telling Agg." + +He met her and suddenly seized her. They kissed, and she shut her eyes. +He was ecstatically happy. + +"Oh!" she murmured in his embrace. "I'm so glad I've got you." + +And she opened her eyes and tears fell from them. She cried quietly, +without excitement and without shame. She cried with absolute +naturalness. Her tears filled him with profound delight. And in the +exquisite subterranean intimacy of the kitchen, he saw with his eyes and +felt with his arms how beautiful she was. Her face, seen close, was +incredibly soft and touching. Her nose was the most wonderful nose ever +witnessed. He gloated upon her perfection. For, literally, to him she +was perfect. With what dignity and with what a sense of justice she had +behaved, in the studio, in the parlour, and here. He was gloriously +reassured as he realized how in their joint future he would be able to +rely upon her fairness, her conscientiousness, her mere pleasantness +which nothing could disturb. Throughout the ordeal of the evening she +had not once been ruffled. She had not said an unkind word, nor given an +unkind gesture, nor exhibited the least trace of resentment. Then, she +had taste, and she was talented. But perhaps the greatest quality of all +was her adorable beauty and charm. And yet no! The final attraction was +that she trusted him, depended on him, cried in his embrace.... He +loosed her with reluctance, and she deliciously wiped her eyes on his +handkerchief, and he took her again. + +"I suppose I must leave here too, now," he said. + +"Oh, George!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't! Why should you? I don't want +you to." + +"Don't you? Why?" + +"Oh! I don't! Truly. You'll be just as well looked after as if I was +here. I do hope you'll stay." + +That settled it. And Manresa Road was not far off. + +She sat on the table and leaned against him a long time. Then she said +she must go upstairs to her room--she had so much to do. He could not +forbid, because she was irresistible. She extinguished the kitchen-lamp, +and, side by side, they groped up the stairs to the first floor. The cat +nonchalantly passed them in the hall. + +"Put the lights out here, will you, when you go to bed?" she whispered. +He felt flattered. + +She offered her face.... The lovely thing slipped away upstairs with +unimaginable, ravishing grace. She vanished. There was silence. After a +moment George could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen below. He +stood motionless, amid the dizzying memories of her glance, her +gestures, the softness of her body. What had happened to him was past +belief. He completely forgot the existence of the old man in love. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LUNCHEON + +I + + +George, having had breakfast in bed, opened his door for the second time +that morning, and duly found on the mat the can of hot water (covered +with a bit of old blanket) and the can of cold water which comprised the +material for his bath. There was no sound in the house. The new spouse +might be upstairs or she might be downstairs--he could not tell; but the +cans proved that she was immanent and regardful; indeed, she never +forgot anything. And George's second state at No. 8 was physically even +better than his first. In the transition through autumn from summer to +winter--a transition which, according to the experience of tens of +thousands of London lodgers, is capable of turning comparative comfort +into absolute discomfort--Mrs. Haim had behaved with benevolence and +ingenuity. For example, the bedroom fire, laid overnight, was now +burning up well from the mere touch of the lodger's own match. Such +things are apt to count, and they counted with George. + +As for Mr. Haim, George knew that he was still in bed, because, since +his marriage, Mr. Haim had made a practice of staying in bed on Sunday +mornings. The scheme was his wife's; she regarded it as his duty to +himself to exercise this grand male privilege of staying in bed; to do +so gave him majesty, magnificence, and was a sign of authority. A copy +of _The Referee_, fresh as fruit new-dropped from the bough, lay in the +hall at the front door. Mr. Haim had read _The Referee_ since _The +Referee_ was. He began his perusal with the feature known as "Mustard +and Cress," which not only amused him greatly, but convinced him that +his own ideas on affairs were really very sagacious. His chief and most +serious admiration, however was kept for "Our Hand-Book." "It's my +Bible," he had once remarked, "and I'm not ashamed to say it. And there +are scores and scores of men who'd say the same." Church bells could not +be heard at No. 8. _The Referee_ lying in the hall was the gracious sign +of Sabbath morning. Presently Mrs. Haim would carry it upstairs, +respectfully. For her it was simply and unanalysably _The Referee_. She +did not dream of looking into it. Mr. Haim did not expect her to look +into it. Her mission was to solace and to charm, his alone to supply the +intellectual basis upon which their existence reposed. George's nose +caught the ascending beautiful odour of bacon; he picked up his cans and +disappeared. + +When he was dressed, he brought forward the grindstone to the fire, and +conscientiously put his nose to it, without even lighting a cigarette. +It had been agreed between himself and Marguerite that there should be +no more cigarettes until after lunch. It had also been agreed that he +should put his nose to the grindstone that Sunday morning, and that she +should do the same away in Manresa Road. George's grindstone happened to +be Miers and Crosskey's _The Soil in Relation to Health_. He was +preparing for his Final Examination. In addition to the vast +imperial subject of Design, the Final comprised four other +subjects--Construction, Hygiene, Properties and Uses of Building +Materials, and Ordinary Practice of Architecture. George was now busy +with one branch of the second of these subjects. Perhaps he was not +following precisely the order of tactics prescribed by the most wily +tacticians, for as usual he had his own ideas and they were arbitrary; +but he was veritably and visibly engaged in the slow but exciting +process of becoming a great architect. And he knew and felt that he was. +And the disordered bed, and the untransparent bath-water, and the +soap-tin by the side of the bath, and the breakfast-tray on a chair, +were as much a part of the inspiring spectacle as himself tense and +especially dandiacal in the midst. + +Nevertheless appearances deceived. On a table were the thirteen folio +and quarto glorious illustrated volumes of Ongania's _Basilica di San +Marco_, which Mr. Enwright had obtained for him on loan, and which had +come down to No. 8 in a big box by Carter Paterson van. And while George +sat quite still with his eyes and his volition centred fiercely on Miers +and Crosskey, his brain would keep making excursions across the room to +the Church of St. Mark at Venice. He brought it back again and again +with a jerk but he could not retain it in place. The minutes passed; the +quarters passed, until an hour and a half had gone. Then he closed Miers +and Crosskey. He had sworn to study Miers and Crosskey for an hour and a +half. He had fought hard to do so, and nobody could say that he had not +done so. He was aware, however, that the fight had not been wholly +successful; he had not won it; on the other hand neither had he lost it. +Honour was saved, and he could still sincerely assert that in regard to +the Final Examination he had got time fiercely by the forelock. He rose +and strolled over to the _Basilica di San Marco_, and opened one or two +of those formidable and enchanting volumes. Then he produced a +cigarette, and struck a match, and he was about to light the cigarette, +when squinting down at it he suddenly wondered: "Now how the deuce did +that cigarette come into my mouth?" He replaced the cigarette in his +case, and in a moment he had left the house. + +He was invited to Mrs. John Orgreave's new abode at Bedford Park for +lunch. In the early part of the year, Mrs. John had inherited +money--again, and the result had been an increase in the spaciousness of +her existence. George had not expected to see the new house, for he had +determined to have nothing more to do with Mrs. John. He was, it is to +be feared, rather touchy. He and Mrs. John had not openly quarrelled, +but in their hearts they had quarrelled. George had for some time +objected to her attitude towards him as a boarder. She would hint that, +as she assuredly had no need of boarders, she was conferring a favour on +him by boarding him. It was of course true, but George considered that +her references to the fact were offensive. He did not understand and +make allowances for Adela. Moreover, he thought that a woman who had +been through the Divorce Court ought to be modest in demeanour towards +people who had not been through the Divorce Court. Further, Adela +resented his frequent lateness for meals. And she had said, with an +uncompromising glance: "I hope you'll turn over a new leaf when we get +into the new house." And he had replied, with an uncompromising glance: +"Perhaps _I_ shan't get into the new house." Nothing else. But that +ended it. After that both felt that mutual detestation had set in. John +Orgreave was not implicated in the discreet rupture. Possibly he knew of +it; possibly he didn't; he was not one to look for trouble, and he +accepted the theory that it was part of George's vital scheme to inhabit +Chelsea. And then Adela, all fluffiness and winsomeness, had called, in +the previous week, at Russell Square and behaved like a woman whose sole +aim in life is to please and cosset men of genius. "I shall be +dreadfully hurt if you don't come to one of my Sunday lunches, George!" +she had said. And also: "We _miss_ you, you know," and had put her head +on one side. + +Marguerite had thoroughly approved his acceptance of the invitation. She +thought that he 'ought' to accept. He had promised, as she had an urgent +design to do, not to arrive at the studio before 8 p.m., and he had +received a note from her that morning to insist on the hour. + + +II + + +The roads were covered with a very even, very thin coating of mud; it +was as though a corps of highly skilled house-painters had laid on the +mud, and just vanished. The pavements had a kind of yellowish-brown +varnish. Each of the few trees that could be seen--and there were a +few--carried about six surviving leaves. The sky was of a blue-black +with golden rents and gleams that travelled steadily eastwards. Except +the man with newspapers at the corner of Alexandra Grove, scarcely a +sign of life showed along the vistas of Fulham Road; but the clock over +the jeweller's was alive and bearing the usual false witness. From the +upper open galleries of the Workhouse one or two old men and old women +in uniform looked down indifferently upon the free world which they had +left for ever. Then an omnibus appeared faintly advancing from the +beautiful grey distance of the straight and endless street. George +crossed the road on his way towards Redcliffe Gardens and Earl's Court. +He was very smart, indeed smarter than ever, having produced in himself +quite naturally and easily a fair imitation of the elegant figures +which, upon his visits to the restaurant-building in Piccadilly, he had +observed airing themselves round about Bond Street. His hair was smooth +like polished marble; his hat and stick were at the right angle; his +overcoat was new, and it indicated the locality of his waist; the spots +of colour in his attire complied with the operative decrees. His young +face had in it nothing that obviously separated him from the average +youth of his clothes. Nobody would have said of him, at a glance, that +he might be a particularly serious individual. And most people would +have at once classed him as a callow pleasure-seeking person in the act +of seeking pleasure. + +Nevertheless he was at that moment particularly serious, and his +seriousness was growing. His secret engagement had affected him, in part +directly, and in part by the intensification of ambitious endeavour +which had resulted from contact with that fount of seriousness, +Marguerite. Although still entirely dependent--even to cigarette +money--upon the benevolence of a couple of old individuals a hundred and +fifty miles off, he reckoned that he was advancing in the world. The +Intermediate Examination was past, and already he felt that he had come +to grips with the Final and would emerge victorious. He felt too that +his general knowledge and the force and variety of his ideas were +increasing. At times, when he and Marguerite talked, he was convinced +that both of them had achieved absolute knowledge, and that their +criticisms of the world were and would always be unanswerable. After the +Final, he hoped, his uncle would buy him a share in the Lucas & Enwright +practice. In due season, his engagement would be revealed, and all would +be immensely impressed by his self-restraint and his good taste, and the +marriage would occur, and he would be a London architect, an established +man--at the mature age of, say, twenty-two. + +No cloud would have obscured the inward radiance caused by the lovely +image of Marguerite and by his confidence in himself, had it not been +for those criticisms of the world. He had moods of being rather gravely +concerned as to the world, and as to London. He was recovering from the +first great attack of London. He saw faults in London. He was capable of +being disturbed by, for example, the ugliness and the inefficiency of +London. He even thought that something ought to be done about it. Upon +this Sunday morning, fresh from visions of Venice, and rendered a little +complacent by the grim execution of the morning's programme of work, he +was positively pained by the aspect of Redcliffe Gardens. The Redcliffe +Arms public-house, locked and dead, which was the daily paradise of +hundreds of human beings, and had given balm and illusion to whole +generations, seemed simply horrible to him in its Sunday morning coma. +The large and stuffy unsightliness of it could not be borne. (However, +the glimpse of a barmaid at an upper window interested him pleasantly +for a moment.) And the Redcliffe Arms was the true gate to the stucco +and areas of Redcliffe Gardens. He looked down into the areas and saw +therein the furtive existence of squalor behind barred windows. All the +obscene apparatus of London life was there. And as he raised his eyes to +the drawing-room and bedroom stories he found no relief. His eyes could +discover nothing that was not mean, ugly, frowzy, and unimaginative. He +pictured the heavy, gloomy, lethargic life within. The slatternly +servants pottering about the bases of the sooty buildings sickened and +saddened him. A solitary Earl's Court omnibus that lumbered past with +its sinister, sparse cargo seemed to be a spectacle absolutely +tragic--he did not know why. The few wayfarers were obviously prim and +smug. No joy, no elegance, anywhere! Only, at intervals, a feeling that +mysterious and repulsive wealth was hiding itself like an ogre in the +eternal twilight of fastnesses beyond the stuccoed walls and the grimy +curtains.... The city worked six days in order to be precisely this on +the seventh. Truly it was very similar to the Five Towns, and in +essentials not a bit better.--A sociological discovery which startled +him! He wanted to destroy Redcliffe Gardens, and to design it afresh and +rebuild it under the inspiration of St. Mark's and of the principles of +hygiene as taught for the Final Examination. He had grandiose ideas for +a new design. As for Redcliffe Square, he could do marvels with its +spaces. + +He arrived too soon at Earl's Court Station, having forgotten that the +Underground Railway had a treaty with the Church of England and all the +Nonconformist churches not to run trains while the city, represented by +possibly two per cent of its numbers, was at divine worship. He walked +to and fro along the platforms in the vast echoing cavern peopled with +wandering lost souls, and at last a train came in from the void, and it +had the air of a miracle, because nobody had believed that any train +ever would come in. And at last the Turnham Green train came in, and +George got into a smoking compartment, and Mr. Enwright was in the +compartment. + +Mr. Enwright also was going to the Orgreave luncheon. He was in what the +office called 'one of his moods.' The other occupants of the compartment +had a stiff and self-conscious air: some apparently were proud of being +abroad on Sunday morning; some apparently were ashamed. Mr. Enwright's +demeanour was as free and natural as that of a child. His lined and +drawn face showed worry and self-absorption in the frankest manner. He +began at once to explain how badly he had slept; indeed he asserted that +he had not slept at all; and he complained with extreme acerbity of the +renewal of his catarrh. 'Constant secretion. Constant secretion,' was +the phrase he used to describe the chief symptom. Then by a forced +transition he turned to the profession of architecture, and restated his +celebrated theory that it was the Cinderella of professions. The firm +had quite recently obtained a very important job in a manufacturing +quarter of London, without having to compete for it; but Mr. Enwright's +great leading ideas never fluctuated with the fluctuation of facts. If +the multiplicity of his lucrative jobs had been such as to compel him to +run round from one to another on a piebald pony in the style of Sir Hugh +Corver, his view of the profession would not have altered. He spoke with +terrible sarcasm apropos of a rumour current in architectural circles +that a provincial city intended soon to invite competitive designs for a +building of really enormous proportions, and took oath that in no case +should his firm, enter for the competition. In short, his condition was +markedly pessimistic. + +George loved him, and was bound to humour him; and in order to respond +sympathetically to Enwright's pessimism he attempted to describe his +sensations concerning the London Sunday, and in particular the Sunday +morning aspect of Earl's Court streets. He animadverted with virulence, +and brought forward his new startling discovery that London was in truth +as provincial as the provinces. + +"Well, I don't think it is," said Enwright, instantly becoming a +judicial truth-seeker. + +"Why don't you?" + +"Simply because it's bigger--so much bigger. That's the principal +difference, and you'll never get over it. You must appreciate size. An +elephant is a noble animal, but it wouldn't be if it was only as big as +a fly. London's an elephant, and forget it not." + +"It's frightfully ugly, most of it, anyhow, and especially on Sunday +morning," George persisted. + +"Is it? I wonder whether it is, now. The architecture's ugly. But what's +architecture? Architecture isn't everything. If you can go up and down +London and see nothing but architecture, you'll never be an A1 +architect." He spoke in a low, kindly, and reasonable tone. "I like +London on Sunday mornings. In fact it's marvellous. You say it's untidy +and all that ... slatternly, and so on. Well, so it ought to be when it +gets up late. Jolly bad sign if it wasn't. And that's part of it! Why, +dash it, look at a bedroom when you trail about, getting up! Look how +you leave it! The existence of a big city while it's waking up--lethargy +business--a sort of shamelessness--it's like a great animal! I think +it's marvellous, and I always have thought so." + +George would not openly agree, but his mind was illuminated with a new +light, and in his mind he agreed, very admiringly. + +The train stopped; people got out; and the two were alone in the +compartment. + +"I thought all was over between you and Adela," said Mr. Enwright, +confidentially and quizzically. + +George blushed a little. "Oh no!" + +"I don't know what I'm going to her lunch for, I'm sure. I suppose I +have to go." + +"I have, too," said George. + +"Well, she won't do you any good, you know. I was glad when you left +there." + +George looked worldly. "Rum sort, isn't she?" + +I'll tell you what she is, now. You remember _Aida_ at the Paris OpĂ©ra. +The procession in the second act where you lost your head and said it +was the finest music ever written. And those girls in white, waving +palms in front of the hero--What's-his-name. There are some women who +are born to do that and nothing else. Thin lips. Fixed idiotic smile. +They don't think a bit about what they're doing. They're thinking about +themselves all the time. They simply don't care a damn about the hero, +or about the audience, or anything, and they scarcely pretend to. +Arrogance isn't the word. It's something more terrific--it's stupendous! +Mrs. John's like that. I thought of it as I was coming along here." + +"Is she?" said George negligently. "Perhaps she is. I never thought of +her like that." + +Turnham Green Station was announced. + + +III + + +Despite the fresh pinky horrors of its external architecture, and +despite his own desire and firm intention to the contrary, George was +very deeply impressed by the new Orgreave home. It was far larger than +the previous house. The entrance was spacious, and the drawing-room, +with a great fire at either end, immense. He had never been in an +interior so splendid. He tried to be off-hand in his attitude towards +it, but did not fully succeed. The taste shown in the decoration and +furniture was almost unexceptionable. White walls--Heppel-white; +chintz--black, crackling chintz strewn with tens of thousands of giant +roses. On the walls were a few lithographs--John's contribution to the +general effect. John having of late years begun to take himself +seriously as a collector of lithographs. + +One-third of the room was divided from the rest by an arched and fretted +screen of red lacquer, and within this open cage stood Mrs. John, +surveying winsomely the expanse of little tables, little chairs, big +chairs, huge chairs, sofas, rugs, flower-vases, and knick-knacks. She +had an advantage over most blondes nearing the forties in that she had +not stoutened. She was in fact thin as well as short; but her face was +too thin. Still, it dimpled, and she held her head knowingly on one +side, and her bright hair was wonderfully done up. Dressed richly as she +was, and assisted by the rejuvenating magic of jewels, she produced, in +the shadow of the screen, a notable effect of youthful vivacity, which +only the insult of close inspection could destroy. With sinuous gestures +she waved Mr. Enwright's metaphorical palm before the approaching +George. Her smile flattered him; her frail, dinging hand flattered him. +He had known her in her harsh morning moods; he had seen that +persuasive, manufactured mask vanish for whole minutes, to reveal a +petty egotism, giving way, regardless of appearances, to rage; he +clearly observed now the hard, preoccupied eyes. Nevertheless, the charm +which she exercised was undeniable. Her husband was permanently under +its spell. There he stood, near her, big, coarsening, good-natured, +content, proud of her. He mixed a cocktail and he threw a match into the +fire, in exactly the old Five Towns manner, which he would never lose. +But as for her, she had thrown off all trace of the Five Towns; she had +learnt London, deliberately, thoroughly. And even George, with the +unmerciful, ruthless judgment of his years, was obliged to admit that +she possessed a genuine pertinacity and had marvellously accomplished an +ambition. She had held John Orgreave for considerably over a decade; she +had had the tremendous courage to Leave the heavy provincial +manufacturer, her first husband; she had passed through the Divorce +Court as a respondent without blenching; she had slowly darned her +reputation with such skill that you could scarcely put your finger on +the place where the hole had been; and lo! she was reigning in Bedford +Park and had all she wanted--except youth. Nor did she in the least show +the resigned, disillusioned air of women who have but recently lost +their youth. She bore herself just as though she still had no fear of +strong lights, and as though she was still the dazzling, dashing blonde +of whom John in his earliest twenties used to say, with ingenuous +enthusiasm, that she was 'ripping'--the ripping Mrs. Chris Hamson. An +epical creature! + +This domestic organism created by Mrs. John inspired George, and +instantly he was rapt away in dreams of his own future. He said to +himself again, and more forcibly, that he had a natural taste for luxury +and expensiveness, and that he would have the one and practise the +other. He invented gorgeous interiors which would be his and in which he +would be paramount and at ease. He positively yearned for them. He was +impatient to get back home and resume the long labours that would lead +him to them. Every grand adjunct of life must be his, and he could not +wait. Absurd to apprehend that Marguerite would not rise to his dreams! +Of course she would! She would fit herself perfectly into them, +completing them. She would understand all the artistic aspects of them, +because she was an artist; and in addition she would be mistress, wife, +hostess, commanding impeccable servants, receiving friends with beauty +and unsurpassable sweet dignity, wearing costly frocks and jewels as +though she had never worn anything else. She had the calm power, she had +the individuality, to fulfil all his desires for her. She would be the +authentic queen of which Mrs. John was merely the imitation. He wanted +intensely to talk to her about the future.... And then he had the +seductive idea of making presentable his bed-sitting-room at Mr. Haim's. +He saw the room instantaneously transformed; he at once invented each +necessary dodge for absolutely hiding during the day the inconvenient +fact that it had to serve as a bedroom at night; he refurnished it; he +found the money to refurnish it. And just as he was impatient to get +back home in order to work, so he was impatient to get back home in +order to transform his chamber into the ideal. Delay irked him +painfully. And yet he was extremely happy in the excitement of the +dreams that ached to be fulfilled. + +"Now, Mr. Enwright," said Mrs. John in an accent to draw honey out of a +boulder. "You haven't told me what you think of it." + +Enwright was wandering about by himself. + +"He's coming on with his lithographs," he replied, as if after a +decision. "One or two of these are rather interesting." + +"Oh! I don't mean the lithographs. You know those are all Jack's +affairs. I mean--well, the room. Now do pay me a compliment." + +The other guests listened. + +Enwright gave a little self-conscious smile, characteristic of him in +these dilemmas, half kind and half malicious. + +"You must have taken a great deal of trouble over it," he said, with +bright amiability; and then relapsing from the effort: "it's all very +nice and harmless." + +"Oh! Mr. Enwright! Is that all?" She pouted, though still waving the +palm. "And you so fond of the eighteenth century, too!" + +"But I heard a rumour at the beginning of this year that we're living in +the twentieth," said Enwright. + +"And I thought I should please you!" sighed Adela. "What _ought_ I to +have done?" + +"Well, you might have asked me to design you some furniture. Nobody ever +has asked me yet." He rubbed his eyeglasses and blinked. + +"Oh! You geniuses.... Janet darling!" + +Mrs. John moved forward to meet Miss Orgreave, John's appreciably elder +sister, spinster, who lived with another brother, Charles, a doctor at +Ealing. Janet was a prim emaciated creature, very straight and +dignified, whose glance always seemed to hesitate between benevolence +and fastidiousness. Janet and Charles had consented to forget the +episode of the Divorce Court. Marion, however, the eldest Orgreave +sister, mother of a family of daughters, had never received the +divorcee. On the other hand the divorcee, obeying her own code, had +obstinately ignored the wife of Jim Orgreave, a younger brother, who, +according to the universal opinion, had married disgracefully. + +When the sisters-in-law had embraced, with that unconvincing fulsomeness +which is apt to result from a charitable act of oblivion, Janet turned +lovingly to George and asked after his mother. She was his mother's most +intimate friend. In the past he had called her Auntie, and was +accustomed to kiss her and be kissed. Indeed he feared that she might +want to kiss him now, but he was spared. As with negligence of tone he +answered her fond inquiries, he was busy reconstructing quite anew his +scheme for the bed-sittingroom--for it had actually been an +eighteenth-century scheme, and inspired by the notions of Mrs. John! + +At the lunch-table George found that the party consisted of ten persons, +of whom one, seated next to himself, was a youngish, somewhat plump +woman who had arrived at the last moment. He had not been introduced to +her, nor to the four other strangers, for it had lately reached Bedford +Park that introductions were no longer the correct prelude to a meal. A +hostess who wished to be modern should throw her guests in ignorance +together and leave them to acquire knowledge by their own initiative. +This device added to the piquancy of a gathering. Moreover, there was +always a theory that each individual was well known, and that therefore +to introduce was subtly to insult. On Mrs. John's right was a +beautifully braided gentleman of forty or so, in brown, with brown +necktie and hair to match, and the hair was so perfect and ended so +abruptly that George at first took it for a wig; but soon afterwards he +decided that he had been unkind. Mr. Enwright was opposite to this brown +gentleman. + +Mrs. John began by hoping that the brown gentleman had been to church. + +"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied, with gentle regret in his voice. + +And in the course of the conversation he was frequently afraid. +Nevertheless his attitude was by no means a fearful attitude; on the +contrary it was very confident. He would grasp the edge of the table +with his hands, and narrate at length, smiling amiably, and looking from +side to side regularly like a public speaker. He narrated in detail the +difficulties which he had in obtaining the right sort of cutlets rightly +cooked at his club, and added: "But of course there's only one club in +London that would be satisfactory in all this--shall I say?--finesse, +and I'm afraid I don't belong to it." + +"What club's that?" John Orgreave sent the inquiry down the table. + +"The Orleans." + +"Oh yes, the Orleans! I suppose that _is_ the best." + +And everybody seemed glad and proud that everybody had known of the +culinary supremacy of the Orleans. + +"I'm afraid you'll all think I'm horribly greedy," said the brown +gentleman apologetically. And then at once, having noticed that Mr. +Enwright was gazing up at the great sham oak rafters that were glued on +to the white ceiling, he started upon this new architectural +picturesqueness which was to London and the beginning of the twentieth +century what the enamelled milking-stool had been to the provinces and +the end of the nineteenth century--namely, a reminder that even in an +industrial age romance should still survive in the hearts of men. The +brown gentleman remarked that with due deference to 'you professional +gentlemen,' he was afraid he liked the sham rafters, because they +reminded him of the good old times and all that sort of thing. + +He was not only a conscientious conversationalist, but he originated +talk in others, and listened to them with his best attention. And he +invariably stepped into gaps with praise-worthy tact and skill. Thus the +chat meandered easily from subject to subject--the Automobile Club's +tour from London to Southsea, the latest hotel, Richter, the war (which +the brown gentleman treated with tired respect, as some venerable +survival that had forgotten to die), the abnormally early fogs, and the +abnormally violent and destructive gales. An argument arose as to +whether these startling weather phenomena were or were not a hint to +mankind from some undefined Higher Power that a new century had in truth +begun and that mankind had better mind what it was about. Mrs. John +favoured the notion, and so did Miss Orgreave, whereas John Orgreave +coarsely laughed at it. The brown gentleman held the scales admirably; +he was chivalrously sympathetic to the two ladies, and yet he respected +John's materialism. He did, however, venture to point out the +contradictions in the character of 'our host,' who was really very +responsive to music and art, but who seemed curiously to ignore certain +other influences--etc. etc. + +"How true that is!" murmured Mrs. John. + +The brown gentleman modestly enjoyed his triumph. With only three people +had he failed--Mr. Enwright, George, and the youngish woman next to +George. + +"And how's Paris, Miss Ingram?" he pointedly asked the last. + +George was surprised. He had certainly taken her for a married woman, +and one of his generalizations about life was that he did not like young +married women; hence he had not liked her. He now regarded her with +fresh interest. She blushed a little, and looked very young indeed. + +"Oh! Paris is all right!" she answered shortly. + +The brown gentleman after a long, musing smile, discreetly abandoned the +opening; but George, inquiring in a low voice if she lived in Paris, +began a private talk with Miss Ingram, who did live in Paris. He had his +doubts about her entire agreeableness, but at any rate they got on to a +natural, brusque footing, which contrasted with the somewhat ceremonious +manner of the general conversation. She exceeded George in brusqueness, +and tended to patronize him as a youngster. He noticed that she had +yellow eyes. + +"What do you think of his wig?" she demanded in an astonishing whisper, +when the meal was over and chairs were being vacated. + +"_Is_ it a wig?" George exclaimed ingenuously. + +"Oh, you boys!" she protested, with superiority. "Of course it's a wig." + +"But how do you know it's a wig?" George insisted stoutly. + +"'Is it a wig!'" she scorned him. + +"Well, I'm not up in wigs," said George. "Who is he, anyhow?" + +"I forget his name. I've only met him once, here at tea. I think he's a +tea-merchant. He seemed to remember me all right." + +"A tea-merchant! I wonder why Mrs. John put him on her right, then, and +Mr. Enwright on her left." George resented the precedence. + +"Is Mr. Enwright really very great, then?" + +"Great! You bet he is.... I was in Paris with him in the summer. +Whereabouts do you live in Paris?" + +She improved, especially at the point where she said that Mr. Enwright's +face was one of the most wonderful faces that she had ever seen. +Evidently she knew Paris as well as George knew London. Apparently she +had always lived there. But their interchanges concerning Paris, on a +sofa in the drawing-room, were stopped by a general departure. Mr. +Enwright began it. The tea-merchant instantly supported the movement. +Miss Ingram herself rose. The affair was at an end. Nothing interesting +had been said in the general talk, and little that was sincere. No topic +had been explored, no argument taken to a finish. No wit worth +mentioning had glinted. But everybody had behaved very well, and had +demonstrated that he or she was familiar with the usages of society and +with aspects of existence with which it was proper to be familiar. And +everybody--even Mr. Enwright--thanked Mrs. John most heartily for her +quite delightful luncheon; Mrs. John insisted warmly on her own pleasure +and her appreciation of her guests' extreme good nature in troubling to +come, and she was beyond question joyously triumphant. And George, +relieved, thought, as he tried to rival the rest in gratitude to Mrs. +John: + +"What was it all about? What did they all come for? _I_ came because she +made me. But why did the others come?" + +The lunch had passed like a mild nightmare, and he felt as though, with +the inconsequence of dream-people, these people had gone away without +having accomplished some essential act which had been the object of +their gathering. + + +IV + + +When George came out of the front door, he beheld Miss Ingram on the +kerb, in the act of getting into a very rich fur coat. A chauffeur, in a +very rich livery, was deferentially helping her. Behind them stretched a +long, open motor-car. This car, existing as it did at a time when the +public acutely felt that automobiles splashed respectable foot-farers +with arrogant mud and rendered unbearable the lives of the humble in +village streets, was of the immodest kind described, abusively, as +'powerful and luxurious.' The car of course drew attention, because it +had yet occurred to but few of anybody's friends that they might +themselves possess even a modest car, much less an immodest one. George +had not hitherto personally known a single motor-car owner. + +But what struck him even more than the car was the fur coat, and the +haughty and fastidious manner in which Miss Ingram accepted it from the +chauffeur, and the disdainful, accustomed way in which she wore it--as +though it were a cheap rag--when once it was on her back. In her +gestures he glimpsed a new world. He had been secretly scorning the +affairs of the luncheon and all that it implied, and he had been +secretly scorning himself for his pitiful lack of brilliancy at the +luncheon. These two somewhat contradictory sentiments were suddenly +shrivelled in the fire of his ambition which had flared up anew at +contact with a spark. And the spark was the sight of the girl's costly +fur coat. He must have a costly fur coat, and a girl in it, and the girl +must treat the fur coat like a cheap rag. Otherwise he would die a +disappointed man. + +"Hallo!" called Miss Ingram. + +"Hallo!" She had climbed into the car, and turned her head to look at +him. He saw that she was younger even than he had thought. She seemed +quite mature when she was still, but when she moved she had the lithe +motions of immaturity. As a boy, he now infallibly recognized a girl. + +"Which way are you going?" + +"Well--Chelsea more or less." + +"I'll give you a lift." + +He ought to have said: "Are you sure I shan't be taking you out of your +way?" But he said merely: "Oh! Thanks awfully!" + +The chauffeur held the door for him, and then arranged a fur rug over +the knees of the boy and the girl. To be in the car gave George intense +pleasure, especially when the contrivance thrilled into life and began +to travel. He was thankful that his clothes were as smart as they ought +to be. She could not think ill of his clothes--no matter who her friends +were. + +"This is a great car," he said. "Had it long?" + +"Oh! It's not mine," answered Miss Ingram. "It's Miss Wheeler's." + +"Who's Miss Wheeler, if I may ask?" + +"Miss Wheeler! She's a friend of mine. She lives in Paris. But she has a +flat in London too. I came over with her. We brought the car with us. +She was to have come to the Orgreaves's to-day, but she had a headache. +So I took the car--and her furs as well. They fit me, you see.... I say, +what's your Christian name? I hate surnames, don't you?" + +"George. What's yours?" + +"Mine's Lois." + +"What? How do you spell it?" + +She spelt it, adding 'Of course.' He thought it was somehow a very +romantic name. He decidedly liked the name. He was by no means sure, +however, that he liked the girl. He liked her appearance, though she was +freckled; she was unquestionably stylish; she had ascendancy; she +imposed herself; she sat as though the world was the instrument of her +individuality. Nevertheless he doubted if she was kind, and he knew that +she was patronizing. Further, she was not a conversationalist. At the +luncheon she had not been at ease; but here in the car she was at ease +absolutely, yet she remained taciturn. + +"D'you drive?" he inquired. + +"Yes," she said. "Look here, would you like to sit in front? And I'll +drive." + +"Good!" he agreed vigorously. But he had a qualm about the safety of +being driven by a girl. + +She abruptly stopped the car, and the chauffeur swerved to the pavement. + +"I'm going to drive, Cuthbert," she said. + +"Yes, miss," said the chauffeur willingly. "It's a bit side-slippy, +miss." + +She gave no answer to this remark, but got out of the car with a +preoccupied, frowning air, as if she was being obliged to take a +responsible post, which she could fill better than anybody else, rather +against her inclination. A few persons paused to watch. She carefully +ignored them; so did George. + +As soon as she had seized the wheel, released the brake and started the +car, she began to talk, looking negligently about her. George thought: +"She's only showing off." Still, the car travelled beautifully, and +there was a curious illusion that she must have the credit for that. She +explained the function of handles, pedals, and switches, and George +deemed it proper to indicate that he was not without some elementary +knowledge of the subject. He leaned far back, as Lois leaned, and as the +chauffeur had leaned, enjoying the brass fittings, the indicators, and +all the signs of high mechanical elaboration. + +He noticed that Lois sounded her horn constantly, and often upon no +visible provocation. But once as she approached cross-roads at +unslackened speed, she seemed to forget to sound it and then sounded it +too late. Nothing untoward happened; Sunday traffic was thin, and she +sailed through the danger-zone with grand intrepidity. + +"I say, George," she remarked, looking now straight in front of her. +("She's a bit of a caution," he reflected happily.) "Have you got +anything special on this afternoon?" + +"Nothing what you may call deadly special," he answered. He wanted to +call her 'Lois,' but his volition failed at the critical moment. + +"Well, then, won't you come and have tea with Miss Wheeler and me? +There'll only be just a few people, and you must be introduced to Miss +Wheeler." + +"Oh! I don't think I'd better." He was timid. + +"Why not?" She pouted. + +"All right, then. Thanks. I should like to." + +"By the way, what's your surname?" + +("She _is_ a caution," he reflected.) + +"I wasn't quite sure," she said, when he had told her. + +He was rather taken aback, but he reassured himself. No doubt girls of +her environment did behave as she behaved. After all, why not? + +They entered Hammersmith. It was a grand and inspiring sensation to +swing through Hammersmith thus aristocratically repudiating the dowdy +Sunday crowd that stared in ingenuous curiosity. And there was a +wonderful quality in the spectacle of the great, formidable car being +actuated and controlled by the little gloved hands and delicately shod +feet of this frail, pampered, wilful girl. + +In overtaking a cab that kept nearly to the middle of the road, Lois +hesitated in direction, appeared to defy the rule, and then corrected +her impulse. + +"It's rather confusing," she observed, with a laugh. "You see, in France +you keep to the right and overtake things on their left." + +"Yes. But this is London," said George dryly. + +Half a minute later, just beyond the node of Hammersmith, where bright +hats and frocks were set off against the dark-shuttered fronts of shops, +Lois at quite a good speed inserted the car between a tramcar and an +omnibus, meeting the tram and overtaking the omnibus. The tram went by +like thunder, all its glass and iron rattling and shaking; the noise +deafened, and the wind blew hard like a squall. There appeared to be +scarcely an inch of space on either side of the car. George's heart +stopped. For one horrible second he expected a tremendous smash. The car +emerged safe. He saw the omnibus-driver gazing down at them with +reproof. After the roar of the tram died he heard the trotting of the +omnibus horses and Lois's nervous giggle. She tried, and did not fail, +to be jaunty; but she had had a shock, and the proof was that by mere +inadvertence she nearly charged the posts of the next street-refuge.... +George switched off the current. She herself had shown him how to do it. +She now saw him do it. The engine stopped, and Lois, remembering in a +flash that her dignity was at stake, raised her hand and drew up fairly +neatly at the pavement. + +"What's the matter?" she demanded imperiously. + +"Are you going to drive this thing all the way into London, Lois?" he +demanded in turn. + +They looked at each other. The chauffeur got down. "Of course." + +"Not with me in it, anyhow!" + +She sneered. "Oh! You boys! You've got no pluck." + +"Perhaps not," he returned viciously. "Neither have you got any sense of +danger. Girls like you never have. I've noticed that before." Even his +mother with horses had no sense of danger. + +"You're very rude," she replied. "And it was very rude of you to stop +the car." + +"I dare say. But you shouldn't have told me you could drive." + +He was now angry. And she not less so. He descended, and slammed the +door. + +"Thanks so much," he said, raised his hat, and walked away. She spoke, +but he did not catch what she said. He was saying to himself: "Pluck +indeed!" (He did not like her accusation.) "Pluck indeed! Of all the +damned cheek!... We might all have been killed--or worse. The least she +could have done was to apologize. But no! Pluck indeed! Women oughtn't +to be allowed to drive. It's too infernally silly for words." + +He glanced backward. The chauffeur had started the car again, and was +getting in by Lois's side. Doubtless he was a fatalist by profession. +She drove off. + +"Yes!" thought George. "And you'd drive home yourself now even if you +knew for certain you'd have an accident. You're just that stupid kind." + +The car looked superb as it drew away, and she reclined in the driver's +seat with a superb effrontery. George was envious; he was pierced by +envy. He hated that other people, and especially girls, should command +luxuries which he could not possess. He hated that violently. "You +wait!" he said to himself. "You wait! I'll have as good a car as that, +and a finer girl than you in it. And she won't want to drive either. +You wait." He was more excited than he knew by the episode. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TEA + +I + + +"Tea is ready, Mr. Cannon," said Mr. Haim in his most courteous style, +coming softly into George's room. And George looked up at the old man's +wrinkled face, and down at his crimson slippers, with the benevolent air +of a bookworm permitting himself to be drawn away from an ideal world +into the actual. Glasses on the end of George's nose would have set off +the tableau, but George had outgrown the spectacles which had disfigured +his boyhood. As a fact, since his return that afternoon from Mrs. +John's, he had, to the detriment of modesty and the fostering of +conceit, accomplished some further study for the Final, although most of +the time had been spent in dreaming of women and luxury. + +"All right," said he. "I'll come." + +"I don't think that lamp's been very well trimmed to-day," said Mr. Haim +apologetically, sniffing. + +"Does it smell?" + +"Well, I do notice a slight odour." + +"I'll open the window," said George heartily. He rose, pulled the +curtains, and opened the front French window with a large gesture. The +wild, raw, damp air of Sunday night rushed in from the nocturnal Grove, +and instantly extinguished the lamp. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Haim, rather nervously. + +"Saved me the trouble," said George. + +As he emerged after Mr. Haim from the dark room, he was thinking that it +was ridiculous not to have electricity, and that he must try to come to +some arrangement with Mr. Haim for the installation of electricity. +Fancy oil-lamps in the middle of London in the twentieth century! Shocks +were waiting in George's mind for Mr. Haim. He intended, if he could, to +get the room on the first floor, empty since the departure of +Marguerite, and to use it for a bedroom, while keeping the ground-floor +room exclusively for work and society. His project would involve shocks +also for Mr. Edwin Clayhanger in the Five Towns, who would be called +upon to pay; but George had an airy confidence in the ability of his +stepfather to meet such shocks in a satisfactory manner. + +To George's surprise, Mr. Alfred Prince was in the sitting-room. Shabby +and creased as usual, he looked far more like a clerk in some +establishment where clerks were not morally compelled to imitate dandies +than like an etcher of European renown. But, also as usual, he was +quietly at ease and conversational; and George at once divined that he +had been invited with the object of relieving the social situation +created by the presence of the brilliant young lodger at tea. This tea +was the first meal to be taken by George with Mr. and Mrs. Haim, for he +was almost never at home on Sunday afternoons, and he was not expected +to be at home. The table showed, as Mr. Haim's nervousness had shown, +that the importance of the occasion had been realized. It was an +obviously elaborate table. The repast was ready in every detail; the +teapot was under the cosy; the cover was over the hot crumpets; Mrs. +Haim alone lacked. + +"Where's missus?" asked George lightly. Mr. Haim had not come into the +room. + +"I don't know," said Mr. Prince. "She brought the tea in a minute ago. +You been working this afternoon?" + +At that moment Mr. Haim entered. He said: + +"Mrs. Haim isn't feeling very well. She's upstairs. She says she's sure +she'll be all right in a little while. In the meantime she prefers us to +go on with our tea." + +Mr. Prince and Mr. Haim looked at each other, and George looked at Mr. +Haim. The older men showed apprehension. The strange idea of +unconquerable destiny crossed George's mind--destiny clashing ruthlessly +with ambition and desire. The three males sat down in obedience to the +wish of the woman who had hidden herself in the room above. All of them +were dominated by the thought of her. They did not want to sit down and +eat and drink, and they were obliged to do so by the invisible +volitional force of which Mr. Haim was the unwilling channel. Mr. Haim, +highly self-conscious, began to pour out the tea. Mr. Prince, highly +self-conscious, suggested that he should make himself useful by +distributing the crumpets while they were hot. George, highly +selfconscious, accepted a crumpet. Mr. Prince chatted; George responded +in a brave worldly fashion; Mr. Haim said 'Yes,' 'Ye-es,' very absently. + +And then Mrs. Haim appeared smiling in the doorway. "Ah!" breathed +everybody, assuaged. "Ah!" Mr. Haim moved from in front of the tea-tray +to the next seat. Mrs. Haim was perhaps somewhat pale, but she gave a +sincere, positive assurance that she was perfectly well again. +Reassurance spread throughout the company. Forebodings vanished; hearts +lightened; gladness reigned; the excellence of crumpets became +apparent. And all this swift, wonderful change was brought about by the +simple entry of the woman. But beneath the genuine relief and +satisfaction of the men there stirred vaguely the thought of the +mysteriousness of women, of the entire female sex. Mrs. Haim, charwoman, +was just as mysterious as any other woman. As for George, despite the +exhilaration which he could feel rising in him effortless and unsought, +he was preoccupied by more than women's mysteriousness; the conception +of destiny lingered and faintly troubled him. It was as though he had +been walking on a clear path through a vast and empty and safe forest, +and the eyes of a tiger had gleamed for an instant in the bush and gone. +Not a real tiger! And if a real tiger, then a tiger that would never +recur, and the only tiger in the forest!... Yet the entire forest was +transformed. + +Mrs. Haim was wearing the blue sateen. It was a dress unsuited to her +because it emphasized her large bulk; but it was her best dress; it +shone and glittered; it imposed. Her duty was to wear it on that Sunday +afternoon. She was shy, without being self-conscious. To preside over a +society consisting of young bloods, etchers of European renown, and +pillars of the architectural profession was an ordeal for her. She did +not pretend that it was not an ordeal. She did not pretend that the +occasion was not extraordinary. She was quite natural in her calm +confusion. She was not even proud, being perhaps utterly incapable of +social pride. Her husband was proud for her. He looked at her earnestly, +wistfully. He could not disguise his anxiety for her success. Was she +equal to the rĂ´le? She was. Of course she was. He had never doubted that +she would be (he said to himself). His pride increased, scarcely escaped +being fatuous. + +"I must congratulate you on the new front doormat, Mrs. Haim," said Mr. +Prince, with notable conversational tact. "I felt it at once in the +dark." + +Mrs. Haim smiled. + +"I do like a good doormat," she said. "It saves so much work, I always +think. I told Mr. Haim I thought we needed a new one, and bless me if he +didn't take me straight out to buy one." + +The new doormat expressed Mrs. Haim's sole and characteristic criticism +of the organism into which she had so unassumingly entered. Secure in +the adoration of Mr. Haim, she might safely have turned the place +upside-down and proved to the Grove that she could act the mistress with +the best of them; but she changed nothing except the doormat. The +kitchen and scullery had already been hers before the eye of Mr. Haim +had fallen upon her; she was accustomed to them and had largely +fashioned their arrangements. Her own furniture, such of it as was +retained, had been put into the spare bedroom and the kitchen, and was +hardly noticeable there. The dramatic thing for her to do would have +been to engage another charwoman. But Mrs. Haim was not dramatic; she +was accommodating. She fitted herself in. The answer to people who asked +what Mr. Haim could see in her, was that what Mr. Haim first saw was her +mere way of existing, and that in the same way she loved. At her +tea-table, as elsewhere, she exhibited no special quality; she said +little; she certainly did not shine. Nevertheless the three men were +quite happy and at ease, because her way of existing soothed and +reinspired them. George especially got gay; and he narrated the +automobile adventure of the afternoon with amusing gusto. He was thereby +a sort of hero, and he liked that. He was bound by his position in the +world and by his clothes and his style to pretend to some extent that +the adventure was much less extraordinary to him than it seemed to them. +The others made no pretence. They were open-mouthed. Their attitude +admitted frankly that above them was a world to which they could not +climb, that they were not familiar with it and knew nothing about it. +They admired George; they put it to his credit that he was acquainted +with these lofty matters and moved carelessly and freely among them; and +George too somehow thought that credit was due to him and that his +superiority was genuine. + +"And do you mean to say she'd never met you before?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. + +"Never in this world!" + +Mr. Prince remarked calmly: "You must have had a very considerable +effect on her then." His eyes twinkled. + +George flushed slightly. The idea had already presented itself to him +with great force. "Oh no!" He negligently pooh-poohed it. + +"Well, does she go about asking every man she meets what his Christian +name is?" + +"I expect she just does." + +There was silence for a moment. Mrs. Haim refilled a cup. + +"Something will have to be done soon about these motor-cars," observed +Mr. Haim at length, sententiously, in the vein of 'Mustard and Cress.' +"That's very evident." + +"They cost so much," said Mr. Prince. "Why! They cost as much as a +house, some of them." + +"More!" said George. + +"Nay, nay!" Mr. Haim protested. The point had come at which his +imagination halted. + +"Anyhow, you had a lucky escape," said Mr. Prince. "You might have been +lamed for life--or anything." + +George laughed. + +"I am always lucky," said he. He thought: "I wonder whether I _am_!" He +was afraid. + +Mrs. Haim was half-way towards the door before any of the men noticed +what she was about. She had risen silently and quickly; she could +manoeuvre that stout frame of hers with surprising facility. There was a +strange, silly look on her face as she disappeared, and the face was +extremely pale. Mr. Haim showed alarm, and Mr. Prince concern. Mr. +Haim's hands clasped the arms of his chair; he bent forward +hesitatingly. + +"What----?" + +Then was heard the noise of a heavy subsidence, apparently on the +stairs. George was out of the room first. But the other two were +instantly upon him. Mrs. Haim had fallen at the turn of the stairs; her +body was distributed along the little half-landing there. + +"My God! She's fainted!" muttered Mr. Haim. + +"We'd better get her into the bedroom," said Mr. Prince, with awe. + +The trouble had come back, but in a far more acute form. The prostrate +and unconscious body, all crooked and heaped in the shadow, intimidated +the three men, convicting them of helplessness and lack of ready wit. +George stood aside and let the elder pair pass him. Mr. Haim hurried up +the stairs, bent over his wife, and seized her under the arms. Mr. +Prince took her by the legs. They could not lift her. They were both +thin little men, quite unaccustomed to physical exertion. Mrs. Haim lay +like a giantess, immovably recumbent between their puny, straining +figures. + +"Here, let me try," said George eagerly, springing towards the group. + +With natural reluctance Mr. Haim gave way to him. George stooped and +braced himself to the effort. His face was close to the blanched, blind +face of Mrs. Haim. He thought she looked very young, astonishingly young +in comparison with either Haim or Prince. Her complexion was damaged but +not destroyed. Little fluffy portions of her hair seemed absolutely +girlish. Her body was full of nice curves, which struck George as most +enigmatically pathetic. But indeed the whole of her was pathetic, very +touching, very precious and fragile. Even her large, shiny, shapeless +boots and the coarse sateen stuff of her dress affected him. A lump +embarrassed his throat. He suddenly understood the feelings of Mr. Haim +towards her. She was inexpressibly romantic.... He lifted her torso +easily; and pride filled him because he could do easily what others +could not do at all. Her arms trailed limp. Mr. Haim and Mr. Prince +jointly raised her lower limbs. George staggered backwards up the +remainder of the stairs. As they steered the burden into the bedroom, +where a candle was burning, Mrs. Haim opened her eyes and, gazing +vacantly at the ceiling, murmured in a weak, tired voice: + +"I'm all right. It's nothing. Please put me down." + +"Yes, yes, my love!" said Mr. Haim, agitated. + +They deposited her on the bed. She sighed; then smiled. A slight flush +showed on her cheek under the light of the candle which Mr. Prince was +holding aloft. Mysterious creature, with the mysterious forces of life +flowing and ebbing incomprehensibly within her! To George she was +marvellous, she was beautiful, as she lay defenceless and silently +appealing. + +"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Thank you very much," said Mr. Haim, turning to +the strong man. + +It was a dismissal. George modestly departed from the bedroom, which was +no place for him. After a few minutes Mr. Prince also descended. They +stood together at the foot of the stairs in the draught from the open +window of George's room. + +"Hadn't I better go for a doctor?" George suggested. + +"That's what I said," replied Mr. Prince. "But she won't have one." + +"But----" + +"Well, she won't." + +The accommodating, acquiescent dame, with scarcely strength to speak, +was defeating all three of them on that one point. + +"What is it?" asked George confidentially. + +"Oh! I don't suppose it's anything, really." + + +II + + +That George should collect the tea-things together on the tray, and +brush and fold the cloth, and carry the loaded tray downstairs into the +scullery, was sufficiently strange. But it was very much more strange +that he should have actually had the idea of washing-up the tea-things +himself. In his time, in the domestic crises of Bursley, he had boyishly +helped ladies to wash-up, and he reckoned that he knew all about the +operation. There he stood, between the kitchen and the scullery, +elegantly attired, with an inquiring eye upon the kettle of warm water +on the stove, debating whether he should make the decisive gesture of +emptying the kettle into the large tin receptacle that lay on the +slop-stone. Such was the miraculous effect on him of Mrs. Haim's +simplicity, her weakness, and her predicament. Mrs. Haim was a different +woman for him now that he had carried her upstairs and laid her all limp +and girlish on the solemn conjugal bed! He felt quite sure that old Haim +was incapable of washing-up. He assuredly did not want to be caught in +the act of washing-up, but he did want to be able to say in his +elaborately nonchalant manner, answering a question about the +disappearance of the tea-things: "I thought I might as well wash-up +while I was about it." And he did want Mrs. Haim to be put in a flutter +by the news that Mr. George Cannon had washed-up for her. The affair +would positively cause a sensation. + +He was about to begin, taking the risks of premature discovery, when he +heard a noise above. It was Mr. Haim at last descending the stairs to +the ground floor. George started. He had been alone in the lower parts +of the house for a period which seemed long. (Mr. Prince had gone to the +studio, promising to return later.) The bedroom containing Mr. and Mrs. +Haim had become for him the abode of mystery. The entity of the +enchanted house had laid hold of his imagination. He had thought of +Marguerite as she used to pervade the house, and of his approaching +interview with her at the Manresa Road studio. He had thought very +benevolently of Marguerite and also of, Mr. and Mrs. Haim. He had +involved them all three, in his mind, in a net of peace and goodwill. He +saw the family quarrel as something inevitable, touching, absurd--the +work of a maleficent destiny which he might somehow undo and exorcise +by the magic act of washing-up, to be followed by other acts of a more +diplomatic and ingenious nature. And now the dull, distant symptoms of +Mr. Haim on the stairs suddenly halted him at the very outset of his +benignant machinations. He listened. If the peace of the world had +depended upon his washing-up he could not have permitted himself to be +actually seen in the rĂ´le of kitchen-girl by Mr. Haim--so extreme was +his lack of logic and right reason. There was a silence, a protracted +silence, and then Mr. Haim unmistakably came down the basement stairs, +and George thanked God that he had not allowed his impulse to wash-up +run away with his discretion, to the ruin of his dignity. + +Mr. Haim, hesitating in the kitchen doorway, peered in front of him as +if at a loss. George had shifted the kitchen lamp from its accustomed +place. + +"I'm here," said George, moving slightly in the dim light. "I thought I +might as well make myself useful and clear the table for you. How is she +going on?" He spoke cheerfully, even gaily, and he expected Mr. Haim to +be courteously appreciative--perhaps enthusiastic in gratitude. + +"Mrs. Haim is quite recovered, thank you. It was only a passing +indisposition," said Mr. Haim, using one of his ridiculously stilted +phrases. His tone was strange; it was very strange. + +"Good!" exclaimed George, with a gaiety that was now forced, a bravado +of gaiety. + +He thought: + +"The old chump evidently doesn't like me interfering. Silly old pompous +ass!" Nevertheless his attitude towards the huffy landlord, if scornful, +was good-humoured and indulgent. + +Then he noticed that Mr. Haim held in his hand a half-sheet of +note-paper which disturbingly seemed familiar. "What is the meaning of +this, Mr. Cannon?" Mr. Haim demanded, advancing towards the brightness +of the lamp and extending the paper. He was excessively excited. +Excitement always intensified his age. + +The offered document was the letter which George had that morning +received from Marguerite. The missive was short, a mere note, but its +terms could leave no doubt as to the relations between the writer and +the recipient. Moreover, it ended with a hieroglyphic sign, several +times repeated, whose significance is notorious throughout the civilized +world. + +"Where did you get that?" muttered George, with a defensive menace half +formed in his voice. He faltered. His mood had not yet become +definitive. + +Mr. Haim answered: + +"I have just picked it up in the hall, sir. The wind must have blown it +off the table in your room, and the door was left open. I presume that I +have the right to read papers I find lying about in my own house." + +George was dashed. On returning home from Mrs. John's lunch he had +changed his suit for another one almost equally smart, but of Angora and +therefore more comfortable. He liked to change. He had taken the letter +out of a side-pocket of the jacket and put it with his watch, money, and +other kit on the table while he changed, and he had placed everything +back into the proper pockets, everything except the letter. +Carelessness! A moment of negligence had brought about the irremediable. +The lovely secret was violated. The whole of his future life and of +Marguerite's future life seemed to have been undermined and contaminated +by that single act of omission. Marguerite wrote seldom to him because +of the risks. But precautions had been arranged for the occasions when +she had need to write, and she possessed a small stock of envelopes +addressed by himself, so that Mr. Haim might never by chance, picking up +an envelope from the hall floor, see George's name in his daughter's +hand. And now Mr. Haim had picked up an actual letter from the hall +floor. And the fault for the disaster was George's own. + +"May I ask, sir, are you engaged to my daughter?" demanded Mr. Haim, +getting every instant still more excited. + +George had once before seen him agitated about Marguerite, but by no +means to the same degree. He trembled. He shook. His dignity had a touch +of the grotesque; yet it remained dignity, and it enforced respect. For +George, destiny seemed to dominate the kitchen and the scullery like a +presence. He and the old man were alone together in that presence, and +he was abashed. He was conscious of awe. The old man's mien accused him +of an odious crime, of something base and shameful. Useless to argue +with himself that he was entirely guiltless, that he had the right to be +the betrothed of either Mr. Haim's daughter or any other girl, and to +publish or conceal the betrothal as he chose and as she chose. Yes, +useless! He felt, inexplicably, a criminal. He felt that he had +committed an enormity. It was not a matter of argument; it was a matter +of instinct. The old man's frightful and irrational resentment was his +condemnation. He could not face the old man. + +He thought grievously: "I am up against this man. All politeness and +conventions have vanished. It's the real, inmost me, and the real, +inmost him." Nobody else could take a part in the encounter. And he was +sad, because he could not blame the old man. Could he blame the old man +for marrying a charwoman? Why, he could only admire him for marrying the +charwoman. In marrying the charwoman the old man had done a most +marvellous thing. Could he blame Marguerite? Impossible. Marguerite's +behaviour was perfectly comprehensible. He understood Marguerite and he +understood her father; he sympathized with both of them. But Marguerite +could not understand her father, and her father could not understand +either his daughter or George. Never could they understand! He alone +understood. And his understanding gave him a melancholy, hopeless +feeling of superiority, without at all lessening the strange conviction +of guilt. He had got himself gripped by destiny. Destiny had captured +all three of them. But not the fourth. The charwoman possessed the +mysterious power to defy destiny. Perhaps the power lay in her +simplicity.... Fool! An accursed negligence had eternally botched his +high plans for peace and goodwill. + +"Yes," he said. "I am." + +"And how long have you been engaged, sir?" + +"Oh! Since before Marguerite left here." He tried to talk naturally and +calmly. + +"Then you've been living here all this time like a spy--a dirty spy. My +daughter behaves to us in an infamous manner. She makes an open scandal. +And all the time you're----" + +George suddenly became very angry. And his anger relieved and delighted +him. With intense pleasure he felt his anger surging within him. He +frowned savagely. His eyes blazed. But he did not move. + +"Excuse me," he interrupted, with cold and dangerous fury. "She didn't +do anything of the kind." + +Mr. Haim went wildly on, intimidated possibly by George's defiance, but +desperate: + +"And all the time, I say, you stay on here, deceiving us, spying on us. +Going every night to that wicked, cruel, shameful girl and +tittle-tattling. Do you suppose that if we'd had the slightest idea----" + +George walked up to him. + +"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you talking about Marguerite +like that." + +Their faces were rather close together. George forced himself away by a +terrific effort and left the kitchen. + +"Jackanapes!" + +George swung round, very pale. Then with a hard laugh he departed. He +stood in the hall, and thought of Mrs. Haim upstairs. The next moment he +had got his hat and overcoat and was in the street. A figure appeared in +the gloom. It was Mr. Prince. + +"Hallo! Going out? How are things?" + +"Oh! Fine!" He could scarcely articulate. A ghastly sob impeded the +words. Tears gushed into his eyes. The dimly glowing oblongs in the dark +façades of the Grove seemed unbearably tragic. + + +III + + +No. 6 Romney Studios, Manresa Road, Chelsea, was at the end of the +narrow alley which, running at right angles to the road, had a blank +wall on its left and Romney Studios on its right. The studios themselves +were nondescript shanties which reminded George of nothing so much as +the office of a clerk-of-the-works nailed together anyhow on ground upon +which a large building is in course of erection. They were constructed +of brick, wood, waterproof felting, and that adaptable material, +corrugated iron. No two were alike. None had the least pretension to +permanency, comeliness, or even architectural decency. They were all +horribly hot in summer, and they all needed immense stoves to render +them habitable in winter. In putting them up, however, cautiously and +one by one, the landlord had esteemed them to be the sort of thing that +was good enough for artists and that artists would willingly accept. He +had not been mistaken. Though inexpensive they were dear, but artists +accepted them with eagerness. None was ever empty. Thus it was +demonstrated once more that artists were exactly what capitalists and +other sagacious persons had always accused them of being. + +When George knocked on the door of No. 6, the entire studio, and No. 5 +also, vibrated. As a rule Agg, the female Cerberus of the shanty, +answered any summons from outside; but George hoped that to-night she +would be absent; he knew by experience that on Sunday nights she usually +paid a visit to her obstreperous family in Alexandra Grove. + +The door was opened by a young man in a rich but torn and soiled +eighteenth-century costume, and he looked, in the half-light of the +entrance, as though he was just recovering from a sustained debauch. The +young man stared haughtily in silence. Only after an appreciable +hesitation did George see through the disguise and recover himself +sufficiently to remark with the proper nonchalance: + +"Hallo, Agg! What's the meaning of this?" + +"You're before your time," said she, shutting the door. + +While he took off his overcoat Agg walked up the studio. She made an +astonishingly life-like young man. George and Agg were now not +unfriendly; but each constantly criticized the other in silence, and +both were aware of the existence of this vast body of unspoken +criticism. Agg criticized more than George, who had begun to take the +attitude that Agg ought to be philosophically accepted as +incomprehensible rather than criticized. He had not hitherto seen her in +male costume, but he would not exhibit any surprise. + +"Where's Marguerite?" he inquired, advancing to the Stove and rubbing +his hands above it. + +"Restrain your ardour," said Agg lightly. "She'll appear in due season. +I've told you--you're before your time." + +George offered no retort. Despite his sharp walk, he was still terribly +agitated and preoccupied, and the phenomena of the lamplit studio had +not yet fully impressed his mind. He saw them, including Agg, as +hallucinations gradually turning to realities. He could not be worried +with Agg. His sole desire was to be alone with Marguerite immediately, +and he regarded the fancy costume chiefly as an obstacle to the +fulfilment of that desire, because Agg could not depart until she had +changed it for something else. + +Then his gaze fell upon a life-size oil-sketch of Agg in the +eighteenth-century male dress. The light was bad, but it disclosed the +sketch sufficiently to enable some judgment on it to be formed. The +sketch was exceedingly clever, painted in the broad, synthetic manner +which Steer and Sickert had introduced into England as a natural +reaction from the finicking, false exactitudes of the previous age. It +showed Agg, glass in hand, as a leering, tottering young drunkard in +frills and velvet. The face was odious, but it did strongly resemble +Agg's face. The hair was replaced by a bag wig. + +"Who did that?" + +"I did, of course," said Agg. She pointed to the large mirror at the +opposite side of the studio. + +"The dickens you did!" George murmured, struck. But now that he knew the +sketch to be the work of a woman he at once became more critical, +perceiving in it imitative instead of original qualities. "What is it? I +mean, what's the idea at the back of it, if it isn't a rude question, +Agg?" + +"Title: 'Bonnie Prince Charlie,'" said Agg, without a smile. She was +walking about, in a convincingly masculine style. Unfortunately she +could not put her hands in her pockets, as the costume was without +pockets. + +"Is that your notion of the gent?" + +"Didn't you know I'm supposed to be very like him?" cried Agg, vain. The +stern creature had frailties. Then she smiled grimly. "Look at my cold +blue eyes, my sharp chin, my curly-curly lips, my broad forehead, my +clear complexion. And I hope I'm thin enough. Look!" She picked up the +bag wig, which was lying on a chair, and put it on, and posed. The pose +was effective. + +"You seem to know a lot about this Charlie." + +"Well, our well-beloved brother Sam is writing a monograph on him, you +see. Besides, every one----" + +"But what's the idea? What's the scheme? Why is he drunk?" + +"He always was drunk. He was a confirmed drunkard at thirty. Both his +fair ladies had to leave him because he was just a violent brute. And so +on and so on. I thought it was about time Charlie was shown up in his +true colours. And I'm doing it!... After all the sugar-stick Academy +pictures of him, my picture will administer a much-needed tonic to our +dear public. I expect I can get it into next year's New English Art +Club, and if I do it will be the sensation of the show.... I haven't +done with it yet. In fact I only started yesterday. There's going to be +a lot more realism in it. All those silly Jacobite societies will +furiously rage together.... And it's a bit of pretty good painting, you +know." + +"It is," George agreed. "But it's a wild scheme." + +"Not so wild as you think, my minstrel boy. It's very, much needed. It's +symbolic, that picture is. It's a symbolic antidote. Shall I tell you +what put me on to it? Look here." + +She led him to Marguerite's special work-table, under the curtained +window. There, on a sheet of paper stretched upon a drawing-board, was +the finished design which Marguerite had been labouring at for two days. +It was a design for a bookbinding, and the title of the book was, _The +Womanly Woman,_ and the author of the book was Sir Amurath Onway, M.D., +D.Sc., F.R.S., a famous specialist in pathology. Marguerite, under +instruction from the bookbinders, had drawn a sweet picture, in quiet +colours, of a womanly woman in a tea-gown, sitting in a cosy corner of a +boudoir. The volume was destined to open the spring season of a +publishing firm of immense and historic respectability. + +"Look at it! Look at it!" Agg insisted. "I've read the book myself. Poor +Marguerite had to go through the proofs, so that she could be sure of +getting the spirit of the binding right. Do you know why he wrote it? He +hates his wife--that's why. His wife isn't a womanly woman, and he's put +all his hatred of her into this immortal rubbish. Read this great work, +and you will be made to see what fine, noble creatures we men are"--she +strode to and fro--"and how a woman's first duty is to recognize her +inferiority to us, and be womanly.... Damme!... As soon as I saw what +poor Marguerite had to do I told her I should either have to go out and +kill some one, or produce an antidote. And then it occurred to me to +tell the truth about one of the leading popular heroes of history." She +bowed in the direction of the canvas. "I began to feel better at once. I +got the costume from a friend of the learned Sam's, and I've ruined +it.... I'm feeling quite bright to-night." + +She gazed at George with her cold blue eyes, arraigning in his person +the whole sex which she thought she despised but which her deepest +instinct it was to counterfeit. George, while admiring, was a little +dismayed. She was sarcastic. She had brains and knowledge and ideas. +There was an intellectual foundation to her picture. And she could +paint--like a witch! Oh! She was ruthlessly clever! Well, he did not +like her. What he wanted, though he would not admit it, was old Onway's +womanly woman. And especially in that hour he wanted the womanly woman. + +"What's Marguerite up to?" he asked quietly. + +"After the heat and the toil of the day she's beautifying herself for +your august approval," said Agg icily. "I expect she's hurrying all she +can. But naturally you expect her to be in a permanent state of waiting +for you--fresh out of the cotton-wool." + +The next instant Marguerite appeared from the cubicle or dressing-room +which had been contrived in a corner of the studio to the left of the +door. She was in her plain, everyday attire, but she had obviously just +washed, and her smooth hair shone from the brush. + +"Well, George." + +"Well, Marguerite." + +Both spoke casually. Celia Agg was the only person in the world privy to +their engagement; but they permitted themselves no freedoms in front of +her. As Marguerite came near to George, she delicately touched his +arm--nothing more. She was smiling happily, but as soon as she looked +close at his face under the lamp, her face changed completely. He +thought: "She understands there's something up." + +She said, not without embarrassment: + +"George, I really must have some fresh air. I haven't had a breath all +day. Is it raining?" + +"No. Would you like to go for a walk?" + +"Oh! I should!" + +He was very grateful, and also impressed by the accuracy of her +intuitions and her quick resourcefulness. She had comprehended at a +glance that he had a profound and urgent need to be alone with her. She +was marvellously comforting, precious beyond price. All his +susceptibilities, wounded by the scene at Alexandra Grove, and further +irritated by Agg, were instantaneously salved and soothed. Her tones, +her scarcely perceptible gesture of succour, produced the assuaging +miracle. She fulfilled her role to perfection. She was a talented and +competent designer, but as the helpmeet of a man she had genius. His +mind dwelt on her with rapture. + +"You'll be going out as soon as you've changed, dear?" she said +affectionately to Agg. + +"Yes," answered Agg, who at the mirror was wiping from her face the +painted signs of alcoholism. She had thrown off the bag wig. "You'd +better take the key with you. You'll be back before I am." She sat down +on one of the draped settees which were beds in disguise, and +Marguerite got a hat, cloak, and gloves. + +While George was resuming his overcoat, which Marguerite held for him, +Agg suddenly sprang up and rushed towards them. + +"Good night, Flora Macdonald," she murmured in her deep voice in +Marguerite's ear, put masculine arms round her, and kissed her. It was a +truly remarkable bit of male impersonating, as George had to admit, +though he resented it. + +Then she gave a short, harsh laugh. + +"Good night, old Agg," said Marguerite, with sweet responsiveness, and +smiled ingenuously at George. + +George, impatient, opened the door, and the damp wind swept anew into +the studio. + + +IV + + +It was a fine night; the weather had cleared, and the pavements were +drying. George, looking up in a pause of the eager conversational +exchanges, drew tonic air mightily into his lungs. + +"Where are we?" he asked. + +"Tite Street," said Marguerite. "That's the Tower House." And she nodded +towards the formidable sky-scraper which another grade of landlord had +erected for another grade of artists who demanded studios from the +capitalist. Marguerite, the Chelsea girl, knew Chelsea, if she knew +nothing else; her feet turned corners in the dark with assurance, and +she had no need to look at street-signs. George regarded the short +thoroughfare made notorious by the dilettantism, the modishness, and the +witticisms of art. It had an impressive aspect. From the portico of one +highly illuminated house a crimson carpet stretched across the pavement +to the gutter; some dashing blade of the brush had maliciously +determined to affront the bourgeois Sabbath. George stamped on the +carpet; he hated it because it was not his carpet; and he swore to +himself to possess that very carpet or its indistinguishable brother. + +"I was a most frightful ass to leave that letter lying about!" he +exclaimed. + +"Oh! George!" she protested lovingly. "It could so easily happen--a +thing like that could. It was just bad luck." + +A cushion! The divinest down cushion! That was what she was! She was +more. She defended a man against himself. She restored him to +perfection. Her affectionate faith was a magical inspiration to him; it +was, really, the greatest force in the world. Most women would have +agreed with him, however tactfully, that he had been careless about the +letter. An Adela would certainly have berated him in her shrewish, thin +tones. A Lois would have been sarcastic, scornfully patronizing him as a +'boy.' And what would Agg have done?... They might have forgiven and +even forgotten, but they would have indulged themselves first. +Marguerite was exteriorly simple. She would not perhaps successfully +dominate a drawing-room. She would cut no figure playing with lives at +the wheel of an automobile. After all, she would no doubt be ridiculous +in the costume of Bonnie Prince Charlie. But she was finer than the +other women whose images floated in his mind. And she was worth millions +of them. He was overpowered by the sense of his good fortune in finding +her. He went cold at the thought of what he would have missed if he had +not found her. He would not try to conceive what his existence would be +without her, for it would be unendurable. Of this he was convinced. + +"Do you think he'll go talking about it?" George asked, meaning of +course Mr. Haim. + +"More likely _she_ will," said Marguerite. + +He positively could feel her lips tightening. Futile to put in a word +for Mrs. Haim! When he had described the swoon, Marguerite had shown +neither concern nor curiosity. Not the slightest! Antipathy to her +stepmother had radiated from her almost visibly in the night like the +nimbus round a street lamp. Well, she did not understand; she was +capable of injustice; she was quite wrong about Mrs. Haim. What matter? +Her whole being was centralized on himself. He was aware of his +superiority. + +He went on quietly: + +"If the old man gets chattering at the office, the Orgreaves will know, +and the next minute the news'll be in the Five Towns. I can't possibly +let my people hear from anybody else of _my engagement_ before they hear +from me. However, if it comes to the point, we'll tell everybody. Why +not?" + +"Oh, but dearest! It was so nice it being a secret. It was the loveliest +thing in the world." + +"Yes, it was jolly." + +"Perhaps father will feel differently in the morning, and then you +can----" + +"He won't," said George flatly. "You don't know what a state he's in. I +didn't tell you--he called me a spy in the house, a dirty spy. Likewise +a jackanapes. Doubtless a delicate illusion to my tender years." + +"He _didn't_!" + +"He did, honestly." + +"So that was what upset you so!" Marguerite murmured. It was her first +admission that she had noticed his agitation. + +"Did I look so upset, then?" + +"George, you looked terrible. I felt the only thing to do was for us to +go out at once." + +"Oh! But surely I wasn't so upset as all that?" said George, finding in +Marguerite's statement a reflection upon his ability to play the part of +an imperturbable man of the world. "Agg didn't seem to see anything." + +"Agg doesn't know you like I do." + +She insinuated her arm into his. He raised his hand and took hold of +hers. In the left pocket of his overcoat he could feel the somewhat +unwieldy key of the studio. He was happy. The domestic feel of the key +completed his happiness. + +"Of course I can't stay on there," said he. + +"At father's? Oh! I do wish father hadn't talked like that." She spoke +sadly, not critically. + +"I suppose I must sleep there to-night. But I'm not going to have my +breakfast there to-morrow morning. No fear! I'll have it up town. +Lucas'll be able to put me up to some new digs. He always knows about +that sort of thing. Then I'll drive down and remove all my worldly in a +four-wheeler." + +He spoke with jauntiness, in his role of male who is easily equal to any +situation. But she said in a low, tenderly commiserating voice: + +"It's a shame!" + +"Not a bit!" he replied. Then he suddenly stood still and brought her to +a halt. Under his erratic guidance they had turned along Dilke Street, +and northwards again, past the Botanical Garden. "And this is Paradise +Row!" he said, surveying the broad street which they had come into. + +"Paradise Row?" she corrected him softly. "No, dear, it's Queen's Road. +It runs into Pimlico Road." + +"I mean it used to be Paradise Row," he explained. "It was the most +fashionable street in Chelsea, you know. Everybody that was anybody +lived here." + +"Oh! Really!" She showed an amiable desire to be interested, but her +interest did not survive more than a few seconds. "I didn't know. I know +Paradise Walk. It's that horrid little passage down there on the right." + +She had not the historic sense; and she did not understand his mood, did +not in the slightest degree suspect that events had been whipping his +ambition once more, and that at that moment he was enjoying the +seventeenth and even the sixteenth centuries, and thinking of Sir Thomas +More and Miss More, and all manner of grandiose personages and abodes, +and rebelling obstinately against the fact, that he was as yet a +nonentity in Chelsea, whereas he meant in the end to yield to nobody in +distinction and renown. He knew that she did not understand, and he +would not pretend to himself that she did. There was no reason why she +should understand. He did not particularly want her to understand. + +"Let's have a look at the river, shall we?" he suggested, and they moved +towards Cheyne Walk. + +"Dearest," she said, "you must come and have breakfast at the studio +to-morrow morning. I shall get it myself." + +"But Agg won't like me poking my nose in for breakfast." + +"You great silly! Don't you know she simply adores you?" + +He was certainly startled by this remark, and he began to like Agg. + +"Old Agg! Not she!" he protested, pleased, but a little embarrassed. +"Will she be up?" + +"You'll see whether she'll be up or not. Nine o'clock's the time, isn't +it?" + +They reached the gardens of Cheyne Walk. Three bridges hung their double +chaplets of lights over the dark river. On the southern shore the shapes +of high trees waved mysteriously above the withdrawn woodland glades +that in daytime were Battersea Park. Here and there a tiny red gleam +gave warning that a pier jutted out into the stream; but nothing moved +on the water. The wind that swept clean the pavements had unclouded ten +million stars. It was a wind unlike any other wind that ever blew, at +once caressing and roughly challenging. The two, putting it behind them, +faced eastward, and began to pass one by one the innumerable ornate +gas-lamps of Chelsea Embankment, which stretched absolutely rectilinear +in front of them for a clear mile. No soul but themselves was afoot. But +on the left rose gigantic and splendid houses, palaces designed by +modern architects, vying with almost any houses in London, some dark, +others richly illuminated and full of souls luxurious, successful, and +dominant. As the girl talked creatively about the breakfast, her arm +pressed his, and his fingers clasped her acquiescent fingers, and her +chaste and confiding passion ran through him in powerful voltaic +currents from some inexhaustible source of energy in her secret heart. It +seemed to him that since their ride home in the hansom from the +Promenade concert her faculty for love had miraculously developed. He +divined great deeps in her, and deeps beyond those deeps. The tenderness +which he felt for her was inexpressible. He said not a word, keeping to +himself the terrific resolves to which she, and the wind, and the +spectacular majesty of London inspired him. He and she would live +regally in one of those very houses, and people should kowtow to her +because she was the dazzling wife of the renowned young architect, +George Cannon. And he would show her to Mrs. John Orgreave and to Lois, +and those women should acknowledge in her a woman incomparably their +superior. They should not be able to hide their impressed astonishment +when they saw her. + +Nothing of all this did he impart to her as she hung supported and +inspiring on his arm. He held it all in reserve for her. And then, +thinking again for a moment of what she had said about Agg's liking for +him, he thought of Agg's picture and of Marguerite's design which had +originated the picture. It was a special design, new for Marguerite, +whose bindings were generally of conventional patterns; it was to be +paid for at a special price because of its elaborateness; she had worked +on it for nearly two days; in particular she had stayed indoors during +the whole of Sunday to finish it; and it was efficient, skilful, as good +as it could be. It had filled her life for nearly two days--and he had +not even mentioned it to her! In the ruthless egotism of the ambitious +man he had forgotten it, and forgotten to imagine sympathetically the +contents of her mind. Sharp remorse overcame him; she grew noble and +pathetic in his eyes.... Contrast her modest and talented industry with +the exacting, supercilious, incapable idleness of a Lois! + +"That design of yours is jolly good," he said shortly without any +introductory phrases. + +She perceptibly started. + +"Oh! George! I'm so glad you think so. I was afraid. You know it was +horribly difficult--they give you no chance." + +"I know. I know. You've come out of it fine." + +She was in heaven; he also, because it was so easy for him to put her +there. He glanced backwards a few hours into the past, and he simply +could not comprehend how it was that he had been so upset by the +grotesque scene with Mr. Haim in the basement of No. 8. Everything was +all right; everything was utterly for the best. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE DINNER + +I + + +Early on the morning of a Tuesday in the second half of June 1903, +George Cannon was moving fast on a motor-bicycle westwards down the +slope of Piccadilly. At any rate he had the sensation of earliness, and +was indeed thereby quite invigorated; it almost served instead of the +breakfast which he had not yet taken. But thousands of people travelling +in the opposite direction in horse-omnibuses and in a few motor-buses +seemed to regard the fact of their being abroad at that hour as dully +normal. They had fought, men and girls, for places in the crammed +vehicles; they had travelled from far lands such as Putney; they had +been up for hours, and the morning, which was so new to George, had lost +its freshness for them; they were well used to the lustrous summer +glories of the Green Park; what they chiefly beheld in the Green Park +was the endless lines of wayfarers, radiating from Victoria along the +various avenues, on the way, like themselves, to offices, ware-houses, +and shops. Of the stablemen, bus-washers, drivers, mechanics, +chauffeurs, and conductors, who had left their beds much in advance even +of the travellers, let us not speak--even they had begun the day later +than their wives, mothers, or daughters. All this flying population, +urged and preoccupied by pitiless time, gazed down upon George and saw a +gay young swell without a care in the world rushing on 'one of those +motor-bikes' to freedom. + +George was well aware of the popular gaze, and he supported it with +negligent pride. He had the air of having been born to greatness; +cigarette smoke and the fumes of exploded petrol and the rattle of +explosions made a fine wake behind his greatness. In two years, since he +had walked into Mr. Haim's parlour, his body had broadened, his eyes +had slightly hardened, and his complexion and hair had darkened. And +there was his moustache, very sprightly, and there was a glint of gold +in his teeth. He had poor teeth, but luxuriant hair, ruthlessly cut and +disciplined and subjugated. His trousers were clipped tightly at the +ankles, and his jacket loosely buttoned by the correct button; his soft +felt hat achieved the architect's ideal of combining the perfectly +artistic with the perfectly modish. But the most remarkable and +envy-raising portion of his attire was the loose, washable, yellow +gloves, with large gauntlets, designed to protect the delicately tended +hands when they had to explore among machinery. + +He had obtained the motor-bicycle in a peculiar way. On arriving at Axe +Station for the previous Christmas holidays, he had seen two low-hung +lamps brilliantly flashing instead of the higher and less powerful lamps +of the dogcart, and there had been no light-reflecting flanks of a horse +in front of the lamps. The dark figure sitting behind the lamps proved +to be his mother. His mother herself had driven him home. He noted +calmly that as a chauffeur she had the same faults as the contemned Lois +Ingram. Still, she did drive, and they reached Ladderedge Hall in +safety. He admired, and he was a little frightened by, his mother's +terrific volition to widen her existence. She would insist on doing +everything that might be done, and nobody could stop her. Who would have +dreamt that she, with her narrow, troubled past, and her passionate +temperament rendered somewhat harsh by strange experiences, would at the +age of forty-six or so be careering about the country at the wheel of a +motor-car? Ah! But she would! She would be a girl. And by her individual +force she successfully carried it off! Those two plotters, she and his +stepfather, had conspired to buy a motor-car in secret from him. No +letter from home had breathed a word of the motor-car. He was +thunder-struck, and jealous. He had spent the whole of the Christmas +holidays in that car, and in four days could drive better than his +mother, and also--what was more difficult--could convince her obstinate +self-assurance that he knew far more about the mechanism than she did. +As a fact, her notions of the mechanism, though she was convinced of +their rightness, were mainly fantastic. George of course had had to +punish his parents. He had considered it his duty to do so. "The _least_ +you can do," he had said discontentedly and menacingly, "the _least_ you +can do is to give me a decent motor-bike!" The guilty pair had made +amends in the manner thus indicated for them. George gathered from +various signs that his stepfather was steadily and rapidly growing +richer. George had acted accordingly--not only in the matter of the +motor-bicycle, but in other matters. + +Now, on this June morning he had just begun to breast the slope rising +from the hollow to Hyde Park Corner when a boy shot out from behind a +huge, stationary dust-cart on the left and dashed unregarding towards +him. George shouted. The boy, faced with sudden death, was happily so +paralysed that he fell down, thus checking his momentum by the severest +form of friction. George swerved aside, missing the small, outstretched +hands by an inch or two, but missing also by an inch or two the front +wheel of a tremendous motor-bus on his right. He gave a nervous giggle +as he flashed by the high red side of the motor-bus; and then he +deliberately looked back at the murderous boy, who had jumped up. At the +same moment George was brought to a sense of his own foolishness in +looking back by a heavy jolt. He had gone over half a creosoted wood +block which had somehow escaped from a lozenge-shaped oasis in the road +where two workmen were indolently using picks under the magic protection +of a tiny, dirty red flag. Secure in the guardianship of the bit of +bunting, which for them was as powerful and sacred as the flag of an +empire, the two workmen gazed with indifference at George and at the +deafening traffic which swirled affronting but harmless around them. +George slackened speed, afraid lest the jar might have snapped the +plates of his accumulator. The motor-bicycle was a wondrous thing, but +as capricious and delicate as a horse. For a trifle, for nothing at all, +it would cease to function. The high-tension magneto and the float-feed +carburetter, whose invention was to transform the motor-bicycle from an +everlasting harassment into a means of loco-motion, were yet years away +in the future. However, the jar had done no harm. The episode, having +occupied less than ten seconds, was closed. George felt his heart +thumping. He thought suddenly of the recent Paris-Madrid automobile +race, in which the elite of the world had perished. He saw himself +beneath the motor-bus, and a futile staring crowd round about. Simply by +a miracle was he alive. But this miracle was only one of a score of +miracles. He believed strongly in luck. He had always believed in it. +The smoke of the cigarette displayed his confidence to all Piccadilly. +Still, his heart was thumping. + +And it had not ceased to thump when a few minutes later he turned into +Manresa Road. Opposite the entrance to the alley of Romney Studios, +there happened to be a small hiatus in the kerbstone. George curved the +machine largely round and, mounting the pavement through this hiatus, +rode gingerly up the alley, in defiance of the regulations of a great +city, and stopped precisely at the door of No. 6. It was a matter of +honour with him to arrive thus. Not for a million would he have walked +the machine up the alley. He got off, sounded a peremptory call on the +horn, and tattooed with the knocker. No answer came. An apprehension +visited him. By the last post on the previous night he had received a +special invitation to breakfast from Marguerite. Never had he been kept +waiting at the door. He knocked again. Then he heard a voice from the +side of the studio: + +"Come round here, George." + +In the side of the studio was a very small window from which the girls, +when unpresentable, would parley with early tradesmen. Agg was at the +window. He could see only her head and neck, framed by the window. Her +short hair was tousled, and she held a dressing-gown tight about her +neck. For the first time she seemed to him like a real feminine girl, +and her tones were soft as they never were when Marguerite was present +with her. + +"I'm very sorry," she said. "You woke me. I was fast asleep. You can't +come in." + +"Anything up?" he questioned, rather anxiously. "Where's Marguerite?" + +"Oh, George! A dreadful night!" she answered, almost plaintively, almost +demanding sympathy from the male--she, Agg! "We were wakened up at two +o'clock. Mr. Prince came round to fetch Marguerite to go to No. 8." + +"To go to No. 8?" he repeated, frightened, and wondered why he should be +frightened. "What on earth for?" + +"Mrs. Haim very ill!" Agg paused. "Something about a baby." + +"And did she go?" + +"Yes; she put on her things and went off at once." + +He was silent. He felt the rough grip of destiny, of some strange power +irresistible and unescapable, just as he had momentarily felt it in the +basement of No. 8 more than eighteen months before, when the outraged +Mr. Haim had quarrelled with him. The mere idea of Marguerite being at +No. 8 made him feel sick. He no longer believed in his luck. "How soon +d'ye think she'll be back?" + +"I--I don't know, George. I should have thought she'd have been back +before this." + +"I'll run round there," he said curtly. + +Agg was disconcertingly, astoundingly sympathetic. Her attitude +increased his disturbance. + + +II + + +When George rang the bell at No. 8 Alexandra Grove his mysterious qualms +were intensified. He dreaded the moment when the door should open, even +though it should be opened by Marguerite herself. And yet he had a +tremendous desire to see Marguerite--merely to look at her face, to +examine it, to read it. His summons was not answered. He glanced about. +The steps were dirty. The brass knob and the letter-flap had not been +polished. After a time he pushed up the flap and gazed within, and saw +the interior which he knew so well and which he had not entered for so +many months. Nothing was changed in it, but it also had a dusty and +neglected air. Every detail roused his memory. The door of what had once +been his room was shut; he wondered what the room was now. This house +held the greatest part of his history. It lived in his mind as vitally +as even the boarding-house kept by his mother in a side-street in +Brighton, romantic and miserable scene of his sensitive childhood. It +was a solemn house for him. Through the basement window on a dark night +he had first glimpsed Marguerite. Unforgettable event! Unlike anything +else that had ever happened to anybody!... He heard a creak, and caught +sight through the letter-aperture of a pair of red slippers, and then +the lower half of a pair of trousers, descending the stairs. And he +dropped the flap hurriedly. Mr. Haim was coming to open the door. Mr. +Haim did open the door, started at the apparition of George, and stood +defensively and forbiddingly in the very centre of the doorway. + +"Oh!" said George nervously. "How is Mrs. Haim?" + +"Mrs. Haim is very ill indeed." The reply was emphatic and inimical. + +"I'm sorry." + +Mr. Haim said nothing further. George had not seen him since the +previous Saturday, having been excused by Mr. Enwright from the office +on Monday on account of examination work. He did not know that Mr. Haim +had not been to the office on Monday either. In the interval the man had +shockingly changed. He seemed much older, and weaker too; he seemed worn +out by acute anxiety. Nevertheless he so evidently resented sympathy +that George was not sympathetic, and regarded him coldly as a tiresome +old man. The official relations between the two had been rigorously +polite and formal. No reference had ever been made by either to the +quarrel in the basement or to the cause of it. And for the world in +general George's engagement had remained as secret as before. Marguerite +had not seen her father in the long interval, and George had seen only +the factotum of Lucas & Enwright. But he now saw Marguerite's father +again--a quite different person from the factotum.... Strange, how the +house seemed forlorn! 'Something about a baby,' Agg had said vaguely. +And it was as though something that Mr. Haim and his wife had concealed +had burst from its concealment and horrified and put a curse on the +whole Grove. Something not at all nice! What in the name of decent +propriety was that slippered old man doing with a baby? George would not +picture to himself Mrs. Haim lying upstairs. He did not care to think of +Marguerite secretly active somewhere in one of those rooms. But she was +there; she was initiated. He did not criticize her. + +"I should like to see Marguerite," he said at length. Despite himself he +had a guilty feeling. + +"My daughter!" Mr. Haim took up the heavy rĂ´le. + +"Only for a minute," said George boyishly, and irritated by his own +boyishness. + +"You can't see her, sir." + +"But if she knows I'm here, she'll come to me," George insisted. He saw +that the old man's hatred of him was undiminished. Indeed, time had +probably strengthened it. + +"You can't see her, sir. This is my house." + +George considered himself infinitely more mature than in the November of +1901 when the old man had worsted him. And yet he was no more equal to +this situation than he had been to the former one. + +"But what am I to do, then?" he demanded, not fiercely, but crossly. + +"What are you to do? Don't ask me, sir. My wife is very ill indeed, and +you come down the Grove making noise enough to wake the dead"--he +indicated the motor-bicycle, of which the silencer was admittedly +defective--"and you want to see my daughter. My daughter has more +important work to do than to see you. I never heard of such callousness. +If you want to communicate with my daughter you had better write--so +long as she stays in this house." + +Mr. Haim shut the door, which rendered his advantage over George +complete. + +From the post office nearly opposite the end of the Grove George +dispatched a reply-paid telegram to Marguerite: + +"Where and when can I see you?--GEORGE. Russell Square." + +It seemed a feeble retort to Mr. Haim, but he could think of nothing +better. + +On the way up town he suddenly felt, not hungry, but empty, and he +called in at a tea-shop. He was the only customer, in a great expanse of +marble-topped tables. He sat down at a marble-topped table. On the +marble-topped table next to him were twenty-four sugar-basins, and on +the next to that a large number of brass bells, and on another one an +infinity of cruets. A very slatternly woman was washing the linoleum in +a corner of the floor. Two thin, wrinkled girls in shabby black were +whispering together behind the counter. The cash-den was empty. Through +the open door he could keep an eye on his motor-bicycle, which was being +surreptitiously regarded by a boy theoretically engaged in cleaning the +window. A big van drove up, and a man entered with pastry on a wooden +tray and bantered one of the girls in black. She made no reply, being +preoccupied with the responsibility of counting cakes. The man departed +and the van disappeared. Nobody took the least notice of George. He +might have been a customer invisible and inaudible. After the fiasco of +his interview with Mr. Haim, he had not the courage to protest. He +framed withering sentences to the girls in black, such as: "Is this +place supposed to be open for business, or isn't it?" but they were not +uttered. Then a girl in black with a plain, ugly white apron and a dowdy +white cap appeared on the stairs leading from the basement, and removed +for her passage a bar of stained wood lettered in gilt: 'Closed,' and +she halted at George's table. She spoke no word. She just stood over +him, unsmiling, placid, flaccid, immensely indifferent. She was pale, a +poor sort of a girl, without vigour. But she had a decent, honest face. +She was not aware that she ought to be bright, welcoming, provocative, +for a penny farthing an hour. She had never heard of Hebe. George +thought of the long, desolating day that lay before her. He looked at +her seriously. His eyes did not challenge hers as they were accustomed +to challenge Hebe's. He said in a friendly, matter-of-fact tone: + +"A meat-pie, please, and a large coffee." + +And she repeated in a thin voice: + +"Meat-pie. Large coffee." + +A minute later she dropped the order on the table, as it might have +been refuse, and with it a bit of white paper. The sadness of the city, +and the inexplicable sadness of June mornings, overwhelmed George as he +munched at the meat-pie and drank the coffee, and reached over for the +sugar and reached over for the mustard. And he kept saying to himself: + +"She doesn't see her father at all for nearly two years, and then she +goes off to him like that in the middle of the night--at a word." + + +III + + +The office was not at its normal. The empty cubicle of the factotum +looked strange enough. But there was more than that in the abnormality. +There were currents of excitement in the office. The door of the +principals' room was open, and George saw John Orgreave and Everard +Lucas within, leaning over one of the great flat desks. The hour was +early for Lucas, and self-satisfaction was on Lucas's face as he raised +it to look at the entering of George. + +"I say," he remarked quietly through the doorway, "that town hall scheme +is on again." + +"Oh!" said George, depositing his hat and gloves and strolling into the +principals' room. "Good morning, Mr. Orgreave. Got the conditions +there?" For a moment his attitude of interest was a pose, but very +quickly it became sincere. Astonishing how at sight of a drawing-board +and a problem he could forget all that lay beyond them! He was genuinely +and extremely disturbed by the course of affairs at Chelsea; +nevertheless he now approached Mr. Orgreave and Lucas with eagerness, +and Chelsea slipped away into another dimension. + +"No," said John Orgreave, "the conditions aren't out yet. But it's all +right this time. I know for a fact." + +The offices of all the regular architectural competitors in London were +excited that morning. For the conception of the northern town hall was a +vast one. Indeed, journalists had announced, from their mysterious +founts of information, that the town hall would be the largest public +building erected in England during half a century. The scheme had been +the sport of municipal politics for many months, for years. Apparently +it could not get itself definitely born. And now the Town Clerk's wife +had brought about the august parturition. It is true that her agency was +unintentional. The Town Clerk had belonged to a powerful provincial +dynasty of town clerks. He had the illusion that without him a great +town would cease to exist. There was nothing uncommon in this illusion, +which indeed is rife among town clerks; but the Town Clerk in question +had the precious faculty of being able to communicate it to mayors, +aldermen, and councillors. He was a force in the municipal council. +Voteless, he exercised a moral influence over votes. And he happened to +be opposed to the scheme for the new town hall. He gave various +admirable reasons for the postponement of the scheme, but he never gave +the true reasons, even to himself. The true reasons were, first, that he +hated and detested the idea of moving office, and, second, that he +wanted acutely to be able to say in the fullness of years that he had +completed half a century of municipal work in one and the same room. If +the pro-scheme party had had the wit to invent a pretext for allowing +the Town Clerk to remain in the old municipal buildings, the scheme +would instantly have taken life. The Town Clerk, being widowed, had +consoled himself with a young second wife. This girl adored dancing; the +Town Clerk adored her; and therefore where she danced he deemed it +prudent to attend. Driving home from a January ball at 4 a.m. the Town +Clerk had caught pneumonia. In a week he was dead, and his dynasty with +him. In a couple of months the pro-scheme party had carried the council +off its feet. Such are the realities, never printed in newspapers, of +municipal politics in the grim north. + +Sketches of the site had appeared in the architectural press. John +Orgreave and Lucas were pencilling in turn upon one of these, a page +torn out of a weekly. George inserted himself between them, roughly +towards Lucas and deferentially towards Mr. John. + +"But you've got the main axis wrong!" he exclaimed. + +"How, wrong?" John Orgreave demanded. + +"See here--give me the pencil, Looc." + +George felt with a little thrill of satisfaction the respect for him +which underlay John Orgreave's curt tone of a principal--and a principal +from the Midlands. He did not miss, either, Lucas's quick, obedient, +expectant gesture in surrendering the pencil. Ideas for the plan of the +building sprang up multitudinously in his mind. He called; they came. He +snatched towards him a blank sheet of tracing-paper, and scrawled it +over with significant lines. + +"That's my notion. I thought of it long ago," he said. "Or if you +prefer--" + +The other two were impressed. He himself was impressed. His notion, +which he was modifying and improving every moment, seemed to him perfect +and ever more perfect. He was intensely and happily stimulated in the +act of creation; and they were all three absorbed. + +"Why hasn't my desk been arranged?" said a discontented voice behind +them. Mr. Enwright had arrived by the farther door from the corridor. + +Lucas glanced up. + +"I expect Haim hasn't come again to-day," he answered urbanely, +placatingly. + +"Why hasn't he come?" + +"I hear his wife's very ill," said George. + +"Who told you?" + +"I happened to be round that way this morning." + +"Oh! I thought all was over between you two." + +George flushed. Nothing had ever been said in the office as to his +relations with Haim, though it was of course known that George no longer +lodged with the factotum. Mr. Enwright, however, often had disconcerting +intuitions concerning matters to which Mr. Orgreave and Lucas were +utterly insensible. + +"Oh no!" George haltingly murmured. + +"Well, this is all very well, this is----!" Mr. Enwright ruthlessly +proceeded, beginning to marshal the instruments on his desk. + +He had been a somewhat spectacular martyr for some time past. A +mysterious facial neuralgia had harried his nights and days. For the +greater part of a week he had dozed in an arm-chair in the office under +the spell of eight tabloids of aspirin per diem. Then a specialist had +decided that seven of his side teeth, already studded with gold, must +leave him. Those teeth were not like any other person's teeth, and in +Mr. Enwright's mind the extracting of them had become a major operation, +as, for example, the taking off of a limb. He had spent three days in a +nursing home in Welbeck Street. His life was now saved, and he was a +convalescent, and passed several hours daily in giving to friends +tragi-farcical accounts of existence in a nursing home. Mr. Enwright's +career was one unending romance. + +"I was just looking at that town hall affair," said John Orgreave. + +"What town hall?" his partner snapped. + +"_The_ town hall," answered the imperturbable John. "George here has got +an idea." + +"I suppose you know Sir Hugh Corver, Bart., is to be the assessor," said +Mr. Enwright in a devastating tone. + +Sir Hugh Corver, formerly a mere knight, had received a baronetcy, to +Mr. Enwright's deep disgust. Mr. Enwright had remarked that any +decent-minded man who had been a husband and childless for twenty-four +years would have regarded the supplementary honour as an insult, but +that Sir Hugh was not decent-minded and, moreover, was not capable of +knowing an insult when he got one. This theory of Mr. Enwright's, +however, did not a bit lessen his disgust. + +"Oh yes," John Orgreave admitted lamely. + +"I for one am not going in for any more competitions with Corver as +assessor," said Mr. Enwright. "I won't do it." + +Faces fell. Mr. Enwright had previously published this resolve, but it +had not been taken quite seriously. It was entirely serious. Neuralgia +and a baronetcy had given it the consistency of steel. + +"It isn't as if we hadn't got plenty of work in the office," said Mr. +Enwright. + +This was true. The firm was exceedingly prosperous. + +Nobody else spoke. + +"What _can_ you expect from a fellow like Corver?" Mr. Enwright cried, +with a special glance at George. "He's the upas-tree of decent +architecture." + +George's mood changed immediately. Profound discouragement succeeded to +his creative stimulation. Mr. Enwright had reason on his side. What +_could_ you expect from a fellow like Corver? With all the ardour of a +disciple George dismissed the town hall scheme, and simultaneously his +private woes surged up and took full possession of him. He walked +silently out of the room, and Lucas followed. As a fact, Mr. Enwright +ought not to have talked in such a way before the pupils. A question of +general policy should first have been discussed in private between the +partners, and the result then formally announced to the staff. Mr. +Enwright was not treating his partner with proper consideration. But +Mr. Enwright, as every one said at intervals, was 'like that'; and his +partner did not seem to care greatly. + +Lucas shut the door between the principals' room and the pupils' room. + +"I say," said Lucas importantly. "I've got a show on to-night. Women. +CafĂ© Royal. I want a fourth. You must come." + +"Yes," sneered George. "And what about my exam., I should like to +know.... Besides, I can't." + +The Final was due to begin on Thursday. + +"That's all right," Lucas answered, with tact. "That's all right. I'd +thought of the exam., of course. You'll have to-morrow to recover. It'll +do you all the good in the world. And you know you're more than ready +for the thing. You don't want to be overtrained, my son. Besides, you'll +sail through it. As for 'can't,' 'can't' be damned. You've got to." + +A telegraph boy, after hesitating at the empty cubicle, came straight +into the room. + +"Name of Cannon?" + +George nodded, trembling. + +The telegram read: + +"Impossible to-day.--MARGUERITE." + +It was an incredible telegram, as much by what it said as by what it +didn't say. It overthrew George. + +"Seven forty-five, and I'll drive you round," said Lucas. + +"Tis well," said George. + +Immediately afterwards Mr. Enwright summoned Lucas. + + +IV + + +The two young men of fashion were silent that evening as they drove to +the CafĂ© Royal in the car which Lucas loosely called 'my car,' but which +was his mother's and only to be obtained by him upon his own conditions +after delicate diplomacies. The chief of his conditions was that the +chauffeur should not accompany the car. Lucas, having been engaged upon +outdoor work for the firm, had not seen George throughout the day. +Further, he was late in calling for George, and therefore rather +exacerbated in secret; and if George had not been ready and waiting for +him at the club trouble might have arisen. George understood his host's +mood and respected it. Lucas drove rapidly and fiercely, with +appropriate frowns and settings of cruel teeth; his mien indeed had the +arrogance of the performer who, having given only a fraction of his time +to the acquirement of skill, reckons that he can beat the professional +who has given the whole of his time. Lucas's glances at chauffeurs who +hindered his swiftness were masterpieces of high disdain, and he would +accelerate, after circumventing them, with positive ferocity. + +George himself, an implacable critic, could not find fault with the +technique of Lucas's driving. But exacerbation tells, even in the young, +and at Piccadilly Circus, Lucas, in obeying a too suddenly uplifted hand +of a policeman, stopped his engine. The situation, horribly humiliating +for Lucas and also for George, provided pleasure for half the chauffeurs +and drivers in Piccadilly Circus, and was the origin of much jocularity +of a kind then fairly new. Lucas cursed the innocent engine, and George +leapt down to wield the crank. But the engine, apparently resenting +curses, refused to start again. No, it would not start. Lucas leapt down +too. "Get out of the way," he muttered savagely to George, and scowled +at the bonnet as if saying to the engine: "I'm not going to stand any of +your infernal nonsense!" But still the engine refused to start. + +The situation, humiliating before, was now appalling. Two entirely +correct young gentlemen, in evening dress, with light overcoats and +opera hats, struggling with a refractory car that in its obstinacy was +far more dignified than themselves--and the car obstructing traffic at +the very centre of the world in the very hour when the elect of Britain +were driving by on the way to _Tristan_ at the Opera! Sebastians both, +they were martyrized by the poisoned arrows of vulgar wit, shot at them +from all sides and especially from the lofty thrones of hansom-cab +drivers. The policeman ordered them to shove the car to the kerb, and +with the aid of a boy and the policeman himself they did so, opposite +the shuttered front of Swan & Edgar's. + +The two experts then examined the engine in a professional manner; they +did everything but take it down; they tried in vain all known devices to +conquer the recalcitrancy of engines; and when they had reached despair +and fury George, startlingly visited by an idea, demanded: + +"Any petrol in the tank?..." In those days men of fashion were apt to +forget, at moments of crisis, that the first necessity of the engine was +petrol. George behaved magnanimously. He might have extinguished Lucas +with a single inflection as Lucas, shamed to the uttermost, poured a +spare half-tin of petrol into the tank. He refrained. + +In one minute, in less than one minute, they were at the side entrance +to the CafĂ© Royal, which less than a minute earlier had been +inconceivably distant and unattainable. Lucas dashed first into the +restaurant. To keep ladies waiting in a public place was for him the +very worst crime, surpassing in turpitude arson, embezzlement, and the +murder of innocents. The ladies must have been waiting for a quarter of +an hour, half an hour! His reputation was destroyed! + +However, the ladies had not arrived. + +"That's all right," Lucas breathed, at ease at last. The terrible scowl +had vanished from his face, which was perfectly recomposed into its +urbane, bland charm. + +"Now perhaps you'll inform me who they are, old man," George suggested, +relinquishing his overcoat to a flunkey, and following Lucas into the +cloister set apart for the cleansing of hands which have meddled with +machinery. + +"The Wheeler woman is one--didn't I tell you?" Lucas answered, +unsuccessfully concealing his pride. + +"Wheeler?" + +"Irene Wheeler. You know." + +George was really impressed. Lucas had hitherto said no word as to his +acquaintance with this celebrated woman. It was true that recently Lucas +had been spreading himself in various ways--he had even passed his +Intermediate--but George had not anticipated such a height of +achievement as the feat of entertaining at a restaurant a cynosure like +Irene Wheeler. George had expected quite another sort of company at +dinner, for he had publicly dined with Lucas before. All day he had been +abstracted, listless, and utterly desolate. All day he had gone over +again and again the details of the interview with Mr. Haim, his telegram +to Marguerite and her unspeakable telegram to him, hugging close a +terrific grievance. Only from pique against Marguerite had he accepted +Lucas's invitation. The adventure in Piccadilly Circus had somewhat +enlivened him, and now the fluttering prospect of acquaintance with the +legendary Irene Wheeler pushed Marguerite into the background of his +mind, and excitement became quite pleasant. "And a Miss Ingram," Lucas +added. + +"Not Lois Ingram?" exclaimed George, suddenly dragging the names of +Ingram and Wheeler out of the same drawer of his memory. + +"No. Laurencine. But she has a sister named Lois. What do _you_ know +about her?" Lucas spoke challengingly, as if George had trespassed on +preserves sacred to himself alone. He had not yet admitted that it was +merely Mrs. John Orgreave who had put him in the way of Irene Wheeler. + +George was surprised and shocked that it had never occurred to him to +identify Lois Ingram's wealthy friend Miss Wheeler with the Irene +Wheeler of society columns of newspapers. And Lois Ingram rose in his +esteem, not because of the distinction of her friend, but because she +had laid no boastful stress on the distinction of her friend. + +"Don't you remember?" he said. "I told you once about a girl who jolly +nearly got me into a motor accident all through her fancying herself as +a chauffeur. That was Lois Ingram. Paris girl. Same lot, isn't it?" + +"Oh! Was _that_ Lois?" Lucas murmured. "Well, I'm dashed!" + +They returned in a hurry to the entrance-hall, fearful lest the ladies +might have arrived. However, the ladies had not arrived. Lucas had the +inexpressible satisfaction of finding in an illustrated weekly a +full-page portrait of Miss Irene Wheeler. + +"Here you are!" he ejaculated, with an air of use, as though he was +habitually picking up from the tables of fashionable restaurants +high-class illustrated papers containing portraits of renowned beauties +to whom he said "Come!" and they came. It was a great moment for Lucas. + +Ten minutes later the ladies very calmly arrived, seeming perfectly +unaware that they were three-quarters of an hour behind time. Lucas felt +that, much as he already knew about life, he had learned something +fresh. + +To George, Irene Wheeler was not immediately recognizable as the +original of her portrait. He saw the resemblance when he looked for it, +but if after seeing the photograph he had met the woman in the street he +would have passed her by unknowing. At first he was disappointed in her. +He had never before encountered celebrated people--except architects, +who, Enwright always said, never could be really celebrated--and he had +to learn that celebrated people seldom differ in appearance from +uncelebrated people. Nevertheless it was not to be expected that George +should escape where the most experienced and the most wary of two +capitals had not escaped. He did not agree that she was beautiful, but +her complexion enthralled him. He had never seen such a complexion; +nobody had ever seen such a complexion. It combined extremely marvellous +whites and extremely marvellous pinks, and the skin had the exquisite, +incredible softness of a baby's. Next he was struck by her candid, +ingenuous, inquiring gaze, and by her thin voice with the slight +occasional lisp. The splendid magnificence of her frock and jewels came +into play later. Lastly her demeanour imposed itself. That simple gaze +showed not the slightest diffidence, scarcely even modesty; it was more +brazen than effrontery. She preceded the other three into the +restaurant, where electricity had finally conquered the expiring +daylight, and her entry obviously excited the whole room; yet, guided by +two waving and fawning waiters, and a hundred glances upon her, she +walked to the appointed table without a trace of self-consciousness--as +naturally as a policeman down a street. When she sat down, George on her +right, Lucas on her left, and the tall, virginal Laurencine Ingram +opposite, she was the principal person in the restaurant. George had +already passed from disappointment to an impressed nervousness. The +inquisitive diners might all have been quizzing him instead of Irene +Wheeler. He envied Lucas, who was talking freely to both Miss Wheeler +and Laurencine about what he had ordered for dinner. That morning over a +drawing-board and an architectural problem, Lucas had been humble enough +to George, and George by natural right had laid the law down to Lucas; +but now Lucas, who--George was obliged to admit--never said anything +brilliant or original, was outshining him.... It was unquestionable that +in getting Irene Wheeler to dinner, Lucas, by some mysterious talent +which he possessed, had performed a feat greater even than George had at +first imagined--a prodigious feat. + +George waited for Irene Wheeler to begin to talk. She did not begin to +talk. She was content with the grand function of existing. Lucas showed +her the portrait in the illustrated paper, which he had kept. She said +that it was comparatively an old one, and had been taken at the Durbar +in January. "Were you at the Durbar?" asked the simpleton George. Irene +Wheeler looked at him. "Yes. I was in the Viceroy's house-party," she +answered mildly. And then she said to Lucas that she had sat three times +to photographers that week--"They won't leave me alone"--but that the +proofs were none of them satisfactory. At this Laurencine Ingram boldly +and blushingly protested, maintaining that one of them was lovely. +George was attracted to Laurencine, in whom he saw no likeness to her +sister Lois. She could not long have left school. She was the product +finished for the world; she had been taught everything that was +considered desirable--even to the art of talking easily and yet +virginally on all subjects at table; and she was a nice, honest, +handsome girl, entirely unspoilt by the mysterious operations practised +upon her. She related how she had been present when a famous +photographer arrived at Miss Wheeler's flat with his apparatus, and what +the famous photographer had said. The boys laughed. Miss Wheeler smiled +faintly. "I'm glad we didn't have to go to that play to-night," she +remarked, quitting photography. "However, I shall have to go to-morrow +night. And I don't care for first nights in London, only they will have +me go." In this last phrase, and in the intonation of it, was the first +sign she had given of her American origin; her speech was usually +indistinguishable from English English, which language she had in fact +carefully acquired years earlier. George gathered that Lucas's success +in getting Miss Wheeler to dinner was due to the accident of a first +night being postponed at the last moment and Miss Wheeler thus finding +herself with an empty evening. He covertly examined her. Why was the +feat of getting Miss Wheeler to dinner enormous? Why would photographers +not leave her alone? Why would theatrical managers have her accept boxes +gratis which they could sell for money? Why was she asked to join the +Viceregal party for the Durbar? Why was the restaurant agog? Why was he +himself proud and flattered--yes, proud and flattered--to be seen at the +same table with her?... She was excessively rich, no doubt; she was +reputed to be the niece of a railway man in Indianapolis who was one of +the major rivals of Harriman. She dressed superbly, perhaps too +superbly. But there were innumerable rich and well-dressed women on +earth. After all, she put her gold bag and her gloves down on the table +with just the same gesture as other women did; and little big Laurencine +had a gold bag too. She was not witty. He questioned whether she was +essentially kind. She was not young; her age was an enigma. She had not +a remarkable figure, nor unforgettable hair, nor incendiary eyes. She +seemed too placid and self-centred for love. If she had loved, it must +have been as she sat to photographers or occupied boxes on first +nights--because 'they' would have it so. George was baffled to discover +the origin of her prestige. He had to seek it in her complexion. Her +complexion was indubitably miraculous. He enjoyed looking at it, though +he lacked the experience to know that he was looking at a complexion +held by connoisseurs who do naught else but look at complexions to be a +complexion unique in Europe. George, unsophisticated, thought that the +unaffected simplicity--far exceeding self-confidence--with which she +acquiesced in her prestige was perhaps more miraculous than her +complexion. It staggered him. + +The dinner was a social success. Irene Wheeler listened adroitly, if +without brilliance, and after one glass of wine George found himself +quite able to talk in the Enwright manner about architecture and the +profession of architecture, and also to talk about automobiles. The +casualness with which he mentioned his Final Examination was superb--the +examiners might have been respectfully waiting for him to arrive and +discomfit them. But of course the main subject was automobiles. Even +Laurencine knew the names of all the leading makers, and when the names +of all the leading makers had been enumerated and their products +discussed, the party seemed to think that it had accomplished something +that was both necessary and stylish. When the tablecloth had been +renewed, and the solemn moment came for Everard Lucas to order liqueurs, +George felt almost gay. He glanced round the gilded and mirrored +apartment, now alluringly animated by the subdued yet vivacious +intimacies of a score of white tables, and decided that the institution +of restaurants was a laudable and agreeable institution. Marguerite had +receded further than ever into the background of his mind; and as for +the Final, it had diminished to a formality. + +"And you?" Everard asked Laurencine, after Miss Wheeler. + +George had thought that Laurencine was too young for liqueurs. She had +had no wine. He expected her to say 'Nothing, thanks,' as conventionally +as if her late head mistress had been present. But she hesitated, +smiling, and then, obedient to the profound and universal instinct +which seems to guide all young women to the same liqueur, she said: + +"May I have a _crĂªme de menthe_? I've never had _crĂªme de menthe_." + +George was certainly shocked for an instant. But no one else appeared to +be shocked. Miss Wheeler, in charge of Laurencine, offered no protest. +And then George reflected: "And why not? Why shouldn't she have a _crĂªme +de menthe_?" When Laurencine raised the tiny glass to her firm, large +mouth, George thought that the sight of the young virginal thing tasting +a liqueur was a fine and a beautiful sight. + +"It's just heavenly!" murmured Laurencine ecstatically. + +Miss Wheeler was gazing at George. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, smiling, and rested one elbow on the +table and looked enigmatically through the smoke of his cigar. + +"I was just wondering about you," said Miss Wheeler. Her voice, always +faint, had dropped to a murmur which seemed to expire as it reached +George's ear. + +"Why?" He was flattered. + +"I've been wanting to see you." + +"Really!" he laughed, rather too loudly. "What a pity I didn't know +earlier!" He was disturbed as well as flattered, for such a remark from +such a person as Irene Wheeler to such a person as himself was bound to +be disturbing. His eyes sought audaciously to commune with hers, but +hers were not responsive; they were entirely non-committal. + +"You _are_ the man that wouldn't let my friend Lois drive him in my car, +aren't you?" + +"Yes," he said defiantly, but rather guiltily. "Did she tell you about +that? It's an awful long time ago." + +"She told me something about it." + +"And you've remembered it all this long while!" + +"Yes," she answered, and her thin, queer tone and her tepid, impartial +glance had the effect of a challenge to him to justify himself. + +"And don't you think I was quite right?" he ventured. + +"She drives very well." It was not the sort of answer he was expecting. +His desire was to argue. + +"She didn't drive very well then," he said, with conviction. + +"Was that a reason for your leaving her to drive home alone?" + +Women were astounding! + +"She ought to have let the chauffeur drive," he maintained. + +"Ah! A man mustn't expect too much from a woman." + +"But I was risking my life in that car! Do you mean to say I ought to +have kept on risking it?" + +"I don't express any opinion on that. That was for you to decide.... You +must admit it was very humiliating for poor Lois." + +He felt himself cornered, but whether justly or unjustly he was +uncertain. + +"Was she vexed?" + +"No, she wasn't vexed. Lois isn't the woman to be vexed. But I have an +idea she was a little hurt." + +"Did she say so?" + +"Say so? Lois? She'd never say anything against anybody. Lois is a +perfect angel.... Isn't she, Laurencine?" + +Laurencine was being monopolized by Everard. + +"What did you say?" the girl asked, collecting herself. + +"I was just saying what an angel Lois is." + +"Oh, she _is_!" the younger sister agreed, with immense and sincere +emphasis. + +George, startled, said to himself suddenly: + +"Was I mistaken in her? Some girls you _are_ mistaken in! They're +regular bricks, but they keep it from you at first." + +Somehow, in spite of a slight superficial mortification, he was very +pleased by the episode of the conversation, and his curiosity was +titillated. + +"Lois would have come to-night instead of Laurencine," Miss Wheeler went +on, "only she wasn't feeling very well." + +"Is she in London? I've only seen her once from that day to this, and +then we didn't get near each other owing to the crush. So we didn't +speak. It was at Mrs. Orgreave's." + +"Yes, I know." + +"Did she tell you?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she at your flat?" + +"Yes; but she's not well." + +"Not in bed, I hope, or anything like that?" + +"Oh no! She's not in bed." + +Laurencine threw laughingly across the table: + +"She's as well as I am." + +It was another aspect of the younger sister. + +When they left the restaurant it was nearly empty. They left easily, +slowly, magnificently. The largesse of Everard Lucas--his hat slightly +raked--in the foyer and at the portico was magnificent in both quantity +and manner. There was no need to hurry; the hour, though late for the +end of dinner, was early for separation. They moved and talked without +the slightest diffidence, familiar and confident; the whole world was +reformed and improved for them by the stimulus of food and alcohol. The +night was sultry and dark. The two women threw their cloaks back from +their shoulders, revealing the whiteness of toilettes. At the door the +head-lights of Miss Wheeler's automobile shot horizontally right across +Regent Street. The chauffeur recognized George, and George recognized +the car; he was rather surprised that Miss Wheeler had not had a new car +in eighteen months. Lucas spoke of his own car, which lay beyond in the +middle of the side-street like a ship at anchor. He spoke in such a +strain that Miss Wheeler deigned to ask him to drive her home in it. The +two young men went to light the head-lights. George noticed the angry +scowl on Everard's face when three matches had been blown out in the +capricious breeze. The success of the fourth match restored his face to +perfect benignity. He made the engine roar triumphantly, imperiously +sounded his horn, plunged forward, and drew the car up in front of Miss +Wheeler's. His bliss, when Miss Wheeler had delicately inserted herself +into the space by his side, was stern and yet radiant. The big car, with +George and Laurencine on board, followed the little one like a cat +following a mouse, and Laurencine girlishly interested herself in the +chase. George, with his mind on Lois, kept saying to himself: "She's +been thinking about that little affair ever since last November but one. +They've all been thinking about it." He felt apprehensive, but his +satisfaction amounted to excitement. His attitude was: "At any rate I +gave them something to think about!" Also he breathed appreciatively the +atmosphere of the three women--two seen and one unseen. How +extraordinarily different all of them were from Agg! They reminded him +acutely of his deep need of luxury. After all, the life lived by those +two men about town, George and Everard, was rather humdrum and +monotonous. In spite of Everard's dash, and in spite of George's secret +engagement, neither of them met enough women or enough sorts of women. +George said to himself: "I shall see her to-night. We shall go up to the +flat. She isn't in bed. I shall see her to-night." He wanted to see her +because he had hurt her, and because she had remembered and had talked +about him and had raised curiosity about him in others. Was she really +unwell? Or had she been excusing herself! Was she an angel? He wanted to +see her again in order to judge for himself whether she was an angel. If +Laurencine said she was an angel she must be an angel. Laurencine was a +jolly, honest girl. To be in the car with her was agreeable. But she was +insipid. So he assessed the splendidly budding Laurencine, patronizing +her a little. Miss Wheeler gave him pause. Her simple phrases had +mysterious intonations. He did not understand her glance. He could not +settle the first question about her--her age. She might be very wicked; +certainly she could be very ruthless. And he had no hold over her. He +could give her nothing that she wanted. He doubted whether any man +could. + +"Have you been in London long?" he asked Laurencine. + +"A week," she said. "I came over with Miss Wheeler. I didn't think +mother would let me, but she did." + +"And did your sister come with you?" + +"No; Lois only came yesterday." + +"By herself?" + +"Yes." + +"I suppose you go about a lot?" + +"Oh, we _do_ It's such a change from Paris." + +"Well, I should prefer Paris." + +"You wouldn't! London's much more romantic. Paris is so hard and +matter-of-fact." + +"So's London." + +She squirmed about lissomly on the seat. + +"You don't know what I mean," she said. "I never _can_ make people see +what I mean--about anything." + +He smiled indulgently and dropped the point. + +"Miss Wheeler taken you to Mrs. Orgreave's yet?" + +"Yes; we were there on Saturday afternoon." + +"Well, what do you think of Mrs. Orgreave?" + +"Oh! She's very nice," Laurencine answered, with polite tepidity; and +added eagerly: "Mr. Orgreave's a dear." + +George was glad that she had not been enthusiastic about Mrs. Orgreave. +Her reserve showed that she could discriminate. Ecstasy was not +altogether a habit. If she said that Lois was an angel, Lois probably +was an angel. + +The cars stopped at the foot of a huge block of masonry in a vast leafy +square. George suddenly became very nervous. He thought: "I shall be +seeing her in a minute." + +Then, as he got out of the car, he heard Miss Wheeler saying to Lucas: + +"Well, good night. And thank you so much. It's been most delightful.... +We expect you soon, of course." + +She actually was not asking them to go up! George was excessively +disappointed. He watched Miss Wheeler and Laurencine disappear into the +rich and guarded interior with envy, as though they had entered a +delectable paradise to which he could not aspire; and the fact that Miss +Wheeler had vaguely invited him to call did not brighten him very much. +He had assumed that he would see Lois the angel that night. + + +V + + +The young men finished the evening at Pickering's. Pickering's was +George's club. George considered, rightly, that in the matter of his +club he had had great luck. Pickering's was a small club, and it had had +vicissitudes. Most men whose worldly education had been completed in St. +James's were familiar with its historical name, but few could say +off-hand where it was. Its address was Candle Court, and Candle Court +lay at the end of Candle Alley (a very short passage), between Duke +Street and Bury Street. The Court was in fact a tiny square of several +houses, chiefly used by traders and agents of respectability--as +respectability is understood in St. James's; it had a lamp-post of its +own. The report ran, and was believed by persons entitled to an opinion, +that the Duke of Wellington had for some years hidden there the lovely +desire of his heart from an inquisitive West End. Pickering's had, of +course, originally been a coffee-house; later, like many other +coffee-houses in the neighbourhood, it had developed into a proprietary +club. Misfortunes due to the caprices of taste and to competition had +brought about an arrangement by which the ownership was vested in a +representative committee. The misfortunes had continued, and at the +beginning of the century a crisis was reached, and Pickering's tried +hard to popularize itself, thereby doing violence to its feelings. Rules +were abated, and the entrance-fee fell. It was in this period that +Everard Lucas, whose ears were always open for useful items, heard of it +and suggested it to George. George wanted to join Lucas's club, which +was in St. James's Street itself, but Lucas wisely pointed out that if +they belonged to different clubs each would in practice have two clubs. +Moreover, he said that George might conceivably get a permanent bedroom +there. The first sight of the prim, picturesque square, the first hint +of scandal about the Duke of Wellington, decided George. It was +impossible for a man about town to refuse the chance of belonging to a +club in a Court where the Duke of Wellington had committed follies. + +George was proposed, seconded, and duly elected, together with other new +blood. Some of the old blood naturally objected, but the feud was never +acute. Solely owing to the impression which his young face made on the +powerful and aged hall-porter, George obtained a bedroom. It was small, +and at the top of the house; but it was cheap, it solved the even more +tiresome and uncomfortable problem of lodging; and further it was a +bedroom at Pickering's, and George could say that he lived at his +club--an imposing social advantage. He soon learnt how to employ the +resources of the club for his own utmost benefit. Nobody could surpass +him in choosing a meal inexpensively. He could have his breakfast in his +bedroom for tenpence, or even sixpence when his appetite was poor. He +was well served by a valet who apparently passed his whole life on +stairs and landings. This valet, courteous rather in the style of old +Haim, had a brain just equal to the problems presented by his vocation. +Every morning George would say: "Now, Downs, how soon can I have my +bath?" or "Now, Downs, what can I have for breakfast?" And Downs would +conscientiously cerebrate, and come forth after some seconds with sound +solutions, such as: "I'll see if I can put you in before Mr. de Gales if +you're in a hurry, sir," or "Scrambled eggs, sir--it'll make a bit of a +change." And when George agreed, Downs would exhibit a restrained but +real satisfaction. Yes, George had been very lucky. The club too was +lucky. The oldest member, who being paralysed had not visited the club +for eleven years, died and bequeathed ten thousand pounds to the +institution where he had happily played cards for several decades. +Pickering's was refurnished, and the stringency of its rules +re-established. The right wing of the committee wished that the oldest +member could have managed to die a year or two earlier and so obviated +the crisis. It was recognized, however, by the more reasonable, that you +cannot have everything in this world. + +Pickering's was very dull; but it was still Pickering's. George was +often bored at Pickering's. He soon reached the stage at which a club +member asserts gloomily that the club cookery is simply damnable. +Nevertheless he would have been desolated to leave Pickering's. The +place was useful to him in another respect than the purely material. He +learnt there the code which governs the familiar relations of men about +town. + +On the night of the CafĂ© Royal dinner, George and Lucas reclined in two +easy chairs in the inner smoking-room of Pickering's. They were alone. +Through the wide archway that marked the division between the inner and +the outer smoking-rooms they could see one solitary old gentleman dozing +in an attitude of abandonment, a magazine on his knees. Ash-trays were +full of ash and cigarette ends and matches. Newspapers were scattered +around, some folded inside out, some not folded, some whose component +sheets had been divided for ever like the members of a ruined family. +The windows were open, and one gave a view of the Court's watchful +lamp-post, and the other of the house--now occupied by an art dealer and +a commission agent--where the Duke had known both illusion and +disillusion. The delicate sound of the collision of billiard-balls came +from somewhere, and the rat-tatting of a tape-machine from somewhere +else. The two friends had arrived at the condition of absolute wisdom +and sagacity and tolerance which is apt to be achieved at a late hour in +clubs by young and old men who have discussed at length the phenomena of +society. + +"Well, I must be toddling," said Lucas, yawning as he looked idly at the +coloured horses on each wall who were for ever passing winning-posts or +soaring over bullfinches or throwing riders into brooks. + +"Here! Hold on!" George protested. "It's early." + +"Is it?" + +They began again to smoke and talk. + +"Nice little thing, What's-her-name! What's her funny name?" + +"Laurencine, do you mean? Yes." Lucas spoke coldly, with a careful +indifference. George, to whom insight had not been denied, understood +that Everard did not altogether care for Laurencine to be referred to as +a little thing, that he had rendered Laurencine sacred by his secret +approval. + +"I say," said George, sitting up slightly, and increasing the intimacy +of his tone, "devilish odd, wasn't it, that the Wheeler woman didn't ask +us up?" + +Hitherto they had avoided this question in their profound gossip. It had +lain between them untouched, like a substance possibly dangerous and +explosive. Yet they could not have parted without touching it, and +George, with characteristic moral courage or rashness, had touched it +first. Lucas was of a mind to reply succinctly that the Wheeler woman's +conduct was not a bit devilish odd. But sincerity won. The dismissal at +the entrance to the Mansions had affected him somewhat deeply. It had +impaired the perfection of his most notable triumph. The temptation to +release his feelings was too strong. + +"Well, if you ask me," he answered, it was. After a little pause he went +on: + +"Especially seeing that she practically asked me to ask them to dinner." +His nice features loosened to dissatisfaction. "The deuce she did!" + +"Yes! Practically asked me! Anyhow, gave me the tip What can you do?" He +implied that, far from deriving unique and unhoped-for glory from the +condescension of Irene Wheeler in consenting to dine with him, he had +conferred a favour on her by his invitation. He implied that brilliant +women all over London competed for his invitations. His manner was +entirely serious; it probably deceived even himself. George's manner +corresponded, instinctively, chivalrously; but George was not +deceived--at any rate in the subconscious depth of his mind. + +"Exactly!" murmured George. + +"Yes" said Lucas. "She said: 'I could bring Laurencine with me, if you +can get another man. That would make a four.' She said she wanted to +wake Laurencine up." + +"Did you tell her you should ask me?" George questioned. + +"Oh! She seemed to know all about you, my boy." + +"Well, but she couldn't know all about me," said George insincerely. +"Well, if you want to know then, she suggested I should ask you." + +"But she'd never seen me!" + +"She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect." + +"Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically assessing an +announcement that had no intrinsic interest for him. In reality he was +greatly excited. + +"Well you know what those sort of women are!" Lucas summed up wisely, as +if referring to truths of knowledge common among men of their kidney. + +"Oh, of course!" + +The magazine slid from the knees of the sleeper. The sleeper snorted and +woke up. The spell was broken. Lucas rose suddenly. "Bye-bye!" He was +giving an ultimatum as to his departure. + +George rose also, but slowly. + +"All that doesn't explain why she didn't ask us up," said he. + +But in his heart he thought he knew why Miss Wheeler hadn't asked them +up. The reason was that she maliciously wanted to tantalize him, George. +She had roused his curiosity about Lois, and then she had said to +herself: "You think you're going to see her to-night, but you just +aren't." Such, according to George, was Irene Wheeler the illustrious. +He reflected on the exasperating affair until he had undressed and got +into bed. But as soon as he had put out the light Marguerite appeared +before him, and at the back of her were the examiners for the Final. He +slept ill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE RUPTURE + +I + + +During the whole of the next day George waited for a letter from +Marguerite. There was nothing at the club by the first post; he went to +the office, hoping that as he had addressed his telegram from Russell +Square she might have written to Russell Square; there was nothing at +Russell Square. At lunch-time no word had arrived at the club; when the +office closed no word had arrived at the office; the last post brought +nothing to the club. He might have sent another telegram to Alexandra +Grove, but he was too proud to do so. He dined alone and most miserably +at the club. Inspired by unhappiness and resentment, he resolved to go +to bed; in bed he might read himself to sleep. But in the hall of the +club his feet faltered. Perhaps it was the sight of hats and sticks that +made him vacillate, or a glimpse of reluctantly dying silver in the +firmament over Candle Court. He wavered; he stood still at the foot of +the stairs. The next moment he was in the street. He had decided to call +on Agg at the studio. Agg might have the clue to Marguerite's astounding +conduct, though he had it not. He took a hansom, after saying he would +walk; he was too impatient for walking. Possibly Marguerite would be at +the studio; possibly a letter of hers had miscarried; letters did +miscarry. He was in a state of peculiar excitement as he paid the +cabman--an enigma to himself. + +The studio was quite dark. Other studios showed lights, but not Agg's. +From one studio came the sound of a mandolin--he thought it was a +mandolin--and the sound seemed pathetic, tragic, to his ears. Agg was +perhaps in bed; he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But +no! He would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for +him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know anything +about Marguerite?" The affianced ought to be the leading authority as to +the doings of Marguerite. He turned away, walked a little, and perceived +the cabman swinging himself cautiously down from his perch in order to +enter a public-house. He turned back. Marguerite too might be in bed at +the studio. Or the girls might be sitting in the dark, talking--a habit +of theirs.... Fanciful suppositions! At any rate he would not knock at +the door of the studio, would not even enter the alley again. What +carried him into the Fulham Road and westwards as far as the Workhouse +tower and the corner of Alexandra Grove? Feet! But surely the feet of +another person, over which he had no control! He went in the lamplit +dimness of Alexandra Grove like a thief; he crept into it. The silver +had not yet died out of the sky; he could see it across the spaces +between the dark houses; it was sad in exactly the same way as the sound +of the mandolin had been sad. + +What did he mean to do in the Grove? Nothing! He was just walking in it +by chance. He could indeed do nothing. For if he rang at No. 8 old Haim +would again confront him in the portico. He passed by No. 8 on the +opposite side of the road. No light showed, except a very dim glow +through the blind of the basement window to the left of the front door. +Those feet beneath him strolled across the road. The basement window was +wide open. The blind being narrower than the window-frame, he could see, +through the railings, into the room within. He saw Marguerite. She was +sitting, in an uncomfortable posture, in the rather high-seated +arm-chair in which formerly, when the room was her studio, she used to +sit at her work. Her head had dropped, on one shoulder. She was asleep. +On the table a candle burned. His heart behaved strangely. He flushed. +All his flesh tingled. The gate creaked horribly as he tiptoed into the +patch of garden. He leaned over the little chasm between the level of +the garden and the window, and supported himself with a hand on the +lower sash. He pushed the blind sideways with the other hand. + +"Marguerite!" in a whisper. Then louder: "Marguerite!" + +She did not stir. She was in a deep sleep. Her hands hung limp. Her face +was very pale and very fatigued. She liberated the same sadness as the +sound of the mandolin and the gleam of silver in the June sky, but it +was far more poignant. At the spectacle of those weary and unconscious +features and of the soft, bodily form, George's resentment was +annihilated. He wondered at his resentment. He was aware of nothing in +himself but warm, protective love. Tenderness surged out from the +impenetrable secrecy of his heart, filled him, overflowed, and floated +in waves towards the sleeper. In the intense sadness, and in the +uncertainty of events, he was happy. + +An older man might have paused, but without hesitancy George put his +foot on the window-sill, pushed down the window farther, and clambered +into the room in which he had first seen Marguerite. His hat, pressing +backward the blind, fell off and bounced its hard felt on the floor, +which at the edges was uncarpeted. The noise of the hat and the general +stir of George's infraction disturbed Marguerite, who awoke and looked +up. The melancholy which she was exhaling suddenly vanished. Her steady +composure in the alarm delighted George. + +"Couldn't wake you," he murmured lightly. It was part of his Five Towns +upbringing to conceal excitement. "Saw you through the window." + +"Oh! George! Was I asleep?" + +Pleasure shone on her face. He deposited his stick and sprang to her. He +sat on the arm of the chair. He bent her head back and examined her +face. He sat on her knee and held her. She did not kiss; she was kissed; +he liked that. Her fatigue was adorable. + +"I came here for something, and I just sat down for a second because I +was so tired, and I must have gone right off.... No! No!" + +The admonishing negative was to stop him from getting up off her knee. +She was exhausted, yet she had vast resources of strength to bear him on +her knee. She was wearing her oldest frock. It was shabby. But it +exquisitely suited her then. It was the frock of her capability, of her +great labours, of her vigil, of her fatigue. It covered, but did not +hide, her beautiful contours. He thought she was marvellously +beautiful--and very young, far younger than himself. As for him, he was +the dandy, in striking contrast to her. His dandyism as he sat on her +knee pleased both of them. He looked older than his years, his shoulders +had broadened, his dark moustache thickened. In his own view he was +utterly adult, as she was in hers. But their young faces so close +together, so confident, were touchingly immature. As he observed her +grave satisfaction at his presence, the comfort which he gave her, he +felt sure of her, and the memory of his just resentment came to him, and +he was tenderly reproachful. + +"I expected to hear from you," he said. The male in him relished the +delicate accusation of his tone. + +Marguerite answered with a little startled intake of breath: + +"She's dead!" + +"Dead?" + +"She died this afternoon. The layer-out left about half an hour ago." + +Death parted them. He rose from her knee, and Marguerite did not try to +prevent him. He was profoundly shocked. With desolating vividness he +recalled the Sunday afternoon when he had carried upstairs the plump, +living woman now dead. He had always liked Mrs. Lob--it was as Mrs. Lob +that he thought of her. He had seen not much of her. Only on that Sunday +afternoon had he and she reached a sort of intimacy--unspoken but real. +He had liked her. He had even admired her. She was no ordinary being. +And he had sympathized with her for Marguerite's quite explicable +defection. He had often wished that those two, the charwoman and his +beloved, could somehow have been brought together. The menaces of death +had brought them together. Mrs. Lob was laid out in the bedroom which he +had once entered. Mrs. Lob had been dying while he dined richly with +Miss Wheeler and Laurencine, and while he talked cynically with Everard +Lucas. And while he had been resenting Marguerite's neglect Marguerite +was watching by the dying bed. Oh! The despicable superficialities of +restaurants and clubs! He was ashamed. The mere receding shadow of death +shamed him. + +"The baby's dead too, of course," Marguerite added. "She ought never to +have had a baby. It seems she had had two miscarriages." + +There were tears in Marguerite's eyes and in her voice. Nevertheless her +tone was rather matter-of-fact as she related these recondite and +sinister things. George thought that women were very strange. Imagine +Marguerite quietly talking to him in this strain! Then the sense of the +formidable secrets that lie hidden in the history of families, and the +sense of the continuity of individual destinies, overwhelmed him. There +was silence. + +"And your exam. begins to-morrow," whispered the astonishing Marguerite. + +"Where's the old gentleman?" + +"He's sitting in the parlour in the dark." + +It was a terrible house: they two intimidated and mournful in the +basement; the widower solitary on the ground floor; the dead bodies, the +wastage and futility of conception and long bearing, up in the bedroom. +And in all the house the light of one candle! George suddenly noticed, +then, that Marguerite was not wearing the thin, delicate ring which he +had long ago given her. Had she removed it because of her manual duties? +He wanted to ask the question, but, even unspoken, it seemed too trivial +for the hour.... + +There was a shuffling sound beyond the door, and a groping on the outer +face of the door. Marguerite jumped up. Mr. Haim stumbled into the room. +He had incredibly aged; he looked incredibly feeble. But as he pointed a +finger at George he was in a fury of anger, and his anger was senile, +ridiculous, awful. + +"I thought I heard voices," he said, half squeaking. "How did you get +in? You didn't come in by the door. Out of my house! My wife lying dead +upstairs, and you choose this night to break in!" He was implacable +against George, absolutely; and George recoiled. + +The opening of the door had created a draught in which the candle-flame +trembled, and the shadow of the old man trembled on the door. + +"You'd better go. I'll write. I'll write," Marguerite murmured to George +very calmly, very gently, very persuasively. She stood between the two +men. Her manner was perfect. It eternally impressed itself on George. +"Father, come and sit down." + +The old man obeyed her. So did George. He snatched his hat and stick. By +the familiar stone steps of the basement, and along the familiar hall, +he felt his way to the door, turned the familiar knob, and departed. + + +II + + +The examination began the next day. Despite his preoccupation about +Marguerite, George's performances during the first days were quite +satisfactory to himself. Indeed, after a few minutes in the +examination-room, after the preliminary critical assessing of the +difficulty of the problems in design, and the questions, and of his +ability to deal with them, George successfully forgot everything except +the great seven-day duel between the self-constituted autocratic +authorities backed by prestige and force, and the aspirants who had +naught but their wits to help them. He was neither a son, nor a friend, +nor a lover; he ceased to have human ties; he had become an examinee. +Marguerite wrote him two short letters which were perfect, save that he +always regarded her handwriting as a little too clerical, too like her +father's. She made no reference whatever to the scene in the basement +room. She said that she could not easily arrange to see him immediately, +and that for the sake of his exam. he ought not to be distracted. She +would have seen him on the Saturday, but on Saturday George learnt that +her father was a little unwell and required, even if he did not need, +constant attention. The funeral, unduly late, occurred by Mr. Haim's +special desire on the Sunday, most of which day George spent with +Everard Lucas. On the Monday he had a rendezvous at eight o'clock with +Marguerite at the studio. + +She opened the door herself; and her welcome was divine. Her gestures +spoke, delicate, and yet robust in their candour. But she was in deep +mourning. + +"Oh!" he said, holding her. "You're wearing black, then." + +"Of course!" she answered sweetly. "You see, I had to be there all +through the funeral. And father would have been frightfully shocked if I +hadn't been in black--naturally." + +"Of course!" he agreed. It was ridiculous that he should be surprised +and somewhat aggrieved to find her in mourning; still, he was surprised +and somewhat aggrieved. + +"Besides----" she added vaguely. + +And that 'besides' disquieted him, and confirmed his grievance. Why +should she wear mourning for a woman to whom she was not related, whom +she had known simply as a charwoman, and who had forced her to leave her +father's house? There was no tie between Marguerite and her stepmother. +George, for his part, had liked the dead woman, but Marguerite had not +even liked her. No, she was not wearing black in honour of the dead, but +to humour the living. And why should her father be humoured? George +privately admitted the unreasonableness, the unsoundness, of these +considerations--obviously mourning wear was imperative for +Marguerite--nevertheless they were present in his mind. + +"That frock's a bit tight, but it suits you," he said, advancing with +her into the studio. + +"It's an old one," she smiled. + +"An old one?" + +"It's one I had for mother." + +He had forgotten that she had had a mother, that she had known what +grief was, only a very few years earlier. He resented these bereavements +and the atmosphere which they disengaged. He wanted a different +atmosphere. + +"Is the exam. really all right?" she appealed to him, taking both his +hands and leaning against him and looking up into his face. + +"What did I tell you in my letter?" + +"Yes, I know." + +"The exam. is as right as rain." + +"I knew it would be." + +"You didn't," he laughed. He imitated her: "'Is the exam. really all +right?'" She just smiled. He went on confidently: "Of course you never +know your luck, you know. There's the viva to-morrow.... Where's old +Agg?" + +"She's gone home." + +"Thoughtful child! How soon will she be back?" + +"About nine," said Marguerite, apparently unaware that George was being +funny. + +"Nine!" + +"Oh, George!" Marguerite exclaimed, breaking away from him. "I'm awfully +sorry, but I must get on with my packing." + +"What packing?" + +"I have to take my things home." + +"What home?" + +"Father's, I mean." + +She was going to live with her father, who would not willingly allow +him, George, to enter the house! How astounding girls were! She had +written to him twice without giving the least hint of her resolve. He +had to learn it as it were incidentally, through the urgency of packing. +She did not tell him she was going--she said she must get on with her +packing! And there, lying on the floor, was an open trunk; and two of +her drawing-boards already had string round them. + +George inquired: + +"How is the old man--to-day?" + +"He's very nervy," said Marguerite briefly and significantly. "I'd +better light the lamp; I shall see better." She seemed to be speaking to +herself. She stood on a chair and lifted the chimney off the central +lamp. George absently passed her his box of matches. + +As she, was replacing the chimney, he said suddenly in a very resolute +tone: + +"This is all very well, Marguerite. But it's going to be jolly awkward +for me." + +She jumped lightly down from the chair, like a little girl. + +"Oh! George! I know!" she cried. "It will be awkward for both of us. But +we shall arrange something." She might have resented his tone. She might +have impulsively defended herself. But she did not. She accepted his +attitude with unreserved benevolence. Her gaze was marvellously +sympathetic. + +"I can't make out what your father's got against me," said George +angrily, building his vexation on her benevolence. "What have I done, I +should like to know." + +"It's simply because you lived there all that time without him knowing +we were engaged. He says if he'd known he would never have let you stay +there a day." She smiled, mournfully, forgivingly, excusingly. + +"But it's preposterous!" + +"Oh! It is." + +"And how does he behave to _you_? Is he treating you decently?" + +"Oh! Fairly. You see, he's got a lot to get over. And he's most +frightfully upset about--his wife. Well, you saw him yourself, didn't +you?" + +"That's no reason why he should treat you badly." + +"But he doesn't, George!" + +"Oh! I know! I know! Do you think I don't know? He's not even decent to +you. I can hear it in your voice. Why should you go back and live with +him if he isn't prepared to appreciate it?" + +"But he expects it, George. And what am I to do? He's all alone. I can't +leave him all alone, can I?" + +George burst out: + +"I tell you what it is. Marguerite. You're too good-natured. That's what +it is. You're too good-natured. And it's a very bad thing." + +Tears came into her eyes; she could not control them. She was grieved by +his remark. + +"I'm not, George, truly. You must remember father's been through a lot +this last week. So have I." + +"I know! I know! I admit all that. But you're too good-natured, and +I'll stick to it." + +She was smiling again. + +"You only think that because you're fond of me. Nobody else would say +it, and I'm not. Help me to lift this trunk on to the chest." + +While the daylight withdrew, and the smell of the lamp strengthened and +then faded, and the shadows cast by the lamp-rays grew blacker, she went +on rapidly with her packing, he serving her at intervals. They said +little. His lower lip fell lower and lower. The evening was immensely, +horribly different from what he had expected and hoped for. He felt once +more the inescapable grip of destiny fastening upon him. + +"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, after a long time. + +"I told father I should be back at a quarter-past nine." + +This statement threw George into a condition of total dark disgust. He +made no remark. But what remarks he could have made--sarcastic, bitter, +unanswerable! Why indeed in the name of heaven should she promise her +father to be back at a quarter-past nine, or at a quarter-past anything? +Was she a servant? Had she no rights? Had he himself, George, no rights? + +A little before nine Agg arrived. Marguerite was fastening the trunk. + +"Now be sure, Agg," said Marguerite. "Don't forget to hang out the +Carter Paterson card at the end of the alley to-morrow morning. I must +have these things at home to-morrow night for certain. The labels are +on. And here's twopence for the man." + +"Do I forget?" retorted Agg cheerfully. "By the way, George, I want to +talk to you." She turned to Marguerite and repeated in quite a different +voice: "I want to talk to him, dear, to-night. Do, let him stay. Will +you?" + +Marguerite gave a puzzled assent. + +"I'll call after I've taken Marguerite to Alexandra Grove, Agg--on my +way back to the club." + +"Oh no, you won't!" said Agg. "I shall be gone to bed then. Look at that +portrait and see how I've worked. My family's concerned about me. It +wants me to go away for a holiday." + +George had not till then noticed the portrait at all. + +"But I must take Marguerite along to the Grove," he insisted. "She can't +go alone." + +"And why can't she go alone? What sort of a conventional world do you +think you live in? Don't girls go home alone? Don't they come in alone? +Don't I? Anybody would think, to listen to some people, that the purdah +flourished in Chelsea. But it's all pretence. I don't ask for the honour +of a private interview with you every night. You've both of you got all +your lives before you. And for once in a way Marguerite's going out +alone. At least, you can take her to the street, I don't mind that. But +don't be outside more than a minute." + +Agg, who had sat down, rose and slowly removed her small hat. With pins +in her mouth she said something about the luggage to Marguerite. + +"All right! All right!" George surrendered gloomily. In truth he was not +sorry to let Marguerite depart solitary. And Agg's demeanour was very +peculiar; he would have been almost afraid to be too obstinate in +denying her request. He had never seen her hysterical, but a suspicion +took him that she might be capable of hysteria.... You never knew, with +that kind of girl, he thought sagaciously. + +In the darkness of the alley George said to Marguerite, feigning +irritation: + +"What on earth does she want?" + +"Agg? Oh! It's probably nothing. She does get excited sometimes, you +know." + +The two girls had parted with strange, hard demonstrations of affection +from Agg. + +"I suppose you'll write," said George coldly. + +"To-morrow, darling," she replied quite simply and gravely. + +Her kiss was warm, complete, faithful, very loving, very sympathetic. +Nothing in her demeanour as she left him showed that George had received +it in a non-committal manner. Yet she must have noticed his wounded +reserve. He did not like such duplicity. He would have preferred her to +be less miraculously angelic. + +When he re-entered the studio, Agg, who very seldom smoked, was puffing +violently at a cigarette. She reclined on one elbow on the settee, her +eyes fixed on the portrait of herself. George was really perturbed by +the baffling queerness of the scenes through which he was passing. + +"Look here, infant-in-arms," she began immediately. "I only wanted to +say two words to you about Marguerite. Can you stand it?" + +There was a pause. George walked in front of her, hiding the easel. + +"Yes," he said gruffly. + +"Well, Marguerite's a magnificent girl. She's extraordinarily capable. +You'd think she could look after herself as well as anyone. But she +can't. I know her far better than you do. She needs looking after. +She'll make a fool of herself if she isn't handled." + +"How do you mean?" + +"You know how I mean." + +"D'you mean about the old man?" + +"I mean about the perfectly horrid old man.... Ah! If I was in your +place, if I was a man," she said passionately, "do you know what I +should do with Marguerite? I should carry her off. I should run away +with her. I should drag her out of the house, and she should know what a +real man was. I'm not going to discuss her with you. I'm not going to +say any more at all. I'm off to bed. But before you go, I do think you +might tell me my portrait's a pretty good thing." + +And she did not say any more. + + +III + + +The written part of the examination lasted four days; and then there was +an interval of one day in which the harassed and harried aspirants might +restore themselves for the two days' ordeal of the viva voce. George had +continued to be well satisfied with his work up to the interval. He +considered that he had perfectly succeeded in separating the lover and +the examinee, and that nothing foreign to the examination could vitiate +his activity therein. It was on the day of repose, a Wednesday, that a +doubt suddenly occurred to him as to the correctness of his answer, in +the "Construction" paper, to a question which began with the following +formidable words: "A girder, freely supported at each end and forty feet +long, carries a load of six tons at a distance of six feet from one end +and another load of ten tons----" Thus it went on for ten lines. He had +always been impatient of detail, and he hated every kind of calculation. +Nevertheless he held that calculations were relatively easy, and that he +could do them as well as the driest duffer in the profession when he set +his mind to them. But the doubt as to the correctness of his answer +developed into a certainty. Facing the question in private again, he +obtained four different solutions in an hour; it was John Orgreave who +ultimately set him right, convicting him of a most elementary +misconception. Forthwith his faith in his whole "Construction" paper +vanished. He grumbled that it was monstrous to give candidates an +unbroken stretch of four hours' work at the end of a four-day effort. +Yet earlier he had been boasting that he had not felt the slightest +fatigue. He had expected to see Marguerite on the day of repose. He did +not see her. She had offered no appointment, and he said to himself +that he had not the slightest intention of running after her. Such had +become the attitude of the lover to the beloved. + +On the Thursday morning, however, he felt fit enough to face a dozen +oral examiners, and he performed his morning exercises in the club +bedroom with a positive ferocity of vigour. And then he was gradually +overtaken by a black moodiness which he could not explain. He had passed +through similar though less acute moods as a boy; but this was the first +of the inexplicable sombre humours which at moments darkened his +manhood. He had not the least suspicion that prolonged nervous tension +due to two distinct causes had nearly worn him out. He was melancholy, +and his melancholy increased. But he was proud; he was defiant. His +self-confidence, as he looked back at the years of genuine hard study +behind him, was complete. He disdained examiners. He knew that with all +their damnable ingenuity they could not floor him. + +The crisis arrived in the afternoon of the first of the two days. His +brain was quite clear. Thousands of details about drainage, ventilation, +shoring, architectural practice, lighting, subsoils, specifications, +iron and steel construction, under-pinning, the properties of building +materials, strains, thrusts, water-supply; thousands of details about +his designs--the designs in his 'testimonies of study,' the design for +his Thesis, and the designs produced during the examination itself--all +these peopled his brain; but they were in order; they were under +control; they were his slaves. For four and a half hours, off and on, he +had admirably displayed the reality of his knowledge, and then he was +sent into a fresh room to meet a fresh examiner. There he stood in the +room alone with his designs for a small provincial town hall--a +key-plan, several one-eighth scale-plans, a piece of half-inch detail, +and two rough perspective sketches which he knew were brilliant. The +room was hot; through the open window came the distant sound of the +traffic of Regent Street. The strange melancholy of a city in summer +floated towards him from the outside and reinforced his own. + +The examiner, who had been snatching tea, entered briskly and sternly. +He was a small, dapper, fair man of about fifty, with wonderfully tended +finger-nails. George despised him because Mr. Enwright despised him, but +he had met him once in the way of the firm's business and found him +urbane. + +"Good afternoon," said George politely. + +The examiner replied, trotting along the length of the desk with quick, +short steps: + +"Now about this work of yours. I've looked at it with some care----" His +speech was like his demeanour and his finger-nails. + +"Boor!" thought George. But he could not actively resent the slight. He +glanced round at the walls; he was in a prison. He was at the mercy of a +tyrant invested with omnipotence. + +The little tyrant, however, was superficially affable. Only now and then +in his prim, courteous voice was there a hint of hostility and cruelty. +He put a number of questions, the answers to which had to be George's +justification. He said "H'm!" and "Ah!" and "Really?" He came to the +matter of spouting. + +"Now, I object to hopper-heads," he said. "I regard them as unhygienic." + +And he looked coldly at George with eyebrows lifted. George returned the +gaze. + +"I know you do, sir," George replied. + +Indeed it was notorious that hopper-heads to vertical spouting were a +special antipathy of the examiner's; he was a famous faddist. But the +reply was a mistake. The examiner, secure in his attributes, ignored the +sally. A little later, taking up the general plan of the town hall, he +said: + +"The fact is, I do--not--care for this kind of thing. The whole +tendency----" + +"Excuse me, sir," George interrupted, with conscious and elaborate +respectfulness. "But surely the question isn't one of personal +preferences. Is the design good or is it bad?" + +"Well, I call it bad," said the examiner, showing testiness. The +examiner too could be impulsive, was indeed apt to be short-tempered. +The next instant he seized one of the brilliant perspective sketches, +and by his mere manner of holding it between his thumb and finger he +sneered at it and condemned it. + +He snapped out, not angrily--rather pityingly: + +"And what the devil's this?" + +George, furious, retorted: + +"What the hell do you think it is?" + +He had not foreseen that he was going to say such a thing. The traffic +in Regent Street, which had been inaudible to both of them, was loud in +their ears. + +The examiner had committed a peccadillo, George a terrible crime. The +next morning the episode, in various forms, was somehow common knowledge +and a source of immense diversion. George went through the second day, +but lifelessly. He was sure he had failed. Apart from the significance +of the fact that the viva voce counted for 550 marks out of a total of +1200, he felt that the Royal Institute of British Architects would know +how to defend its dignity. On the Saturday morning John Orgreave had +positive secret information that George would be plucked. + + +IV + + +On that same Saturday afternoon George and Marguerite went out together. +She had given him a rendezvous in Brompton Cemetery, choosing this spot +partly because it was conveniently near and partly in unconscious +obedience to the traditional instinct of lovers for the society of the +undisturbing dead. Each of them had a roofed habitation, but neither +could employ it for the ends of love. No. 8 was barred to George as much +by his own dignity as by the invisible sword of the old man; and of +course he could not break the immemorial savage taboo of a club by +introducing a girl into it. The Duke of Wellington himself, though +Candle Court was his purdah, could never have broken the taboo of even +so modest a club as Pickering's. Owing to the absence of Agg, who had +gone to Wales with part of her family, the studio in Manresa Road was +equally closed to the pair. + +Marguerite was first at the rendezvous. George saw her walking sedately +near the entrance. Despite her sedateness she had unmistakably the air +of waiting at a tryst. Anybody at a glance would have said that she was +expecting a man. She had the classical demure innocency of her +situation. George did not care for that. Why? She in fact was expecting +a man, and in expecting him she had nothing to be ashamed of. Well, he +did not care for it. He did not care for her being like other girls of +her class. In his pocket he had an invitation from Miss Wheeler for the +next evening. Would Miss Wheeler wait for a man in a public place, +especially a cemetery? Would Lois Ingram? Would Laurencine? He could not +picture them so waiting. Oh, simpleton, unlearned in the world! A snob +too, no doubt! (He actually thought that Hyde Park would have been +'better' than the cemetery for their rendezvous.) And illogical! If No. +8 had been open to them, and the studio, and the club, he would have +accepted with gusto the idea of an open-air rendezvous. But since there +was no alternative to an open-air rendezvous the idea of it humiliated +and repelled him. + +Further, in addition to her culpable demure innocency, Marguerite was +wearing black. Of course she was. She had no choice. Still, he hated her +mourning. Moreover, she was too modest; she did not impose herself. Some +girls wore mourning with splendid defiance. Marguerite seemed to +apologize; seemed to turn the other cheek to death.... He arrived +critical, and naturally he found matter to criticize. + +Her greeting showed quite candidly the pleasure she had in the sight of +him. Her heart was in the hand she gave him; he felt its mystic +throbbings there. + +"How are things?" he began. "I rather thought I should have been hearing +from you." He softened his voice to match the tenderness of her smile, +but he did it consciously. + +She replied: + +"I thought you'd have enough to worry about with the exam. without me." + +It was not a wise speech, because it implied that he was capable of +being worried, of being disturbed in the effort of absorption necessary +for the examination. He laughed a little harshly. + +"Well, you see the result!" + +He had written to tell her of the disastrous incident and that failure +was a certainty; a sort of shame had made him recoil from telling her to +her face; it was easier to be casual in writing than in talking; the +letter had at any rate tempered for both of them the shock of +communication. Now, he was out of humour with her because he had played +the ass with an ass of an examiner--not because she was directly or +indirectly responsible for his doing so; simply because he had done so. +She was the woman. It was true that she in part was indirectly +responsible for the calamity, but he did not believe it, and anyhow +would never have admitted it. + +"Oh! George! What a shame it was!" As usual, not a trace of reproach +from her: an absolute conviction that he was entirely blameless. "What +shall you do? You'll have to sit again." + +"Sit again? Me?" he exclaimed haughtily. "I never shall! I've done with +exams." He meant it. + +"But--shall you give up architecture, then?" + +"Certainly not! My dear girl, what are you thinking of? Of course I +shan't give up architecture. But you needn't pass any exams, to be an +architect. Anybody can call himself an architect, and be an architect, +without passing exams. Exams. are optional. That's what makes old +Enwright so cross with our beautiful profession." + +He laughed again harshly. All the time, beneath his quite genuine +defiance, he was thinking what an idiot he had been to cheek the +examiner, and how staggeringly simple it was to ruin years of industry +by one impulsive moment's folly, and how iniquitous was a world in which +such injustice could be. + +Marguerite was puzzled. In her ignorance she had imagined that +professions were inseparably connected with examinations. However, she +had to find faith to accept his dictum, and she found it. + +"Now about this afternoon," he said. "I vote we take a steamboat down +the river. I've made up my mind I must have a look at Greenwich again +from the water. And we both need a blow." + +"But won't it take a long time?" she mildly objected. + +He turned on her violently, and spoke as he had never spoken: + +"What if it does?" + +He knew that she was thinking of her infernal father, and he would not +have it. He remembered all that Agg had said. Assuredly Agg had shown +nerve, too much nerve, to tackle him in the way she did, and the more he +reflected upon Agg's interference the more he resented it as +impertinent. Still, Agg had happened to talk sense. + +"Oh, nothing!" Marguerite agreed quickly, fearfully. "I should like to +go. I've never been. Do we go to Chelsea Pier? Down Fernshaw Road will +be the nearest." + +"We'll go down Beaufort Street," he decided. He divined that she had +suggested Fernshaw Road in order to avoid passing the end of the Grove, +where her father might conceivably see them. Well, he was not going out +of his way to avoid her father. Nay, he was going slightly out of his +way in order to give her father every chance of beholding them +together. + +Although the day was Saturday there was no stir on Chelsea Pier. The +pier-keeper, indeed, was alone on the pier, which rose high on the +urgent flood-tide, so that the gangway to it sloped unusually upwards. +No steamer was in sight, and it seemed impossible that any steamer +should ever call at that forlorn and decrepit platform that trembled +under the straining of the water. Nevertheless, a steamer did after a +little while appear round the bend, in Battersea Reach; she dropped her +funnel, aimed her sharp nose at an arch of Battersea Bridge, and +finally, poising herself against the strong stream, bumped very gently +and neatly into contact with the pier. The pier-keeper went through all +the classic motions of mooring, unbarring, barring, and casting off, and +in a few seconds the throbbing steamer, which was named with the name of +a great Londoner, left the pier again with George and Marguerite on +board. Nobody had disembarked. The shallow and handsome craft, flying +its gay flags, crossed and recrossed the river, calling at three piers +in the space of a few minutes; but all the piers were like Chelsea Pier; +all the pier-keepers had the air of castaways upon shaking islets. The +passengers on the steamer would not have filled a motor-bus, and they +carried themselves like melancholy adventurers who have begun to doubt +the authenticity of the inspiration which sent them on a mysterious +quest. Such was travel on the Thames in the years immediately before +Londoners came to a final decision that the Thames was meet to be +ignored by the genteel town which it had begotten. + +George and Marguerite sat close together near the prow, saying little, +the one waiting to spring, the other to suffer onslaught. It was in +Lambeth Reach that the broad, brimming river challenged and seized +George's imagination. A gusty, warm, south-west wind met the rushing +tide and blew it up into foamy waves. The wind was powerful, but the +tide was irresistible. Far away, Land's End having divided the Atlantic +surge, that same wind was furiously driving vast waters up the English +Channel and round the Forelands, and also vast waters up the west coast +of Britain. The twin surges had met again in the outer estuary of the +Thames and joined their terrific impulses to defy the very wind which +had given them strength, and the mighty flux swept with unregarding +power through the mushroom city whose existence on its banks was a +transient episode in the everlasting life of the river. + +The river seemed to threaten the city that had confined it in stone. And +George, in the background of his mind, which was obsessed by the +tormenting enigma of the girl by his side, also threatened the city. +With the uncompromising arrogance of the student who has newly acquired +critical ideas, he estimated and judged it. He cursed the Tate Gallery +and utterly damned Doulton's works. He sternly approved Lambeth Palace, +the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Somerset House, Waterloo +Bridge, and St. Paul's. He cursed St. Thomas's Hospital and the hotels. +He patronized New Scotland Yard. The "Isambard Brunel" penetrated more +and more into the heart of the city, fighting for every yard of her +progress. Flags stood out straight in the blue sky traversed by swift +white clouds. Huge rudder-less barges, each with a dwarf in the stern +struggling at a giant's oar, were borne westwards broadside on like +straws upon the surface of a hurrying brook. A launch with an orchestra +on board flew gaily past. Tugs with a serpentine tail of craft threaded +perilously through the increasing traffic. Railway trains, cabs, +coloured omnibuses, cyclists, and footfarers mingled in and complicated +the scene. Then the first ocean-going steamer appeared, belittling all +else. And then the calm, pale beauty of the custom-house at last humbled +George, and for an instant made him think that he could never do +anything worth doing. His pride leapt up, unconquerable. The ocean-going +steamers, as they multiplied on the river, roused in him wild and +painful longings to rush to the ends of the earth and gorge himself on +the immense feast which the great romantic earth had to offer. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed passionately. "I'd give something to go to +Japan." + +"Would you?" Marguerite answered with mildness. She had not the least +notion of what he was feeling. Her voice responded to him, but her +imagination did not respond. True, as he had always known, she had no +ambition! The critical quality of his mood developed. The imperious +impulse came to take her to task. + +"What's the latest about your father?" he asked, with a touch of +impatient, aggrieved disdain. Both were aware that the words had opened +a crucial interview between them. She moved nervously on the seat. The +benches that ran along the deck-rails met in an acute angle at the stem +of the steamer, so that the pair sat opposite each other with their +knees almost touching. He went on: "I hear he hasn't gone back to the +office yet." + +"No," said Marguerite. "But he'll start again on Monday, I think." + +"But is he fit to go back? I thought he looked awful." + +She flushed slightly--at the indirect reference to the episode in the +basement on the night of the death. + +"It will do him good to go back," said Marguerite. "I'm sure he misses +the office dreadfully." + +George gazed at her person. Under the thin glove he suddenly detected +the form of her ring. She was wearing it again, then. (He could not +remember whether she had worn it at their last meeting, in Agg's studio. +The very curious fact was that at their last meeting he had forgotten to +look for the ring.) Not only was she wearing the ring, but she carried a +stylish little handbag which he had given her. When he bought that bag, +in the Burlington Arcade, it had been a bag like any other bag. But now +it had become part of her, individualized by her personality, a +mysterious and provocative bag. Everything she wore, down to her boots +and even her bootlaces so neatly threaded and knotted, was mysterious +and provocative. He examined her face. It was marvellously beautiful; it +was ordinary; it was marvellously beautiful. He knew her to the depths; +he did not know her at all; she was a chance acquaintance; she was a +complete stranger. + +"How are you getting on with him? You know you really ought to tell me." + +"Oh, George!" she said, earnestly vivacious. "You're wrong in thinking +he's not nice to me. He is. He's quite forgiven me." + +"Forgiven you!" George took her up. "I should like to know what he had +to forgive." + +"Well," she murmured timorously. "You understand what I mean." + +He drummed his elegant feet on the striated deck. Out of the corner of +his left eye he saw the mediaeval shape of the Tower rapidly +disappearing. In front were the variegated funnels and masts of fleets +gathered together in St. Katherine's Dock and London Dock. The steamer +gained speed as she headed from Cherry Gardens Pier towards the middle +of the river. She was a frail trifle compared with the big boats that +lined the wharves; but in herself she had size and irresistible force, +travelling quite smoothly over the short, riotous, sparkling waves which +her cut-water divided and spurned away on either side. Only a tremor +faintly vibrated throughout her being. + +"Has he forgiven you for being engaged?" George demanded, with rough +sarcasm. + +She showed no resentment of his tone, but replied gently: + +"I did try to mention it once, but it was no use--he wasn't in a +condition. He made me quite afraid--not for me of course, but for him." + +"Well, I give it up!" said George. "I simply give it up! It's past me. +How soon's he going to _be_ in condition? He can't keep us walking about +the streets for ever." + +"No, of course not!" She smiled to placate him. + +There was a pause, and then George, his eyes fixed on her hand, +remarked: + +"I see you've got your ring on." + +She too looked at her hand. + +"My ring? Naturally. What do you mean?" + +He proceeded cruelly: + +"I suppose you don't wear it in the house, so that the sight of it +shan't annoy him." + +She flushed once more. + +"Oh, George, dear!" Her glance asked for mercy, for magnanimity. + +"Do you wear it when you're in the house, or don't you?" + +Her eyes fell. + +"I daren't excite him. Truly, I daren't. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't be +right." + +She was admitting George's haphazard charge against her. He was +astounded. But he merely flung back his head and raised his eyebrows. He +thought: + +"And yet she sticks to it he's nice to her! My God!" + +He said nothing aloud. The Royal Hospital, Greenwich, showed itself in +the distance like a domed island rising fabulously out of the blue-green +water. Even far off, before he could decipher the main contours of the +gigantic quadruple pile, the vision excited him. His mind, darkened by +the most dreadful apprehensions concerning Marguerite, dwelt on it +darkly, sardonically, and yet with pleasure. And he proudly compared his +own disillusions with those of his greatest forerunners. His studies, +and the example of Mr. Enwright, had inspired him with an extremely +enthusiastic worship of Inigo Jones, whom he classed, not without +reason, among the great creative artists of Europe. He snorted when he +heard the Royal Hospital referred to as the largest and finest +charitable institution in the world. For him it was the supreme English +architectural work. He snorted at the thought of that pompous and absurd +monarch James I ordering Inigo Jones to design him a palace surpassing +all palaces and choosing a sublime site therefor, and then doing +nothing. He snorted at the thought of that deluded monarch Charles I +ordering Inigo Jones to design him a palace surpassing all palaces, and +receiving from Inigo Jones the plans of a structure which would have +equalled in beauty and eclipsed in grandeur any European structure of +the Christian era--even Chambord, even the Escurial, even +Versailles--and then accomplishing nothing beyond a tiny fragment of the +sublime dream. He snorted at the thought that Inigo Jones had died at +the age of nearly eighty ere the foundations of the Greenwich palace had +begun to be dug, and without having seen more than the fragment of his +unique Whitehall--after a youth spent in arranging masques for a stupid +court, and an old age spent in disappointment. But then no English +monarch had ever begun and finished a palace. George wished, rather +venturesomely, that he had lived under Francis I!... + +The largest and finest charitable institution! The ineffable William and +Mary had merely turned it into a charitable institution because they did +not know what else to do with it. The mighty halls which ought to have +resounded to the laughter of the mistresses of Charles II were diverted +to the inevitable squalor of almsgiving. The mutilated victims of the +egotism and the fatuity of kings were imprisoned there together under +the rules and regulations of charity, the cruellest of all rules and +regulations. And all was done meanly--that is, all that interested +George. Christopher Wren, who was building St. Paul's and fighting +libels and slanders at a salary of two hundred a year, came down to +Greenwich and for years worked immortally for nothing amid material +difficulties that never ceased to multiply; and he too was beaten by the +huge monster. Then Vanbrugh arrived and blithely finished in corrupt +brick and flaming manifestations of decadence that which the pure and +monumental genius of Inigo Jones had first conceived. The north +frontages were marvels of beauty; the final erections to the south +amounted to an outrage upon Jones and Wren. Still, the affair was the +largest and finest charitable institution on earth! What a country, +thought George, hugging injustice! So it had treated Jones and Wren and +many another. So it had treated Enwright. And so it would treat, was +already treating, him, George. He did not care. As the steamer +approached Greenwich, and the details of the aborted palace grew +clearer, and he could distinguish between the genius of Jones and the +genius of Wren, he felt grimly and victoriously sure that both Jones and +Wren had had the best of the struggle against indifference and +philistinism--as he too would have the best of the struggle, though he +should die obscure and in penury. He was miserable and resentful, and +yet he was triumphant. The steamer stopped at the town-pier. + +"Are we there?" said Marguerite. "Already?" + +"Yes," said he. "And I think we may as well go back by the same +steamer." + +She concurred. However, an official insisted on them disembarking, even +if they meant to re-embark at once. They, went ashore. The facade of the +palace-hospital stretched majestically to the left of them, in sharp +perspective, a sensational spectacle. + +"It's very large," Marguerite commented. Her voice was nervous. + +"Yes, it's rather more than large," he said dryly. + +He would not share his thoughts with her. He knew that she had some +inklings of taste, but in that moment he preferred to pretend that her +artistic perception was on a level with that of William and Mary. They +boarded the steamer again, and took their old places; and the menacing +problem of their predicament was still between them. + +"We can have some tea downstairs if you like," he said, after the +steamer had turned round and started upstream. + +She answered in tones imperfectly controlled: + +"No, thank you. I feel as if I couldn't swallow anything." And she +looked up at him very quickly; with the embryo of a smile, and then +looked down again very quickly, because she could not bring the smile to +maturity. + +George thought: + +"Am I going to have a scene with her--on the steamer?" It would not +matter much if a scene did occur. There was nobody else on deck forward +of the bridge. They were alone--they were more solitary than they might +have been in the studio, or in any room at No. 8. The steamer was now +nearly heading the wind, but she travelled more smoothly, for she had +the last of the flood-tide under her. + +George said kindly and persuasively: + +"Upon my soul, I don't know what the old gentleman's got against me." + +She eagerly accepted his advance, which seemed to give her courage. + +"But there's nothing to know, dear. We both know that. There's nothing +at all. And yet of course I can understand it. So can you. In fact it +was you who first explained it to me. If you'd left No. 8 when I did and +he'd heard of our engagement afterwards, he wouldn't have thought +anything of it. But it was you staying on in the house that did it, and +him not knowing of the engagement. He thought you used to come to see me +at nights at the studio, me and Agg, and make fun of everything at No. +8--especially of his wife. He's evidently got some such idea in his +head, and there's no getting it out again." + +"But it's childish." + +"I know. However, we've said all this before, haven't we?" + +"But the idea's _got_ to be got out of his head again!" said George +vigorously--more dictatorially and less persuasively than before. + +Marguerite offered no remark. + +"And after all," George continued, "he couldn't have been so desperately +keen on--your stepmother. When he married her your mother hadn't been +dead so very long, had she?" + +"No. But he never cared for mother anything like so much as he cared for +Mrs. Lobley--at least not as far back as I can remember. It was a +different sort of thing altogether. I think he was perfectly mad about +Mrs. Lobley. Oh! He stood mother's death much--much better than hers! +You've no idea--" + +"Oh yes, I have. We know all about that sort of thing," said George the +man of the world impatiently. + +Marguerite said tenderly: + +"It's broken him." + +"Nonsense!" + +"It has, George." Her voice was very soft. + +But George would not listen to the softness of her voice. + +"Well," he objected firmly and strongly, "supposing it has! What then? +We're sorry for him. What then? That affair has nothing to do with our +affair. Is all that reason why I shouldn't see you in your own home? Or +are we to depend on Agg--when she happens to be at her studio? Or are we +always to see each other in the street, or in museums and things--or +steamers--just as if you were a shop-girl? We may just as well look +facts in the face, you know." + +She flushed. Her features changed under emotion. + +"Oh! George! I don't know what to do." + +"Then you think he's determined not to have anything to do with me?" + +She was silent. + +"You think he's determined not to have anything to do with me, I say?" + +"He may change," Marguerite murmured. + +"'May change' be dashed! We've got to know where we stand." + +He most surprisingly stood up, staring at her. She did not speak, but +she lifted her eyes to his with timid courage. They were wet. George +abruptly walked away along the deck. The steamer was passing the +custom-house again. The tide had now almost slacked. Fresh and heavier +clouds had overcast the sky. All the varied thoughts of the afternoon +were active in George's head at once: architecture, architects, beauty, +professional injustices, girls--his girl. Each affected the others, for +they were deeply entangled. It is a fact that he could not put Inigo +Jones and Christopher Wren out of his head; he wondered what had been +their experiences with women, histories and textbooks of architecture +did not treat of this surely important aspect of architecture! He +glanced at Marguerite from the distance. He remembered what Agg had said +to him about her; but what Agg had said did not appear to help him +practically.... Why had he left Marguerite? Why was he standing thirty +feet from her and observing her inimically? He walked back to her, sat +down, and said calmly: + +"Listen to me, darling. Suppose we arrange now, definitely, to get +married in two years' time. How will that do for you?" + +"But, George, can you be sure that you'll be able to marry in two +years?" + +He put his chin forward. + +"You needn't worry about that," said he. "You needn't think because I've +failed in an exam. I don't know what I'm about. You leave all that to +me. In two years I shall be able enough to keep a wife--_and_ well! Now, +shall we arrange to get married in two years' time?" + +"It might be a fearful drag for you," she said. "Because, you know, I +don't really earn very much." + +"That's not the point. I don't care what you earn. I shan't want you to +earn anything--so far as that goes. Any earning that's wanted I shall be +prepared to do. I'll put it like this: Supposing I'm in a position to +keep you, shall we arrange to get married in two years' time?" He found +a fierce pleasure in reiterating the phrase. "So long as that's +understood, I don't mind the rest. If we have to depend on Agg, or meet +in the streets--never mind. It'll be an infernal nuisance, but I expect +I can stand it as well as you can. Moreover, I quite see your +difficulty--quite. And let's hope the old gentleman will begin to have a +little sense." + +"Oh, George! If he only would!" + +He did not like her habit of "Oh, George! Oh! George!" + +"Well?" He waited, ignoring her pious aspiration. + +"I don't know what to say, George." + +He restrained himself. + +"We're engaged, aren't we?" She gave no answer, and he repeated: "We're +engaged, aren't we?" + +"Yes." + +"That's all right. Well, will you give me your absolute promise to marry +me in two years' time--if I'm in a position to keep you? It's quite +simple. You say you don't know what to say. But you've got to know what +to say." As he looked at her averted face, his calmness began to leave +him. + +"Oh, George! I can't promise that!" she burst out, showing at length her +emotion. The observant skipper on the bridge noted that there were a boy +and a girl forward having a bit of a tiff. + +George trembled. All that Agg had said recurred to him once more. But +what could he do to act on it? Anger was gaining, on him. + +"Why not?" he menaced. + +"It would have to depend on how father was. Surely you must see that!" + +"Indeed I don't see it. I see quite the contrary. We're engaged. You've +got the first call on me, and I've got the first call on you--not your +father." The skin over his nose was tight, owing to the sudden swelling +of two points, one on either side of the bone. + +"George, I couldn't leave him--again. I think now I may have been wrong +to leave him before. However, that's over. I couldn't leave him again. +It would be very wrong. He'd be all alone." + +"Well, then, let him be friends with me." + +"I do wish he would." + +"Yes. Well, wishing won't do much good. If there's any trouble it's +entirely your father's fault. And what I want to know is--will you give +me your absolute promise to marry me in two years' time?" + +"I can't, George. It wouldn't be honest. I can't! I can't! How can you +ask me to throw over my duty to father?" + +He rose and walked away again. She was profoundly moved, but no sympathy +for her mitigated his resentment. He considered that her attitude was +utterly monstrous--monstrous! He could not find a word adequate for it. +He was furious; his fury increased with each moment. He returned to the +prow, but did not sit down. + +"Don't you think, then, you ought to choose between your father and me?" +he said in a low, hard voice, standing over her. + +"What do you mean?" she faltered. + +"What do I mean? It's plain enough what I mean, isn't it? Your father +may live twenty years yet. Nobody knows. The older he gets the more +obstinate he'll be. We may be kept hanging about for years and years and +years. Indefinitely. What's the sense of it? You say you've got your +duty, but what's the object of being engaged?" + +"Do you want to break it off, George?" + +"Now don't put it like that. You know I don't want to break it off. You +know I want to marry you. Only you won't, and I'm not going to be made a +fool of. I'm absolutely innocent." + +"Of course you are!" she agreed eagerly. + +"Well, I'm not going to be made a fool of by your father. If we're +engaged, you know what it means. Marriage. If it doesn't mean that, then +I say we've no right to be engaged." + +Marguerite seemed to recoil at the last words, but she recovered +herself. And then, heedless of being in a public place, she drew off her +glove, and drew the engagement ring from her finger, and held it out to +George. She could not speak. The gesture was her language. George was +extremely staggered. He was stupefied for an instant. Then he took the +ring, and under an uncontrollable savage impulse he threw it into the +river. He did not move for a considerable time, staring at the river in +front. Neither did she move. At length he said in a cold voice, without +moving his head: + +"Here's Chelsea Pier." + +She got up and walked to the rail amidships. He followed. The steamer +moored. A section of rail slid aside. The pier-keeper gave a hand to +Marguerite, who jumped on to the pier. George hesitated. The pier-keeper +challenged him testily: + +"Now then, are ye coming ashore or aren't ye?" + +George could not move. The pier-keeper banged the rail to close the gap, +and cast off the ropes, and the steamer resumed her voyage. + +A minute later George saw Marguerite slowly crossing the gangway from +the pier to the embankment. There she went! She was about to be +swallowed up in the waste of human dwellings, in the measureless and +tragic expanse of the indifferent town.... She was gone. Curse her, with +her reliability! She was too reliable. He knew that. Her father could +rely on her. Curse her, with her outrageous, incredibly cruel, and +unjust sense of duty! She had held him once. Once the sight of her had +made him turn hot and cold. Once the prospect of life without her had +seemed unbearable. He had loved her instinctively and intensely. He now +judged and condemned her. Her beauty, her sweetness, her belief in him, +her reliability--these qualities were neutralized by her sense of duty, +awful, uncompromising, blind to fundamental justice. The affair was +over. If he knew her, he knew also himself. The affair was over. He was +in despair. His mind went round and round like a life-prisoner +exercising in an enclosed yard. No escape! Till then, he had always +believed in his luck. Infantile delusion! He was now aware that destiny +had struck him a blow once for all. But of course he did not perceive +that he was too young, not ripe, for such a blow. The mark of destiny +was on his features, and it was out of place there.... He had lost +Marguerite. And what had he lost? What was there in her? She was not +brilliant; she had no position; she had neither learning nor wit. He +could remember nothing remarkable that they had ever said to each other. +Indeed, their conversations had generally been rather banal. But he +could remember how they had felt, how he had felt, in their hours +together.... The sensation communicated to him by her hand when he had +drawn off her glove in the tremendous silence of the hansom! Marvellous, +exquisite, magical sensation that no words of his could render! And +there had been others as rare. These scenes were love; they were +Marguerite; they were what he had lost.... Strange, that he should throw +the ring into the river! Nevertheless it was a right gesture. She +deserved it. She was absolutely wrong; he was absolutely right--she had +admitted it. Towards him she had no excuse. Logically her attitude was +absurd. Yet no argument would change it. Stupid--that was what she was! +Stupid! And ruthless! She would be capable of martyrizing the whole +world to her sense of duty, her damnable, insane sense of duty.... She +was gone. He was ruined; she had ruined him. But he respected her. He +hated to respect her, but he respected her. + +A thought leapt up in his mind--and who could have guessed it? It was +the thought that the secrecy of the engagement would save him from a +great deal of public humiliation. He would have loathed saying: "We've +broken it off." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +INSPIRATION + +I + + +George, despite his own dispositions, as he went up in the lift, to +obviate the danger of such a mishap, was put out of countenance by the +overwhelming splendour of Miss Irene Wheeler's flat. And he did not +quite recover his aplomb until the dinner was nearly finished. The rooms +were very large and lofty; they blazed with electric light, though the +day had not yet gone; they gleamed with the polish of furniture, enamel, +bookbindings, marble, ivory, and precious metals; they were ennobled by +magnificent pictures, and purified by immense quantities of lovely +flowers. George had made the mistake of arriving last. He found in the +vast drawing-room five people who had the air of being at home and +intimate together. There were, in addition to the hostess, Lois and +Laurencine Ingram, Everard Lucas, and a Frenchman from the French +Embassy whose name he did not catch. Miss Wheeler wore an elaborate +Oriental costume, and apologized for its simplicity on the grounds that +she was fatigued by a crowded and tiresome reception which she had held +that afternoon, and that the dinner was to be without ceremony. This +said, her conversation seemed to fail, but she remained by George's +side, apart from the others. George saw not the least vestige of the +ruinous disorder which, in the society to which he was accustomed, +usually accompanied a big afternoon tea, or any sign of a lack of +ceremony. He had encountered two male servants in the hall, and had also +glimpsed a mulatto woman in a black dress and a white apron, and a +Frenchwoman in a black dress and a black apron. Now a third man-servant +entered, bearing an enormous silver-gilt tray on which were +multitudinous bottles, glasses, decanters, and jugs. George comprehended +that _apĂ©ritifs_ were being offered. The tray contained enough cocktails +and other combinations, some already mingled and some not, to produce a +factitious appetite in the stomachs of a whole platoon. The girls +declined, Miss Wheeler declined, the Frenchman declined, George declined +(from prudence and diffidence); only Lucas took an _apĂ©ritif_, and he +took it, as George admitted, in style. The man-servant, superbly +indifferent to refusals, marched processionally off with the loaded +tray. The great principle of conspicuous ritualistic waste had been +illustrated in a manner to satisfy the most exacting standard of the +leisured class; and incidentally a subject of talk was provided. + +George observed the name of 'Renoir' on the gorgeous frame of a gorgeous +portrait in oils of the hostess. + +"Is that a Renoir?" he asked the taciturn Miss Wheeler, who seemed to +jump at the opening with relief. + +"Yes," she said, with her slight lisp. "I'm glad you noticed it. Come +and look at it. Do you think it's a good one? Do you like Renoir?" + +By good fortune George had seen a Renoir or two in Paris under the +guidance of Mr. Enwright. They stared at the portrait together. + +"It's awfully distinguished," he decided, employing a useful adjective +which he had borrowed from Mr. Enwright. + +"Isn't it!" she said, turning her wondrous complexion towards him, and +admiring his adjective. "I have a Boldini too." + +He followed her across the room to the Boldini portrait of herself, +which was dazzling in its malicious flattery. + +"And here's a Nicholson," she said. + +Those three portraits were the most striking pictures in the _salon_, +but there were others of at least equal value. + +"Are you interested in fans?" she demanded, and pulled down a switch +which illuminated the interior of a large cabinet full of fans. She +pointed out fans painted by Lami, Glaize, Jacquemart. "That one is +supposed to be a Lancret," she said. "But I'm not sure about it, and I +don't know anybody that is. Here's the latest book on the subject." She +indicated Lady Charlotte Schreiber's work in two volumes which, bound in +vellum and gold, lay on a table. "But of course it only deals with +English fans. However, Conder is going to do me a couple. He was here +yesterday to see me about them. Of course you know him. What a wonderful +man! The only really cosmopolitan artist in England, I say, now +Beardsley's dead. I've got a Siegfried drawing by Beardsley. He was a +great friend of mine. I adored him." + +"This is a fine thing," said George, touching a bronze of a young girl +on the same table as the books. + +"You think so?" Miss Wheeler responded uncertainly. "I suppose it _is_. +It's a Gilbert. He gave it me. But do you really think it compares with +this Barye? It doesn't, does it?" She directed him to another bronze of +a crouching cheetah. + +So she moved him about. He was dazed. His modest supply of adjectives +proved inadequate. When she paused, he murmured: + +"It's a great room you've managed to get here." + +"Ah!" she cried thinly. "But you've no idea of the trouble I've had over +this room. Do you know it's really two rooms. I had to take two flats in +order to fix this room." + +She was launched on a supreme topic, and George heard a full history. +She would not have a house. She would have a flat. She instructed +house-agents to find for her the best flat in London. There was no best +flat in London. London landlords did not understand flats, which were +comprehended only in Paris. The least imperfect flats in London were two +on a floor, and as their drawing-rooms happened to be contiguous on +their longer sides, she had the idea of leasing two intolerable flats so +as to obtain one flat that was tolerable. She had had terrible +difficulties about the central heating. No flats in London were +centrally heated except in the corridors and on the staircases. However, +she had imposed her will on the landlord, and radiators had appeared in +every room. George had a vision of excessive wealth subjugating the +greatest artists and riding with implacable egotism over the customs and +institutions of a city obstinately conservative. The cost and the +complexity of Irene Wheeler's existence amazed and intimidated +George--for this double flat was only one of her residences. He wondered +what his parents would say if they could see him casually treading the +oak parquetry and the heavy rugs of the resplendent abode. And then he +thought, the humble and suspicious upstart: "There must be something +funny about her, or she wouldn't be asking _me_ here!" + +They went in to dinner, without ceremony. George was last, the hostess +close to his side. + +"Who's the Frenchman?" he inquired casually, with the sudden boldness +that often breaks out of timidity. "I didn't catch." + +"It's Monsieur Defourcambault," said Miss Wheeler in a low voice of +sincere admiration. "He's from the Embassy. A most interesting man. Been +everywhere. Seen everything. Read everything. Done everything." + +George could not but be struck by the ingenuous earnestness of her tone, +so different from the perfunctory accents in which she had catalogued +her objects of art. + +The dining-room, the dinner, and the service of the dinner were equally +superb. The broad table seemed small in the midst of the great +mysterious chamber, of which the illumination was confined by shades to +the centre. The glance wandering round the obscurity of the walls could +rest on nothing that was not obviously in good taste and very costly. +The three men-servants, moving soundless as phantoms, brought burdens +from a hidden country behind a gigantic screen, and at intervals in the +twilight near the screen could be detected the transient gleam of the +white apron of the mulatto, whose sex clashed delicately and piquantly +with the grave, priest-like performances of the male menials. The table +was of mahogany covered with a sheet of plate-glass. A large gold +Ă©pergne glittered in the middle. Suitably dispersed about the rim of the +board were six rectangular islands of pale lace, and on each island lay +a complete set of the innumerable instruments and condiments necessary +to the proper consumption of the meal. Thus, every diner dined +independently, cut off from his fellows, but able to communicate with +them across expanses of plate-glass over mahogany. George was confused +by the multiplicity of metal tools and crystal receptacles--he alone had +four wine-glasses--but in the handling of the tools he was saved from +shame by remembering the maxim--a masterpiece of terse clarity worthy of +a class which has given its best brains to the perfecting of the +formalities preliminary to deglutition: "Take always from the outside." + +The man from the French Embassy sat on the right of the hostess, and +George on her left. George had Lois Ingram on his left. Laurencine was +opposite her sister. Everard Lucas, by command of the hostess, had taken +the foot of the table and was a sort of 'Mr. Vice.' The six people were +soon divided into two equal groups, one silent and the other talkative, +the talkative three being M. Defourcambault, Laurencine and Lucas. The +diplomatist, though he could speak diplomatic English, persisted in +speaking French. Laurencine spoke French quite perfectly, with exactly +the same idiomatic ease as the Frenchman. Lucas neither spoke nor +understood French--he had been to a great public school. Nevertheless +these three attained positive loquacity. Lucas guessed at words, or the +Frenchman obliged with bits of English, or Laurencine interpreted. +Laurencine was far less prim and far more girlish than at the CafĂ© +Royal. She kept all the freshness of her intensely virginal quality, but +she was at ease. Her rather large body was at ease, continually restless +in awkward and exquisite gestures; she laughed at ease, and made fun at +ease. She appeared to have no sex-consciousness, nor even to suspect +that she was a most delightful creature. The conversation was disjointed +in its gaiety, and had no claim to the attention of the serious. +Laurencine said that Lucas ought really to know French. Lucas said he +would learn if she would teach him. Laurencine said that she would teach +him if he would have his first lesson instantly, during dinner. Lucas +said that wasn't fair. Laurencine said that it was. Both of them +appealed to M. Defourcambault. M. Defourcambault said that it was fair. +Lucas said that there was a plot between them, but that he would consent +to learn at once if Laurencine would play the piano for him after +dinner. Laurencine said she didn't play. Lucas said she did. M. +Defourcambault, invoked once again, said that she played magnificently. +Laurencine blushed, and asked M. Defourcambault how he could!... And so +on, indefinitely. It was all naught; yet the taciturn three, smiling +indulgently and glancing from one to another of the talkers, as taciturn +and constrained persons must, envied that peculiar ability to maintain a +rush and gush of chatter. + +George was greatly disappointed in Lois. In the period before dinner his +eyes had avoided her, and now, since they sat side by side, he could not +properly see her without deliberately looking at her: which he would not +do. She gave no manifestation. She was almost glum. Her French, though +free, was markedly inferior to Laurencine's. She denied any interest in +music. George decided, with self-condemnation, that he had been +deliberately creating in his own mind an illusion about her; on no other +hypothesis could either his impatience to meet her to-night, or his +disappointment at not meeting her on the night of the CafĂ© Royal dinner, +be explained. She was nothing, after all. And he did not deeply care for +Miss Irene Wheeler, whom he could watch at will. She might be concealing +something very marvellous, but she was dull, and she ignored the finer +responsibilities of a hostess. She collected many beautiful things; she +had some knowledge of what they were; she must be interested in them--or +why should she trouble to possess them? She must have taste. And yet had +she taste? Was she interested in her environment? A tone, a word, will +create suspicion that the exhibition of expertise for hours cannot +allay. George did not like the Frenchman. The Frenchman was about +thirty--small, thin, fair, with the worn face of the man who lives +several lives at once. He did not look kind; he did not look reliable; +and he offered little evidence in support of Miss Wheeler's ardent +assertion that he had been everywhere, seen everything, read everything, +done everything. He assuredly had not, for example, read Verlaine, who +was mentioned by Miss Wheeler. Now George had read one or two poems of +Verlaine, and thought them unique; hence he despised M. Defourcambault. +He could read French, in a way, but he was incapable of speaking a +single word of it in the presence of compatriots; the least +mono-syllable would have died on his lips. He was absurdly envious of +those who could speak two languages; he thought sometimes that he would +prefer to be able to speak two languages than to do anything else in the +world; not to be able to speak two languages humiliated him intensely; +he decided to 'take up French seriously' on the morrow; but he had +several times arrived at a similar decision. + +If Lois was glum, George too was glum. He wished he had not come to the +dinner; he wished he could be magically transported to the solitude of +his room at the club. He slipped into a reverie about the Marguerite +affair. Nobody could have divined that scarcely twenty-four hours +earlier he had played a principal part in a tragedy affecting his whole +life. He had borne the stroke better than he otherwise would have done +for the simple reason that nobody knew of his trouble. He had not to +arrange his countenance for the benefit of people who were aware what +was behind the countenance. But also he was philosophical. He recognized +that the Marguerite affair was over. She would never give way, and he +would never give way. She was wrong. He had been victimized. He had +behaved with wisdom and with correctness (save for the detail of +throwing the ring into the Thames). Agg's warnings and injunctions were +ridiculous. What could he have done that he had not done? Run away with +Marguerite, carry her off? Silly! No, he was well out of the affair. He +perceived the limitations of the world in which Marguerite lived. It was +a world too small and too austere for him. He required the spaciousness +and the splendour of the new world in which Irene Wheeler and the +Ingrams lived. Yea, though it was a world that excited the sardonic in +him, he liked it. It flattered authentic, if unsuspected, appetites in +him. Still, the image of Marguerite inhabited his memory. He saw her as +she stood between himself and old Haim in the basement of No. 8. He +heard her.... She was absolutely unlike any other girl; she was so +gentle, so acquiescent. Only she put her lover second to her father.... +What would Miss Wheeler think of the basement of No. 8? + +The chatterers, apropos of songs in musical comedies, were talking about +a French popular song concerning Boulanger. + +"You knew Boulanger, didn't you, Jules?" Miss Wheeler suggested. + +M. Defourcambault looked round, content. He related in English how his +father had been in the very centre of the Boulangist movement, and had +predicted disaster to the General's cause from the instant that Madame +de Bonnemain came on the scene. (Out of consideration for the girls, M. +Defourcambault phrased his narrative with neat discretion.) His +grandfather also had been of his father's opinion, and his grandfather +was in the Senate, and had been Minister at Brussels.... He affirmed +that Madame de Bonnemain had telegraphed to Boulanger to leave Paris at +the very moment when his presence in Paris was essential, and Boulanger +had obediently gone. He said that he always remembered what his mother +had said to him: a clever woman irregularly in love with a man may make +his fortune, but a stupid woman is certain to ruin it. Finally he +related how he, Jules Defourcambault, had driven the General's carriage +on a famous occasion through Paris, and how the populace in its frenzy +of idolatry had even climbed on to the roof of the carriage. + +"And what did you do, then?" George demanded in the hard tone of a +cross-examiner. + +"I drove straight on," said M. Defourcambault, returning George's cold +stare. + +This close glimpse into history--into politics and passion--excited +George considerably. He was furiously envious of M. Defourcambault, who +had been in the middle of things all his life, whose father, mother, and +grandfather were all in the middle of things. M. Defourcambault had an +immense and unfair advantage over him. To whatever heights he might +rise, George would never be in a position to talk as M. Defourcambault +talked of his forbears. He would always have to stand alone, and to +fight for all he wanted. He could not even refer to his father. He +scorned M. Defourcambault because M. Defourcambault was not worthy of +his heritage. M. Defourcambault was a little rotter, yet he had driven +the carriage of Boulanger in a crisis of the history of France! Miss +Wheeler, however, did not scorn M. Defourcambault. On the contrary, she +looked at him with admiration, as though he had now proved that he had +been everywhere, seen everything, and done everything. George's mood was +black. He was a nobody; he would always be a nobody; why should he be +wasting his time and looking a fool in this new world? + + +II + + +After dinner, in the drawing-room which had cost Irene Wheeler an extra +flat, there was, during coffee, a certain amount of general dullness, +slackness, and self-consciousness which demonstrated once more Miss +Wheeler's defects as a hostess. Miss Wheeler would not or could not act +as shepherdess and inspirer to her guests. She reclined, and charmingly +left them to manufacture the evening for her. George was still +disappointed and disgusted; for he had imagined, very absurdly as he +admitted, that artistic luxuriousness always implied social dexterity +and the ability to energize and reinvigorate diversion without apparent +effort. There were moments during coffee which reminded him of the +maladroit hospitalities of the Five Towns. + +Then Everard Lucas opened the piano, and the duel between him and +Laurencine was resumed. The girl yielded. Electric lights were adjusted. +She began to play, while Lucas, smoking, leaned over the piano. George +was standing by himself at a little distance behind the piano. He had +perhaps been on his way to a chair when suddenly caught and immobilized +by one of those hazards which do notoriously occur--the victim never +remembers how--in drawing-rooms. Hands in pockets, he looked aimlessly +about, smiling perfunctorily, and wondering where he should settle or +whether he should remain where he was. In the deep embrasure of the +large east bow-window Lois was lounging. She beckoned to him, not with +her hand but with a brief, bright smile--she smiled rarely--and with a +lifting of the chin. He responded alertly and pleasurably, and went to +sit beside her. Such invitations from young women holding themselves +apart in obscurity are never received without excitement and never +unanswered. + +Crimson curtains of brocaded silk would have cut off the embrasure +entirely from the room had they been fully drawn, but they were not +fully drawn; one was not drawn at all, and the other was only half +drawn. Still, the mere fact of the curtains, drawn or undrawn, did +morally separate the embrasure from the _salon_; and the shadows +thickened in front of the window. The smile had gone from Lois's face, +but it had been there. Sequins glittered on her dark dress, the line of +the low neck of which was distinct against the pallor of the flesh. +George could follow the outlines of her slanted, plump body from the +hair and freckled face down to the elaborate shoes. The eyes were half +closed. She did not speak. The figure of Laurencine, whose back was +towards the window, received an aura from the electric light immediately +over the music-stand of the piano. She played brilliantly. She played +with a brilliance that astonished George.... She was exceedingly clever, +was this awkward girl who had not long since left school Her body might +be awkward, but not her hands. The music radiated from the piano and +filled the room with brightness, with the illusion of the joy of life, +and with a sense of triumph. To George it was an intoxication. + +A man-servant entered with a priceless collection of bon-bons, some of +which he deferentially placed on a small table in the embrasure. To do +so he had to come into the embrasure, disturbing the solitude, which had +already begun to exist, of Lois and George. He ignored the pair. His +sublime indifference seemed to say: "I am beyond good and evil." But at +the same time it left them more sensitively awake to themselves than +before. The hostess indolently muttered an order to the man, and in +passing the door on his way out he extinguished several lights. The +place and the hour grew romantic. George was impressed by the scene, and +he eagerly allowed it to impress him. It was, to him, a marvellous +scene; the splendour of the apartment, the richly attired girls, the +gay, exciting music, the spots of high light, the glooms, the glimpses +everywhere of lovely objects. He said to himself: "I was born for this." + +Lois turned her head slowly and looked out of the window. + +"Wonderful view from here," she murmured. + +George turned his head. The flat was on the sixth story. The slope of +central London lay beneath. There was no moon, but there were stars in a +clear night. Roofs; lighted windows; lines of lighted traffic; lines of +lamps patterning the invisible meadows of a park; hiatuses of blackness; +beyond, several towers scarcely discernible against the sky--the towers +of Parliament, and the high tower of the Roman Catholic Cathedral: these +were London. + +"You haven't seen it in daytime, have you?" said Lois. + +"No. I'd sooner see it at night." + +"So would I." + +The reply, the sympathy in it, the soft, thrilled tone of It, startled +him. His curiosity about Lois was being justified, after all. And he was +startled too at the extraordinary surprises of his own being. Yesterday +he had parted from Marguerite; not ten years ago, but yesterday. And now +already he was conscious of pleasure, both physical and spiritual, in +the voice of another girl heard in the withdrawn obscurity of the +embrasure. Yes, and a girl whom he had despised! Yesterday he had +seriously believed himself to be a celibate for life; he had dismissed +for ever the hope of happiness. He had seen naught but a dogged and +eternal infelicity. And now he was, if not finding happiness, expecting +it. He felt disloyal--less precisely to Marguerite than to a vanished +ideal. He felt that he ought to be ashamed. For Marguerite still +existed; she was existing at that moment less than three miles +off--somewhere over there in the dark. + +"See the Cathedral tower?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered. "What a shame Bentley died, wasn't it?" + +He was more than startled, now--he was amazed and enchanted. Something +touching and strange in her voice usually hard; something in the elegant +fragility of her slipper! Everybody knew that Bentley was the architect +of the Cathedral and that he had died of cancer on the tongue. The +knowledge was not esoteric; it did not by itself indicate a passion for +architecture or a comprehension of architecture. Yet when she said the +exclamatory words, leaning far back in the seat, her throat emerging +from the sequined frock, her tapping slipper peeping out beneath the +skirt, she cast a spell on him. He perceived in her a woman gifted and +endowed. This was the girl whom he had bullied in the automobile. She +must have bowed in secret to his bullying; though he knew she had been +hurt by it, she had given no sign of resentment, and her voice was +acquiescent. Above all, she had remembered him. + +"You only like doing very large buildings, don't you?" she suggested. + +"Who told you?" + +"Everard." + +"Oh! Did old Lucas tell you? Well, he's quite right." + +He had a sudden desire to talk to her about the great municipal building +in the north that was soon to be competed for. He yielded to the desire. +She listened, motionless. He gave vent to his regret that Mr. Enwright +absolutely declined to enter for the competition. He said he had had +ideas for it, and would have liked to work for it. + +"But why don't you go in for it yourself, George?" she murmured gravely. + +"Me!" he exclaimed, almost frightened. "It wouldn't be any good. I'm too +young. Besides----" + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty-one." + +"Good heavens! You look twenty-five at least! I know I should go in for +it if I were you--if I were a man." + +He understood her. She could not talk well. She could not easily be +agreeable; she could easily be rude; she could not play the piano like +the delightful Laurencine. But she was passionate. And she knew the +force of ambition. He admired ambition perhaps more than anything. +Ambition roused him. She was ambitious when she drove the automobile and +endangered his life.... She had called him by his Christian name quite +naturally. There was absolutely no nonsense about her. Now Marguerite +was not in the slightest degree ambitious. The word had no significance +for her. + +"I couldn't!" he insisted humbly. "I don't know enough. It's a terrific +affair." + +She made no response. But she looked at him, and suddenly he saw the +angel that Irene Wheeler and Laurencine had so enthusiastically spoken +of at the Cafe Royal! + +"I couldn't!" he murmured. + +He was insisting too much. He was insisting against himself. She had +implanted the idea in his mind. Why had he not thought of it? Certainly +he had not thought of it. Had he lacked courage to think of it? He +beheld the idea as though it was an utterly original discovery, +revolutionary, dismaying, and seductive. His inchoate plans for the +building took form afresh in his brain. And the luxury by which he was +surrounded whipped his ambition till it writhed. + +Curious, she said no more! After a moment she sat up and took a sweet. + +George saw, in a far corner, Jules Defourcambault talking very quietly +to Irene Wheeler, whose lackadaisical face had become ingenuous and +ardent as she listened to him under the shelter of the dazzling music. +George felt himself to be within the sphere of unguessed and highly +perturbing forces. + + +III + + +He left early. Lucas seemed to regard his departure as the act of a +traitor, but he insisted on leaving. And in spite of Lucas's great +social success he inwardly condescended to Lucas. Lucas was not a +serious man and could not comprehend seriousness. George went because he +had to go, because the power of an idea drove him forth. He had no +intention of sleeping. He walked automatically through dark London, and +his eyes, turned within, saw nothing of the city. He did not walk +quickly--he was too preoccupied to walk quickly--yet in his brain he was +hurrying, he had not a moment to lose. The goal was immensely far off. +His haste was as absurd and as fine as that of a man who, starting to +cross Europe on foot, must needs run in order to get out of Calais and +be fairly on his way. + +At Russell Square he wondered whether he would be able to get into the +office. However, there was still a light in the basement, and he rang +the house-bell. The housekeeper's daughter, a girl who played at being +parlourmaid in the afternoons and brought bad tea and thick +bread-and-butter to the privileged in the office, opened the front door +with bridling exclamations of astonishment. She had her best frock on; +her hair was in curling-pins; she smelt delicately of beer; the +excitement of the Sunday League excursion and of the evening's dalliance +had not quite cooled in this respectable and experienced young creature +of central London. She was very feminine and provocative and +unparlourmaidish, standing there in the hall, and George passed by her +as callously as though she had been a real parlourmaid on duty. She had +to fly to her mother for the key of the office. Taking the key from the +breathless, ardent little thing, he said that he would see to the front +door being properly shut when he went out. That was all. Her legitimate +curiosity about his visit had to go to bed hungry. + +In the office he switched on the lights in Haim's cubicle, in the +pupils' room, and in the principals' room. He enjoyed the illumination +and the solitude. He took deep breaths. He walked about. After rummaging +for the sketches and the printed site-plan of the town hall projected by +the northern city, he discovered them under John Orgreave's desk. He +moved them to Mr. Enwright's desk, which was the best one, and he bent +over them rapturously. Yes, the idea of entering for the competition +himself was a magnificent idea. Strange that it should have occurred +not to him, but to Lois! A disconcerting girl, Lois! She had said that +he looked twenty-five. He liked that. Why should he not enter for the +competition himself? He would enter for it. The decision was made, as +usual without consulting anybody; instinct was his sole guide. Failure +in the final examination was beside the point. Moreover, though he had +sworn never to sit again, he could easily sit again in December; he +could pass the exam, on his head. He might win the competition; to be +even in the selected first six or ten would rank as a glorious +achievement. But why should he not win outright? He was lucky, always +had been lucky. It was essential that he should win outright. It was +essential that he should create vast and grandiose structures, that he +should have both artistic fame and worldly success. He could not wait +long for success. He required luxury. He required a position enabling +him to meet anybody and everybody on equal terms, and to fulfil all his +desires. + +He would not admit that he was too young for the enterprise. He was not +too young. He refused to be too young. And indeed he felt that he had +that very night become adult, and that a new impulse, reducing all +previous impulses to unimportance, had inspired his life. He owed the +impulse to the baffling Lois. Marguerite would never have given him such +an impulse. Marguerite had no ambition either for herself or for him. +She was profoundly the wrong girl for him. He admitted his error +candidly, with the eagerness of youth. He had no shame about the +blunder. And the girl's environment was wrong for him also. What had he +to do with Chelsea? Chelsea was a parish; it was not the world. He had +been gravely disappointed in Chelsea. Marguerite had no shimmer of +romance. She was homely. And she was content with her sphere. And she +was not elegant; she had no kind of smartness; who would look twice at +her? And she was unjust, she was unfair. She had lacerated his highly +sensitive pride. She had dealt his conceit a frightful wound. He would +not think of it. + +And in fact he could ignore the wound in the exquisite activity of +creating town halls for mighty municipalities. He drew plans with +passion and with fury; he had scores of alternative schemes; he was a +god fashioning worlds. Having drawn plans, he drew elevations and +perspectives; he rushed to the files (rushed--because he was in haste to +reach the goal) and studied afresh the schedules of accommodation for +other municipal buildings that had been competed for in the past. Much +as he hated detail, he stooped rather humbly to detail that night, and +contended with it in all honesty. He worked for hours before he thought +of lighting a cigarette. + +It was something uncanny beyond the large windows that first gently and +perceptibly began to draw away his mind from the profusion of town halls +on the desk, and so indirectly reminded him of the existence of +cigarettes. When he lighted a cigarette he stretched himself and glanced +at the dark windows, of which the blinds had not been pulled down. He +understood then what was the matter. Dawn was the matter. The windows +were no longer quite dark. He looked out. A faint pallor in the sky, and +some stars sickening therein, and underneath the silent square with its +patient trees and indefatigable lamps! The cigarette tasted bad in his +mouth, but he would not give it up. He yawned heavily. The melancholy of +the square, awaiting without hope the slow, hard dawn, overcame him +suddenly.... Marguerite was a beautiful girl; her nose was marvellous; +he could never forget it. He could never forget her gesture as she +intervened between him and her father in the basement at Alexandra +Grove. They had painted lamp-shades together. She was angelically kind; +she could not be ruffled; she would never criticize, never grasp, never +exhibit selfishness. She was a unique combination of the serious and the +sensuous. He felt the passionate, ecstatic clinging of her arm as they +walked under the interminable chain of lamp-posts on Chelsea Embankment. +Magical hours!... And how she could absorb herself in her work! And what +a damned shame it was that rascally employers should have cut down her +prices! It was intolerable; it would not bear thinking about. He dropped +the cigarette and stamped on it angrily. Then he returned to the desk, +and put his head in his hands and shut his eyes. + +He awakened with a start of misgiving. He was alone in the huge house +(for the basement was under the house and, somehow, did not count). +Something was astir in the house. He could hear it through the doors +ajar. His flesh crept. It was exactly like the flap of a washing-cloth +on the stone stairs; it stopped; it came nearer. He thought inevitably +of the dead Mrs. Haim, once charwoman and step cleaner. In an instant he +believed fully in all that he had ever heard about ghosts and spirit +manifestations. An icy wave passed down his spine. He felt that if the +phantom of Mrs. Haim was approaching him he simply could not bear to +meet it. The ordeal would kill him. Then he decided that the sounds were +not those of a washing-cloth, but of slippered feet. Odd that he should +have been so deluded. Somebody was coming down the long stairs from the +upper stories, uninhabited at night. Burglars? He was still very +perturbed, but differently perturbed. He could not move a muscle. The +suspense as the footsteps hesitated at the cubicle was awful. George +stood up straight and called out in a rough voice--louder than he +expected it to be: + +"Who's there?" + +Mr. Enwright appeared. He was wearing beautiful blue pyjamas and a +plum-coloured silk dressing-gown and doe-skin slippers. His hair was +extremely deranged; he blinked rapidly, and his lined face seemed very +old. + +"Well, I like this, I like this!" he said in a quiet, sardonic tone. +"Sitting at my desk and blazing my electricity away! I happened to get +up, and I looked out of the window and noticed the glare below. So I +came to see what was afoot. Do you know you frightened me?--and I don't +like being frightened." + +"I hadn't the slightest notion you ever slept here," George feebly +stammered. + +"Didn't you know I'd decided to keep a couple of rooms here for myself?" + +"I had heard something about it, but I didn't know you'd really moved +in. I--I've been away so much." + +"I moved in, as you call it, to-day--yesterday, and a nice night you're +giving me! And even supposing I hadn't moved in, what's that got to do +with your being here? Give me a cigarette." + +With hurrying deference George gave the cigarette, and struck a match +for it, and as he held the match he had a near view of Mr. Enwright's +prosaic unshaved chin. The house was no longer the haunt of lurking +phantoms; it was a common worldly house without any mystery or any +menace. George's skin was no longer the field of abnormal phenomena. +Dawn was conquering Russell Square. On the other hand, George was no +longer a giant of energy, initiating out of ample experience a +tremendous and superb enterprise. He was suddenly diminished to a boy, +or at best a lad. He really felt that it was ridiculous for him to be +sketching and scratching away there in the middle of the night in his +dress-clothes. Even his overcoat, hat, and fancy muffler cast on a chair +seemed ridiculous. He was a child, pretending to be an adult. He glanced +like a child at Mr. Enwright; he roughened his hair with his hand like a +child. He had the most wistful and apologetic air. + +He said: + +"I just came along here for a bit instead of going to bed. I didn't know +it was so late." + +"Do you often just come along here?" + +"No. I never did it before. But to-night----" + +"What is it you're _at_?" + +"I'd been thinking a bit about that new town hall." + +"What new town hall?" + +"You know----" + +Mr. Enwright did know. + +"But haven't I even yet succeeded in making it clear that this firm is +not going in for that particular competition?" + +Mr. Enwright's sarcastic and discontented tone challenged George, who +stiffened. + +"Oh! I know the firm isn't going in for it. But what's the matter with +me going in for it?" + +He forced himself to meet Mr. Enwright's eyes, but he could not help +blushing. He was scarcely out of his articles; he had failed in the +Final; and he aspired to create the largest English public building of +the last half-century. + +"Are you quite mad?" Mr. Enwright turned away from the desk to the +farther window, hiding his countenance. + +"Yes," said George firmly. "Quite!" + +Mr. Enwright, after a pause, came back to the desk. + +"Well, it's something to admit that," he sneered. "At any rate, we know +where we are. Let's have a look at the horrid mess." + +He made a number of curt observations as he handled the sheets of +sketches. + +"I see you've got that Saracenic touch in again." + +"What's the scale here?" + +"Is this really a town hall, or are you trying to beat the Temple at +Karnak?" + +"If that's meant for an Ionic capital, no assessor would stand it. It's +against all the textbooks to have Ionic capitals where there's a +side-view of them. Not that it matters to me." + +"Have you made the slightest attempt to cube it up? You'd never get out +of this under half a million, you know." + +Shaking his head, he retired once more to the window. George began to +breathe more freely, as one who has fronted danger and still lives. Mr. +Enwright addressed the window: + +"It's absolute folly to start on a thing like that before the conditions +are out. Absolute folly. Have you done all that to-night?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you've shifted the stuff.... But you haven't the slightest notion +what accommodation they want. You simply don't know." + +"I know what accommodation they _ought_ to want with four hundred +thousand inhabitants," George retorted pugnaciously. + +"Is it four hundred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with bland innocence. +He generally left statistics to his partner. + +"Four hundred and twenty-five." + +"You've looked it up?" + +"I have." + +Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again. + +"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the principal sheet +and blinking. + +"_I shall go in for it_!" The thought swept through George's brain like +a fierce flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and +incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those produced +by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught admiration and +benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was intensely happy, +encouraged, and proud. He began to talk eagerly; he babbled, entrusting +himself to Mr. Enwright's benevolence. + +"Of course there's the Final. If they give six months for the thing I +could easily get through the Final before sending-in day. I could take a +room somewhere. I shouldn't really want any assistance--clerk, I mean. I +could do it all myself...." He ran on until Mr. Enwright stopped him. + +"You could have a room here--upstairs." + +"Could I?" + +"But you would want some help. And you needn't think they'll give six +months, because they won't. They might give five." + +"That's no good." + +"Why isn't it any good?" snapped Mr. Enwright. "You don't suppose +they're going to issue the conditions just yet, do you? Not a day before +September, not a day. And you can take it from me!" + +"Oh! Hurrah!" + +"But look here, my boy, let's be clear about one thing." + +"Yes?" + +"You're quite mad." + +They looked at each other. + +"The harmless kind, though," said George confidently, well aware that +Mr. Enwright doted upon him. + +In another minute the principal had gone to bed, without having uttered +one word as to his health. George had announced that he should tidy the +sacred desk before departing. When he had done that he wrote a letter, +in pencil. "It's the least I can do," he said to himself seriously. He +began: + +"DEAR MISS INGRAM."--"Dash it!--She calls me 'George,'" he thought, and +tore up the sheet.--"DEAR LOIS,--I think after what you said it's only +due to you to tell you that I've decided to go in for that competition +on my own. Thanks for the tip.--Yours, GEORGE CANNON" + +He surveyed the message. + +"That's about right," he murmured. + +Then he looked at his watch. It showed 3.15, but it had ceased to beat. +He added at the foot of the letter: "Monday, 3.30 a.m." He stole one of +John Orgreave's ready-stamped envelopes. + +In quitting the house he inadvertently banged the heavy front door. + +"Do 'em good!" he said, thinking of awakened sleepers. + +It was now quite light. He dropped the letter into the pillar-box round +the corner, and as soon as he had irretrievably done so, the thought +occurred to him: "I wish I hadn't put '3.30 a.m.' There's something +rottenly sentimental about it." The chill fresh air was bracing him to a +more perfect sanity. He raised the collar of his overcoat. + + +IV + + +At the club on Tuesday morning Downs brought to his bedside a letter +addressed in a large, striking, and untidy hand. Not until he had +generally examined the letter did he realize that it was from Lois +Ingram. He remembered having mentioned to her that he lived at his +club--Pickering's; but he had laid no stress on the detail, nor had she +seemed to notice it. Yet she must have noticed it. + +"DEAR GEORGE,--I am so glad. Miss Wheeler is going to her bootmaker's in +Conduit Street to-morrow afternoon. She's always such a long time there. +Come and have tea with me at the new Prosser's in Regent Street, four +sharp. I shall have half an hour.--L.I." + +In his heart he pretended to jeer at this letter. He said it was 'like' +Lois. She calmly assumed that at a sign from her he, a busy man, would +arrange to be free in the middle of the afternoon! Doubtless the letter +was the consequence of putting '3.30 a.m.' on his own letter. What could +a fellow expect?... + +All pretence! In reality the letter flattered and excited him. He +thought upon the necktie he would wear. + +By the same post arrived a small parcel: it contained a ring, a few +other bits of jewellery, and all the letters and notes that he had ever +written or scribbled to Marguerite. He did not want the jewellery back; +he did not want the letters back. To receive them somehow humiliated +him. Surely she might have omitted this nauseous conventionality! She +was so exasperatingly conscientious. Her neat, clerk-like calligraphy, +on the label of the parcel, exasperated him. She had carefully kept +every scrap of a missive from him. He hated to look at the letters. What +could he do with them except rip them up? And the miserable +trinkets--which she had worn, which had been part of her? As for him, he +had not kept all her letters--not by any means. There might be a few, +lying about in drawers. He would have to collect and return them. Odious +job! And he could not ask anybody else to do it for him. + +He was obliged to question Lucas about the Regent Street Prosser's, of +which, regrettably, he had never heard. He did not, in so many words, +request John Orgreave for the favour of an hour off. He was now out of +his articles, though still by the force of inertia at the office, and +therefore he informed John Orgreave that unless Mr. John had any +objection he proposed to take an hour off. Mr. Enwright was not in. +Lucas knew vaguely of the rendezvous, having somewhere met Laurencine. + +From the outside Prosser's was not distinguishable from any other part +of Regent Street. But George could not mistake it, because Miss +Wheeler's car was drawn up in front of the establishment, and Lois was +waiting for him therein. Strange procedure! She smiled and then frowned, +and got out sternly. She said scarcely anything, and he found that he +could make only such silly remarks as: "Hope I'm not late, am I?" + +The new Prosser's was a grandiose by-product of chocolate. The firm had +taken the leading ideas of the chief tea-shop companies catering for the +million in hundreds of establishments arranged according to pattern, and +elaborated them with what is called in its advertisements 'cachet.' Its +prices were not as cheap as those of the popular houses, but they could +not be called dear. George and Lois pushed through a crowded lane of +chocolate and confectionery, past a staircase which bore a large notice: +"Please keep to the right." This notice was needed. They came at length +to the main hall, under a dome, with a gallery between the dome and the +ground. The floor was carpeted. The multitudinous small tables had +cloths, flowers, silver, and menus knotted with red satin ribbon. The +place was full of people, people seated at the tables and people walking +about. Above the rail of the gallery could be seen the hats and heads of +more people. People were entering all the time and leaving all the time. +Scores of waitresses, in pale green and white, moved to and fro like an +alien and mercenary population. The heat, the stir, the hum, and the +clatter were terrific. And from on high descended thin, strident music +in a rapid and monotonous rhythm. + +"No room!" said George, feeling that he had at last got into the true +arena of the struggle for life. + +"Oh yes!" said Lois, with superior confidence. + +She bore mercilessly across the floor. Round the edge of the huge room, +beneath the gallery, were a number of little alcoves framed in fretted +Moorish arches of white-enamelled wood. Three persons were just emerging +from one of these. She sprang within, and sank into a wicker arm-chair. + +"There is always a table," she breathed, surveying the whole scene with +a smile of conquest. + +George sat down opposite to her with his back to the hall; he could +survey nothing but Lois, and the world of the mirror behind her. + +"That's one of father's maxims," she said. + +"What is?" + +"'There is always a table.' Well, you know, there always is." + +"He must be a very wise man." + +"He is." + +"What's his special line?" + +She exclaimed: + +"Don't you know father? Hasn't Miss Wheeler told you? Or Mrs. Orgreave?" + +"No." + +"But you must know father. Father's 'Parisian' in _The Sunday Journal_." + +Despite the mention of this ancient and very dignified newspaper, George +felt a sense of disappointment. He had little esteem for journalists, +whom Mr. Enwright was continually scoffing at, and whom he imagined to +be all poor. He had conceived Mr. Ingram as perhaps a rich cosmopolitan +financier, or a rich idler--but at any rate rich, whatever he might be. + +"Of course he does lots of other work besides that. He writes for the +_Pall Mall Gazette_ and the _St. James's Gazette._ In fact it's his +proud boast that he writes for all the gazettes, and he's the only man +who does. That's because he's so liked. Everybody adores him. I adore +him myself. He's a great pal of mine. But he's very strict." + +"Strict?" + +"Yes," she insisted, rather defensively. "Why not? I should like a +strawberry ice, and a lemon-squash, and a millefeuille cake. Don't be +alarmed, please. I'm a cave-woman. You've got to get used to it." + +"What's a cave-woman?" + +"It's something primitive. You must come over to Paris. If father likes +you, he'll take you to one of the weekly lunches of the Anglo-American +Press Circle. He always does that when he likes anyone. He's the +Treasurer.... Haven't you got any millefeuille cakes?" she demanded of +the waitress, who had come to renew the table and had deposited a basket +of various cakes. + +"I'm afraid we haven't, miss," answered the waitress, not comprehending +the strange word any better than George did. + +"Bit rowdy, isn't it?" George observed, looking round, when the waitress +had gone. + +Lois said with earnestness: + +"I simply love these big, noisy places. They make me feel alive." + +He looked at her. She was very well dressed--more stylistic than any +girl that he could see in the mirror. He could not be sure whether or +not her yellow eyes had a slight cast; if they had, it was so slight as +to be almost imperceptible. There was no trace of diffidence in them; +they commanded. She was not a girl whom you could masculinely protect. +On the contrary, she would protect not only herself but others. + +"Haven't you cream?" she curtly challenged the waitress, arriving with +ice, lemon-squash, and George's tea. + +The alien mercenary met her glance inimically for a second, and then, +shutting her lips together, walked off with the milk. At Prosser's the +waitresses did not wear caps, and were, in theory, ladies. Lois would +have none of the theory; the waitress was ready to die for it and +carried it away with her intact. George preferred milk to cream, but he +said nothing. + +"Yes," Lois went on. "You ought to come to Paris. You have been, haven't +you? I remember you told me. We're supposed to go back next week, but if +Irene doesn't go, I shan't." She frowned. + +George said that positively he would come to Paris. + +When they had fairly begun the rich, barbaric meal, Lois asked abruptly: + +"Why did you write in the middle of the night?" + +Sometimes her voice was veiled. + +"Why did I write in the middle of the night? Because I thought I would." +He spoke masterfully. He didn't mean to stand any of her cheek. + +"Oh!" she laughed nicely. "_I_ didn't mind. I liked it--awfully. It was +just the sort of thing I should have done myself. But you might tell me +all about it. I think I deserve that much, don't you?" + +Thus he told her all about it--how he had arranged everything, got a +room, meant to have his name painted on the door, meant to make his +parents take their holiday on the north-east coast for a change, so that +he could study the site, meant to work like a hundred devils, etc. He +saw with satisfaction that the arrogant, wilful creature was impressed. + +She said: + +"Now listen to me. You'll win that competition." + +"I shan't," he said. "But it's worth trying, for the experience--that's +what Enwright says." + +She said: + +"I don't care a fig what Enwright says. You'll win that competition. I'm +always right when I sort of feel--you know." + +For the moment he believed in the miraculous, inexplicable intuitions of +women. + +"Oh!" she cried, as the invisible orchestra started a new tune. "Do you +know that? It's the first time I've heard it in London. It's the +_machiche_. It's all over Paris. I think it's the most wonderful tune in +the world." Her body swayed; her foot tapped. + +George listened. Yes, it was a maddening tune. + +"It is," he agreed eagerly. + +She cried: + +"Oh! I do love pleasure! And success! And money! Don't you?" + +Her eyes had softened; they were liquid with yearning; but there was +something frankly sensual in them. This quality, swiftly revealed, +attracted George intensely for an instant. + +Immediately afterwards she asked the time, and said she must go. + +"I daren't keep Irene waiting," she said. Her eyes now had a hard +glitter. + +In full Regent Street he put the haughty girl into Irene's automobile, +which had turned round; he was proud to be seen in the act; he privately +enjoyed the glances of common, unsuccessful persons. As he walked away +he smiled to himself, to hide from himself his own nervous excitement. +She was a handful, she was. Within her life burned and blazed. He +remembered Mr. Prince's remark: "You must have made a considerable +impression on her," or words to that effect. The startling thought +visited him: "I shall marry that woman." Then another thought: "Not if I +know it! I don't like her. I do not like her. I don't like her eyes." + +She had, however, tremendously intensified in him the desire for +success. He hurried off to work. The days passed too slowly, and yet +they were too short for his task. He could not wait for the fullness of +time. His life had become a breathless race. "I shall win. I can't +possibly win. The thing's idiotic. I might.... Enwright's rather +struck." Yes, it was Mr. Enwright's attitude that inspired him. To have +impressed Mr. Enwright--by Jove, it was something! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +COMPETITION + +I + + +On the face of the door on the third floor of the house in Russell +Square the words 'G.E. Cannon' appeared in dirty white paint and the +freshly added initials 'A.R.I.B.A.' in clean white paint. The addition +of the triumphant initials (indicating that George had kissed the rod of +the Royal Institute of British Architects in order to conquer) had put +the sign as a whole out of centre, throwing it considerably to the right +on the green door-face. Within the small and bare room, on an evening in +earliest spring in 1904, sat George at the customary large flat desk of +the architect. He had just switched on the electric light over his head. +He looked sterner and older; he looked very worried, fretful, exhausted. +He was thin and pale; his eyes burned, and there were dark patches under +the eyes; the discipline of the hair had been rather gravely neglected. +In front of George lay a number of large plans, mounted on thick +cardboard, whose upper surface had a slight convex curve. There were +plans of the basement of the projected town hall, of the ground floor, +of the building at a height of twelve feet from the ground, of the +mezzanine floor, of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth floors; +these plans were coloured. Further, in plain black and white, there were +a plan of the roof (with tower), a longitudinal section on the central +axis, two other sections, three elevations, and a perspective view of +the entire edifice. Seventeen sheets in all. + +The sum of work seemed tremendous; it made the mind dizzy; it made +George smile with terrible satisfaction at his own industry. For he had +engaged very little help. He would have been compelled to engage more, +had not the Corporation extended by one month the time for sending in. +The Corporation had behaved with singular enlightenment. Its schedules +of required accommodation (George's copy was scored over everywhere in +pencil and ink and seriously torn) were held to be admirably drawn, and +its supplementary circular of answers to questions from competitors had +displayed a clarity and a breadth of mind unusual in corporations. +Still more to the point, the Corporation had appointed a second assessor +to act with Sir Hugh Corver. In short, it had shown that it was under no +mandarin's thumb, and that what it really and seriously wanted was the +best design that the profession could produce. Mr. Enwright, indeed, had +nearly admitted regret at having kept out of the immense affair. John +Orgreave had expressed regret with vigour and candour. They had in the +main left George alone, though occasionally at night Mr. Enwright, in +the little room, had suggested valuable solutions of certain problems. +In detail he was severely critical of George's design, and he would pour +delicate satires upon the idiosyncrasy which caused the wilful boy to +'impurify' (a word from Enwright's private vocabulary) a Renaissance +creation with Saracenic tendencies in the treatment of arches and +wall-spaces. + +Nevertheless Mr. Enwright greatly respected the design in its entirety, +and both he and John Orgreave (who had collected by the subterranean +channels of the profession a large amount of fact and rumour about the +efforts of various competitors) opined that it stood a fair chance of +being among the selected six or ten whose authors would be invited to +submit final designs for the final award. George tried to be hopeful; +but he could not be hopeful by trying. It was impossible to believe that +he would succeed; the notion was preposterous; yet at moments, when he +was not cultivating optimism, optimism would impregnate all his being, +and he would be convinced that it was impossible not to win. How +inconceivably grand! His chief rallying thought was that he had +undertaken a gigantic task and had accomplished it. Well or ill, he had +accomplished it. He said to himself aloud: + +"I've done it! I've done it!" + +And that he actually had done it was almost incredible. The very sheets +of drawings were almost incredible. But they existed there. All was +complete. The declaration that the design was G.E. Cannon's personal +work, drawn in his own office by his ordinary staff, was there, in the +printed envelope officially supplied by the Corporation. The estimate of +cost and the cubing was there. The explanatory report on the design, +duly typewritten, was there. Nothing lacked. + +"I've done it! I've done it!" + +And then, tired as he was, the conscience of the creative artist and of +the competitor began to annoy him and spur him. The perspective drawing +did not quite satisfy--and there was still time. The point of view for +the perspective drawing was too high up, and the result was a certain +marring of the nobility of the lines, and certainly a diminishment of +the effect of the tower. He had previously started another perspective +drawing with a lower view-point, but he had mistakenly cast it aside. He +ought to finish the first one and substitute it for the second one. 'The +perspective drawing had a moral importance; it had a special influence +on the assessors and committees. Horrid, tiresome labour! Three, four, +five, or six hours of highly concentrated tedium. Was it worth while? It +was not. Mr. Enwright liked the finished drawing. He, George, could not +face a further strain. And yet he was not content.... Pooh! Who said he +could not face a further strain? Of course he could face it. If he did +not face it, his conscience would accuse him of cowardice during the +rest of his life, and he would never be able to say honestly: "I did my +level best with the thing." He snapped his fingers lightly, and in one +second had decided to finish the original perspective drawing, and in +his very finest style. He would complete it some time during the night. +In the morning it could be mounted. The drawings were to go to the north +in a case on the morrow by passenger train, and to be met at their +destination by a commissionaire common to several competitors; this +commissionaire would deliver them to the Town Clerk in accordance with +the conditions. In a few minutes George was at work, excited, having +forgotten all fatigue. He was saying to himself that he would run out +towards eight o'clock for a chop or a steak. As he worked he perceived +that he had been quite right to throw over the second drawing; he +wondered that he could have felt any hesitation; the new drawing would +be immeasurably superior. + +Mr. Haim 'stepped up,' discreetly knocking, entering with dignity. The +relations between these two had little by little resumed their old, +purely formal quality. Both seemed to have forgotten that passionate +anger had ever separated them and joined them together. George was +young, and capable of oblivion. Mr. Haim had beaten him in the struggle +and could afford to forget. They conversed politely, as though the old +man had no daughter and the youth had never had a lover. Mr. Haim had +even assisted with the lettering of the sheets--not because George +needed his help, but because Mr. Haim's calligraphic pride needed to +help. To refuse the stately offer would have been to insult. Mr. Haim +had aged, but not greatly. + +"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Cannon." + +"Oh! Dash it!... Thanks!" + +After all George was no longer on the staff of Lucas & Enwright, and Mr. +Haim was conferring a favour. + +Down below in the big office everybody had gone except the factotum. + +George seized the telephone receiver and called brusquely for attention. + +"Is that Mr. Cannon?" + +"Yes. Who is it?" + +"Oh! It's you, George! How nice to hear your voice again!" + +He recognized, but not instantly, the voice of Lois Ingram. He was not +surprised. Indeed he had suspected that the disturber of work must be +either Lois or Miss Wheeler, or possibly Laurencine. The three had been +in London again for several days, and he had known from Lucas that a +theatre-party had been arranged for that night to witness the +irresistible musical comedy, _The Gay Spark_, Lucas and M. +Defourcambault were to be of the party. George had not yet seen Lois +since her latest return to London; he had only seen her twice since the +previous summer; he had not visited Paris in the interval. The tone of +her voice, even as transformed by the telephone, was caressing. He had +to think of some suitable response to her startling amiability, and to +utter it with conviction. He tried to hold fast in his mind to the image +of the perspective with its countless complexities and the co-ordination +of them all; the thing seemed to be retreating from him, and he dared +not let it go. + +"Do you know," said Lois, "I only came to London to celebrate the +sending-in of your design. I hear it's marvellous. Aren't you glad +you've finished it?" + +"Well, I haven't finished it," said George. "I'm on it now." + +What did the girl mean by saying she'd only come to London to celebrate +the end of his work? An invention on her part! Still, it flattered him. +She was very strange. + +"But Everard's told us you'd finished a bit earlier than you'd expected. +We counted on seeing your lordship to-morrow. But now we've got to see +you to-night." + +"Awfully sorry I can't." + +"But look here, George. You must really. The party's all broken up. Miss +Wheeler's had to go back to Paris to-night, and Jules can't come. +Everything's upset. The flat's going to be closed, and Laurencine and, I +will have to leave to-morrow. It's most frightfully annoying. We've got +the box all right, and Everard's coming, and you must make the fourth. +We must have a fourth. Laurencine's here at the phone, and she says the +same as me." + +"Wish I could!" George answered shortly. "Look here! What train are you +going by to-morrow? I'll come and see you off. I shall be free then." + +"But, George. We _want_ you to come to-night." There seemed positively +to be tears in the faint voice. "Why can't you come? You must come." + +"I haven't finished one of the drawings. I tell you I'm on it now. It'll +take me half the night, or more. I'm just in the thick of it, you see." +He spoke with a slight resentful impatience--less at her +over-persuasiveness than at the fact that his mind and the drawing were +being more and more separated. Soon he would have lost the right mood, +and he would be compelled to re-create it before he could resume the +work. The forcible, gradual dragging away of his mind from its +passionately gripped objective was torture. He had an impulse to throw +down the receiver and run off. + +The distant squeaking voice changed to the petulant: + +"You are horrid. You could come right enough if you wanted to." + +"But don't you understand? It's awfully important for me." + +He was astounded, absolutely astounded. She would not understand. She +had decided that he must go to the musical comedy and nothing else +mattered. His whole future did not matter. + +"Oh! Very well, then," Lois said, undisguisedly vexed. "Of course, if +you won't, you won't. But really when two girls _implore_ you like +that.... And we have to leave to-morrow, and everything's upset!... I do +think it's ... However, good night." + +"Here! Hold hard a sec. I'll come for an hour or so. What's the number +of the box?" + +"Fourteen," said the voice brokenly. + +Immediately afterwards she rang off. George was hurt and bewildered. The +girl was incredibly ruthless. She was mad. Why had he yielded? Only a +silly conventional feeling had made him yield. And yet he was a great +scorner of convention. He went upstairs again to the perspective +drawing. He looked at his watch. He might work for half an hour before +leaving to dress. No, he could not. The mood had vanished. The +perspective had slipped into another universe. He could not even pick up +a pen. He despised himself terribly, despairingly, for yielding. + + +II + + +In spite of all this he anticipated with pleasure the theatre-party. He +wanted to go; he was glad he was going; the memory of Lois in the +tea-palace excited him. And he could refuse a hearing to his conscience, +and could prevent himself from thinking uncomfortably of the future, as +well as most young men. His secret, unadmitted voluptuous eagerness was +alloyed only by an apprehension that after the scene over the telephone +Lois might be peevish and ungracious. The fear proved to be baseless. + +Owing to the imperfections of the club laundry and the erring humanity +of Downs, he arrived late. _The Gay Spark_ had begun. He found a +darkened auditorium and a glowing stage. In the dim box Lois and +Laurencine were sitting in front on gilt chairs. Lucas sat behind +Laurencine, and there was an empty chair behind Lois. Her gesture, her +smile, her glance, as she turned to George and looked up, were touching. +She was delighted to see him; she had the mien of a child who has got +what it wanted and has absolutely forgotten that it ever pouted, +shrieked, and stamped its foot. She was determined to charm her +uttermost. Her eye in the gloom was soft with mysterious invitations. +George looked about the interior of the box; he saw the rich cloaks of +the girls hanging up next to glossy masculine hats, the large mirror on +the wall, and mother-of-pearl opera-glasses, chocolates, and flowers on +the crimson ledge. He was very close to the powerfully built and yet +plastic Lois. He could watch her changing curves as she breathed; the +faint scent she used rose to his nostrils. He thought, with contained +rapture: "Nothing in the world is equal to this." He did not care a fig +for the effect of perspective drawings or the result of the competition. +Lois, her head half-turned towards him, her gaze lost in the sombre +distances of the auditorium, talked in a low tone, ignoring the +performance. He gathered that the sudden departure of Irene Wheeler had +unusually impressed and disconcerted and, to a certain extent, mortified +the sisters, who could not explain it, and who resented the compulsion +to go back to Paris at once. And he detected in Lois, not for the first +time, a grievance that Irene kept her, Lois, apart from the main current +of her apparently gorgeous social career. Obviously an evening at which +the sole guests were two girls and a youth all quite unknown to +newspapers could not be a major item in the life of a woman such as +Irene Wheeler. She had left them unceremoniously to themselves at the +last moment, as it were permitting them to do what they liked within the +limits of goodness for one night, and commanding them to return sagely +home on the morrow. A red-nosed actor, hands in pockets, waddled +self-consciously on to the stage, and the packed audience, emitting +murmurs of satisfaction, applauded. Conversations were interrupted. +George, expectant, gave his attention to the show. He knew little or +nothing of musical comedy, having come under influences which had taught +him to despise it. His stepfather, for example, could be very sarcastic +about musical comedy, and through both Enwright and John Orgreave George +had further cultivated the habit of classical music, already acquired in +boyhood at home in the Five Towns. In the previous year, despite the +calls upon his time of study for examinations, George had attended the +Covent Garden performances of the Wagnerian "Ring" as he might have +attended High Mass. He knew by name a considerable percentage of the +hundred odd themes in "The Ring," and it was his boast that he could +identify practically all the forty-seven themes in _The Meistersingers_. +He raved about Ternina in _Tristan_. He had worshipped the Joachim +quartet. He was acquainted with all the popular symphonies of Beethoven, +Schubert, Schumann, Mozart, Glazounov, and Tschaikovsky. He even +frequented the Philharmonic Concerts, which were then conducted by a +composer of sentimental drawing-room ballads, and though he would not +class this conductor with Richter or Henry J. Wood, he yet believed that +somehow, by the magic of the sacred name of the Philharmonic Society, +the balladmonger in the man expired in the act of raising the baton and +was replaced by a serious and sensitive artist. He was accustomed to +hear the same pieces of music again and again and again, and they were +all or nearly all very fine, indisputably great. It never occurred to +him that once they had been unfamiliar and had had to fight for the +notice of persons who indulged in music exactly as he indulged in music. +He had no traffic with the unfamiliar. Unfamiliar items on a programme +displeased him. He had heard compositions by Richard Strauss, but he +could make nothing of them, and his timid, untravelled taste feared to +like them. Mr. Enwright himself was mainly inimical to Strauss, as to +most of modern Germany, perhaps because of the new architecture in +Berlin. George knew that there existed young English composers with such +names as Cyril Scott, Balfour Gardiner, Donald Tovey--for he had seen +these names recently on the front page of _The Daily Telegraph_--but he +had never gone to the extent of listening to their works. He was +entirely sure that they could not hold a candle to Wagner, and his +sub-conscious idea was that it was rather like their cheek to compose at +all. He had not noticed that Hugo Wolf had just died, nor indeed had he +noticed that Hugo Wolf had ever lived. + +Nevertheless this lofty and exclusive adherent of the 'best' music was +not prejudiced in advance against _The Gay Spark_. He was anxious to +enjoy it and he expected to enjoy it. _The Gay Spark_ had already an +enormous prestige; it bore the agreeable, captivating label of Vienna; +and immense sums were being made out of it in all the capitals of the +world. George did not hope for immortal strains, but he anticipated a +distinguished, lilting gaiety, and in the 'book' a witty and +cosmopolitan flavour that would lift the thing high above such English +musical comedies as he had seen. It was impossible that a work of so +universal and prodigious a vogue should not have unquestionable virtues. + +The sight of the red-nosed comedian rather shocked George, who had +supposed that red-nosed comedians belonged to the past. However, the man +was atoned for by three extremely beautiful and graceful young girls who +followed him. Round about the small group was ranged a semicircle of +handsome creatures in long skirts, behind whom was another semicircle of +young men in white flannels; the scene was a street in Mandalay. The +red-nosed comedian began by making a joke concerning his mother-in-law, +and another concerning mendacious statements to his wife to explain his +nocturnal absences from home, and another concerning his intoxicated +condition. The three extremely beautiful and graceful young girls +laughed deliriously at the red-nosed comedian; they replied in a similar +vein. They clasped his neck and kissed him rapturously, and thereupon he +sang a song, of which the message was that all three extremely beautiful +and graceful girls practised professionally the most ancient and stable +of feminine vocations; the girls, by means of many refrains, confirmed +this definition of their status in society. Then the four of them +danced, and there was enthusiastic applause from every part of the house +except the semicircle of European odalisques lost, for some unexplained +reason, in Mandalay. These ladies, the indubitable physical attractions +of each of whom were known by the management to fill five or six stalls +every night, took no pains whatever to hide that they were acutely bored +by the whole proceedings. Self-sufficient in their beauty, deeply aware +of the power of their beauty, they deigned to move a lackadaisical arm +or leg at intervals in accordance with the respectful suggestions of the +conductor. + +Soon afterwards the gay spark herself appeared, amid a hysteria of +applause. She played the part of the wife of a military officer, and +displayed therein a marvellous, a terrifying vitality of tongue, leg, +and arm. The young men in white flannels surrounded her, and she could +flirt with all of them; she was on intimate terms with the red-nosed +comedian, and also with the trio of delightful wantons, and her ideals +in life seemed to be identical with theirs. When, through the arrival of +certain dandies twirling canes, and the mysterious transformation of the +Burmese street into a Parisian cafe, these ideals were on the point of +realization, there was a great burst of brass in the orchestra, +succeeded by a violent chorus, some kicking, and a general wassail, and +the curtain fell on the first act. It had to be raised four times before +the gratefully appreciative clapping would cease. + +The auditorium shone with light; it grew murmurous with ecstatic +approval. The virginal face of Laurencine shot its rapture to Lucas as +she turned to shake hands with George. + +"Jolly well done, isn't it?" said Lucas. + +"Yes," said George. + +Lucas, too content to notice the perfunctoriness of George's +affirmative, went on: + +"When you think that they're performing it this very night in St. +Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, Brussels, and, I fancy, Rome, but I'm not +sure--marvellous, isn't it?" + +"It is," said George ambiguously. + +Though continuing to like him, he now definitely despised Everard. The +fellow had no artistic perceptions; he was a child. By some means he had +got through his Final, and was soon to be a junior partner in Enwright & +Lucas. George, however, did not envy Everard the soft situation; he only +pitied Enwright & Lucas. Everard had often urged George to go to musical +comedies more frequently, hinting that they were frightfully better +than George could conceive. _The Gay Spark_ gave Lucas away entirely; it +gave away his method of existence. + +"I don't believe you like it," said sharp Laurencine. + +"I adore it," George protested. "Don't you?" + +"Oh! _I_ do, of course," said Laurencine. "I knew I should." + +Lucas, instinctively on the defence, said: + +"The second act's much better than the first." + +George's hopes, dashed but not broken, recovered somewhat. After all +there had been one or two gleams of real jokes, and a catchiness in +certain airs; and the spark possessed temperament in profusion. It was +possible that the next act might be diverting. + +"You do look tired," said Laurencine. + +"Oh no, darling!" Lois objected. "I think he looks splendid." + +She was intensely happy in the theatre. The box was very well +placed--since Irene had bought it--with a view equally good of the stage +and of the semicircle of boxes. Lois' glance wandered blissfully round +the boxes, all occupied by gay parties, and over the vivacious stalls. +She gazed, and she enjoyed being gazed at. She bathed herself in the +glitter and the gaudiness and the opulence and the humanity, as in tonic +fluid. She seemed to float sinuously and voluptuously immersed in it, as +in tepid water lit with sunshine. + +"Do have a choc.," she invited eagerly. + +George took a chocolate. She took one. They all took one. They all had +the unconscious pride of youth that does not know itself young. Each was +different from the others. George showed the reserve of the artist; +Lucas the ease of the connoisseur of mundane spectacles; Laurencine the +sturdy, catholic, girlish innocence that nothing can corrupt. And the +sovereign was Lois. She straightened her shoulders; she leaned +languorously; she looked up, she looked down; she spoke softly and +loudly; she laughed and smiled. And in every movement and in every +gesture and tone she symbolized the ecstasy of life. She sought +pleasure, and she had found it, and she had no afterthought. She was +infectious; she was irresistible, and terrible too. For it was +dismaying, at any rate to George, to dwell on the fierceness of her +instinct and on the fierceness of its satisfaction. To George her +burning eyes were wistful, pathetic, in their simplicity. He felt a sort +of fearful pity for her. And he admired her--she was something +definite; she was something magnificently outright; she did live. Also +he liked her; the implications in her glance appealed to him. The +peculiar accents in which she referred to the enigma of Irene Wheeler +were extraordinarily attractive to that part of his nature which was +perverse and sophisticated. "At least she is not a simpleton," he +thought. "And she doesn't pretend to be. Some day I shall talk to her." + +The orchestra resumed; the lights went out. Lois settled herself to +fresh enchantment as the curtain rolled up to disclose the bright halls +and staircases of a supper-club. The second act was an amplification and +inflammation of the themes of the first. As for the music, George +listened in vain for an original tune, even for a tune of which he could +not foretell the end from the beginning; the one or two engaging bits of +melody which enlivened the first act were employed again in the second. +The disdainful, lethargic chorus was the same; the same trio of +delicious wantons fondled and kissed the same red-nosed comedian, who +was still in the same state of inebriety, and the gay spark flitted +roysteringly through the same evolutions, in pursuit of the same simple +ideals. The jocularity pivoted unendingly on the same twin centres of +alcohol and concupiscence. Gradually the latter grew to more and more +importance, and the piece became a high and candid homage to the impulse +by force of which alone one generation succeeds another. No beautiful +and graceful young girl on the stage blenched before the salacious +witticisms of the tireless comedian; on the contrary he remained the +darling of the stage. And as he was the darling of the stage, so was he +the darling of the audience. + +And if no beautiful and graceful young girl blenched on the stage, +neither did the beautiful and graceful young girls in the audience +blench. You could see them sitting happily with their fathers and +mothers and cousins and uncles and aunts, savouring the spectacle from +dim stalls and boxes in the most perfect respectability. Laurencine +leaning her elbows on the ledge of the box, watched with eager, parted +lips, and never showed the slightest sign of uneasiness. + +George was uneasy; he was distressed. The extraordinary juxtaposition of +respectability and a ribald sexual display startled but did not distress +him. If the whole audience was ready to stand it he certainly was. He +had no desire to protect people from themselves, nor to blush on behalf +of others--whoever they might be. Had anybody accused him of saintliness +he would have resented the charge, quite justifiably, and if the wit of +_The Gay Spark_ had been witty, he would have enjoyed it without a +qualm. What distressed him, what utterly desolated him, was the +grossness, the poorness, the cheapness, the dullness, and the +uninventive monotony of the interminable entertainment. He yawned, he +could not help yawning; he yawned his soul away. Lois must have heard +him yawning, but she did not move. He looked at her curiously, +pitifully, speculating how much of her luxury was due to Irene Wheeler, +and how little to 'Parisian' of _The Sunday Journal_--for he had been +inquiring about the fruits of journalism. The vision of his own office +and of the perspective drawing rose seductively and irresistibly in his +mind. He could not stay in the theatre; he felt that if he stayed he +would be in danger of dropping down dead, suffocated by tedium; and the +drawing must be finished; it would not wait; it was the most urgent +thing in the world. And not a syllable had any person in the box said to +him about his great task. Lois's forearm, braceleted, lay on the front +of the box. Unceremoniously he took her hand. + +"Bye-bye." + +"You aren't going?" Her whisper was incredulous. + +"Must." + +He gave her no chance to expostulate. With one movement he had seized +his hat and coat and slid from the box, just as the finale of the act +was imminent and the red-nosed comedian was measuring the gay spark for +new _lingerie_ with a giant property-cigar. He had not said good-bye to +Laurencine. He had not asked about their departure on the morrow. But he +was free. + +In the foyer a couple--a woman in a rose plush _sortie de bal_, and a +blade--were mysteriously talking. The blade looked at him, smiled, and +left the lady. + +"Hal_lo_, old fellow!" It was Buckingham Smith, who had been getting on +in the world. + +They shook hands. + +"You've left Chelsea, haven't you?" + +"Yes," said George. + +"So've I. Don't see much of the old gang nowadays. Heard anything of old +Princey lately?" + +George replied that he had not. The colloquy was over in a moment. + +"You must come and see my show--next week," Buck Smith called out after +the departing George. + +"I will," cried George. + +He walked quickly up to Russell Square, impatient to steep himself anew +in his work. All sense of fatigue had left him. Time seemed to be flying +past him, and he rushing towards an unknown fate. On the previous day he +had received an enheartening, challenging, sardonic letter from his +stepfather, who referred to politics and envisaged a new epoch for the +country. Edwin Clayhanger was a Radical of a type found only in the +Midlands and the North. For many years Clayhanger's party, to which he +was passionately faithful, had had no war-cry and no programme worthy of +its traditions. The increasing success of the campaign against +Protection, and certain signs that the introduction of Chinese labour +into South Africa could be effectively resisted, had excited the +middle-aged provincial--now an Alderman--and he had managed to +communicate fire to George. But in George, though he sturdily shared his +stepfather's views, the resulting righteous energy was diverted to +architectural creation. + + +III + + +The circumstances in which, about a month later, George lunched with the +Ingram family at their flat in the Rue d'Athènes, near the Gare St. +Lazare, Paris, had an appearance of the utmost simplicity and +ordinariness. He had been down to Staffordshire for a rest, and had +returned unrested. And then Mr. Enwright had suggested that it would do +him good to go to Paris, even to go alone. He went, with no plan, but +having made careful arrangements for the telegraphing to him of the +result of the competition, which was daily expected. By this time he was +very seriously convinced that there was no hope of him being among the +selected six or ten, and he preferred to get the news away from London +rather than in it; he felt that he could not face London on the day or +the morrow of a defeat which would of course render his youthful +audacity ridiculous. + +He arrived in Paris on a Wednesday evening, and took a room in a _maison +meublĂ©e_ of the Rue de Sèze. Every inexperienced traveller in Paris has +a friend who knows a lodging in Paris which he alleges is better and +cheaper than any other lodging--and which is not. The house in the Rue +de Sèze was the economical paradise of Buckingham Smith, whom George had +encountered again at the Buckingham Smith exhibition. Buckingham Smith, +with over half his pictures bearing the red seal that indicates 'Sold,' +felt justified in posing to the younger George as a cosmopolitan +expert--especially as his opinions on modern French art were changing. +George spent three solitary and dejected days in Paris, affecting an +interest in museums and architecture and French opera, and committing +follies. Near the end of the third day, a Saturday, he suddenly sent a +threepenny express note to Lois Ingram. He would have telephoned had he +dared to use the French telephone. On Sunday morning, an aproned valet +having informed him that Monsieur was demanded at the telephone, he had +to use the telephone. Lois told him that he must come to lunch, and that +afterwards he would be escorted to the races. Dejection was instantly +transformed into a gay excitation. Proud of having spoken through a +French telephone, he began to conceive romantically the interior of a +Paris home--he had seen naught but a studio or so with Mr. Enwright--and +to thrill at the prospect of Sunday races. Not merely had he never seen +a horse-race on a Sunday--he had never seen a horse-race at all. He +perhaps was conscious of a genuine interest in Lois and her environment, +but what most satisfied and flattered him, after his loneliness, was the +bare fact of possessing social relations in Paris at all. + +The Ingram home was up four flights of naked oaken stairs, fairly swept, +in a plain, flat-fronted house. The door of the home was opened by a +dark, untidy, dishevelled, uncapped, fat girl, with a full apron, +dazzling white and rectangularly creased, that had obviously just been +taken out of a drawer. Familiarly and amicably smiling, she led him into +a small, modest drawing-room where were Lois and her father and mother. +Lois was enigmatic and taciturn. Mr. and Mrs. Ingram were ingenuous, +loquacious, and at ease. Both of them had twinkling eyes. Mrs. Ingram +was rather stout and grey and small, and wore a quiet, inexpensive blue +dress, embroidered at the neck in the Morrisian manner, of no kind of +fashionableness. She spoke in a low voice, smiled to herself with a +benevolence that was not without a touch of the sardonic, and often +looked at the floor or at the ceiling. Mr. Ingram, very slim and neat, +was quite as small as his wife, and seemed smaller. He talked much and +rather amusingly, in a somewhat mincing tone, as it were apologetically, +truly anxious to please. He had an extremely fair complexion, and his +youthfulness was quite startling. His golden hair and perfect teeth +might have belonged to a boy. George leapt immediately into familiarity +with these two. But nobody could have less resembled his preconceived +image of 'Parisian' than Mr. Ingram. And he could not understand a bit +whence or how such a pair had produced their daughter Lois. Laurencine +was a far more comprehensible offspring for them. + +The dining-room was even less spacious than the drawing-room, and as +unpretentious. The furniture everywhere was sparse, but there were one +or two rich knick-knacks, and an abundance of signed photographs. The +few pictures, too, were signed, and they drew attention. On the table +the napkins, save George's, were in rings, and each ring different from +the others. George's napkin had the air of a wealthy, stiff, shiny +relative of the rest. Evidently in that home the long art of making both +ends meet was daily practised. George grew light-hearted and happy, +despite the supreme preoccupation which only a telegram could allay. He +had keenly the sensation of being abroad. The multiplicity of doors, the +panelling of the doors, the narrow planking of the oaken floor, the +moulding of the cornices, the shape of the windows, the view of the +courtyard from the dining-room and of attics and chimney-cowls from the +drawing-room, the closed anthracite stoves in lieu of fires, the +crockery, the wine-bottle, the mustard, the grey salt, the +unconventional gestures and smiles and exclamations of the unkempt +maid--all these strange details enchanted him, and they all set off very +vividly the intense, nice, honest, reassuring Englishness of the host +and hostess. + +It was not until after the others were seated for the meal that +Laurencine made her appearance. She was a magnificent and handsome +virgin, big-boned, physically a little awkward, candid. How exquisitely +and absurdly she flushed in shaking hands with George! With what a +delicious mock-furious setting of the teeth and tossing of the head she +frowned at her mother's reproaches for being late! This family knew the +meaning of intimacy but not of ceremony. Laurencine sat down at her +father's left; George was next to her on Mrs. Ingram's right. Lois had +the whole of the opposite side of the table. + +"Does he know?" Laurencine asked; and turning to George: "Do you know?" + +"Know what?" + +"You'd better tell him, dad. You like talking, and he ought to know. I +shan't be able to eat if he doesn't. It would be so ridiculous sitting +here and pretending." + +Mrs. Ingram looked upwards across the room at a corner of the ceiling, +and smiled faintly. + +"You might," she said, "begin by asking Mr. Cannon if he particularly +wants to be burdened with the weight of your secrets, my dear child." + +"Oh! I particularly do," said George. + +"There's no secret about it--at least there won't be soon," said +Laurencine. + +Lois spoke simultaneously: + +"My dear mother, please call George George. If we call him George, you +can't possibly call him Mr. Cannon." + +"I quite admit," Mrs. Ingram replied to her eldest, "I quite admit that +you and Laurencine are entitled to criticise my relations with my +husband, because he's your father. But I propose to carry on my affairs +with other men just according to my own ideas, and any interference will +be resented. I've had a bad night, owing to the garage again, and I +don't feel equal to calling George George. I've only known him about +twenty minutes. Moreover, I might be misunderstood, mightn't I, Mr. +Cannon?" + +"You might," said George. + +"Now, dad!" Laurencine admonished. + +Mr. Ingram, addressing George, began: + +"Laurencine suffers from a grave form of self-consciousness----" + +"I don't, dad." + +"It is a disease akin to conceit. Her sufferings are sometimes so acute +that she cannot sit up straight and is obliged to loll and curl her legs +round the legs of the chair. We are all very sorry for her. The only +treatment is brutal candour, as she herself advocates----" + +Laurencine jumped up, towered over her father, and covered his mouth +with her hand. + +"This simple hand," said Mr. Ingram, seizing it, "will soon bear a ring. +Laurencine is engaged to be married." + +"I'm not, father." She sat down again. + +"Well, you are not. But you will be, I presume, by post-time to-night. A +young man of the name of Lucas has written to Laurencine this morning in +a certain sense, and he has also written to me. Laurencine has seen my +letter, and I've seen hers. But my envelope contained only one letter. +Whether her envelope contained more than one, whether the epistle which +I saw is written in the style usually practised by the present age, +whether it was composed for the special purpose of being shown to me, I +do not know, and discretion and nice gentlemanly feeling forbid me to +inquire. However----" + +At this point, Laurencine snatched her father's napkin off his knees and +put it on her own. + +"However, my wife and I have met this Mr. Lucas, and as our opinion +about him is not wholly unfavourable, the matter was satisfactorily and +quickly arranged--even before I had had my bath; Laurencine and I will +spend the afternoon in writing suitable communications to Mr. Lucas. I +am ready to show her mine for a shilling, but I doubt if five pounds +would procure me a sight of hers. Yet she is only an amateur writer and +I'm a professional." + +There was a little silence, and then George said awkwardly: + +"I congratulate old Lucas." + +"This news must have astonished you extremely," observed Mr. Ingram. "It +must have come as a complete surprise. In fact you are doubtless in the +condition known to charwomen as capable of being knocked down with a +feather." + +"Oh! Quite!" George agreed. + +Nevertheless, in spite of his light tone, he regretted the engagement. +He did not think Lucas was worthy of the splendid girl. He felt sorry +for her. At that moment she faced him bravely, and smiled. Her face had +a tremendous deep crimson flush. There was a woman somewhere in the +girl! Strange phenomenon! And another strange phenomenon: if Laurencine +had been self-conscious, George also was self-conscious; and he avoided +Lois's eyes! Why? He wondered whether the circumstances in which he had +come to Paris and entered the Ingram home were as simple and ordinary as +they superficially appeared. + +"Laurencine," said her mother, "give your father back his serviette!" + +"Mine's fallen." + +"Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Ingram very benevolently, and he bent +down and retrieved Laurencine's napkin, which he kept. "And now," he +proceeded, "the serious operation being over and the patient out of +danger, shall we talk about something else for a few moments?" + +"I should think so indeed!" Laurencine exclaimed, suddenly gay. "George, +when _shall_ you know about the competition?" + +"Any minute, I might," said he. + +They all talked sympathetically to George on the new subject. + +After lunch, Lois disappeared. She came back resplendent for the races, +when coffee had long been finished in the drawing-room. + +"Why aren't you ready, Laure?" she demanded. + +"I'm not going, darling." + +"Lois," Mr. Ingram exhorted, "don't forget the afternoon is to be spent +in literary composition." + +"It isn't," Laurencine contradicted. "I may as well tell you I've +written all I mean to write in the way of letters for one day. But I +don't want to go, really, Lois darling." + +"No. She wants to think," Mrs. Ingram explained. + +Lois set her lips together, and then glimpsed herself in the large +mirror over the anthracite stove. She looked too rich and complicated +for that simple drawing-room. + +A performance on a horn made itself heard in the street below. + +"There he is!" said Laurencine. + +She opened a window and ran out on to the balcony and leaned over; then +glanced within the room and nodded. George had assumed that Irene +Wheeler was the author and hostess of the race-party, and he was not +mistaken. Irene's automobile had been sent round to embark him and the +girls. Mrs. Ingram urged him to come again the next day, and he said +ardently that he would. Mrs. Ingram's 'affair' with him was progressing +rapidly. + +"But I hope you'll call me George, then," he added. + +"I may!" she said. "I may! I may go even further." + +Lois and George descended the stairs in silence. He had not seen her, +nor written to her, since the night of the comedy when he had so +abruptly left the box. Once or twice at the Ingrams' he had fancied that +she might be vexed with him for that unceremonious departure. But she +was not. The frank sigh of relief which she gave on reaching the foot of +the interminable stairs, and her equally frank smile, had no reserve +whatever. + +The chauffeur's welcoming grin seemed to indicate that he was much +attached to Miss Ingram. He touched his hat, bowed, and spoke to her at +some length in French. Lois frowned. + +"It seems Miss Wheeler doesn't feel equal to going out this afternoon," +she translated to George. "But she insists that we shall use the car all +the same." + +"Is she ill?" + +"She's lying down, trying to sleep." + +"Well, then, I suppose we'd better use the car, hadn't we?" + +Lois said seriously: + +"If you don't object, I don't." + + +IV + + +At Longchamps the sun most candidly and lovingly blessed the elaborate +desecration of the English Sabbath. The delicately ornamented grand +stands, the flags, the swards, the terraces, the alleys, the booths, the +notice-boards, the vast dappled sea of hats and faces in the distant +cheaper parts of the Hippodrome, were laved in the descending, caressing +floods of voluptuous, warm sunshine. The air itself seemed luminous. The +enchantment of the sun was irresistible; it stunned apprehensions and +sad memories, obliterating for a moment all that was or might be unhappy +in the past or in the future. George yielded to it. He abandoned his +preoccupations about the unsatisfactoriness of using somebody else's car +in the absence of the owner, about Mr. and Mrs. Ingram's ignorance of +the fact that their daughter had gone off alone with him, about Lois's +perfect indifference to this fact, about the engagement of Laurencine to +a man not her equal in worth, about the strange, uncomfortable effect of +Laurencine's engagement upon his attitude towards Lois, and finally and +supremely about the competition. He gave himself up to the bright warmth +like an animal, and forgot. And he became part of the marvellous and +complicated splendour of the scene, took pride in it, took even credit +for it (Heaven knew why!), and gradually passed from insular +astonishment to a bland, calm acceptance of the miracles of sensuous +beatitude which civilization had to offer. + +After all, he was born to such experiences; they were his right; and he +was equal to them. Nevertheless his conviction of the miraculous +fortunately was not impaired. What was impaired was his conviction of +his own culture. He was constantly thinking that he knew everything or +could imagine everything, and constantly undergoing the shock of +undeception; but the shock of the Longchamps Sunday was excessive. He +had quite failed to imagine the race-meeting; he had imagined an +organism brilliant, perhaps, but barbaric and without form and style; he +had imagined grotesque contrasts of squalor, rascality, and fashion; he +had imagined an affair predominantly equine and masculine. The reality +did not correspond; it transcended his imagination; it painfully +demonstrated his jejune crudity. The Hippodrome was as formalized and +stylistic as an Italian garden; the only contrasts were those of one +elegance with another; horses were not to be seen, except occasionally +in the distance when under their riders they shot past some dark +background a flitting blur of primary colours with a rumble of muffled +thunder; and women, not men, predominated. + +On entering the Hippodrome George and Lois had met a group of +fashionably attired women, and he had thought: "There's a bunch of jolly +well-dressed ones." But as the reserved precincts opened out before him +he saw none but fashionably attired women. They were there not in +hundreds but in thousands. They sat in rows on the grand stands; they +jostled each other on the staircases; they thronged the alleys and +swards. The men were negligible beside them. And they were not only +fashionably and very fashionably attired--all their frocks and all their +hats and all their parasols and all their boots were new, glittering, +spick-and-span; were complex and expensive; not one feared the sun. The +conception of what those innumerable chromatic toilettes had cost in the +toil, stitch by stitch, of malodorous workrooms and in the fatigue of +pale, industrious creatures was really formidable. But it could not +detract from the scenic triumph. The scenic triumph dazzlingly justified +itself, and proved beyond any cavilling that earth was a grand, +intoxicating place, and Longchamps under the sun an unequalled paradise +of the senses.... Ah! These women were finished--finished to the least +detail of coiffure, sunshade-handle, hatpin, jewellery, handbag, +bootlace, glove, stocking, _lingerie_. Each was the product of many arts +in co-ordination. Each was of great price. And there were thousands of +them. They were as cheap as periwinkles. George thought: "This is +Paris." + +He said aloud: + +"Seems to be a fine lot of new clothes knocking about." + +Evidently for Lois his tone was too impressed, not sufficiently casual. +She replied in her condescending manner, which he detested: + +"My poor George, considering that this is the opening of the spring +season, and the place where all the new spring fashions are tried +out--what did you expect?" + +The dolt had not known that he was assisting at a solemnity recognized +as such by experts throughout the clothed world. But Lois knew all those +things. She herself was trying out a new toilette, for which doubtless +Irene Wheeler was partly sponsor. She could hold her own on the terraces +with the rest. She was staggeringly different now from the daughter of +the simple home in the Rue d'Athènes. + +The eyes of the splendid women aroused George's antipathy, because he +seemed to detect antipathy in them--not against himself but against the +male in him. These women, though by their glances they largely +mistrusted and despised each other, had the air of having combined +sexually against a whole sex. The situation was very contradictory. They +had beautified and ornamented themselves in order to attract a whole +sex, and yet they appeared to resent the necessity and instinct to +attract. They submitted with a secret repugnance to the mysterious and +supreme bond which kept the sexes inexorably together. And while +stooping to fascinate, while deliberately seeking attention, they still +had the assured mien of conquerors. Their eyes said that they knew they +were indispensable, that they had a transcendent role to play, that no +concealed baseness of the inimical sex was hidden from them, and that +they meant to exploit their position to the full. These Latin women +exhibited a logic, an elegance, and a frankness beyond the reach of the +Anglo-Saxon. Their eyes said not that they had been disillusioned, but +rather that they had never had illusions. They admitted the facts; they +admitted everything--economic dependence, chicane, the intention to +seize every advantage, ruthless egotism. They had no shame for a +depravity which they shared equally with the inescapable and cherished +enemy And it was the youngest who, beneath the languishing and the +softness and the invitation deceitful and irresistible, gazed outmost +triumphantly to the enemy: "You are the victims. We have tried our +strength and your infirmity." They were heroic. There was a feeling in +the bright air of melancholy and doom as the two hostile forces, +inseparable, inextricably involved together, surveyed the opponent in +the everlasting conflict. George felt its influence upon himself, upon +Lois, upon the whole scene. The eyes of the most feminine women in the +world, denying their smiles and their lure, had discovered to him +something which marked a definite change in his estimate of certain +ultimate earthly values. + +Lois said: + +"Perhaps a telegram is waiting for you at the hotel." + +"Well, I can wait till I get back," he replied stoutly. + +He thought, looking at her by his side: + +"She is just like these Frenchwomen!" And for some reason he felt proud. + +"You needn't," said Lois, "We can telephone from under the grand stand +if you like." + +"But I don't know the number." + +"We can get that out of the book, of course." + +"I don't reckon I can use these French telephones." + +"Oh! My poor boy, I'll telephone for you--unless you prefer not to risk +knowing the worst." + +Yes, her tone was the tone of a strange woman. And it was she who +thirsted for the result of the competition. + +Controlling himself, submissively he asked her to telephone for him, and +she agreed in a delightfully agreeable voice. She seemed to know the +entire geography of the Hippodrome. She secured a telephone-cabin in a +very business-like manner. As she entered the cabin she said to George: + +"I'll ask them if a telegram has come, and if it has I'll ask them to +open it and read it to me, or spell it--of course it'll be in +English.... Eh?" + +Through the half-open door of the cabin he watched her, and listened. +She rapidly turned over the foul and torn pages of the telephone-book +with her thumb. She spoke into the instrument very clearly, curtly, and +authoritatively. George could translate in his mind what she said--his +great resolve to learn French had carried him so far. + +"On the part of Monsieur Cannon, one of your clients, Monsieur Cannon of +London. Has there arrived a telegram for him?" + +She waited. The squalor of the public box increased the effect of her +young and proud stylishness and of her perfume. George waited, humbled +by her superior skill in the arts of life, and saying anxiously to +himself: "Perhaps in a moment I shall know the result," almost +trembling. + +She hung up the instrument, and, with a glance at George, shook her +head. + +"There isn't anything," she murmured. + +He said: + +"It's very queer, isn't it? However..." + +As they emerged from the arcana of the grand stand, Lois was stopped by +a tall, rather handsome Jew, who, saluting her with what George esteemed +to be French exaggeration of gesture, nevertheless addressed her in a +confidential tone in English. George, having with British restraint +acknowledged the salute, stood aside, and gazed discreetly away from the +pair. He could not hear what was being said. After several minutes Lois +rejoined George, and they went back into the crowds and the sun. She did +not speak. She did not utter one word. Only, when the numbers went up +for a certain race, she remarked: + +"This is the Prix du Cadran. It's the principal race of the afternoon." + +And when that was over, amid cheering that ran about the field like fire +through dried bush, she added: + +"I think I ought to go back now. I told the chauffeur to be here after +the Prix du Cadran. What time is it exactly?" + +They sat side by side in the long, open car, facing the chauffeur's +creaseless back. After passing the Cascade, the car swerved into the +AllĂ©e de Longchamps which led in an absolutely straight line, two miles +long, to the Port Maillot and the city. Spring decorated the magnificent +wooded thoroughfare. The side-alleys, aisles of an interminable nave, +were sprinkled with revellers and lovers and the most respectable +families half hidden amid black branches and gleams of tender green. +Automobiles and carriages threaded the main alley at varying speeds. The +number of ancient horse-cabs gradually increased until, after the +intersection of the AllĂ©e de la Reine Marguerite, they thronged the vast +road. All the humble and shabby genteel people in Paris who could +possibly afford a cab seemed to have taken a cab. Nearly every cab was +overloaded. The sight of this vast pathetic effort of the disinherited +towards gaiety and distraction and the mood of spring, intensified the +vague sadness in George due to the race-crowd, Lois's silence, and the +lack of news about the competition. + +At length Lois said, scowling--no doubt involuntarily: + +"I think I'd better tell you now. Irene Wheeler's committed suicide. +Shot herself." She pressed her lips together and looked at the road. + +George gave a startled exclamation. He could not for an instant credit +the astounding news. + +"But how do you know? Who told you?" + +"The man who spoke to me in the grand stand. He's correspondent of _The +London Courier_--friend of father's of course." + +George protested: + +"Then why on earth didn't you tell me before?... Shot herself! What +for?" + +"I didn't tell you before because I couldn't." + +All the violence of George's nature came to the surface as he said +brutally: + +"Of course you could!" + +"I tell you I couldn't!" she cried. "I knew the car wouldn't be there +for us until after the Prix du Cadran. And if I'd told you I couldn't +have borne to be walking about that place three-quarters of an hour. We +should have had to talk about it. I couldn't have borne that. And so you +needn't be cross, please." + +But her voice did not break, nor her eyes shine. + +"I was wondering whether I should tell the chauffeur at once, or let him +find it out." + +"I should let him find it out," said George. "He doesn't know that you +know. Besides, it might upset his driving." + +"Oh! I shouldn't mind about his driving," Lois murmured disdainfully. + + +V + + +When the uninformed chauffeur drove the car with a grand sweep under the +marquise of the ostentatious pale yellow block in the Avenue Hoche where +Irene Wheeler had had her flat, Mr. Ingram and a police-agent were +standing on the steps, but nobody else was near. Little Mr. Ingram came +forward anxiously, his eyes humid, and his face drawn with pain and +distress. + +"We know," said Lois. "I met Mr. Cardow at Longchamps. He knew." + +Mr. Ingram's pain and distress seemed to increase. + +He said, after a moment: + +"Alfred will drive you home, dear, at once. _Alfred, vous seriez gentil +de reconduire Mademoiselle Ă la rue d'Athènes."_ He had the air of +supplicating the amiable chauffeur. "Mr. Cannon, I particularly want a +few words with you." + +"But, father, I must come in!" said Lois. "I must----" + +"You will go home immediately. Please, please do not add to my +difficulties. I shall come home myself as quickly as possible. You can +do nothing here. The seals have been affixed." + +Lois raised her chin in silence. + +Then Mr. Ingram turned to the police-agent, spoke to him in French, and +pointed to the car persuasively; and the police-agent permissively +nodded. The chauffeur, with an affectation of detachment worthy of the +greatest days of valetry, drove off, leaving George behind. Mr. Ingram +descended the steps. + +"I think, perhaps, we might go to a cafĂ©," said he in a tone which +dispersed George's fear of a discussion as to the propriety of the +unchaperoned visit to the races. + +They sat down on the _terrasse_ of a large cafĂ© near the Place des +Ternes, a few hundred yards away from the Avenue Hoche. The cafĂ© was +nearly empty, citizens being either in the Bois or on the main +boulevards. Mr. Ingram sadly ordered bocks. The waiter, flapping his +long apron, called out in a loud voice as he went within: "_Deux blonds, +deux._" George supplied cigarettes. + +"Mr. Cannon," began Mr. Ingram, "it is advisable for me to tell you a +most marvellous and painful story. I have only just heard it. It has +overwhelmed me, but I must do my duty." He paused. + +"Certainly," said George self-consciously, not knowing what to say. He +nearly blushed as, in an attempt to seem at ease, he gazed negligently +round at the rows of chairs and marble tables, and at the sparse traffic +of the somnolent Place. + +Mr. Ingram proceeded. + +"When I first knew Irene Wheeler she was an art student here. So was I. +But I was already married, of course, and older than she. Exactly what +her age was I should not care to say. I can, however, say quite +truthfully that her appearance has scarcely altered in those nineteen +years. She always affirmed that her relatives, in Indianapolis, were +wealthy--or at least had money, but that they were very mean with her. +She lived in the simplest way. As for me, I had to give up art for +something less capricious, but capricious enough in all conscience. Miss +Wheeler went to America and was away for some time--a year or two. When +she came back to Paris she told us that she had made peace with her +people, and that her uncle, whom for present purposes I will call Mr. X, +a very celebrated railway magnate of Indianapolis, had adopted her. Her +new manner of life amply confirmed these statements." + +"_Deux bocks_," cried the waiter, slapping down on the table two saucers +and two stout glass mugs filled with frothing golden liquid. + +George, unaccustomed to the ritual of cafĂ©s, began at once to sip, but +Mr. Ingram, aware that the true boulevardier always ignores his bock for +several minutes, behaved accordingly. + +"She was evidently extremely rich. I have had some experience, and I +estimate that she had the handling of at least half a million francs a +year. She seemed to be absolutely her own mistress. You have had an +opportunity of judging her style of existence. However, her attitude +towards ourselves was entirely unchanged. She remained intimate with my +wife, who, I may say, is an excellent judge of character, and she was +exceedingly kind to our girls, especially Lois--but Laurencine too--and +as they grew up she treated them like sisters. Now, Mr. Cannon, I shall +be perfectly frank with you. I shall not pretend that I was not rather +useful to Miss Wheeler--I mean in the Press. She had social ambitions. +And why not? One may condescend towards them, but do they not serve a +purpose in the structure of society? Very rich as she was, it was easy +for me to be useful to her. And at worst her pleasure in publicity was +quite innocent--indeed, it was so innocent as to be charming. NaĂ¯ve, +shall we call it?" + +Here Mr. Ingram smiled sadly, tasted his bock, and threw away the end of +a cigarette. + +"Well," he resumed, "I am coming to the point. This is the point, which +I have learnt scarcely an hour ago--I was called up on the telephone +immediately after you and Lois had gone. This is the point. Mr. X was +not poor Irene's uncle, and he had not adopted her. But it was his money +that she was spending." Mr. Ingram gazed fixedly at George. + +"I see," said George calmly, rising to the rĂ´le of man of the world. "I +see." He had strange mixed sensations of pleasure, pride, and confusion. +"And you've just found this out?" + +"I have just found it out from Mr. X himself, whom I met for the first +time to-day--in poor Irene's flat. I never assisted at such a scene. +Never! It positively unnerved me. Mr. X is a man of fifty-five, +fabulously wealthy, used to command, autocratic, famous in all the Stock +Exchanges of the world. When I tell you that he cried like a child ... +Oh! I never had such an experience. His infatuation for +Irene--indescribable! Indescribable! She had made her own terms with +him. He told me himself. Astounding terms, but for him it was those +terms or nothing. He accepted them--had to. She was to be quite free. +The most absolute discretion was to be observed. He came to Paris or +London every year, and sometimes she went to America. She utterly +refused to live in America." + +"Why didn't she marry him?" + +"He has a wife. I have no doubt in my own mind that one of his reasons +for accepting her extraordinary terms was to keep in close touch with +her at all costs in case his wife should die. Otherwise he might have +lost her altogether. He told me many things about poor Irene's family in +Indianapolis which I will not repeat. It was true that they had money, +as Irene said; but as for anything else ...! The real name was not +Wheeler." + +"Has he been over, here long?" + +"He landed at Cherbourg last night. Just arrived." + +"And she killed herself at once." + +"Whether the deed was done immediately before or immediately after his +arrival is not yet established. And I need hardly tell you that Mr. X +has already fixed up arrangements not to appear in the case at all. But +one thing is sure--she had made all the preparations for suicide, made +them with the greatest care. The girls saw her yesterday, and both Lois +and I spoke to her on the telephone this morning. Not a trace of +anything in her voice. I assume she had given a message for Lois to the +chauffeur." + +"Yes," said George. "We never dreamed----" + +"Of course not. Of course not." + +"But why did she----" + +"Another man, my dear sir! Another man! A young man named +Defourcambault, in the French Embassy in London." + +"Oh, him!" George burst out. "I know him," he added fiercely. + +"You do? Yes, I remember Laurencine saying.... Poor Irene, I fear, was +very deeply in love with him. She had written to Mr. X about +Defourcambault. He showed me the letter--most touching, really most +touching. His answer to it was to come to Europe at once. But poor +Irene's death had nothing to do with his coming. She did not know he was +coming. She shot herself as she lay in bed, and on the pillow was a +letter from this man Defourcambault--well, saying good-bye to her. I saw +the letter. Not a letter that I should wish to remember. Perhaps she had +told him something of her life. I much fear that Defourcambault will be +fetched from London, though I hope not. There would be no object.... No, +thank you. I will not smoke again. I only wanted to say this to you. All +Paris knows that my daughters were intimate with poor Irene. Now, if +anything comes out, if anything _should_ come out, if there's any +talk--you see my fear. I wish to assure you, Mr. Cannon, that I had not +the slightest suspicion, not the slightest. And yet we journalists +cannot exactly be called ingenuous! But I had not the slightest +suspicion, nor had my wife. You know the situation between Laurencine +and your friend Lucas. You and he are very intimate, I believe. May I +count on you to explain everything from my point of view to Mr. Lucas? I +could not bear that the least cloud should rest upon my little +Laurencine." + +"You needn't trouble about Lucas," said George positively. "Lucas 'll be +all right. Still, I'll talk to him." + +"Thank you very much. Thank you very much. I knew I could rely on you. +I've kept you a long time, but I'm sure you understand. I'm thinking +only of my girls. Not for anything would I have them know the truth +about the affair." + +"But aren't they bound to know it?" George asked. + +Mr. Ingram was wounded. "I hope not. I hope not," he said gravely. "It +is not right that young girls should know such things." + +"But surely, sooner or later----" + +"Ah! After they are married, conceivably. That would be quite +different," he admitted, with cheerfulness. "And now," he smiled, "I'm +afraid I've got to go and write the case up for London. I can catch the +mail, I think. If not, I must cable. But they hate me to cable when the +mail is possible. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +Simultaneously he signalled to a taxi and knocked on the window for the +attendance of the waiter. + +"Thanks. If you're going anywhere near the Place de l'OpĂ©ra," said +George. + + +VI + + +He was excited, rather than saddened, by the tragic event. He was indeed +very excited. And also he had a deep satisfaction, because it seemed to +him that he had at last been truly admitted into the great secret +fellowship of adult males. The initiation flattered his pride. He left +Mr. Ingram at the door of an English newspaper office in the Boulevard +des Italiens, and, after vainly asking for telegrams at the hotel, +walked away, aimlessly at first, along broad pavements encumbered with +the chairs and tables of vast, crowded cafĂ©s, and with bright Sunday +idlers and sinister street-vendors. But in a moment he had decided that +he must and ought to pay a call in the Rue d'Athènes. Mr. Ingram had +said nothing about his seeing Lois again, had not referred to Mrs. +Ingram's invitation to repeat his visit, might even vaguely object to an +immediate interview between him and Lois. Yet he could not, as a man of +the world, abandon Lois so unceremoniously. He owed something to Lois +and he owed something to himself. And he was a free adult. The call was +natural and necessary, and if Mr. Ingram did not like it he must, in the +Five Towns phrase, lump it. George set off to find the Rue d'Athènes +unguided. It was pleasurable to think that there was a private abode in +the city of cafĂ©s, hotels, and museums to which he had the social right +of entry. + +The watching concierge of the house nodded to him politely as he began +to mount the stairs. The Ingrams' servant smiled upon him as upon an old +and familiarly respected friend. + +"Mademoiselle Lois?" he said, with directness. + +The slatternly, benevolent girl widened her mouth still further in a +smile still more cordial, and led him to the drawing-room. As she did so +she picked up a newspaper packet that lay on a table in the tiny hall, +and, without putting it on a salver, deposited it in front of Lois, who +was alone in the drawing-room. George wondered what Lois would have +thought of such an outrage upon established ritual had it happened to +her in the home of Irene Wheeler instead of in her own; and then the +imagined vision of Irene lying dead in the sumptuous home in the Avenue +Hoche seemed to render all established ritual absurd. + +"So you've come!" exclaimed Lois harshly. "Mother's quite knocked over, +and Laurencine's looking after her. All the usual eau-de-Cologne +business. And I should say father's not much better. My poor parents! +What did dad want you for?" + +The servant had closed the door. Lois had got up from her chair and was +walking about the room, pulling aside a curtain and looking out, tapping +the mantelpiece with her hand, tapping with her feet the base of the +stove, George had the sensation of being locked in a cage with a +mysterious, incalculable, and powerful animal. He was fascinated. He +thought: "I wanted to see her alone and I am seeing her alone!" + +"Well?" she insisted. "What did dad want you for?" + +"Oh! He told me a few things about Miss Wheeler." + +"I suppose he told you about Jules, and I suppose he told you I wasn't +to know on any account! Poor old dad! Instead of feeling he's my father, +d'you know what I feel? I feel as if I was his mother. He's _so_ clever; +he's frightfully clever; but he was never meant for this world. He's +just a beautiful child. How in Heaven's name could he think that a girl +like me could be intimate with Irene, and not know about the things that +were in her mind? How could he? Why! I've talked for hours with Irene +about Jules! She'd much sooner talk with me even than with mother. She's +cried in front of me. But I never cried. I always told her she was +making a mistake about Jules. I detested the little worm. But she +couldn't see it. No, she couldn't. She'd have quarrelled with me if I'd +let her quarrel. However, I wouldn't let her. Fancy quarrelling--over a +man! She couldn't help being mad over Jules. I told her she +couldn't--that was why I bore with her. I always told her he was only +playing with her. The one thing that I didn't tell her was that she was +too old for him. She really believed she never got any older. When I say +too old for him, I mean for her sake, not for his. He didn't think she +was too old. He couldn't--with that complexion of hers. I never envied +her anything else except her complexion and her money. But he wouldn't +marry an American. His people wouldn't let him. He's got to marry into a +family like his own, and there're only about ten for him to choose from. +I know she wrote to him on Thursday. She must have had the answer this +morning. Of course she had a revolver. I've got one myself. She went to +bed and did it. She used to say to me that if ever she did it that was +how she would do it.... And father tells me not to add to his +difficulties! Don't you think it's comic?... But she never told me +everything. I knew that. I accused her of it. She admitted it. +However..." + +Lois spoke in a low, regular murmur, experimentally aware that privacy +in a Paris flat is relative. There were four doors in the walls of the +drawing-room, and a bedroom on either side. At moments George could +scarcely catch her words. He had never heard her say so much at once, +for she was taciturn by habit, even awkward in conversation. She +glowered at him darkly. The idea flashed through his mind: "There can't +be another girl like her. She's unique." He almost trembled at the +revelation. He was afraid, and yet courageous, challenging, combative. +She had grandeur. It might be moral, or not; but it was grandeur. +And--(that touch about the complexion!)--she could remember her +freckles! She might, in her hard egotism, in the rushing impulses of her +appetites--she might be an enemy, an enemy to close with whom would be +terrible rapture, and the war of the sexes was a sublime war, infinitely +superior in emotions to tame peace. (And had she not been certified an +angel? Had he not himself seen the angel in her?) She dwarfed her father +and mother. The conception, especially, of Mr. Ingram at lunch, +deliciously playful and dominating, and now with the adroit wit crushed +out of him and only a naĂ¯ve sentimentality left, was comic--as she had +ruthlessly characterized it. She alone towered formidably over the +devastated ruins of Irene's earthly splendour. + +He said nothing. + +She rang the bell by the mantelpiece. He heard it ring. No answer. She +rang again. + +"_Arrivez donc, jeune fille!_" she exclaimed impatiently. + +The servant came. + +"_Apportez du thĂ©, SĂ©raphine._" + +"_Oui, mademoiselle._" + +Then Lois lounged towards the table and tore sharply the wrapper of the +newspaper. George was still standing. + +"He's probably got something in about her this week--about her soirĂ©e +last Tuesday. We weren't invited. Of course he went." + +George saw the name the _Sunday Journal_. The paper had come by the +afternoon mail, and had been delivered, according to weekly custom, by +messenger from Mr. Ingram's office. Lois's tone and attitude tore +fatally the whole factitious 'Parisian' tradition, as her hand had torn +the wrapper. + +"See here," she said quietly, after a few seconds, and gave the +newspaper with her thumb indicating a paragraph. + +He could hardly read the heading, because it unnerved him; nor the +opening lines. But he read this: "The following six architects have been +selected by the Assessors and will be immediately requested by the +Corporation to submit final designs for the town hall: Mr. Whinburn, +Mr.... Mr.... Mr. George E. Cannon ..." + +"What did I always tell you?" she said. + +And then she said: + +"Your telegram must have been addressed wrong, or something." + +He sat down. Once again he was afraid. He was afraid of winning in the +final competition. A vista of mayors, corporations, town clerks, +committees, contractors, clerks-of-works, frightened him. He was afraid +of his immaturity, of his inexperience. He could not carry out the +enterprise; he would reap only ignominy. His greatest desire had been +granted. He had expected, in the event, to be wildly happy. But he was +not happy. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed. + +Lois, who had resumed the paper, read out: + +"In accordance with the conditions of the competition, each of the above +named will receive a honorarium of one hundred guineas." + +She looked at him. + +"You'll get that town hall to do," she said positively. "You're bound to +get it. You'll see." + +Her incomprehensible but convincing faith passed mysteriously into him. +A holy dew relieved him. He began to feel happy. + +Lois glanced again at the paper, which with arms outstretched she held +in front of her like a man, like the men at Pickering's. Suddenly it +fell rustling to the floor, and she burst into tears. + +She murmured indistinctly: "The last thing she did was for my +pleasure--sending the car." + +George jumped up, animated by an inexpressible tenderness for her. She +had weakened. He moved towards her. He did not consider what he was +doing; he had naught to say; but his instinctive arms were about to +clasp her. He was unimaginably disturbed. She straightened and stiffened +in a second. + +"But of course you've not got it yet," she said harshly, with apparent +irrelevance. + +SĂ©raphine entered bouncingly with the tea. Lois regarded the tray, and +remarked the absence of the strainer. + +"_Et la passoire_?" she demanded, with implacable sternness. + +SĂ©raphine gave a careless, apologetic gesture. + + +VII + + +It was late in September, when most people had returned to London after +the holidays. John Orgreave mounted to the upper floor of the house in +Russell Square where George had his office. Underneath George's name on +the door had been newly painted the word 'Inquiries,' and on another +door, opposite, the word 'Private.' John Orgreave knocked with +exaggerated noise at this second door and went into what was now +George's private room. + +"I suppose one ought to knock," he said in his hearty voice. + +"Hallo, Mr. Orgreave!" George exclaimed, jumping up. + +"If the mountain doesn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must come to the +mountain," said John Orgreave. + +"Come in," said George. + +He noticed, and ignored, the touch of sarcasm in John Orgreave's +attitude. He had noticed a similar phenomenon in the attitude of various +people within the last four days, since architectural circles and even +the world in general had begun to resound with the echoing news that the +competition for the northern town hall had been won by a youth not +twenty-three years of age. Mr. Enwright had been almost cross, asserting +that the victory was perhaps a fluke, as the design of another +competitor was in reality superior to George's. Mr. Enwright had also +said, in his crabbed way: "You'll soon cut me out"; and, George +protesting, had gone on: "Oh! Yes, you will. I've been through this sort +of thing before. I know what I'm talking about. You're no different from +the rest." Whereupon George, impatient and genuinely annoyed, had +retorted upon him quite curtly, and had remembered what many +persons had said about Mr. Enwright's wrong-headed jealous +sensitiveness--animadversions which he, as a worshipper of Mr. Enwright, +had been accustomed to rebut. Further, Lucas himself had not erred by +the extravagance of his enthusiasm for George's earth-shaking success. +For example, Lucas had said: "Don't go and get above yourself, old chap. +They may decide not to build it after all. You never know with these +corporations." A remark extremely undeserved, for George considered that +the modesty and simplicity of his own demeanour under the stress of an +inordinate triumph were rather notable. Still, he had his dignity to +maintain against the satiric, and his position was such that he could +afford to maintain it. + +Anyhow, he preferred the sardonic bearing of his professional intimates +to the sycophancy of certain acquaintances and of eager snobs unknown to +him. Among sundry telegrams received was one composed regardless of cost +and signed 'Turnbull.' He could not discover who Turnbull might be until +John Orgreave had reminded him of the wigged, brown, conversational +gentleman whom he had met, on one occasion only, at Adela's. In addition +to telegrams he had had letters, some of which contained requests for +money (demanded even as a right by the unlucky from the lucky), and an +assortment of charity circulars, money-lenders' circulars, and +bucket-shop lures. His mother's great sprawling letter had pleased him +better than any save one. The exception was his stepfather's. Edwin +Clayhanger, duly passing on to the next generation the benevolent +Midland gibe which he had inherited, wrote: + +"DEAR GEORGE,--It's better than a bat in the eye with a burnt +stick.--Yours affectionately, NUNKS" + +As a boy George had at one period called his stepfather 'Nunks,' but he +had not used the appellation for years. He was touched now. + +The newspapers had been hot after him, and he knew not how to defend +himself. His photograph was implored. He was waylaid by journalists +shabby and by journalists spruce, and the resulting interviews made him +squirm. He became a man of mark at Pickering's. Photographers entreated +him to sit free of charge. What irritated him in the whole vast affair +was the continual insistence upon his lack of years. Nobody seemed to be +interested in his design for the town hall; everybody had the air of +regarding him as a youthful prodigy, a performing animal. Personally he +did not consider that he was so very young. (Nevertheless he did +consider that he was a youthful prodigy. He could recall no architect in +history who had done what he had done at his age.) The town clerk who +travelled from the North to see him treated his age in a different +manner, the patronizing. He did not care for the town clerk. However, +the town clerk was atoned for by the chairman of the new town hall +sub-committee, a true human being named Soulter, with a terrific accent +and a taste for architecture, pictures, and music. Mr. Soulter, though +at least forty-five, treated George, without any appearance of effort, +as a coeval. George immediately liked him, and the mere existence of Mr. +Soulter had the effect of dissipating nearly all George's horrible +qualms and apprehensions about his own competence to face the +overwhelming job of erection. Mr. Soulter was most soothing in the +matter of specifications and contractors. + +"So you've got into your new room," said John Orgreave. + +Never before had he mounted to see George either in the new room or in +the old room. The simple fact of the presence there of one of the +partners in the historic firm below compensated for much teasing sarcasm +and half-veiled jealousy. It was a sign. It was a seal authenticating +renown. + +"Yes." + +"I only wanted to give you a message from Adela. The Ingram young woman +is staying with us----" + +"Lois?" The name shot out of him unbidden. + +"Yes. You're humbly supplicated to go to tea to-day. Four o'clock. Thank +God I've not forgotten it!" + +George arrived fifty-five minutes late at Bedford Park. Throughout the +journey thither he kept repeating: "She said I should do it. And I've +done it! I've done it! I've done it!" The triumph was still so close +behind him that he was constantly realizing it afresh, and saying, +wonder-struck: "I've done it." And the miraculous phantasm of the town +hall, uplifted in solid stone, formed itself again and again in his +enchanted mind, against a background of tremendous new ambitions rising +endlessly one behind another like snowy alps. + +"Is this what you call four o'clock?" twittered Adela, between cajolery +and protest, somewhat older and facially more artificial, but eternally +blonde; still holding her fair head on one side and sinuously waving the +palm. + +"Sorry! Sorry! I was kept at the last moment by a journalist johnny." + +"Oh! Of course!" said Adela, pooh-poohing with her lips. "Of course we +expect that story nowadays!" + +"Well, it was a chap from the _Builder_, or I wouldn't have seen him. +Can't trifle with a trade paper, you know." + +He thought: + +"She's like the rest of them, as jealous as the devil." + +Then Lois came into the room, hatted and gloved, in half-mourning. She +was pale, and appreciably thinner; she looked nervous, weak, and weary. +As he shook hands with her he felt very self-conscious, as though in +winning the competition and fulfilling her prophecy he had done +something dubious for which he ought to apologize. This was exceedingly +strange, but it was so. She had been ill after the death of Irene +Wheeler. Having left Paris for London on the day following the races, he +had written to her about nothing in particular, a letter which meant +everything but what it said--and had received an answer from Laurencine, +who announced that her sister was in bed, and likely to be in bed; and +that father and mother wished to be remembered to him. Then he wrote to +Laurencine. When the result of the final competition was published he +had written again to Lois. It seemed to him that he was bound to do so, +for had she not willed and decided his victory? No reply; but there had +scarcely been time for a reply. + +"Did you get my letter?" he smiled. + +"This afternoon," she said gravely. "It followed me here. Now I have to +go to Irene's flat. I should have been gone in another minute." + +"She _will_ go alone," Adela put in anxiously. + +"I shall be back for dinner," said Lois, and to the stupefaction of +George she moved towards the door. + +But just as she opened the door she turned her head and, looking at +George with a frown, murmured: + +"You can come with me if you like." + +Adela burst out: + +"He hasn't had any tea!" + +"I'm not urging him to come, my dear. Good-bye." + +Adela and George exchanged a glance, each signalling to the other that +perhaps this sick, strange girl ought to be humoured. He abandoned the +tea.... He was in the street with Lois. He was in the train with her. +Her ticket was in his pocket. He had explained to her why he was late, +and she had smiled, amiably but enigmatically. He thought: "She's no +right to go on like this. But what does it matter?" She said nothing +about the competition--not a word of congratulation. Indeed she hardly +spoke beyond telling him that she had to choose some object at the flat. +He was aware of the principal terms of Irene's will, which indeed had +caused the last flutter of excitement before oblivion so quickly +descended upon the notoriety of the social star. Irene's renown had +survived her complexion by only a few short weeks. The will was of a +rather romantic nature. Nobody familiar with the intimate circumstances +would have been surprised if Irene had divided her fortune between Lois +and Laurencine. The bulk of it, however, went back to Indianapolis. The +gross total fell far short of popular estimates. Lois and Laurencine +received five thousand pounds apiece, and in addition they were +requested to select each an object from Irene's belongings--Lois out of +the London flat, Laurencine out of the Paris flat. Lois had come to +London to choose, and she was staying with Adela, the sole chaperon +available. Since the death of Irene, Mrs. Ingram had been excessively +strict in the matter of chaperons. + +They took a hansom at Victoria. Across the great square, whose leaves +were just yellowing, George saw the huge block of flats, and in one +story all the blinds were down. Lois marched first into the lift, +masterfully, as though she inhabited the block. She asked no one's +permission. Characteristically she had an order from the solicitors, and +the keys of the flat. She opened the door without any trouble. They were +inside, within the pale-sheeted interior. Scarcely a thing had yet been +moved, for, with the formalities of the judicatures of France, England, +and the State of Indiana to be complied with, events marched slowly +under the sticky manipulation of three different legal firms. Lois and +George walked cautiously across the dusty, dulled parquets into the vast +drawing-room. George doffed his hat. + +"I'd better draw the blinds up," he suggested. + +"No, no!" she sharply commanded. "I can see quite well. I don't want any +more light." + +There was the piano upon which Laurencine had played! The embrasure of +the window! The corner in which Irene had sat spellbound by Jules +Defourcambault! The portraits of Irene, at least one of which would +perpetuate her name! The glazed cases full of her collections!... The +chief pieces of furniture and all the chairs were draped in the pale, +ghostly sheeting. + +Suddenly Lois, rushing to the mantelpiece, cried: + +"This is what I shall take." + +It was a large photograph of Jules Defourcambault, bearing the words: +"_Ă€ Miss Irene Wheeler. Hommages respectueux de_ J.D.F." + +"You won't!" he exclaimed, incredulous, shocked. He thought: "She is +mad!" + +"Yes, I shall." + +There were hundreds of beautiful objects in the place, and she chose a +banal photograph of a despicable creature whom she detested. + +"Why don't you take one of _her_ portraits? Or even a fan. What on earth +do you want with a thing like that?" His voice was changing. + +"I shall take it and keep it for ever. He was the cause of it all. This +photograph was everything to her once." + +George revolted utterly, and said with cold, harsh displeasure: + +"You're simply being morbid. There's no sense in it." + +She dropped down into a chair, and the impress of her body dragged the +dust-sheet from its gilt arms, exposing them. She put her face in her +hands and sobbed. + +"You're awfully cruel!" she murmured thickly. + +The sobs continued, shaking her body. She was beautifully dressed. Her +shoes were adorable, and the semi-transparent hose over her fine ankles. +She made a most disturbing, an unbearable, figure of compassion. She +needed wisdom, protection, guidance, strength. Every bit of her seemed +to appeal for these qualities. But at the same time she dismayed. He +moved nearer to her. Yes, she had grandeur. All the costly and valuable +objects in the drawing-room she had rejected in favour of the +satisfaction of a morbid and terrible whim. Who could have foreseen it? +He moved still nearer. He stood over her. He seized her yielding wrists. +He lifted her veil. Tears were running down her cheeks from the yellow +eyes. She looked at him through her tears. + +"You're frightfully cruel," she feebly repeated. + +"And what if I am?" he said solemnly. Did she really think him hard, had +she always thought him hard--she, the hard one? How strange! Yet no +doubt he was hard. + +His paramount idea was: + +"She had faith in me." It was as if her faith had created the man he +was. She was passionately ambitious; so was he. + +And when he kissed her wet mouth, and stroked with incredible delicacy +those streaming cheeks, he felt himself full of foreboding. But he was +proud and confident. + +He took her back to Bedford Park. She carried the photograph, unwrapped; +but he ventured no comment. She went straight up to her room. + +"_You_ must tell Mrs. Orgreave," she said on the stairs. + +Adela made a strange remark: + +"Oh! But we always intended you to marry Lois!" + + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER I + +THE TRIUMPH + +I + + +George came into the conjugal bedroom. The hour was about three o'clock +in the afternoon. Lois lay on the sofa at the foot of the twin beds. It +was perhaps characteristic of her that she sincerely preferred the sofa +to her bed. Sometimes in the night, when she could not sleep, she would +get up and go sighing to the sofa, and, with nothing but a slippery +eiderdown to cover her, sleep perfectly till George arose in the +morning. Quite contentedly conventional in most matters of mere social +deportment, she often resisted purely physical conventions. A bed was +the recognized machine for slumber; hence she would instinctively choose +another machine. Also, the sofa was nearer to the ground. She liked to +be near the ground. She had welcomed with ardour the first beginnings of +the new fashion which now regularly permits ladies to sit on the +hearth-rug after a ceremonial dinner and prop their backs with cushions +or mantelpieces. Doubtless a trait of the 'cave-woman' that as a girl +she had called herself! + +She was now stretched on the sofa in a luxurious and expensive ribboned +muslin negligĂ©e, untidy, pale, haggard, heavy, shapeless, the expectant +mother intensely conscious of her own body and determined to maintain +all the privileges of the exacting rĂ´le which nature had for the third +time assigned to her. Little Laurencine, aged eight, and little Lois, +aged five, in their summer white, were fondling her, tumbling about her, +burying themselves in her; she reclined careless, benignant, and +acquiescent under their tiny assaults; it was at moments as though the +three were one being. When their father appeared in the doorway, she +warned them in an apparently awed tone that father was there, and that +nursey was waiting for them and that they must run off quietly. And she +kissed them with the enormous kiss of a giantess suddenly rendered +passionate by a vast uprush of elemental feeling. And they ran off, +smiling confidently at their father, giggling, chattering about +important affairs in their intolerable, shrieking voices. George could +never understand why Lois should attempt, as she constantly did, to +instil into them awe of their father; his attitude to the children made +it impossible that she should succeed. But she kept on trying. The +cave-woman again! George would say to himself: "All women are +cave-women." + +"Have you come to pack?" she asked, with fatigued fretfulness, showing +no sign of surprise at his arrival. + +"Oh no!" he answered, and implied that in his over-charged existence +packing would have to be done when it could, if at all. "I only came in +for one second to see if I could root out that straw hat I wore last +year." + +"Do open the window," she implored grievously. + +"It is open." + +"Both sides?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, open it more." + +"It's wide open." + +"Both sides?" + +"Yes." + +"It's so stuffy in this room," she complained, expelling much breath. + +It was stuffy in the room. The room was too full of the multitudinous +belongings and furniture of wife and husband. It was too small for its +uses. The pair, unduly thrown together, needed two rooms. But the house +could not yield them two rooms, though from the outside it had an air of +spaciousness. The space was employed in complying with custom, in +imitating the disposition of larger houses, and in persuading the tenant +that he was as good as his betters. There was a basement, because the +house belonged to the basement era, and because it is simpler to burrow +than to erect. On the ground floor were the hall--narrow, and the +dining-room--narrow. To have placed the dining-room elsewhere would have +been to double the number of stairs between it and the kitchen; +moreover, the situation of the dining-room in all such correct houses is +immutably fixed by the code Thus the handiest room in the house was +occupied during four hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during the +remaining twenty. Behind the dining-room was a very small room +appointed by the code to be George's 'den.' It would never have been +used at all had not George considered it his duty to use it +occasionally, and had not Lois at intervals taken a fancy to it because +it was not hers. + +The whole of the first floor was occupied by the landing, the well of +the staircase, and the drawing-room, which last was inevitably shaped in +the resemblance of an L. The small back portion of it over George's den +was never utilized save by the grand piano and rare pianists. Still, the +code demanded that the drawing-room should have this strange appendage, +and that a grand piano should reside in it modestly, apologetically, +like a shame that cannot be entirely concealed. Nearly every house in +Elm Park Road, and every house in scores of miles of other correct +streets in the West End, had a drawing-room shaped in the semblance of +an L, and a grand piano in the hinterland thereof. The drawing-room, +like the dining-room, was occupied during about four hours of the +twenty-four, and wasted during the remaining twenty. + +The two main floors of the house being in such manner accounted for, the +family and its dependents principally lived aloft on the second and +third floors. Eight souls slept up there nightly. A miracle of +compression! + +George had had the house for ten years; he entered it as a bridegroom. +He had stayed in it for seven years because the landlord would only +confide it to him on lease, and at the end of the seven years he lacked +the initiative to leave it. An ugly house, utterly without architectural +merit! A strange house for an architect to inhabit! George, however, had +never liked it. Before his marriage he had discovered a magnificent +house in Fitzroy Square, a domestic masterpiece of the Adams period, +exquisitely designed without and within, huge rooms and many rooms, +lovely ceilings, a forged-iron stair-rail out of Paradise; a house +appreciably nearer to the centre than the one in Elm Park Road, and with +a lower rental. George would have taken the house, had not Lois pointed +out to him its fatal disadvantage, which had escaped him, namely, that +people simply did not live in Fitzroy Square. Instantly Lois entered +Fitzroy Square, George knew himself for a blind fool. Of course the +house was impossible. He was positively ashamed to show her the house. +She admitted that it was beautiful. So Elm Park Road was finally +selected, Elm Park Road being a street where people could, and in fact +did, live. It was astounding how Lois, with her small and fragmentary +knowledge of London, yet knew, precisely and infallibly, by instinct, by +the sound of the names of the thoroughfares, by magic diabolical or +celestial, what streets were inhabitable and what were not. And +something in George agreed with her. + +He now rummaged among hat-boxes beneath the beds, pulled one out, and +discovered a straw hat in it. + +"Will it do?" he questioned doubtfully. + +"Let me look at it." + +He approached her and gave her the hat, which she carefully examined, +frowning. + +"Put it on," she said. + +He put it on, and she gazed at him for what seemed to him an +unnecessarily long time. His thought was that she liked to hold him +under her gaze. + +"Well?" he exclaimed impatiently. + +"It's quite all right," she said. "What's the matter with it? It makes +you look about fourteen." He felt envy in her voice. Then she added: +"But surely you won't be able to wear that thing to-morrow?" + +"Of course not. I only want it for this afternoon.... This sun." + +"Oh!" she cried. "I do think it's a shame I can't go to the Opening! +It's just my luck." + +He considered that she arraigned her luck much too often; he considered +that on the whole her luck was decidedly good. But he knew that she had +to be humoured. It was her right to be humoured. + +"Yes," he said judicially and rather shortly. "I'm sorry too! But what +are you going to do about it? If you can't go, you can't. And you know +it's absolutely out of the question." As a fact he was glad that her +condition made such an excursion impossible for her. She would certainly +have been rather a ticklish handful for him at the Opening. + +"But I should so have _enjoyed_ it!" she insisted, with emphasis. + +There it was, the thirst for enjoyment, pleasure! The supreme, +unslakable thirst! She had always had it, and he had always hardened +himself against it--while often, nevertheless, accepting with secret +pleasure the satisfactions of her thirst. Thus, for example, in the +matter of dancing. She had shared to the full in the extraordinary craze +for dancing which had held the West End for several years. Owing to her +initiative they had belonged to two dancing clubs whose members met +weekly in the saloons of the great hotels. The majority of the members +were acutely tedious to George, but Lois was quite uncritical, save on +the main point; she divided the members into good dancers and bad +dancers. George was a pretty good dancer. He liked dancing. Membership +of these clubs involved expense, it interfered with his sleep, it made +his early mornings more like defeats than triumphs, it prevented him +from duly reading and sketching. But he liked dancing. While resenting +the compulsion to outrage his conscience, he enjoyed the sin. What +exasperated him was Lois's argument that that kind of thing "did him +good" professionally, and was indeed essential to the career of a rising +or risen young architect, and that also it was good for his health and +his mind. He wished that she would not so unconvincingly pretend that +self-indulgence was not what it was. These pretences, however, seemed to +be a necessity of her nature. She reasoned similarly about the dinners +and theatre-parties which they gave and attended. Next to dancing she +adored dinners and theatre-parties. She would sooner eat a bad dinner in +company anywhere than a good dinner quietly at home; she would far +sooner go to a bad play than to none at all; she was in fact never bored +in the theatre or in the music-hall. Never! + +Once, by misfortune--as George privately deemed--he had got a small job +(erection of a dwelling-house at Hampstead) through a dinner. Lois had +never forgotten it, and she would adduce the trifle again and again as +evidence of the sanity of her ideas about social life. George really did +not care for designing houses; they were not worth the trouble; he +habitually thought in public edifices and the palaces of kings, nobles, +and plutocrats of taste. Moreover, his commission on the house would not +have kept his own household in being for a month--and yet the owner, +while obviously proud to be the patron of the celebrated prodigy George +Cannon, had the air of doing George Cannon a favour! + +And so her ambition, rather than his, had driven them both ruthlessly +on. Both were overpressed, but George considerably more than Lois. Lois +was never, in ordinary times, really tired. Dinners, teas, even lunches, +restaurants, theatres, music-halls, other people's houses, clubs, +dancing, changing clothes, getting into autos and taxis and getting out +of autos and taxis, looking at watches, writing down engagements, going +to bed with a sigh at the lateness of the hour, waking up fatigued to +the complexities of the new day--she coped admirably with it all. She +regarded it as natural; she regarded it as inevitable and proper. She +enjoyed it. She wanted it, and that which she wanted she must have. Yet +her attitude to George was almost invariably one of deep solicitude for +him. She would look at him with eyes troubled and anxious for his +welfare. When they were driving to a dance which he had no desire to +attend, she would put her arm in his and squeeze his arm and murmur: +"Coco, I don't _like_ you working so hard." (Coco was her pet name for +him, a souvenir of Paris.) + +He acknowledged that, having chosen her rĂ´le, she played it well. She +made him comfortable. She was a good housekeeper, and a fair organizer +generally. She knew how to be well served. He thought that her manner +to servants was often inexcusable, but she "kept" her servants, and they +would "do anything" for her. Further, except that she could not shine in +conversation, she was a good hostess. She never made mistakes, never +became muddled, never forgot. Of course she had friends to whom he was +indifferent or perhaps slightly hostile, but she was entitled to her +friends, as he to his. And she was a good mother. Stranger still, though +she understood none of the arts and had no logical taste, she possessed +a gift of guessing or of divination which, in all affairs relating to +the home, was the practical equivalent of genuine taste. George had +first noticed this faculty in her when she put a thousand pounds of her +money to a thousand pounds of his stepfather's and they began to buy +furniture. The house was beautifully furnished, and she had done her +share. And in the alterations, additions, and replacements which for +several years she had the habit of springing upon him, she rarely +offended him. Still, he knew indubitably that she had not taste,--anyhow +in his sense of the term,--and would never, never acquire it. An +astonishing creature! He had not finished being astonished at her. In +some respects he had not even come to a decision about her. For +instance, he suspected that she had "no notion of money," but he could +not be sure. She did what she liked with her own income, which was about +two hundred a year; that is to say, she clothed herself out of it. Her +household accounts were unknown to him; he had once essayed to +comprehend them, but had drawn back affrighted. + +"Well," she said plaintively. "Now you're here, I think you might sit a +bit with me. It's most awfully lonely for me." + +"I can't possibly," he said, with calm. "I have to rush off to the club +to see Davids about that business." + +She ignored his inescapable duties! It was nothing to her that he had a +hundred affairs to arrange before his night-journey to the north. She +wanted him to sit with her. Therefore she thought that he ought to sit +with her, and she would be conscious of a grievance if he did not. +'Lonely!' Because the children were going out for an hour or so! +Besides, even if it was lonely, facts were facts, and destiny was +destiny and had to be borne. + +"What business?" + +"You know." + +"Oh! That!... Well, can't you go after tea?" + +Incurable! + +"Here, lass!" he said, with a laugh. "If I stop arguing here I shall +miss him." + +He bent down, and prepared his lips to kiss her. He smiled superiorly, +indulgently. He was the stronger. She defeated him sometimes; she +gravely defeated him in the general arrangement and colour of their +joint existence; but he was the stronger. She had known it for over ten +years. They had had two tremendous, critical, highly dangerous battles. +He had won them both. Lois had wanted to be married in Paris. He had +been ready to agree until suddenly it occurred to him that French legal +formalities might necessitate an undue disclosure as to his parentage +and the bigamy of which his mother had been a victim. He refused +absolutely to be married in Paris. He said: "You're English and I'm +English, and the proper place for us to be married is England." There +were good counter-arguments, but he would not have them. Curiously, at +this very period, news came from his stepfather of his father's death in +America. He kept it to himself. Again, on the night itself of their +marriage, he had said to her: "_Now give me that revolver you've got_." +At her protesting refusal he had said: "My wife is not going about with +any revolver. Not if I know it!" He was playful but determined. He +startled her, for the altercation lasted two hours. On the other hand he +had never said a word about the photograph of Jules Defourcambault, and +had never seen it. Somewhere, in some mysterious fastness, the +mysterious woman kept it. + +His lips were close to hers, and his eyes to her eyes. Most persons +called her eyes golden, but to him they were just yellow. They had an +infinitesimal cast, to which nobody ever referred. They were voluptuous +eyes. He examined her face. She was still young; but the fine impressive +imprint of existence was upon her features, and the insipid freshness +had departed. She blinked, acquiescent. Her eyes changed, melting. He +could almost see into her brain, and watch there the impulse of +repentance for an unreasonable caprice, and the intense resolve to think +in the future only of her husband's welfare. She was like that.... She +could be an angel.... He knew that he was hard. He guessed that he might +be inordinately hard He would bear people down. Why had he not been +touched by her helpless condition? She was indeed touching as she lay. +She wanted to keep him near her and she could not. She wanted acutely to +go to the north, and she was imprisoned. She would have to pass the +night alone, and the next night alone. Danger and great suffering lay in +front of her. And she was she; she was herself, with all her terrific +instincts. She could not alter herself. Did she not merit compassion? +Still, _he must go to his club_. + +He kissed her tenderly. She half lifted her head, and kissed him exactly +as she kissed his children, like a giantess, and as though she was the +ark of wisdom from everlasting, and he a callow boy whose safety +depended upon her sagacious, loving direction. + +From the top of the flight of stairs leading from the ground floor, +George, waiting till it was over, witnessed the departure of his family +for the afternoon promenade. A prodigious affair! The parlourmaid (a +delightful creature who was, unfortunately, soon to make an excellent +match above her station) amiably helped the nursemaid to get the +perambulator down the steps. The parlourmaid wore her immutable uniform, +and the nursemaid wore her immutable uniform. Various things had to be +packed into the perambulator, and then little Lois had to be packed into +it--not because she could not walk, but because it was not desirable for +her to arrive at the playground tired. Nursey's sunshade was +undiscoverable, and little Laurencine's little sunshade had to be +retrieved from underneath little Lois in the depths of the perambulator. +Nursey's book had fallen on the steps. Then the tiny but elaborate +perambulator of Laurencine's doll had to go down the steps, and the doll +had to be therein ensconced under Laurencine's own direction, and +Laurencine's sunshade had to be opened, and Laurencine had to prove to +the maids that she could hold the sunshade in one hand and push the +doll's perambulator with the other. Finally, the procession of human +beings and vehicles moved, munitioned, provisioned, like a caravan +setting forth into the desert, the parlourmaid amiably waving adieux. + +George thought: "I support all that. It all depends on me. I have +brought it all into existence." And his reflections embraced Lois +upstairs, and the two colleagues of the parlourmaid in the kitchen, and +the endless apparatus of the house, and the people at his office and the +apparatus there, and the experiences that awaited him on the morrow, and +all his responsibilities, and all his apprehensions for the future. And +he was amazed and dismayed by the burden which almost unwittingly he +bore night and day. But he felt too that it was rather fine. He felt +that he was in the midst of life. + +As he was cranking his car, which he had left unattended at the kerb, +Mrs. Buckingham Smith's magnificent car driven by her magnificent +chauffeur, swept in silence up to the door and sweetly stopped. George's +car was a very little one, and he was his own chauffeur, and had to walk +home from the garage when he had done with it. The contemplation of Buck +Smith's career showed George that there are degrees of success. Buck +Smith received a thousand pounds for a portrait (in the French manner of +painting)--and refused commissions at that. Buck Smith had a kind of +palace in Melbury Road. By the side of Buck Smith. George was a +struggling semi-failure. Mrs. Buck Smith, the lady whom George had first +glimpsed in the foyer of a theatre, was a superb Jewess whom Buck had +enticed from the stage. George did not like her because she was apt, in +ecstasy, to froth at the mouth, and for other reasons; but she was one +of his wife's most intimate friends. Lois, usually taciturn, would +chatter with Adah for hours. + +"I thought I'd come and see Lois," said Mrs. Buck, effulgently smiling, +as George handed her out of the car. "How is the dear thing? You just +flying off?" + +"You'll do her all the good in the world," George replied. "I can't +stop. I have to leave town to-night, and I'm full up." + +"Oh yes! The Opening! How perfectly splendid!" Tiny bubbles showed +between her glorious lips. "What a shame it is poor Lois isn't able to +go!" + +"Yes," said George. "But look here! Don't you go and tell her so. That's +quite the wrong tack." + +"I see! I see!" said Mrs. Buck, gazing at him as one who was capable of +subtle comprehensions. "By the way," she added, as she turned to mount +the steps, "I ran across Everard Lucas at the Berkeley to-day. Lunching +there. I said I was coming here. He told me to tell you, if I saw you, +that old Mr. Haim or Home or some such name was dead. He said you'd be +interested." + +"By Jove!" George ejaculated. "Is he? Haven't seen him for years and +years." + + +II + + +He got into his car and drove off at speed. Beneath his off-hand words +to Mrs. Buckingham Smith he was conscious of a quickly growing, tender +sympathy for Marguerite Haim. The hardness in him was dissolved almost +instantaneously. He saw Marguerite, who had been adamantine in the +difference which separated them, as the image of pliancy, sweetness, +altruism, and devotion; and he saw her lips and the rapt glance of her +eyes as beautiful as in the past. What a soft, soothing, assuaging +contrast with the difficult Lois, so imperious and egoistic! (An +unforgettable phrase of Lois's had inhabited his mind for over a decade: +"Fancy quarrelling over a man!") He had never met Marguerite since their +separation, and for years he had heard nothing whatever about her; he +did not under-estimate the ordeal of meeting her again. Yet he at once +decided that he must meet her again. He simply could not ignore her in +her bereavement and new loneliness. To write to her would be absurd; it +would be a cowardly evasion; moreover, he could not frame a letter. He +must prove to her and to himself that he had a sense of decent +kindliness which would rise above conventional trifles when occasion +demanded. + +At the top of Elm Park Gardens, instead of turning east towards +Piccadilly he turned west in the direction of the Workhouse tower. And +thus he exposed the unreality of the grandiose pleas with which +professional men impose on their wives and on themselves. A few minutes +earlier his appointment at the club (not Pickering's, to which, however, +he still belonged, but a much greater institution, the Artists, in +Albemarle Street) had been an affair of extreme importance, upon which +might depend his future career, for did it not concern negotiations for +a London factory, which was to be revolutionary in design, and to cost +£150,000, and which, erected, would form a permanent advertisement of +the genius of George Cannon? Now he remembered that Sir Isaac Davids, +the patron of all the arts and the influencer of commissions, had said +that he would probably but not certainly be at the club that afternoon, +and he argued that in any event half an hour sooner or later would not +make or mar the business. Indeed, he went further, and persuaded himself +that between that moment and dinner he had nothing to do except sign a +few routine letters at the office. Still, it was just as well that Lois +should remain in delusion as to his being seriously pressed for time. + +As he curved, slackening and accelerating, with the perfect assurance of +long habit, through the swift, intricate, towering motor traffic of +Fulham Road, it was inevitable that he should recall the days, eleven +years ago, when through a sedate traffic of trotting horses enlivened +with a few motors and motor-buses, he used to run down on his +motor-cycle to visit Marguerite. It was inevitable that he should think +upon what had happened to him in the meantime. His body felt, honestly, +no older. The shoulders had broadened, the moustache was fiercer, there +were semicircular furrows under the eyes; but he was as slim and agile +as ever, and did his morning exercises as regularly as he took his bath. +More, he was still, somehow, the youthful prodigy who had won the +biggest competition of modern years while almost an infant. He was still +known as such, regarded as such, greeted as such, referred to as such at +intervals in the Press. His fame in his own world seemed not to have +deteriorated. But disappointment had slowly, imperceptibly, eaten into +him. He was far off the sublime heights of Sir Hugh Corver, though he +met Sir Hugh apparently as an equal on the Council of the Royal Society +of British Architects. Work had not surged in upon him. He had not been +able to pick and choose among commissions. He had never won another +competition. Again and again his hopes had been horribly defeated in +these ghastly enterprises, of which two were still pending. He was a man +of one job. And a quarter of his professional life had slipped behind +him! His dreams were changed. Formerly he had dreamed in architectural +forms; now he dreamed in percentages. His one job had been enormous and +lucrative, but he had lived on it for a decade, and it was done. And +outside it he had earned probably less than twelve hundred pounds. + +And if the job had been enormous, his responsibilities were likewise +enormous. Home expenses with an increasing family; establishment +expenses; a heavy insurance! Slavery to habits! The common story, +without the slightest originality in it. The idea recurred continually: +it was the fault of Lois, of that embodied, implacable instinct which +Lois was! And it was the fault of circumstance, of the structure of +society, of existence itself. And it was his fault too. And the whole of +the blame would be his if disaster came. Imagine those kids with the +perambulator and the doll's perambulator--imagine them in an earthquake! +He could see no future beyond, perhaps, eight months ahead. No, he could +not! Of course his stepfather was a sure resource. But he could not +conceive himself confessing failure to his stepfather or to anybody on +earth. Yet, if he did not very soon obtain more work, remunerative and +on a large scale ... if he did not ... However, he would obtain more +work. It was impossible that he should not obtain it. The matter with +Sir Isaac was as good as arranged. And the chances of winning at any +rate one of the two competitions were very favourable.... He dismissed +every apprehension. His health was too good to tolerate apprehensions +permanently. And he had a superstitious faith in his wife's +superstitious faith in him, and in his luck. The dark mood quickly +faded. It had been induced, not by the spectacle of his wife and family +and household seen somehow from a new angle, but by the recollection of +the past. Though he often went through dark moods, they were not moods +of financial pessimism; they seemed to be causeless, inexplicable, and +indescribable--abysses in which cerebration ceased. + + +III + + +She was just closing the side gate leading to the studio when he drove +up. He recognized her face over the top of the gate. At the first glance +it seemed to be absolutely unchanged--the same really beautiful lips, +the same nose, the same look in the eyes. Had a decade passed by her and +left no trace? He lost his nerve for an instant, and brought the car to +a standstill with less than his usual adroitness. She hesitated. + +"I was coming to see you," he called out hastily, boyishly, not in the +least measuring his effects. He jumped from the car, and said in a +lower, more intimate tone: "I've only this minute heard about Mr. Haim. +I'm awfully sorry. I thought I'd come along at once." + +"How nice of you!" she replied, quite simply and naturally, with a +smile. "Do come in." + +The tension was eased. + +She pulled at the gate, which creaked. He then saw plainly the whole of +her figure. She was dressed in black, and wore what the newspaper +advertisement called a 'matron's coat.' The decade had not passed by her +and left no trace. She had been appointed to a share in the mysterious +purpose. Her bust, too, was ampler; only her face, rather pale like the +face of Lois, was unaltered in its innocent contours. He felt that he +was blushing. He had no instinctive jealousy nor resentment; it did not +appear strange to him that this woman in the matron's coat was the girl +he had passionately kissed in that very house; and indeed the woman was +not the girl--the connexion between the woman and the girl had snapped. +Nevertheless, he was extremely self-conscious; but not she. And in his +astonishment he wondered at the secretiveness of London. His house and +hers were not more than half a mile apart, and yet in eleven years he +had never set eyes on her house. Nearly always, on leaving his house, he +would go up Elm Park Gardens and turn to the right. If he was not in the +car he would never turn to the left. Occasionally he had flown past the +end of the Grove in the car; not once, however, had he entered the +Grove. He lived in Chelsea and she lived in Chelsea, but not the same +Chelsea; his was not the Chelsea of the studios and the King's Road. +They had existed close together, side by side, for years and years--and +she had been hidden from him. + +As they walked towards the studio door she told him that 'they' had +buried her father a week ago and that 'they' were living in the studio, +and had already arranged to let the lower part of the house. She had the +air of assuming that he was aware of the main happenings in her life, +only a little belated in the knowledge of her father's death. She was +quite cheerful. He pretended to himself to speculate as to the identity +of her husband. He would not ask: "And who is your husband?". All the +time he knew who her husband was: it could be no other than one man. She +opened the studio door with a latchkey. He was right. At a table Mr. +Prince was putting sheets of etching-paper to soak in a porcelain bath. + +"Well! Well! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Prince warmly, not flustered, not a +bit embarrassed, and not too demonstrative. He came forward, delicately +drying the tips of his fingers on a rag, and shook hands. His hair was +almost white, his thin, benevolent face amazingly lined; his voice had a +constant little vibration. Yet George could not believe that he was an +old man. + +"He only heard to-day about father, and he's called at once," said +Marguerite. "Isn't it just like him?" + +The last phrase surprised and thrilled George. Did she mean it? Her +kind, calm, ingenuous face showed that obviously she meant it. + +"It is," said Mr. Prince seriously. "Very good of you, old man." + +After some talk about Mr. Haim, and about old times, and about changes, +during which Marguerite took off her matron's coat and Mr. Prince gently +hung it up for her, they all sat down near to one another and near the +unlighted stove. The studio seemed to be precisely as of old, except +that it was very clean. Marguerite, in a high-backed wicker-chair, began +slowly to remove her hat, which she perched behind her on the chair. Mr. +Prince produced a tin of Gold Flake cigarettes. + +"And so you're living in the studio?" said George. + +"We have the two rooms at the top of the house of course," answered Mr. +Prince, glancing at the staircase. "I don't know whether it's quite the +wisest thing, with all those stairs; you see how we're fixed"--he +glanced at Marguerite--"but we had a fine chance to let the house, and +in these days it's as well to be cautious." + +Marguerite smiled happily and patted her husband's hand. + +"Of course it's the wisest thing," she said. + +"Why! What's the matter with these days?" George demanded. "How's the +work?" + +"Oh!" said Mr. Prince, in a new tone. "I've one or two things that might +interest you." + +He displayed some prints, and chatted of his labours. He was still +etching; he would die etching. This was the etcher of European renown. +He referred to the Vienna acquisition as though it was an affair of a +few weeks ago. He had disposed of an etching to Stockholm, and mentioned +that he had exhibited at the International Show in Rome. He said that +his things were attracting attention at a gallery in Bond Street. He +displayed catalogues and press-cuttings. + +"These are jolly fine," said George enthusiastically, as he examined the +prints on his knee. + +"I'm glad you like them," said Mr. Prince, pleased. "I think I've +improved." + +But in spite of his European renown, Mr. Prince had remained practically +unknown. His name would not call forth the 'Oh yes!' of recognition from +the earnest frequenter of fashionable exhibitions who takes pride in his +familiarity with names. The etchings of Prince were not subscribed for +in advance. He could not rank with the stars--Cameron, Muirhead Bone, +Legros, Brangwyn. Probably he could command not more than two or three +guineas for a print. He had never been the subject of a profusely +laudatory illustrated article in the _Studio_. With his white hair he +was what in the mart is esteemed a failure. He knew it. Withal he had a +notable self-respect and a notable confidence. There was no timidity in +him, even if his cautiousness was excessive. He possessed sagacity and +he had used it. He knew where he was. He had something substantial up +his sleeve. There was no wistful appeal in his eye, as of a man who +hopes for the best and fears the worst. He could meet dealers with a +firm glance, for throughout life he had subjugated his desires to his +resources. His look was modest but independent; and Marguerite had the +same look. + +"Hallo!" cried George. "I see you've got that here!" He pointed to Celia +Agg's portrait of herself as Bonnie Prince Charlie. + +"Yes," said Marguerite. "She insisted on me taking it when she gave up +painting." + +"Gave up painting?" + +"Very good, isn't it?" said Mr. Prince gravely. "Pity she ever did give +up painting, I think," he added in a peculiar tone. + +"Yes, it is," George agreed insincerely, for the painting now seemed to +him rather tenth-rate. "But what on earth did she stop painting for?" + +Marguerite replied, with reserve: + +"Oh! Didn't you know? She's quite gone in for this suffragette business. +No one ever sees her now. Not even her people." + +"Been in prison," said Mr. Prince, sardonically disapproving, "I always +said she'd end in that kind of thing, didn't I, Margy?" + +"You did, dear," said Marguerite, with wifely eagerness. + +These two respected not only themselves but each other. The ensuing +conversation showed that Mr. Prince was somewhat disgusted with the +mundane movement, and that Marguerite was his disciple. They were more +and more leaving the world alone; their self-sufficiency was increasing +with the narrow regularity of their habits. They seldom went out; and +when they did, they came home the more deeply convinced that all was not +well with the world, and that they belonged to the small remnant of the +wise and the sane. George was in two minds about them, or rather about +Mr. Prince. He secretly condescended to him, but on the other hand he +envied him. The man was benevolent; he spent his life in the creation of +beauty; and he was secure. Surely an ideal existence! Yes, George wished +that he could say as much for himself. Marguerite, completely deprived +of ambition, would never have led any man into insecurity. He had +realized already that afternoon that there were different degrees of +success; he now realized that there were different kinds of success. + +"Well!" he rose suddenly. "I must be off. I'm very busy." + +"I suppose you are," said Mr. Prince. Untrue to assert that his glance +was never wistful! It was ever so slightly wistful then. + +George comprehended that Mr. Prince admired him and looked up to him +after all. + +"My town hall is being opened to-morrow." + +"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you." + +They knew a good deal about him--where he lived, the statistics of his +family, and so on. He picked up his hat. + +"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said Marguerite, gazing +straight into his eyes. + +"Rather!" said Mr. Prince. + +They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this Bird-of-paradise. +But they did not urge him to stay longer. + +As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a half-finished +book-cover design on a table. + +"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to examine. + +Husband and wife, always more interested in their own affairs than in +other people's, responded willingly to his curiosity. George praised, +and his praise was greatly esteemed. Mr. Prince talked about the changes +in trade bindings, which were all for the worse. The bright spot was +that Marguerite's price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings. +This improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to them. +To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after vicissitudes, of four +shillings in fourteen years should be capable of causing them so much +joy. He and they lived in absolutely different worlds. + +"This is the last I shall let her do for a long time," observed Mr. +Prince. "I shouldn't have let her do this one, but the doctor, who's a +friend of ours, said there wouldn't be any harm, and of course it's +always advisable to break a connexion as little as possible. You never +know...." + +George smiled, returning their flattery. + +"You aren't going to tell me that that matters to _you_!" + +Mr. Prince fixed George with his eye. + +"When the European War starts in earnest I think most of us will need +all we've been able to get together." + +"What European War?" asked George, with a touch of disdain. "You don't +mean to say that this Sarajevo business will lead to a European War!" + +"No, I don't," said Mr. Prince very firmly. "Germany's diplomatists are +much too clever for that. They're clever enough to find a better excuse. +But they will find it, and soon." + +George saw that Mr. Prince, having opened up a subject which apparently +was dear to him, had to be handled with discretion. He guessed at once, +from the certainty and the emotion of Mr. Prince's phrases, that Mr. +Prince must have talked a lot about a European War. So he mildly +replied: + +"Do you really think so?" + +"Do I think so? My dear fellow, you have only to look at the facts. +Austria undoubtedly annexed Bosnia at Germany's instigation. Look at +what led to Algeciras. Look at Agadir. Look at the increase in the +German army last July. And look at the special levy. The thing's as +clear as day." Mr. Prince now seemed to be a little angry with George, +who had moved into the doorway. + +"I'll tell you what I think," said George, with the assurance with which +as a rule he announced his opinions. "We're Germany's only serious +rival. It's us she's up against. She can only fight us on the sea. If +she fought us now on the sea she'd be wiped out. That's admitted. In ten +years, if she keeps on building, she might have a chance. But not now! +Not yet! And she knows it." George did not mention that he had borrowed +the whole weighty argument from his stepfather; but he spoke with +finality, and was rather startled when Mr. Prince blew the whole weighty +argument into the air with one scornful, pitying exhalation. + +Mr. Prince said: "Nothing in it! Nothing in it! It's our alliances that +will be the ruin of us. We shall be dragged into war. If Germany chooses +to fight on land everybody will have to fight on land. When she gets to +Paris, what are we going to do about it? We shall be dragged into war. +It's the damnable alliances that Sir Edward Grey has let us in for." Mr. +Prince fixed George afresh. "That man ought to be shot. What do we want +with alliances?... Have you heard Lord Roberts?" + +George admitted weakly, and as if ashamed, that he had not. + +"Well, you should." + +"Oh yes," Marguerite ingenuously put in. "Alfred's been very strong on +the European War ever since he heard Lord Roberts speak at Chelsea Town +Hall." + +George then understood the situation. Mr. Prince, through the hazard of +a visit to Chelsea Town Hall, had become obsessed by a single idea, an +idea which his natural apprehensions had well nourished. A common +phenomenon! George had met before the man obsessed by one idea, with his +crude reasoning, his impatience, and his flashing eye. As for himself he +did not pretend to be an expert in politics; he had no time for +politics; but he was interested in them, and held strong views about +them; and among his strongest views was the view that the crudity of the +average imperialist was noxious, and a source of real danger. 'That man +ought to be shot.' Imagine such a remark! He felt that he must soothe +Mr. Prince as he would soothe a child. And he did so, with all the tact +acquired at municipal committee meetings in the north. + +His, last impression, on departure, was that Mr. Prince was an excellent +and most lovable fellow, despite his obsession. "Glad to see you at any +time," said Mr. Prince, with genuine cordiality, critically and somewhat +inimically assessing the car, which he referred to as 'she.' Marguerite +had remained in the studio. She was wonderful. She admired her husband +too simply, and she was too content, but she had marvellous qualities of +naturalness, common sense in demeanour, realism, and placidity. Thanks +to her remarkable instinct for taking things for granted, the interview +had been totally immune from constraint. It was difficult, and she had +made it seem easy. No fuss, no false sentiment! And she looked very +nice, very interesting, quite attractive, in her mourning and in her +expectancy. A fine couple. Unassuming of course, narrow, +opinionated--(he surmised that the last days of the late Mr. Haim had +been disciplined)--but no fools either, and fundamentally decent. While +condescending to them, he somehow envied them. But he knew what the +opinion of Lois about them would be! + + +IV + + +After a period of shallow sleep he woke up in the morning factitiously +refreshed as the train was rumbling slowly over the high-level bridge. +The sun blinked full in his eyes when he looked out through the +trellis-work of the bridge. Far below, the river was tinged with the +pale blue of the sky. Big ships lay in the river as if they had never +moved and never could move; a steamer in process of painting, with her +sides lifted above the water, gleamed in irregular patches of brilliant +scarlet. A lively tug passed down-stream, proud of her early rising; +and, smaller even than the tug, a smack, running close-hauled, bowed to +the puffs of the light breeze. Farther away the lofty chimneys sent +their scarves of smoke into the air, and the vast skeletons of incipient +vessels could be descried through webs of staging. The translucent +freshness of the calm scene was miraculous; it divinely intoxicated the +soul, and left no squalor and no ugliness anywhere. + +Then, as the line curved, came the view of the city beneath its delicate +canopy of mist. The city was built on escarpments, on ridges, on hills, +and sagged here and there into great hollows. The serrated silhouette of +it wrote romance upon the sky, and the contours of the naked earth +beyond lost themselves grandly in the mystery of the north. The jutting +custom-house was a fine piece of architecture. From the eighteen-forties +it challenged grimly the modern architect. On his hasty first visit to +the city George had noticed little save that custom-house. He had seen a +slatternly provincial town, large and picturesque certainly, but with +small sense of form or dignity. He had decided that his town hall would +stand quite unique in the town. But soon the city had imposed itself +upon him and taught him the rudiments of humility. It contained an +immense quantity of interesting architecture of various periods, which +could not be appreciated at a glance. It was a hoary place. It went back +to the Romans and further. Its fragmentary walls had survived through +seven centuries, its cathedral through six, its chief churches through +five. It had the most perfect Norman keep within two hundred miles. It +had ancient halls, mansions, towers, markets, and jail. And to these the +Victorian-Edwardian age had added museums, law courts, theatres; such +astonishing modernities as swimming-baths, power-houses, joint-stock +banks, lending libraries, and art schools; and whole monumental streets +and squares from the designs of a native architect without whose +respectable name no history of British architecture could be called +complete. George's town hall was the largest building in the city; but +it did not dominate the city nor dwarf it; the city easily digested it. +Arriving in the city by train the traveller, if he knew where to look, +could just distinguish a bit of the town hall tower, amid masses of +granite and brick: which glimpse symbolized the relation between the +city and the town hall and had its due effect on the Midland conceit of +George. + +But what impressed George more than the stout, physical aspects of the +city was the sense of its huge, adventurous, corporate life, continuous +from century to century. It had known terrible battles, obstinate +sieges, famines, cholera, a general conflagration, and, in the twentieth +century, strikes that possibly were worse than pestilence. It had +fiercely survived them all. It was a city passionate and highly +vitalized. George had soon begun to be familiar with its organic +existence from the inside. The amazing delays in the construction of the +town hall were characteristic of the city, originating as they did not +from sloth or indecision but from the obduracy of the human will. At the +start a sensational municipal election had put the whole project on the +shelf for two years, and George had received a compensatory one per cent +on the estimated cost according to contract, and had abandoned his hope. +But the pertinacity of Mr. Soulter, first Councillor, then Alderman, +then Mayor, the true father of the town hall, had been victorious in the +end. Next there had been an infinity of trouble with owners of adjacent +properties and with the foundations. Next the local contractor, who had +got the work through a ruthless and ingenious conspiracy of associates +on the Council, had gone bankrupt. Next came the gigantic building +strike, in which conflicting volitions fought each other for many months +to the devastation of an entire group of trades. Finally was the +inflexible resolution of Mr. Soulter that the town hall should not be +opened and used until it was finished in every part and every detail of +furniture and decoration. + +George, by his frequent sojourns in the city, and his official connexion +with the authorities, had several opportunities to observe the cabals, +the chicane, and the personal animosities and friendships which +functioned in secret at the very heart of the city's life. He knew the +idiosyncrasies of councillors and aldermen in committee; he had learnt +more about mankind in the committee-rooms of the old town hall than he +could have learnt in ten thousand London clubs. He could divide the city +council infallibly into wire-pullers, axe-grinders, vain nincompoops, +honest mediocrities, and the handful who combined honesty with sagacity +and sagacity with strength. At beefy luncheon-tables, and in gorgeous, +stuffy bars tapestried with Lincrusta-Walton, he had listened to the +innumerable tales of the town, in which greed, crookedness, ambition, +rectitude, hatred, and sexual love were extraordinarily mixed--the last +being by far the smallest ingredient. He liked the town; he revelled in +it. It seemed to him splendid in its ineradicable, ever-changing, +changeless humanity. And as the train bored its way through the granite +bowels of the city, he thought pleasurably upon all these matters. And +with them in his mind there gradually mingled the images of Lois and +Marguerite. He cared not what their virtues were or what their faults +were. He enjoyed reflecting upon them, picturing them with their +contrasted attributes, following them into the future as they developed +blindly under the unperceived sway of the paramount instincts which had +impelled and would always impel them towards their ultimate destiny. He +thought upon himself, and about himself he was very sturdily cheerful, +because he had had a most satisfactory interview with Sir Isaac on the +previous afternoon. + +A few minutes later he walked behind a portmanteau-bearing night-porter +into the wide-corridored, sleeping hotel, whose dust glittered in the +straight shafts of early sunlight. He stopped at the big slate under the +staircase and wrote in chalk opposite the number 187: "Not to be called +till 12 o'clock, under pain of death." And the porter, a friend of some +years' standing, laughed. On the second floor that same porter dropped +the baggage on the linoleum and rattled the key in the lock with a high +disregard of sleepers. In the bedroom the porter undid the straps of the +portmanteau, and then: + +"Anything else, sir?" + +"That's all, John." + +And as he turned to leave, John stopped and remarked in a tone of +concern: + +"Sorry to say Alderman Soulter's ill in bed, sir. Won't be able to come +to the Opening. It's him as'll be madder than anybody, ill or not." + +George was shocked, and almost frightened. In his opinion the true +intelligence of the city was embodied in Mr. Soulter. Mr. Soulter had +been a father to him, had understood his aims and fought for them again +and again. Without Mr. Soulter he felt defenceless before the ordeal of +the Opening, and he wished that he might fly back to London instantly. +Nevertheless the contact of the cool, clean sheets was exquisite, and he +went to sleep at once, just as he was realizing the extremity of his +fatigue. + +He did not have his sleep out. Despite the menace of death, a courageous +creature heavily knocked at his door at ten o'clock and entered. It was +a page-boy with a telegram. George opened the envelope resentfully. + +"No answer." + +The telegram read: + +"Am told we have got it.--PONTING" + +Ponting was George's assistant. The news referred to a competition for +an enormous barracks in India--one of the two competitions pending. It +had come sooner than expected. Was it true? George was aware that +Ponting had useful acquaintanceship with a clerk in the India Office. + +He thought, trying not to believe: + +"Of course Ponting will swallow anything." + +But he made no attempt to sleep again. He was too elated. + + +V + + +Through a strange circumstance George arrived late for the Opening lunch +in the lower hall, but he was late in grave company. He had been +wandering aimlessly and quite alone about the great interiors of the +town hall when he caught sight of Mr. Phirrips, the contractor, with the +bishop and the most famous sporting peer of the north, a man who for +some mystical reason was idolized by the masses of the city. +Unfortunately Mr. Phirrips also caught sight of George. "Bishop, here is +Mr. Cannon, our architect. He will be able to explain perhaps better--" +And in an instant Mr. Phirrips had executed one of those feats of +prestidigitation for which he was renowned in contracting circles, left +George with the bishop, and gone off with his highly prized quarry, the +sporting peer. George, despite much worldliness, had never before had +speech with a bishop. However, the bishop played his part in a +soothingly conventional way, manipulated his apron and his calves with +senile dignity, stood still and gazed ardently at ceilings and vistas, +and said at intervals, explosively and hoarsely: "Ha! Very, interesting! +Very interesting! Very fine! Very fine! Noble!" He also put intelligent +questions to the youthful architect, such as: "How many bricks have been +used in this building?" He was very leisurely, as though the whole of +eternity was his. + +"I'm afraid we may be late for the luncheon," George ventured. + +The bishop looked at him blandly, leaning forward, and replied, after +holding his mouth open for a moment: + +"They will not begin without us. I say grace." His antique eye twinkled. + +After this George liked him, and understood that he was really a bishop. + +In the immense hubbub of the lower hall the bishop was seized upon by +officials, and conducted to a chair a few places to the right of His +Worship the Mayor. Though there was considerable disorder and confusion +(doubtless owing to the absence of Alderman Soulter, who had held all +the strings in his hand) everybody agreed that the luncheon scene in the +lower hall was magnificent. The Mayor, in his high chair and in his +heavy chain and glittering robe, ruled in the centre of the principal +table, from which lesser tables ran at right angles. The Aldermen and +Councillors, also chained and robed, well sustained the brilliance of +the Mayor, and the ceremonial officials of the city surpassed both Mayor +and Council in grandeur. Sundry peers and M.P.'s and illustrious +capitalists enhanced the array of renown, and the bishop was rivalled by +priestly dignitaries scarcely less grandiose than himself. And then +there were the women. The women had been let in. During ten years of +familiarity with the city's life George had hardly spoken to a woman, +except Mr. Soulter's Scotch half-sister. The men lived a life of their +own, which often extended to the evenings, and very many of them when +mentioning women employed a peculiar tone. But now the women were +disclosed in bulk, and the display startled George. He suddenly saw all +the city fathers and their sons in a new light. + +The bishop had his appointed chair, with a fine feminine hat on either +side of him, but George could not find that any particular chair had +been appointed to himself. Eventually he saw an empty chair in the +middle of a row of men at the right-hand transverse table, and he took +it. He had expected, as the sole artistic creator of the town hall whose +completion the gathering celebrated, to be the object of a great deal of +curiosity at the luncheon. But in this expectation he was deceived. If +any curiosity concerning him existed, it was admirably concealed. The +authorities, however, had not entirely forgotten him, for the Town Clerk +that morning had told him that he must reply to the toast of his health. +He had protested against the shortness of the notice, whereupon the +Town Clerk had said casually that a few words would suffice--anything, +in fact, and had hastened off. George was now getting nervous. He was +afraid of hearing his own voice in that long, low interior which he had +made. He had no desire to eat. He felt tired. Still, his case was less +acute than it would have been had the august personage originally hoped +for attended the luncheon. The august personage had not attended on +account of an objection, apropos of an extreme passage in an election +campaign speech, to the occupant of the mayoral chair (who had thus +failed to be transformed into a Lord Mayor). The whole city had then, +though the Mayor was not over-popular, rallied to its representative, +and the Council had determined that the inauguration should be a purely +municipal affair, a family party, proving to the august and to the world +that the city was self-sufficing. The episode was characteristic. + +George heard a concert of laughter, which echoed across the room. At the +end of the main table Mr. Phirrips had become a centre of gaiety. Mr. +Phirrips, whom George and the clerk-of-the-works had had severe and +constant difficulty in keeping reasonably near the narrow path of +rectitude, was a merry, sharp, smart, middle-aged man with a skin that +always looked as if he had just made use of an irritant soap. He was one +of the largest contractors in England, and his name on the hoarding of +any building in course of erection seemed to give distinction to that +building. He was very rich, and popular in municipal circles, and +especially with certain councillors, including a labour councillor. +George wondered whether Mr. Phirrips would make a speech. No toast-list +was visible in George's vicinity. + +To George the meal seemed to pass with astounding celerity. The old +bishop said grace in six words. The Toast-master bawled for silence. The +health of all classes of society who could rely upon good doctors was +proposed and heartily drunk--princes, prelates, legislators, warriors, +judges--but the catalogue was cut short before any eccentric person +could propose the health of the one-roomed poor, of whom the city was +excessively prolific. And then the Mayor addressed himself to the great +business of the town hall. George listened with throat dry; by way of +precaution he had drunk nothing during the meal; and at each toast he +had merely raised the glass to his lips and infinitesimally sipped; the +coffee was bad and cold and left a taste in his mouth; but everything +that he had eaten left a taste in his mouth. The Mayor began: +"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,--During the building of +this--er--er--_structure_...." All his speech was in that manner and +that key. Nevertheless he was an able and strong individual, and as an +old trade union leader could be fiercely eloquent with working-men. He +mentioned Alderman Soulter, and there was a tremendous cheer. He did not +mention Alderman Soulter again; a feud burned between these two. After +Alderman Soulter he mentioned finance. He said that that was not the +time to refer to finance, and then spoke of nothing else but finance +throughout the remainder of his speech, until he came to the +peroration--"success and prosperity to our new town hall, the grandest +civic monument which any city has erected to itself in this country +within living memory, aye, and beyond." The frantic applause atoned for +the lack of attention and the semi-audible chattering which had marred +the latter part of the interminable and sagacious harangue. George +thought: "Pardon me! The city has not erected this civic monument. I +have erected it." And he thought upon all the labour he had put into it, +and all the beauty and magnificence which he had evolved. Alderman +Soulter should have replied on behalf of the town hall committee, and +the Alderman who took his place apologized for his inability to fill the +role, and said little. + +Then the Toast-master bawled incomprehensibly for the twentieth time, +and a councillor arose and in timid tones said: + +"I rise to propose the toast of the architect and contractor." + +George was so astounded that he caught scarcely anything of the speech. +It was incredible to him that he, the creative artist, who was solely +responsible for the architecture and decoration of the monument, in +whose unique mind it had existed long before the second brick had been +placed upon the first, should be bracketed in a toast with the tradesman +and middleman who had merely supervised the execution of his scheme +according to rules of thumb. He flushed. He wanted to walk out. But +nobody else appeared to be disturbed. George, who had never before +attended an inauguration, was simply not aware that the toast 'architect +and contractor' was the classic British toast, invariably drunk on such +occasions, and never criticised. He thought: "What a country!" and +remembered hundreds of Mr. Enwright's remarks.... Phrases of the orator +wandered into his ear. "The competition system.... We went to Sir Hugh +Corver, the head of the architectural profession [loud applause] and Sir +Hugh Corver assured us that the design of Mr. George Cannon was the +best. [Hear, hear! Hear, hear!]... Mr. Phirrip, head of the famous firm +of Phirrips Limited [loud applause] ... fortunate, after our misfortune +with the original contractor to obtain such a leading light.... Cannot +sufficiently thank these two--er _officials_ for the intellect, energy, +and patience they have put into their work." + +As the speech was concluding, a tactless man sitting next to George, +with whom he had progressed very slowly in acquaintance during the +lunch, leaned towards him and murmured in a confidential tone: + +"Did I tell you both naval yards up here have just had orders to work +day and night? Yes. Fact." + +George's mind ran back to Mr. Prince, and Mr. Prince's prophecy of war. +Was there something in it after all? The thought passed in an instant, +but the last vestiges of his equanimity had gone. Hearing his name he +jumped up in a mist inhabited by inimical phantoms, and, amid feeble +acclamations here and there, said he knew not what in a voice now +absurdly loud and now absurdly soft, and sat down, amid more feeble +acclamations, feeling an angry fool. It was the most hideous experience. +He lit a cigarette, his first that day. + +When Mr. Phirrips rose, the warm clapping was expectant of good things. + +"When I was a little boy I remember my father telling me that this town +hall had been started. I never expected to live to see it finished--" + +Delighted guffaws, uproarious laughter, explosions of mirth, interrupted +this witty reference to the delays in construction. The speaker smiled +at ease. His eyes glinted. He knew his audience, held it consummately, +and went on. + +In the afternoon there was a conversazione, or reception, for the +lunchers and also for the outer fringe of the city's solid +respectability. The whole of the town hall from basement to roof was +open to view, and citizens of all ages wandered in it everywhere, +admiring it, quizzing it, and feeling proudly that it was theirs. George +too wandered about, feeling that it was his. He was slowly recovering +from the humiliation of the lunch. Much of the building pleased him +greatly; at the excellence of some effects and details he marvelled; the +entry into the large hall from the grand staircase was dramatic, just as +he had had intended it should be; the organ was being played, and word +went round that the acoustic (or acoostic) properties of the auditorium +were perfect, and unrivalled by any auditorium in the kingdom. On the +other hand, the crudity of certain other effects and details irritated +the creator, helping him to perceive how much he had learnt in ten +years; in ten years, for example, his ideas about mouldings had been +quite transformed. What chiefly satisfied him was the demonstration, +everywhere, that he had mastered his deep natural impatience of minutiae +--that instinct which often so violently resented the exacting +irksomeness of trifles in the realization of a splendid idea. At +intervals he met an acquaintance and talked, but nobody at all appeared +to comprehend that he alone was the creator of the mighty pile, and that +all the individuals present might be divided artistically into two +classes--himself in one class, the entire remainder in the other. And +nobody appeared to be inconvenienced by the sense of the height of his +achievement or of the splendour of his triumph that day. It is true that +the north hates to seem impressed, and will descend to any duplicity in +order not to seem impressed. + +The Town Clerk's clerk came importantly up to him and asked: + +"How many reserved seats would you like for the concert?" + +A grand ballad concert, at which the most sentimental of contraltos, +helped by other first-class throats, was to minister wholesale to the +insatiable secret sentimentality of the north, had been arranged for the +evening. + +"One will be enough," said George. + +"Are you alone?" asked the Town Clerk's clerk. + +George took the ticket. None of the city fathers or their fashionable +sons had even invited him to dinner. He went forth and had tea alone, +while reading in an evening paper about the Austro-Serbian situation, in +the tea-rooms attached to a cinema-palace. The gorgeous rooms, throbbing +to two-steps and fox-trots, were crammed with customers; but the +waitresses behaved competently. Thence he drove out in a taxi to the +residence of Alderman Soulter. He could see neither the Alderman nor +Miss Soulter; he learnt that the condition of the patient was +reassuring, and that the patient had a very good constitution. Back at +the hotel, he had to wait for dinner. In due course he ate the customary +desolating table-d'hote dinner which is served simultaneously in the +vast, odorous dining-rooms, all furnished alike, of scores and scores of +grand hotels throughout the provinces. Having filled his cigar-case, he +set out once more into the beautiful summer evening. In broad Side Gate +were massed the chief resorts of amusement. The façade of the Empire +music-hall glowed with great rubies and emeralds and amethysts and +topazes in the fading light. Its lure was more powerful than the lure of +the ballad concert. Ignoring his quasi-official duty to the greatest of +sentimental contraltos, he pushed into the splendid foyer of the Empire. +One solitary stall, half a crown, was left for the second house; he +bought it, eager in transgression; he felt that the ballad concert would +have sent him mad. + +The auditorium of the Empire was far larger than the auditorium of the +town hall, and it was covered with gold. The curving rows of +plush-covered easy chairs extended backwards until faces became +indistinguishable points in the smoke-misted gloom. Every seat was +occupied; the ballad concert had made no impression upon the music-hall. +The same stars that he could see in London appeared on the gigantic +stage in the same songs and monologues; and as in London the +indispensable revue was performed, but with a grosser and more direct +licentiousness than the West End would have permitted. And all proceeded +with inexorable exactitude according to time-table. And in scores and +scores of similar Empires, Hippodromes, Alhambras, and Pavilions +throughout the provinces, similar entertainments were proceeding with +the same exactitude--another example of the huge standardization of +life. George laughed with the best at the inventive drollery of the +knock-about comedians--Britain's sole genuine contribution to the art of +the modern stage. But there were items in the Empire programme that were +as awful in their tedium as anything at the ballad concert could +be--moments when George could not bear to look over the footlights. And +these items were applauded in ecstasy by the enchanted audience. He +thought of the stupidity, the insensibility, the sheer ignorance of the +exalted lunchers; and he compared them with these qualities in the +Empire audience, and asked himself sardonically whether all artists had +lived in vain. But the atmosphere of the Empire was comfortable, +reassuring, inspiring. The men had their pipes, cigarettes, and women; +the women had the men, the luxury, the glitter, the publicity. They had +attained, they were happy. The frightful curse of the provinces, ennui, +had been conjured away by the beneficent and sublime institution +invented, organized, and controlled by three great trusts. + +George stayed till the end of the show. The emptying of the theatre was +like a battle, like the flight of millions from a conflagration. All +humanity seemed to be crowded into the corridors and staircases. Jostled +and disordered, he emerged into the broad street, along which huge, +lighted trams slowly thundered. He walked a little, starting a fresh +cigar. The multitude had resumed its calm. A few noisy men laughed and +swore obscene oaths; and girls, either in couples or with men, trudged, +demure and unshocked, past the roysterers, as though they had neither +ears to hear nor eyes to see. In a few minutes the processions were +dissipated, dissolved into the vastness of the city, and the pavements +nearly deserted. George strolled on towards the Square. The town hall +stood up against the velvet pallor of the starry summer night, massive, +lovely, supreme, deserted. He had conceived it in an office in Russell +Square when he was a boy. And there it was, the mightiest monument of +the city which had endured through centuries of astounding corporate +adventure. He was overwhelmed, and he was inexpressibly triumphant. +Throughout the day he had had no recognition; and as regards the future, +few, while ignorantly admiring the monument, would give a thought to the +artist. Books were eternally signed, and pictures, and sculpture. But +the architect was forgotten. What did it matter? If the creators of +Gothic cathedrals had to accept oblivion, he might. The tower should be +his signature. And no artist could imprint his influence so powerfully +and so mysteriously upon the unconscious city as he was doing. And the +planet was whirling the whole city round like an atom in the icy spaces +between the stars. And perhaps Lois was lying expectant, discontented, +upon the sofa, thinking rebelliously. He was filled with the realization +of universality. + +At the hotel another telegram awaited him. + +"Good old Ponting!" he exclaimed, after reading it. The message ran: + +"We have won it.--PONTING" + +He said: + +"Why 'we,' Ponting? You didn't win it. I won it." + +He said: + +"Sir Hugh Corver is not going to be the head of the architectural +profession. I am." He felt the assurance of that in his bones. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ROLL-CALL + +I + + +The telephone rang in the principal's room of George's office in Museum +Street. He raised his head from the drawing-board with the false gesture +of fatigued impatience which, as a business man, he had long since +acquired, and took the instrument. As a fact he was not really busy; he +was only pretending to be busy; and he rather enjoyed the summons of the +telephone, with its eternal promise of some romantic new turn of +existence. Nevertheless, though he was quite alone, he had to affect +that the telephone was his bane. + +"Can Sir Isaac Davids speak to you, sir, from the Artists Club?" + +"Put him on." + +Immediately came the thick, rich voice of Sir Isaac, with its +implications of cynicism and triumphant disdain--attenuated and weakened +in the telephone, suggesting an object seen through the wrong end of a +telescope. + +"Is that you, Cannon?" + +"It is," said George shortly. Without yet knowing it, he had already +begun to hate Sir Isaac. His criticism of Sir Isaac was that the man was +too damnably sure of himself. And not all Sir Isaac's obvious power, +and influence, and vast potential usefulness to a young architect, +could prevent George from occasionally, as he put it, 'standing up to +the fellow.' + +"Well, you'd better come along here, if you can. I want to see you," +said the unruffled voice of Sir Isaac. + +"Now?" + +"Yes." + +"All right." + +As George replaced the instrument, he murmured: + +"I know what that means. It's all off." And after a moment: "I knew +jolly well it would be." + +He glanced round the very orderly room, to which, by judicious +furnishing, he had given a severe distinction at no great cost. On the +walls were a few interesting things, including a couple of his own +perspectives. A neo-impressionist oil-sketch over the mantelpiece, with +blue trees and red fields and a girl whose face was a featureless blob, +imperiously monopolized the attention of the beholder, warning him, +whoever he might be, that the inescapable revolutionary future was now +at hand. The room and everything in it, that entity upon which George +had spent so much trouble, and of which he had been so proud, seemed +futile, pointless, utterly unprofitable. + +The winning of the Indian limited competition, coupled with the firm +rumour that Sir Isaac Davids had singled him out for patronage, had +brilliantly renewed George's reputation and the jealousy which proved +its reality. The professional journals had been full of him, and +everybody assured everybody that his ultimate, complete permanent +success had never been in doubt. The fact that the barracks would be the +largest barracks in India indicated to the superstitious, and to George +himself, that destiny intended him always to break records. After the +largest town hall, the largest barracks; and it was said that Sir +Isaac's factory was to be the largest factory! But the outbreak of war +had overthrown all reputations, save the military and the political. +Every value was changed according to a fresh standard, as in a +shipwreck. For a week George had felt an actual physical weight in the +stomach. This weight was his own selfish woe, but it was also the woe of +the entire friendly world. Every architect knew and said that the +profession of architecture would be ruined for years. Then the India +Office woke George up. The attitude of the India Office was overbearing. +It implied that it had been marvellously original and virtuous in +submitting the affair of its barracks to even a limited competition, +when it might just as easily have awarded the job to any architect whom +it happened to know, or whom its wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know, +or whose wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know the India Office--and +further, that George ought therefore to be deeply grateful. It said that +in view of the war the barracks must be erected with the utmost +possible, or rather with quite impossible, dispatch, and that George +would probably have to go to India at once. Simultaneously it daily +modified George's accepted plans for the structure, exactly as though it +was a professional architect and George an amateur, and it involved him +in a seemly but intense altercation between itself and the subordinate +bureaucracy of a Presidency. It kept George employed. In due course +people discovered that business must proceed as usual, and even the +architectural profession, despite its traditional pessimism, had hopes +of municipalities and other bodies which were to inaugurate public works +in order to diminish unemployment. + +Nevertheless George had extreme difficulty in applying himself +efficiently to urgent tasks. He kept thinking: "It's come! It's come!" +He could not get over the fact that it had come--the European War which +had obsessed men's minds for so many years past. He saved the face of +his own theory as to the immediate impossibility of a great war, by +positively asserting that Germany would never have fought had she +foreseen that Britain would fight. He prophesied (to himself) Germany's +victory, German domination of Europe, and, as the grand central +phenomenon, mysterious ruin for George Edwin Cannon. But the next +instant he would be convinced that Germany would be smashed, and +quickly. Germany, he reckoned superiorly, in 'taking on England' had +'bitten off more than she could chew.' + +He knew almost naught of the progress of the fighting. He had obtained +an expensive map of Western Europe and some flagged pins, and had hung +the map up in his hall and had stuck the pins into it with exactitude. +He had moved the pins daily, until little Laurencine one morning, aloft +on a chair, decided to change all the positions of the opposing armies. +Laurencine established German army corps in Marseilles, the +Knockmillydown Mountains, and Torquay, while sending the French to +Elsinore and Aberdeen. There was trouble in the house. Laurencine +suffered, and was given to understand that war was a serious matter. +Still, George soon afterwards had ceased to manipulate the pins; they +seemed to be incapable of arousing his imagination; he could not be +bothered with them; he could not make the effort necessary to acquire a +scientific conception of the western campaign--not to mention the +eastern, as to which his ignorance was nearly perfect. + +Yet he read much about the war. Some of the recounted episodes deeply +and ineffaceably impressed him. For example, an American newspaper +correspondent had written a dramatic description of the German army +marching, marching steadily along a great Belgian high road--a +procession without beginning and without end--and of the procession +being halted for his benefit, and of a German officer therein who struck +a soldier several times in the face angrily with his cane, while the man +stood stiffly at attention. George had an ardent desire to spend a few +minutes alone with that officer; he could not get the soldier's bruised +cheek out of his memory. + +Again, he was moved and even dismayed by the recitals of the entry of +the German army into Brussels and of its breaking into the goose-step as +it reached the Grande Place, though he regarded the goose-step as too +ridiculous and contemptible for words. Then the French defence of +Dinant, and the Belgian defence of LiĂ©ge, failure as it was, and the +obstinate resistance at Namur, inspired him; and the engagements between +Belgians and Uhlans, in which the clumsy Uhlans were always scattered, +destroyed for him the dread significance of the term 'Uhlan.' + +He simply did not comprehend that all these events were negligible +trifles, that no American correspondent had seen the hundredth part of +the enemy forces, that the troops which marched through Brussels were a +tiny, theatrical side-show, a circus, that the attack on LiĂ©ge had been +mismanaged, that the great battle at Dinant was a mere skirmish in the +new scale of war, and the engagements with Uhlans mere scuffles, and +that behind the screen of these infinitesimal phenomena _the German +army_, unimagined in its hugeness, horror, and might, was creeping like +a fatal and monstrous caterpillar surely towards France. + +A similar screen hid from him the realities of England. He saw bunting +and recruits, and the crowds outside consulates. But he had no idea of +the ceaseless flight of innumerable crammed trains day and night +southwards, of the gathering together of Atlantic liners and excursion +steamers from all the coasts into an unprecedented Armada, of the +sighting of the vanguard of that Armada by an incredulous Boulogne, of +the landing of British regiments and guns and aeroplanes in the midst of +a Boulogne wonderstruck and delirious, and of the thrill which thereupon +ecstatically shivered through France. He knew only that 'the +Expeditionary Force had landed in safety.' + +He could not believe that a British Army could face successfully the +legendary Prussians with their Great General Staff, and yet he had a +mystic and entirely illogical belief in the invincibility of the British +Army. He had read somewhere that the German forces amounted in all to +the equivalent of over three hundred divisions; he had been reliably +told that the British forces in France amounted to three divisions and +some cavalry. It was most absurd; but his mysticism survived the +absurdity, so richly was it nourished by news from the strange, +inartistic colonies, where architecture was not understood. Revelation +came to George that the British Empire, which he had always suspected to +be an invention of those intolerable persons the Imperialists, was after +all something more than a crude pink smear across the map of the world. + +Withal he was acutely dejected as he left his office to go to the club. + + +II + + +Sir Isaac was sitting quite alone in the large smoking-room of the +Artists in Albemarle Street--a beautiful apartment terribly disfigured +by its pictures, which had been procured from fashionable members in the +fashionable taste of twenty years earlier, and were crying aloud for +some one brave enough to put them out of their misery. No interpretation +of the word 'artist' could by any ingenuity be stretched to include Sir +Isaac. Nevertheless he belonged to the club, and so did a number of +other men in like case. The difference between Sir Isaac and the rest +was that Sir Isaac did actually buy pictures, though seldom from +fashionable painters. + +He was a personage of about forty-five years, with a rather prominent +belly, but not otherwise stout; a dark man; plenty of stiff black hair +(except for one small central bald patch); a rank moustache, and a +clean-shaven chin apparently woaded in the manner of the ancient +Britons; elegantly and yet severely dressed--braided morning-coat, +striped trousers, small, skin-fitting boots, a black flowered-silk +necktie. As soon as you drew near him you became aware of his +respiratory processes; you were bound to notice continually that without +ceasing he carried on the elemental business of existence. Hair sprouted +from his nose, and the nose was enormous; it led at a pronounced slope +to his high forehead, which went on upwards at exactly the same angle +and was lost in his hair. If the chin had weakly receded, as it often +does in this type, Sir Isaac would have had a face like a spear-head, +like a ram of which the sharp point was the top of his nose; but Sir +Isaac's chin was square, and the wall of it perpendicular. + +His expression was usually inquisitive, dissatisfied, and +disdainful--the effect being produced by a slight lifting of the back of +the nostrils and a slight tipping forward of the whole head. His tone, +however, often by its bluff good-humour, contradicted the expression. He +had in an extreme degree the appearance of a Jew, and he had the names +of a Jew; and most people said he was a Jew. But he himself seriously +denied it. He asserted that he came of a Welsh Nonconformist family, +addicted to christening its infants out of the Bible, and could prove +his descent for generations--not that he minded being taken for a Jew +(he would add), was indeed rather flattered thereby, but he simply was +not a Jew. At any rate he was Welsh. A journalist had described him in a +phrase: "All the time he's talking to you in English you feel he's +thinking something different in Welsh." He was an exceedingly rich +industrial, and had made his money by organization; he seemed always to +have leisure. + +"Here," he curtly advised George, producing a magnificent Partaga, +similar to the one he was himself smoking, "you'd better have this." + +He cut the cigar carefully with a club tool, and pushed the match-stand +across the table with a brusque gesture. George would not thank him for +the cigar. + +"You're on that Indian barracks, aren't you?" + +"Yes. They're in a Hades of a hurry." + +"Well, my factory is in much more of a hurry." + +George was startled. He had heard nothing of the factory for a month, +and had assumed that the war had scotched the enterprise. + +He said: + +"Then the war won't stop you?" + +Sir Isaac shook his head slowly, with an arrogant smile. It then +occurred to George that this man differed strangely from all other +men--because the sinister spell of the war had been powerless over him +alone. All other men bore the war in their faces and in their gestures, +but this man did not. + +"I'm going to make munitions now--explosives. I'm going to have the +biggest explosives factory in the world. However, the modifications in +the general plan won't be serious. I want to talk to you about that." + +"Have you got contracts, then, already?" + +"No. Both the War Office and the Admiralty have told me they have all +the explosives they want," he sneered. "But I've made a few inquiries, +and I think that by the time my factory's up they'll be wanting more +explosives than they can get. In fact I wish I could build half a dozen +factories. Dare say I shall." + +"Then you think we're in for a long war?" + +"Not specially that. If it's a long war you English will win. If it's a +short war the Germans will win, and it will be the end of France as a +great power. That's all." + +"Won't it be the end of your factory too?" + +"Noh!" exclaimed Sir Isaac, with careless compassion in his deep, viscid +voice. "If it's a short war, there'll be another war. You English will +never leave it alone. So that whatever happens, if I take up explosives, +I can't go wrong. It's velvet." + +"It seems to me we shall bust up the whole world if we aren't careful, +soon." + +Sir Isaac smiled more compassion. + +"Not at all," he said easily. "Not at all. Things are always arranged in +the end--more or less satisfactorily, of course. It's up to the +individual to look out for himself." + +George said: + +"I was thinking of going into the Army." + +The statement was not strictly untrue, but he had never formulated it, +and he had never thought consecutively of such a project, which did +indeed appear too wild and unpractical for serious consideration. + +"This recruiting's been upsetting you." + +George's vague patriotism seemed to curdle at these half-dozen scornful +words. + +"Do you think I oughtn't to go into the Army, Sir Isaac?" + +"My dear boy, any----can go into the Army. And if you go into the Army +you'll lose your special qualities. I see you as the best factory +designer we have, architecturally. You've only just started, but you +have it in you. And your barracks is pretty good. Of course, if you +choose to indulge in sentimentality you can deprive the country of an +architect in a million and make it a present of a mediocre soldier--for +you haven't got the mind of a soldier. But if you do that, mark my +words--you'll only do it to satisfy the egotism that you call your +heart, you'll only do it in order to feel comfortable; just as a woman +gives a penny to a beggar and thinks it's charity when it's nothing of +the sort. There are fellows that go and enlist because they hear a band +play." + +"Yes," George concurred. He hated to feel himself confronted by a mind +more realistic than his own, but he was realistic enough to admit the +fact. What Sir Isaac said was unanswerable, and it appealed very +strongly to George. He cast away his sentimentality, ashamed of it. And +at the same time he felt greatly relieved in other ways. + +"You'd better put this Indian barracks on one side as much as you can, +or employ some one to help you. I shall want all your energies." + +"But I shall probably have to go to India. The thing's very urgent." + +Sir Isaac scorned him in a profound gaze. The smoke from their two +magnificent cigars mingled in a canopy above them. + +"Not it!" said Sir Isaac. "What's more, it's not wanted at all. They +think it is, because they're absolutely incapable of thought. They know +the word 'war' and they know the word 'barracks.' They put them together +and imagine it's logic. They say: 'We were going to build a barracks, +and now we're at war. Therefore we must hurry up with the barracks.' +That's how they reason, and the official mind will never get beyond it. +_Why_ do they want the barracks? If they want the barracks, what's the +meaning of what they call 'the response of the Indian Empire'? Are they +going to send troops to India or take them away from India? They're +going to take them away, of course. Mutiny of India's silent millions? +Rubbish! Not because a mutiny would contradict the far-famed 'response +of the Indian Empire,' but because India's silent millions haven't got a +rifle amongst them. You needn't tell me they've given you forty reasons +for getting on with that barracks. I know their reasons. All of 'em put +together only mean that in a dull, dim Oxford-and-Cambridge way they see +a connexion between the word 'war' and the word 'barracks.'" + +George laughed, and then, after a few seconds, Sir Isaac gave a short, +rough laugh. + +"But if they insist on me going to India--" George began, and paused. + +Sir Isaac grew meditative. + +"I say, speaking of voyages," he murmured in a tone almost dreamy. "If +you have any loose money, put it into ships, and keep it there. You'll +double it, you'll treble it.... Any ships. No matter what ships." + +"Well, I haven't got any loose money," said George curtly. "And what I +want to know is, if they insist on me going to India, what am I to do?" + +"Tell them you can't go. Tell 'em your professional engagements won't +permit it. They'll lick your boots, and ask humbly if you can suggest +any suitable person to represent you. I shall want all your energies, +and my factory will be worth more to this country in the war than all +the barracks under heaven. Now just bend your eye to these." + +He took some papers from his tail-pocket. The discussion grew technical. + + +III + + +George sailed down Piccadilly westwards on the top of a motor-bus. The +August afternoon was superb. Piccadilly showed more than its usual +splendour of traffic, for the class to whom the sacred word 'England' +signified personal dominion and a vast apparatus of personal luxury +either had not gone away for its holiday or had returned therefrom in a +hurry. The newspaper placards spoke of great feats of arms by the +Allies. Through the leafage of Hyde Park could be seen uncountable smart +troops manoeuvring in bodies. On the top of the motor-bus a student of +war was explaining to an ignorant friend that the active adhesion of +Japan, just announced, meant the beginning of the end for Germany. From +Japan he went to Namur, seeing that Namur was the 'chief bastion' of the +defensive line, and that hence the Germans would not be 'allowed' to +take it. Almost every motor-bus carried a fine specimen of this type of +philosopher, to whom the whole travelling company listened while +pretending not to listen. George despised him for his manner, but agreed +with some of his reasoning. + +George was thinking chiefly about Sir Isaac. Impressive person, Sir +Isaac, even if hateful! It was remarkable how the fellow seemed always +to have leisure. Organization, of course! Indubitably the fellow's +arguments could not be gainsaid. The firing-line was not the only or +even the most important part of the national war machine. To suppose +otherwise was to share the crude errors of the childlike populace and +its Press. Men were useless without guns, guns without shot, shot +without explosives; and explosives could not be produced without a +factory. The populace would never understand the close interdependence +of various activities; it would never see beyond the recruiting station; +it was meet only for pity. Sir Isaac had uttered a very wise saying: +"Things are always arranged in the end ... It's up to the individual to +look out for himself." Sir Isaac was freed from the thrall of +mob-sentimentality. He was a super-man. And he was converting George +into a super-man. George might have gone back to the office, but he was +going home instead, because he could think creatively just as well +outside the office as inside--so why should he accept the convention of +the ordinary professional man. (Sir Isaac assuredly did not.) He had +telephoned to the office. A single consideration appealed to him: How +could he now best serve his country? Beyond question he could now serve +his country best as an architect. If his duty marched with his +advantage, what matter? It was up to the individual to look out for +himself. And he, George, with already an immense reputation, would +steadily enhance his reputation, which in the end would surpass all +others in the profession. The war could not really touch him--no more +than it could touch Sir Isaac; by good fortune, and by virtue of the +impartiality of his intelligence, he was above the war.... Yes, Sir +Isaac, disliked and unwillingly but deeply respected, had cleared his +ideas for him. + +In Elm Park Gardens he met the white-clad son of a Tory M.P. who lived +in that dignified street. + +"The very man! Come and make a fourth, will you, Cannon?" asked the +youth, dandiacal in flannels, persuasively and flatteringly. + +George demanded with firmness: + +"Who are the other two?" + +"Miss Horton and Gladys What's-her-name." + +Why shouldn't he play at tennis? It was necessary to keep fit. + +"All right. But not for long, you know." + +"That's all right. Hurry up and get into your things." + +"Ten minutes." + +And in little more than ten minutes he was swinging a racket on the +private sward that separates Elm Park Gardens East from Elm Park Gardens +West, and is common to the residents of both. He had not encountered +Lois at home, and had not thought it necessary to seek her out. He and +she were often invited to play tennis in Elm Park Gardens. + +The grass was beautifully kept. At a little distance two gardeners were +at work, and a revolving sprinkler whirled sprays of glinting water in a +wide circle. The back windows of the two streets disclosed not the +slightest untidiness nor deshabille; rising irregularly in tier over +tier to the high roof-line, they were all open, and all neatly +curtained, and many of them had gorgeous sun-blinds. The sound of one +or two pianos emerged faintly on the warm, still afternoon. Miss Horton +and the slim Gladys were dressed in white, with short skirts, at once +elegant and athletic. Miss Horton, very tall and strong, with clear +eyes, and a complexion damaged by undue exposure to healthy fresh air, +was a fine player of many years' experience, now at the decline of her +powers. She played seriously, every stroke conscientious and calculated, +and she gave polite, good-humoured hints to the youth, her partner. +George and Gladys were together. Gladys, eighteen, was a delightful +girl, the raw material of a very sound player; she held herself well, +and knew by instinct what style was. A white belt defined her waist in +the most enchanting fashion. George appreciated her, as a specimen of +the newest generation of English girls. There were thousands of them in +London alone, an endless supply, with none of the namby-pambiness and +the sloppiness and the blowziness of their forerunners. Walking in +Piccadilly or Bond Street or the Park, you might nowadays fancy yourself +in Paris ... Why indeed should he not be playing tennis at that hour? +The month was August. The apparatus of pleasure was there. Used or +unused, it would still be there. It could not be destroyed simply +because the times were grave. And there was his health; he would work +better after the exercise. What purpose could there be in mournful +inactivity? Yet continuously, as he ran about the court, and smiled at +Gladys, and called out the score, and exclaimed upon his failures in +precision, the strange, physical weight oppressed his stomach. He +supposed that nearly everybody carried that physical weight. But did Sir +Isaac? Did the delicious Gladys? The youth on the other side of the net +was in the highest spirits because in a few days he would be entering +Sandhurst. + +A butler appeared from the French window of the ground floor of the +M.P.'s house, walked down the curving path screened by a pergola, and +came near the court with a small white paper in his solemn hand. At a +suitable moment he gave the paper to the young master, who glanced at it +and stuffed it into his pocket; the butler departed. A few minutes later +the players changed courts. While the girls chatted apart, the youth +leaped over the net, and, drawing the paper from his pocket, showed it +furtively to George. It bore the words: + +"Namur has fallen." + +The M.P.'s household received special news by telephone from a friend at +the War Office. + +The youth raised his eyebrows, and with a side-glance seemed to say that +there could be no object in telling the women immediately. The next +instant the game was resumed with full ardour. + +George missed his strokes. Like thousands of other people, untaught by +the episode of LiĂ©ge, he had counted upon Namur. Namur, the bastion, the +shoulder of the newly forming line, if not impregnable, was expected to +hold out for many days. And it had tumbled like a tin church, and with +it the brave edifice of his confidence. He saw the Germans inevitably in +Paris, blowing up Paris quarter by quarter, arrondissement by +arrondissement, imposing peace, dictating peace, forcing upon Europe +unspeakable humiliations. He saw Great Britain compelled to bow; and he +saw worse than that. And the German officer, having struck across the +face with his cane the soldier standing at attention, would go back to +Germany in triumph more arrogant than ever, to ogle adoring virgins and +push cowed and fatuous citizens off the pavement into the gutter. The +solid houses of Elm Park Gardens, with their rich sun-blinds, the +perfect sward, the white-frocked girls, the respectful gardeners, the +red motor-buses flitting past behind the screen of bushes in the +distance, even the butler in his majestic and invulnerable +self-conceit--the whole systematized scene of correctness and tradition +trembled as if perceived through the quivering of hot air. Gladys, +reliant on the male and feeling that the male could no longer be relied +on, went 'off her game,' with apologies; the experience of Miss Horton +asserted itself, and the hard-fought set was lost by George and his +partner. He reminded the company that he had only come for a short time, +and left in a mood of bitter blackness. + + +IV + + +In front of his own house George saw a tradesman's coupĂ© of the +superior, discreet sort, with a smart horse (the same being more +'distinctive' than motor-traction), a driver liveried in black, and the +initials of the firm in a restrained monogram on the doors. He thought: +"She's blueing money again. Of course it's her own, but--" He was +extremely sardonic. In the drawing-room he found not only Lois but +Laurencine and an attentive, respectful, bright-faced figure rather +stylishly dressed in black. This last was fastening a tea-gown on the +back of pale Lois, who stood up with a fatigued, brave air. Laurencine +sat critically observant on the end of a sofa. The furniture of the room +was heaped with tea-gowns, and other garments not very dissimilar, +producing a rich and exciting effect. All three women quickened to +George's entry. + +"Oh! George!" said Lois querulously. "Are you going to play tennis? I +wish I could! I'm so glad you came in; we'd no idea you were in the +house, had we, Laurencine? Laurencine's giving me a tea-gown. Which of +them do you prefer? It's no good me having one you don't like." + +He had been unjust to her, then. + +"It's really her birthday present," said Laurencine, "only a bit late. +Oh! Dear! Darling, do sit down, you're standing too long." + +Both Laurencine and the young woman in black regarded Lois with soft +compassion, and she sat down. Laurencine too was a mother. But she had +retained her girlhood. She was a splendid, powerful, erect creature, +handsome, with a frank, benevolent, sane face, at the height of her +physical perfection. George had a great fondness for her. Years earlier +he had wondered how it was that he had not fallen in love with her +instead of with Lois. But he knew the reason now. She lacked force of +individuality. She was an adorer by instinct. She adored Lois; Lois +could do no wrong. More strange, she adored her husband. Ingenuous +simpleton! Yet wise! Another thing was that her mind was too pure. +Instead of understanding, it rejected. It was a mind absolutely +impregnable to certain phenomena. And this girl still enjoyed musical +comedies and their successors in vogue, the revues! + +"The Germans have taken Namur," George announced. + +The news impressed. Even the young woman in black permitted herself by a +facial gesture to show that she was interested in the war as well as in +tea-gowns, and apart from its effect on tea-gowns. + +"Oh! Dear!" murmured Laurencine. + +"Is it serious?" Lois demanded. + +"You bet it is!" George replied. + +"But what's Sir John French doing, then? I say, Laurencine, I think I +shall have that pale blue one, after all, if you don't mind." The black +young woman went across to the piano and brought the pale blue one. +"George, don't you think so?" + +The gown was deferentially held out for his inspection. + +"Well, I can't judge if I don't see it on, can I?" he said, yielding +superciliously to their mood. Women were incurable. Namur had fallen, +but the room was full of finery, and the finery claimed attention. And +if Paris had fallen, it would have been the same. So he told himself. +Nevertheless the spectacle of the heaped finery and its absorbed +priestess was very agreeable. Lois rose. Laurencine and the priestess +helped her to remove the white gown she wore, and to put on the blue +one. The presence of the male somewhat disturbed the priestess, but the +male had signified a wish and the wish was flattering and had to be +fulfilled. George, cynically, enjoyed her constraint. He might at least +have looked out of the window, but he would not. + +"Yes, that's fine," he decided carelessly, when the operation was done. +He did not care a pin which tea-gown Lois had. + +"I knew you'd like it better," said Lois eagerly. The other two, in +words or by demeanour, applauded his august choice. + +The affair was over. The priestess began to collect her scattered stock +into a light trunk. Behind her back, Lois took hold of Laurencine and +kissed her fondly. Laurencine smiled, and persuaded Lois into a chair. + +"You will of course keep that on, madam?" the priestess suggested. + +"Oh yes, darling, you must rest, really!" said Laurencine earnestly. + +"Thank you, madam." + +In three minutes the priestess, bearing easily the trunk by a strap, had +gone, bowing. Lois's old tea-gown, flung across the head of the sofa, +alone remained to brighten the furniture. + +The drawing-room door opened again immediately, and a military officer +entered. Laurencine sprang up with a little girlish scream and ran to +him. + +"Oh! Dearest! Have you got them already? You never told me you would +have! How lovely you look!" + +Blushing with pleasure and pride, she kissed him. It was Everard Lucas. +Laurencine had come to Elm Park Road that afternoon with the first news +that Everard, through a major known to his late mother, had been offered +a commission in a Territorial line regiment. George, who saw Lucas but +seldom, had not the slightest idea of this enormous family event, and +he was astounded; he had not been so taken back by anything perhaps for +years. Lucas was rounder and his face somewhat coarser than in the past; +but the uniform had created a new Lucas. It was beautifully made and he +wore it well; it suited him; he had the fine military air of a regular; +he showed no awkwardness, only a simple vanity. + +"Don't you feel as if you must kiss him, Lois darling?" said Laurencine. + +"Oh! I certainly must!" Lois cried, forgetting her woes in the new +tea-gown and in the sudden ecstasy produced by the advent of an officer +into the family. + +Lucas bent down and kissed his sister-in-law, while Laurencine beheld +the act with delight. + +"The children must see you before you go," said Lois. + +"Madam, they shall see their uncle," Lucas answered. At any rate his +agreeable voice had not coarsened. He turned to George: "What d'you +think of it, George?" + +"My boy, I'm proud of you," said George. In his tennis-flannels he felt +like one who has arrived at an evening party in morning-dress. And +indeed he was proud of Lucas. Something profound and ingenuous in him +rose into his eyes and caused them to shine. + +Lucas related his adventures with the tailor and other purveyors, and +explained that he had to 'join his regiment' the next day, but would be +able to remain in London for the present. George questioned him about +his business affairs. + +"No difficulty about that whatever!" said Lucas lightly. "The old firm +will carry on as usual; Enwright and Orgreave will have to manage it +between them; and of course they wouldn't dream of trying to cut off the +spondulicks. Not that I should let that stop me if they did." + +"Yes, it's all very well for _you_ to talk like that!" said Lois, with a +swift change of tone. "You've got partners to do your work for you, and +you've got money.... Have you written to mother, Laurencine?" + +George objected to his wife making excuses. His gaze faltered. + +"Of course, darling!" Laurencine answered eagerly, agreeing with her +sister's differentiation between George and Everard. "No, not yet. But +I'm going to to-night. Everard, we ought to be off." + +"I've got a taxi outside," said Lucas. + +"A taxi?" she repeated in a disappointed tone. And then, as an +afterthought: "Well, I have to call at Debenham's." + +The fact was that Laurencine wanted to be seen walking with her military +officer in some well-frequented thoroughfare. They lived at Hampstead. + +Lois rang the bell. + +"Ask nurse to bring the children down, please--at once," she told the +parlourmaid. + +"So this is the new tea-gown, if I mistake not!" observed Lucas in the +pause. "_Très chic_! I suppose Laurencine's told you all about the +chauffeur being run off with against his will by a passionate virgin. +_I_ couldn't start the car this morning myself." + +"You never could start a car by yourself, my boy," said George. "What's +this about the passionate virgin?" + + +V + + +George woke up in the middle of the night. Lois slept calmly; he could +just hear her soft breathing. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms, +of the health of children, the incalculable quality in wives, the touchy +stupidity of nurses and servants. The mere human weight of the household +oppressed him terribly. And he thought of the adamant of landlords, the +shifty rapacity of tradesmen, the incompetence of clerks, the mere +pompous foolishness of Government departments, the arrogance of Jew +patrons, and the terrifying complexity of problems of architecture on a +large scale. He was the Atlas supporting a vast world a thousand times +more complex than any problem of architecture. He wondered how he did +it. But he did do it, alone; and he kept on doing it. Let him shirk the +burden, and not a world but an entire universe would crumble. If he told +Lois that he was going to leave her, she would collapse; she would do +dreadful things. He was indispensable not only at home but +professionally. All was upon his shoulders and upon nobody else's. He +was bound, he was a prisoner, he had no choice, he was performing his +highest duty, he was fulfilling the widest usefulness of which he was +capable ... Besides, supposing he did go insane and shirk the burden, +they would all say that he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform--the +mere sight of the uniform!--like a girl! He could not stand that, +because it would be true. Not that he would ever admit its truth! He +recalled Lucas's tact in refraining from any suggestion, even a jocular +suggestion, that he, George, ought also to be in uniform. Lucas was +always tactful. Be damned to his tact! And the too eager excuses made +by Lois in his behalf also grated on his susceptibility. He had no need +of excuses. The woman was taciturn by nature, and yet she was constantly +saying too much! And did any of the three of them--Lois, Laurencine, and +Lucas--really appreciate the war? They did not. They could not envisage +it. Lucas was wearing uniform solely in obedience to an instinct. + +At this point the cycle of his reflections was completed, and began +again. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms.... Thus, in the dark, +warm night the contents of his mind revolved endlessly, with extreme +tedium and extreme distress, and each moment his mood became more +morbid. + +An occasional sound of traffic penetrated into the room,--strangely +mournful, a reminder of the immense and ineffable melancholy of a city +which could not wholly lose itself in sleep. The window lightened. He +could descry his wife's portable clock on the night-table. A quarter to +four. Turning over savagely in bed, he muttered: "My night's done for. +And nearly five hours to breakfast. Good God!" The cycle resumed, and +was enlarged. + +At intervals he imagined that he dozed; he did doze, if it is possible +while you are dozing to know that you doze. His personality separated +into two personalities, if not more. He was on a vast plain, and yet he +was not there, and the essential point of the scene was that he was not +there. Thousands and tens of thousands of men stood on this plain, which +had no visible boundaries. A roll-call was proceeding. A resounding and +mysterious voice called out names, and at each name a man stepped +briskly from the crowds and saluted and walked away. But there was no +visible person to receive the salute; the voice was bodiless. George +became increasingly apprehensive; he feared a disaster, yet he could not +believe that it would occur. It did occur. Before it arrived he knew +that it was arriving. The voice cried solemnly: + +"George Edwin Cannon." + +An awful stillness and silence followed, enveloping the entire infinite +plain. George trembled. He was there, but he was not there. Men looked +at each other, raising their eyebrows. The voice did not deign to repeat +the call. After a suitable pause, the voice cried solemnly: + +"Everard Lucas." + +And Lucas in his new uniform stepped gravely forward and saluted and +walked away. + +"Was I asleep or awake?" George asked himself. He could not decide. At +any rate the scene impressed him. The bigness of the plain, the summons, +the silence, the utter absence of an expression of reproof or regret--of +any comment whatever. + +At five o'clock he arose, and sat down in his dressing-gown at Lois's +very untidy and very small writing-desk, and wrote a letter on her +notepaper. The early morning was lovely; it was celestial. + +"DEAR DAVIDS," the letter began.--That would annoy the fellow, who liked +the address respectful.--"Dear Davids, I have decided to join the Army, +and therefore cannot proceed further with your commission. However, the +general idea is complete. I advise you to get it carried out by Lucas & +Enwright. Enwright is the best architect in England. You may take this +from me. I'm his disciple. You might ring me up at the office this +afternoon.--Yours faithfully, GEORGE CANNON" + +"P.S.--Assuming you go to Lucas & Enwright, I can either make some +arrangement with them as to sharing fees myself, or you can pay me an +agreed sum for the work I've done, and start afresh elsewhere. I shall +want all the money I can get hold of." + +Yes, Sir Isaac would be very angry. George smiled. He was not +triumphant, but he was calm. In the full sanity of the morning, every +reason against his going into the Army had vanished. The material +objection was ridiculous--with Edwin Clayhanger at the back of him! +Moreover, some money would be coming in. The professional objection was +equally ridiculous. The design for the Indian barracks existed complete; +and middle-aged mediocrity could carry it out in a fashion, and Lucas & +Enwright could carry it out better than he could carry it out himself. +As for Davids, he had written. There was nothing else of importance in +his office. The other competition had not been won. If people said that +he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform, well, they must say it. They +would not say it for more than a few days. After a few days the one +interesting fact would be that he had joined. By such simple and curt +arguments did he annihilate the once overwhelming reasons against his +joining the Army. + +But he did not trouble to marshal the reasons in favour of his joining +the Army. He had only one reason: he must! He quite ignored the larger +aspects of the war--the future of civilization, freedom versus slavery, +right versus wrong, even the responsibilities of citizenship and the +implications of patriotism. His decision was the product, not of +argument, but of feeling. However, he did not feel a bit virtuous. He +had to join the Army, and 'that was all there was to it.' A beastly +nuisance, this world-war! It was interfering with his private affairs; +it might put an end to his private affairs altogether; he hated +soldiering; he looked inimically at the military caste. An unspeakable +nuisance. But there the war was, and he was going to answer to his name. +He simply could not tolerate the dreadful silence and stillness on the +plain after his name had been called. "Pooh! Sheer sentimentality!" he +said to himself, thinking of the vision--half-dream, half-fancy. "Rotten +sentimentality!" + +He asked: + +"Damn it! Am I an Englishman or am I not?" + +Like most Englishmen, he was much more an Englishman than he ever +suspected. + +"What on earth are you doing, George?" + +At the voice of his wife he gave a nervous jump, and then instantly +controlled himself and looked round. Her voice was soft, liquid, weak +with slumber. But, lying calmly on one side, her head half buried in the +pillow, and the bedclothes pushed back from her shoulders, she was +wideawake and gazed at him steadily. + +"I'm just writing a letter," he answered gruffly. + +"Now? What letter?" + +"Here! You shall read it." He walked straight across the room in his gay +pyjamas only partly hidden by the splendid dressing-gown, and handed her +the letter. Moving nothing but her hand, she took the letter and held it +in front of her eyes. He sat down between the beds, on the edge of his +own bed, facing her. + +"Whatever is it?" + +"Read it. You've got it," he said, with impatience. He was trembling, +aware that the crisis had suddenly leapt at him. + +"Oh!" + +She had read the opening phrase; she had received the first shock. But +the tone of her exclamation gave no clue at all to her attitude. It +might mean anything--anything. She shut her eyes; then glanced at him, +terror-struck, appealing, wistful, implacable. + +"Not at once?" + +"Yes, at once." + +"But surely you'll at least wait until after October." + +He shook his head. + +"But why can't you?" + +"I can't." + +"But there's no object--" + +"I've got to do it." + +"You're horribly cruel." + +"Well, that's me!" He was sullen, and as hard as a diamond. + +"George, I shall never be able to stand it. It's too much to expect. +It'll kill me." + +"Not it! What's the use of talking like that? If I'd been in the +Territorials before the war, like lots of chaps, I should have been gone +long ago, and you'd have stood it all right. Don't you understand we're +at war? Do you imagine the war can wait for things like babies?" + +She cried: + +"It's no good your going on in that strain. You can't leave me alone +with all this house on my shoulders, and so that's flat." + +"Who wants to leave you all alone in the house? You can go and stay at +Ladderedge, children and nurse and all." This scheme presented itself to +him as he spoke. + +"Of course I can't! We can't go and plant ourselves on people like that. +Besides--" + +"Can't you? You'll see!" + +He caught her eye. Why was he being so brutal to her? What conceivable +purpose was served by this harshness? He perceived that his nerves were +overstrung. And in a swift rush of insight he saw the whole situation +from her point of view. She was exhausted by gestation; she lived in a +world distorted. Could she help her temperament? She was in the gravest +need of his support; and he was an ass, a blundering fool. His severity +melted within him, and secretly he became tender as only a man can be. + +"You silly girl!" he said, slightly modifying his voice, taking care not +to disclose all at once the change in his mood. + +"You silly girl! Can't you see they'll be so proud to have you they +won't be able to contain themselves? They'll turn the whole place +upside-down for you. I know them. They'll pretend it's nothing, but +mother won't sleep at night for thinking how to arrange things for the +best, and as for my cuckoo of an uncle, if you notice something funny +about your feet, it'll be the esteemed alderman licking your boots. +You'll have the time of your life. In fact they'll ruin your character +for you. There'll be no holding you afterwards." + +She did not smile, but her eyes smiled. He had got the better of her. He +had been cleverer than she was. She was beaten. + +"But we shall have no money." + +"Read the letter, child. I'm not a fool." + +"I know you're not a fool. No one knows that better than me." + +He went on: + +"And what's uncle's money for, if it comes to that?" + +"But we can't spunge on them like that!" + +"Spunge be dashed! What's money for? It's no good till it's spent. If he +can't spend it on us, who can he spend it on? He always makes out he's +fiendishly hard, but he's the most generous idiot ever born." + +"Yes, you're awfully like him." + +"I'm not." + +He was suddenly alive to the marvellous charm of the intimacy of the +scene with his wife, in the early summer dawn, in the silent, enchanted +house of sleepers, in the disorder of the heaped bedroom. They were +alone together, shameless in front of one another, and nobody knew or +saw, or could ever know or see. Their relations were unique, the +resultant of long custom, of friction, of misunderstanding, of +affection, of incomprehensible instincts, of destiny itself. He thought: +"I have lived for this sensation, and it is worth living for." + +Without the slightest movement, she invited him with her strange eyes, +and as she did so she was as mysterious as ever she had been. He bent +down responsively. She put her hot, clammy hands on his shoulders, and +kept his head at a little distance and looked through his eyes into his +soul. The letter had dropped to the floor. + +"I knew you would!" she murmured, and then snatched him to her, and +kissed him, and kept her mouth on his. + +"You didn't," he said, as soon as she loosed him. "I didn't know +myself." + +But he privately admitted that perhaps she did know. She had every +fault, but she was intelligent. Constantly he was faced with that fact. +She did not understand the significance of the war; she lacked +imagination; but her understanding was sometimes terrible. She was +devious; but she had a religion. He was her religion. She would cast the +god underfoot--and then in a passion of repentance restore it ardently +to the sacred niche. + +She said: + +"I couldn't have borne it if Everard had gone and you hadn't. But of +course you meant to go all the time." + +That was how she saved his amour-propre. + +"I always knew you were a genius--" + +"Oh! Chuck it, kid!" + +"But you're more, somehow. This business--" + +"You don't mean joining the Army?" + +"Yes." + +"What rot! There's nothing in it. Fellows are doing it everywhere." + +She smiled superiorly, and then inquired: + +"How do you join? What are you going to do? Shall you ask Everard?" + +"Well--" he hesitated. He had no desire to consult Lucas. + +"Why don't you see Colonel Rannion?" she Suggested. + +"Jove! That's a scheme. Never thought of him!" + +Her satisfaction at the answer was childlike, and he was filled with +delight that it should be so. They launched themselves into an +interminable discussion about every possible arrangement of everything. +But in a pause of it he destroyed its tremendous importance by remarking +casually: + +"No hurry, of course. I bet you I shall be kept knocking about here for +months." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IN THE MACHINE + +I + + +Colonel Rannion was brother of the wife of the man for whom George had +built the house at Hampstead. George had met him several times at the +dinners and other reunions to which a sympathetic architect is often +invited in the dwelling that he has created. Colonel Rannion had greatly +liked his sister's house, had accordingly shown much esteem for George, +and had even spoken of ordering a house for himself. + +Just as breakfast was being served, George had the idea of ringing up +the Hampstead people for the Colonel's address, which he obtained at +once. The Colonel was staying at the Berkeley Hotel. The next moment he +got the Berkeley, and the Colonel in person. The Colonel remembered him +instantly. George said he wanted to see him. What about? Well, a +commission. The Colonel said he had to leave the hotel in twenty-five +minutes. "I can be with you in less than a quarter of an hour," said +George--or rather, not George, but some subconscious instinct within +him, acting independently of him. The children, with nurse, were in the +dining-room, waiting to breakfast with father. They were washed, they +were dressed; the dining-room had been cleaned; the pleasant smell of +breakfast-cooking wandered through the rooms; since the early talk +between George and Lois in the silent, sleeping house the house had +gradually come to life; it was now in full being--even to the girl +scrubbing the front steps--except that Lois was asleep. Exhausted after +the strange and crucial scene, she had dozed off, and had never moved +throughout George's dressing. + +Now he rushed into the dining-room--"I have to go, nurse. Fardy can't +have his breakfast with you!"--and rushed out. A minute previously he +had felt a serious need of food after the long, sleepless morning. The +need vanished. He scurried up Elm Park Gardens like a boy in the warm, +fresh air, and stopped a taxi. He was extremely excited. None but Lois +knew the great secret. He had kept it to himself. He might have burst +into the kitchen--for he was very apt to be informal--and said: "Well, +cook, I'm going into the Army!" What a household sensation the news +would cause, and what an office sensation! His action would affect the +lives of all manner of people. And the house, at present alive and +organic, would soon be dead. He was afraid. What he was doing was +tremendous. Was it madness? He had a feeling of unreality. + +At the entrance to the Berkeley Hotel lay a large automobile, with a +spurred and highly polished military chauffeur. At the door of Colonel +Rannion's room was stationed a spurred and highly polished, erect +orderly--formidable contrast to the flaccid waiters who slouched palely +in the corridors. The orderly went into the room and saluted with a +click. George followed, as into a dentist's surgery. It was a small, +elegant, private sitting-room resembling a boudoir. In the midst of +delicately tinted cushions and flower-vases stood Colonel Rannion, +grey-haired, blue-eyed, very straight, very tall, very slim--the +slimness accentuated by a close-fitted uniform which began with red tabs +and ended in light leggings and gleaming spurs. He conformed absolutely +to the traditional physical type of soldier, and the sight of him gave +pleasure. + +"Good morning. Cannon. Glad to see you." He seemed to put a secret +meaning into the last words. + +He shook hands as he spoke, firmly, decisively, efficiently. + +"I hope I'm not troubling you too much," George began. + +"Troubling me! Sit down. You want a commission. The Army wants to give +commissions to men like you. I think you would make a good officer." + +"Of course I'm absolutely ignorant of the Army. Absolutely." + +"Yes. What a pity that is! If you'd only been a pre-war Territorial you +might have done three weeks' urgent work for your country by this time." +The remark was a polite reproof. + +"I might," admitted George, to whom the notion of working for his +country had never before occurred. + +"Do you think you'd like the Artillery?" Colonel Rannion questioned +sharply. His tone was increasing in sharpness. + +With an equal sharpness George answered unhesitatingly: "Yes, I +should." + +"Can you ride?" + +"I can _ride_. In holidays and so on I get on my mother's horses." + +"Have you hunted?" + +"Never." + +"H'm!... Well, I know my friend Colonel Hullocher, who commands the +Second Brigade of--er--my Division, is short of an officer. Would you +care for that?" + +"Certainly." + +Without saying anything else Colonel Rannion took up the telephone. In +less than half a minute George heard him saying: "Colonel Hullocher.... +Ask him to be good enough to come to the telephone at once.... That you, +Hullocher?" + +George actually trembled. He no longer felt that heavy weight on his +stomach, but he felt 'all gone.' He saw himself lying wounded near a +huge gun on a battlefield. + +Colonel Rannion was continuing into the telephone: + +"I can recommend a friend of mine to you for a commission. George +Cannon--C-a-n-n-o-n--the architect. I don't know whether you know of +him.... Oh! About thirty.... No, but I think he'd suit you.... Who +recommends him? _I_ do.... Like to see him, I suppose, first?... No, no +necessity to see him. I'll tell him.... Yes, I shall see you in the +course of the day." The conversation then apparently deviated to other +subjects, and drew to a close.... "Good-bye. Thanks.... Oh! I say. Shall +he get his kit?... Cannon.... Yes, he'd better. Yes, that's understood +of course. Good-bye." + +"That will be quite all right," said Colonel Rannion to George. "Colonel +Hullocher thinks you may as well see to your kit at once, provided of +course you pass the doctor and you are ready to work for nothing until +your commission comes along." + +"Oh! Naturally!" George agreed, in a dream. He was saying to himself, +frightened, astounded, staggered, and yet uplifted: "_Get my kit! Get my +kit!_ But it's scarcely a minute since I decided to go into the Army." + +"I may get your commission ante-dated. I haven't all the papers here, +but give me an address where I can find you at once, and you shall have +them this afternoon. I'll get the Colonel to send them to the +Territorial Association to-morrow, and probably in about a month you'll +be in the _Gazette_. I don't know when Colonel Hullocher will want you +to report for duty, but I shall see him to-day. You'll get a telegram +when you're needed. Now I must go. Which way are you going?" + +"I'm going home for my breakfast," said George, writing down his two +addresses. + +Colonel Rannion said: + +"I'm off to Wimbledon. I can drop you in Fulham Road if you like." + +In the automobile George received a few useful hints, but owing to the +speed of the vehicle the time was far too short for any extensive +instruction. The car drew up. For an instant Colonel Rannion became +freely cordial. "He must rather have cottoned to me, or he wouldn't have +done what he has," thought George, proud to be seen in converse with a +staff-officer, waving a hand in adieu. And he thought: "Perhaps next +time I see him I shall be saluting him!" + +The children and nurse were still at breakfast. Nothing had changed in +the house during his absence. But the whole house was changed. It was a +house unconvincing, incredible, which might vanish at any moment. He +himself was incredible. What had happened was incredible. The screeching +voices of the children were not real voices, and the children were +apparitions. The newspaper was illegible. Its messages for the most part +had no meaning, and such as bore a meaning seemed to be utterly +unimportant. The first reality, for George was food. He discovered that +he could not eat the food--could not swallow; the nausea was acute. He +drank a little coffee, and then went upstairs to see his wife. Outside +the bedroom door he stood hesitant. A desolating sadness of +disappointment suddenly surged over him. He had destroyed his ambitions, +he had transformed all his life, by a single unreflecting and +irretrievable impulse. What he had done was terrific, and yet he had +done it as though it were naught ... The mood passed as suddenly as it +had come, and left him matter-of-fact, grim, as it were swimming +strongly on and with the mighty current which had caught him. He went +into the bedroom on the current. Lois was awake. + +"I've seen Colonel Rannion." + +"You haven't, George!" + +"Yes, I have. I've just come back." + +"Well?" + +He replied with his damnable affected casualness: "I'm in the Army. +Royal Field Artillery. And so that's that." + +"But where's your uniform?" + +"I knew you'd say that. I'm in mufti, you see." + + +II + + +He promptly received his papers and returned them. His medical +examination was quite satisfactory. Then there was no further sign from +the Army. The Army might have completely forgotten him; his enrolment in +the Army might have been an illusion. Every day and every hour he +expected a telegram of command. It was in anticipation of the telegram, +curt and inexorable, that he kept harrying his tradesmen. To be caught +unprepared by the telegram would be a disaster. But the tradesmen had +lessons to teach him, and by the time the kit was approximately +completed he had learnt the lessons. Whether the transaction concerned +his tunic, breeches, spurs, leggings, cane, sword, socks, shirts, cap, +camp field-kit, or any of the numerous other articles without which an +officer might not respectably enter the British Army, the chief lesson +was the same, namely, that the tradesmen were bearing the brunt of the +war. Those who had enrolled and made spectacular sacrifices of homes and +careers and limbs and lives were enjoying a glorious game amid the +laudations of an ecstatic populace, but the real work was being done in +the shops and in the workrooms. The mere aspect of tradesmen was enough +to restore the lost modesty of officers. Useless to argue with the +tradesmen, to expostulate, to vituperate. The facts were in their +favour; the sublime law of supply and demand was in their favour. If the +suddenly unloosed military ardour had not been kept down it might have +submerged the Island. The tradesmen kept it down, and the Island was +saved by them from militarization. Majors and colonels and even generals +had to flatter and cajole tradesmen. As for lieutenants, they cringed. +And all officers were obliged to be grateful for the opportunity to +acquire goods at prices fifty per cent higher than would have been +charged to civilians. Within a few days George, who had need of every +obtainable sovereign for family purposes, had disbursed some forty +pounds out of his own pocket in order to exercise the privilege of +defending, at the risk of ruin and death, the ideals of his country. + +At the end of the week what, as a civilian, he would have described as +his first 'suit' had not been delivered, and he spent Saturday afternoon +and Sunday in most uncomfortable apprehension of the telegraph-boy and +in studying an artillery manual now known to hundreds of thousands as +'F.A.T.' On the Monday morning he collected such portions of his kit as +had to be worn with the 'suit' (leggings, boots, spurs, cap, shirt, +collar, etc.), and took them in a taxi to the tailor's, intending to +change there and emerge a soldier. The clothes were not ready, but the +tailor, intimidated by real violence, promised them for three o'clock. +At three o'clock they were still not ready, for buttons had to be +altered on the breeches; another hour was needed. + +George went to call at Lucas & Enwright's. That office seemed to +function as usual, for Everard Lucas alone had left it for the +profession of arms. The factotum in the cubicle was a young man of the +finest military age, and there were two other good ones in the clerks' +room, including a clerk just transferred from George's own office. And +George thought of his own office, already shut up, and his glance was +sardonic. Mr. Enwright sat alone in the principals' room, John Orgreave +being abroad in London in pursuit of George's two landlords--the +landlord of his house and the landlord of his office--neither of whom +had yet been brought to see that George's caprice for a military career +entitled him in the slightest degree to slip out of contracts +remunerative to the sacred caste of landlords. Lucas & Enwright had +behaved handsomely to George, having taken everything over, assumed all +responsibilities, and allotted to George more than a fair share of +percentages. And John Orgreave, who in his rough provincial way was an +admirable negotiator, had voluntarily busied himself with the affair of +the resilition of George's leases. + +"Not gone, then?" Mr. Enwright greeted him. "Well, you'd better be +going, or I shan't get my chance of being Vice-President." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Orgreave was at a committee at the Institute this morning. It seems you +might have been the next Vice, in spite of your tender years, if you'd +stayed. You're becoming the rage, you know." + +"Am I?" said George, startled. + +He hungered for further details of this great and highly disturbing +matter, but Enwright, jealous by nature and excusably jealous by reason +of the fact that despite his immense artistic reputation he had never +succeeded in being even Vice-President of the Institute, would say no +more. Indeed he took a malicious pleasure in saying no more. + +The ageing man, more hypochondriacal, thinner, and more wrinkled than +ever, was full to the brim of one subject--India. Somebody at the India +Office had flattered him by showing a knowledge of his work. The India +Office had very graciously agreed to the transfer of the barracks +enterprise to Lucas & Enwright, and now Mr. Enwright was for going to +India himself. He had never been there. Indian scenery, Indian manners, +Indian architecture boiled in his brain. The menace of German raiders +would not prevent him from going to India. He had already revisited the +photographs of Indian buildings at South Kensington Museum. Moreover, he +had persuaded himself that the erection of the barracks formed an urgent +and vital part of British war activity. + +At the same time he was convinced that the war would soon end, and in +favour of Germany. He assumed, as being beyond doubt, that a German army +would occupy Paris, and when George, with a wave of the hand, pushed the +enemy back and magically rendered Paris impregnable, he nearly lost his +temper. This embittered Englishman would not hear a word against the +miraculous efficiency of the Germans, whom he admired as much as he +hated them. The German military reputation could not have been safer in +Potsdam than it was in Russell Square. George, impatient of his master +and inspirer, rose to depart, whereupon Mr. Enwright began to talk at +large about the terrible derangement of his daily life caused by the +sudden disappearance of his favourite barber, deemed now to have been a +spy. "But the only barber who ever really understood my chin," said Mr. +Enwright. George went, shaking hands perfunctorily. Mr. Enwright was too +preoccupied to wish him luck. + +The clothes were ready at the tailor's, and they passed the tests. +George stood up disguised as a second-lieutenant in the R.F.A., booted, +spurred, gloved, nicely managing a cane. He examined himself in the +great mirror and was well pleased with his military appearance. In +particular, his dark moustache fitted the role excellently. + +"Now you'll send the overcoat and all my civilian things down this +afternoon, without fail," he said. "I'll let you have an address for the +other suit." + +And he walked manfully out of the shop. Before he could find himself, a +superb serjeant-major strode up, saluted in the highest and strictest +perfection, and passed. The encounter was unfortunate. George, taken +aback, muddled his share of the rite. Further, the self-consciousness of +the potential Vice-President of the Royal Institute of British +Architects was so extreme in uniform that it could scarcely have been +more extreme had he been thrust by destiny into Oxford Street naked. He +returned to the shop and said: + +"I think I'll take everything home myself, to make sure. You might get +me a taxi." + +He crept into his own house furtively with his parcels, like a criminal, +though he well knew that the servants would be ready to worship him as a +new god. The children were evidently out. Lois was not in the +drawing-room. He ran to the bedroom. She lay on the sofa. + +"Here I am!" he announced, posing bravely for her inspection. + +She did not move for a few seconds. Her eyes were hard-set. Then she +gave a tremendous shattering sob, and burst into wild tears. George +stooped to pick up a telegram which was lying on the floor. It read: + +"You are to report to Adjutant Headquarters Second First West Midland +R.F.A. Wimbledon to-morrow Tuesday before noon." + +The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name upon +various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at last the order +had gone forth. + + +III + + +The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken ill. George +telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had seen the patient the +doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as soon as the doctor had +telephoned for the nurse George telephoned for Laurencine. What with +George's uniform and approaching departure, and the premature seizure of +Lois, the household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state +of intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the +children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants were +noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. The breakfast +had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with a detailed description +of the retreat from Mons, were not glanced at. George was expecting a +letter from his mother concerning the arrangements for the visit of Lois +and the children to Ladderedge, already decided upon, and no letter had +come. + +At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. Having inspected +his luggage in the hall, he went to the telephone again and ascertained +that Laurencine had actually started from home. Almost at the same +moment a taxi stopped in front of the house. "She's been jolly quick," +thought George, meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw +that his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush out +to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the perfect +reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and warmed him. They +had not written again; they had just come themselves. + +He affectionately and critically watched them as they got out of the +taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, with grey hair and +beard, was passing from middle-age into the shadow of the sixties. He +dressed well, but the flat crown of his felt hat, and the artificial, +exaggerated squareness of the broad shoulders, gave him a provincial +appearance. His gesture as he paid the driver was absolutely +characteristic--a mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the +impressive and the timid. He had descended from the vehicle with +precautions, but Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was +about as old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful; +she did not understand and never had understood how to dress herself. +But she had kept her figure; she was as slim as a girl, and as restless. + +George ran to the door, which the feverish parlourmaid had neglected to +shut. His mother, mounting the steps, was struck full in the face by the +apparition of her son in uniform. The Alderman, behind her, cried +mockingly to cover his emotion: "Hal_lo_! Hal_lo_!" + +"When did you come up?" asked George quietly, taking his mother's hand +and kissing her. She slid past him into the house. Her eyes were moist. + +"Last night," the Alderman answered. "Last train. Your mother's idea. +All of a sudden. Thought you might be leaving." + +"Well, I am," said George. "I have to report at Headquarters at +Wimbledon by twelve o'clock. It's rather a good thing you've come. Lois +is ill. Oh! Here's _my_ taxi." The parlourmaid had driven up. + +"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayhanger. + +"Yes. I've sent for the doctor, and he's sent for the nurse. I'm +expecting the nurse every minute." + +"You don't mean to say--" Mrs. Clayhanger began. + +George nodded. + +"She _must_ have had a shock. I knew what it would be for her. It's all +very well, but--" Mrs. Clayhanger again left a sentence unfinished. + +"I've sent for Laurencine too," said George. "She also may be here any +minute." + +"Oh!" said the old lady tartly. "I can stay as long as you like, you +know. Lois and I get on splendidly." + +It was true. They had had one enormous quarrel, which had mysteriously +ended by both of them denying superiorly to all males that any quarrel +had ever occurred. + +"Well, come into the dining-room." + +"I think I'll go up and see Lois at once," said Mrs. Clayhanger. + +"The doctor's there." + +"What if he is?" + +The Alderman put in: + +"Now look here, missis. Don't startle her." + +Mrs. Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went upstairs. + +"This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with his stick to +the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall floor. + +"Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it all in the +taxi, May. Come along in, uncle." + +"Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me." + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!" + +They were now within the dining-room. + +"Yes." In the presence and under the influence of his people George at +once ceased to be an expansive Londoner, and reverted to the character +of the Five Towns. + +"I suppose she'll be all _right_?" + +"Doctor seems to think so." + +"Yes. They generally are." The Alderman sighed pleasantly and dropped +rather heavily into a chair. + +"Have a cigarette?" + +"No!" The Alderman refused regretfully. "I've got a new rule now. I +don't smoke till after dinner." + +There was a pause. + +"I'm glad we came." + +"So'm I." + +"You needn't worry about anything. Your mother and I will see to +everything. I'll go up and have a talk with Johnnie about the leases." + +"Thanks." + +"What about money?" + +"I'll write you. No hurry." + +"What sort of a woman is Laurencine? I've scarcely set eyes on her." + +"She's fine." + +"She is?" + +"Yes." + +"Will she hit it off with your mother?" + +"Trust her." + +"Well, then, I think I'll have one o' them cigarettes." + +They smoked in taciturnity, nervous but relieved. They had said what +they had to say to each other. After a time George remarked: + +"I heard last night there was a chance of me being Vice-President of the +Institute this year if I hadn't gone into the Army." + +Mr. Clayhanger raised his eyebrows. + +"That'll keep all right for later." + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Clayhanger hurried into the dining-room. She had removed her hat +and gloves. + +"Lois wants to see you." + +"I was just coming up. I've got to go now." He glanced at his watch. + +"Go where?" It was like Mrs. Clayhanger to ask a question to which she +knew the answer. Her ardent eyes, set a little too close together in the +thin, lined, nervous face, burned upon him challengingly. + +"I told you! I have to report at Headquarters before noon." + +"But you don't mean to say you're going to leave your wife like this! +She's very ill." + +"I'm bound to leave her." + +"But you can't leave her." + +The Alderman said: + +"The boy's quite right. If he's got to report he's got to report." + +"And supposing she was dying?" + +"Now, missis, we needn't suppose that. She isn't." + +"It would be just the same if she was," Mrs. Clayhanger retorted +bitterly. "I don't know what men are coming to. But I know this--all +husbands are selfish. They probably don't know it, but they are." + +She wept angrily. + +"Don't you understand I'm in the machine now, mater?" said George +resentfully as he left the room. + +In the bedroom Lois lay on her back, pale, perspiring, moaning. He +kissed her, glanced at the doctor for instructions, and departed. Lois +was not in a condition to talk, and the doctor wished her not to speak. +Then George went to the kitchen and took leave of the children, and +incidentally of the servants. The nurse was arriving as he re-entered +the dining-room; he had seized his cap in the hall and put it on. + +"Better give me an address," said the Alderman. + +"You might wire during the day," George said, scribbling on a loose leaf +from his pocket-book, which he had to search for in unfamiliar pockets. + +"The idea had occurred to me," the Alderman smiled. + +"Au revoir, mater." + +"But you've got plenty of time!" she protested. + +"I know," said he. "I'm not going to be late. I haven't the slightest +notion where Headquarters are, and supposing the taxi had a break-down!" + +He divined from the way in which she kissed him good-bye that she was +excessively proud of him. + +"Mater," he said, "I see you're still a girl." + +As he was leaving, Mr. Clayhanger halted him. + +"You said something in your last letter about storing the furniture, +didn't you? Have ye made any inquiries?" + +"No. But I've told Orgreave. You might look into that, because--well, +you'll see." + +From the hall he glanced into the dining-room and up the stairs. The +furniture that filled the house had been new ten years earlier; it had +been anybody's furniture. The passage of ten years, marvellously swift, +had given character to the furniture, charged it with associations, +scarred it with the history of a family--his family, individualized it, +humanized it. It was no longer anybody's furniture. With a pang he +pictured it numbered and crowded into a warehouse, forlorn, thick with +dust, tragic, exiled from men and women. + +He drove off, waving. His stepfather waved from the door, his mother +waved from the dining-room; the cook had taken the children into the +drawing-room, where they shook their short, chubby arms at him, smiling. +On the second floor the back of the large rectangular mirror on the +dressing-table presented a flat and wooden negative to his anxious +curiosity. + +In the neighbourhood of Wimbledon the taxi-driver ascertained his +destination at the first inquiry from a strolling soldier. It was the +Blue Lion public-house. The taxi skirted the Common, parts of which were +covered with horse-lines and tents. Farther on, in vague suburban +streets, the taxi stopped at a corner building with a blatant, curved +gilt sign and a very big lamp. A sentry did something with his rifle as +George got out, and another soldier obligingly took the luggage. A +clumsy painted board stuck on a pole at the entrance to a side-passage +indicated that George had indeed arrived at his Headquarters. He was +directed to a small, frowzy apartment, which apparently had once been +the land-lord's sitting-room. Two officers, Colonel Hullocher and his +Adjutant, both with ribbons, were seated close together at a littered +deal table, behind a telephone whose cord, instead of descending +modestly to the floor, went up in sight of all men to the ceiling. In a +corner a soldier, the Colonel's confidential clerk, was writing at +another table. Everything was dirty and untidy. Neither of the officers +looked at George. The Adjutant was excitedly reading to the Colonel and +the Colonel was excitedly listening and muttering. The clerk too was in +a state of excitement. George advanced towards the table, and saluted +and stood at attention. The Adjutant continued to read and the Colonel +to murmur, but the Adjutant did manage to give a momentary surreptitious +glance at George. After some time the Colonel, who was a short, stout, +bald, restless man, interrupted the reading, and, still without having +looked at George, growled impatiently to the Adjutant: + +"Who's this fellow?" + +The Adjutant replied smoothly: + +"Mr. Cannon, sir." + +The Colonel said: + +"He's got a devilish odd way of saluting. I must go now." And jumped up +and went cyclonically as far as the door. At the door he paused and +looked George full in the face, glaring. + +"You came to me with a special recommendation?" he demanded loudly. + +"Colonel Rannion kindly recommended me, sir." + +"General Rannion, sir. Haven't you seen this morning's _Times_? You +should read your Gazette." + +"Yes, sir." + +"You're the celebrated architect?" + +"I'm an architect, sir." + +"I wish you would condescend to answer, yes or no, sir. That's the +second time. I say--you're the celebrated architect?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, remember this. When you come into the Army what you were before +you came into the Army has not the slightest importance." + +"Yes, sir." + +Colonel Hullocher glared in silence for a moment, and was gone. The +clerk slipped out after him. + +The Adjutant rose: + +"Now, Cannon, we're all very busy." + +And shook hands. + + +IV + + +The same afternoon, indeed within about two hours of his entrance into +the Army, George found himself driving back from Wimbledon to London in +a motor-bus. + +Colonel Hullocher had vanished out of his world, and he had been sent to +another and still more frowzy public-house which was the Headquarters of +No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade. He was allotted to No. 2 Battery, +subject to the approval of Major Craim, the commanding officer. Major +Craim was young and fair and benevolent, and at once approvingly +welcomed George, who thereupon became the junior subaltern of the +Battery. The other half-dozen officers, to whom he was introduced one by +one as they came in, seemed amiable and very well-mannered, if unduly +excited. When, immediately before lunch, the Major was called away to +lunch with Colonel Hullocher, the excitement of the mess seemed to boil +over. The enormous fact was that the whole Division--yeomanry, infantry, +and artillery--had been ordered to trek southward the next morning. The +Division was not ready to trek; in particular the Second Brigade of its +artillery, and quite specially Battery No. 2 of the Second Brigade, was +not ready to trek. Nevertheless it would trek. It might even trek to +France. Southward was Franceward, and there were those who joyously +believed that this First Line Territorial Division was destined to lead +the Territorial Army in France. + +All the officers had a schoolboyish demeanour; all of them called one +another by diminutives ending in 'y'; all of them were pretty young. +But George soon divided them into two distinct groups--those who worried +about the smooth working of the great trek, and those who did not. Among +the former was Captain Resmith, the second in command, a dark man with a +positive, strong voice, somewhat similar to George in appearance. +Captain Resmith took George very seriously, and promised to initiate him +personally into as many technical mysteries as could be compressed into +one afternoon. Then a Major Tumulty, middle-aged and pale, came +hurriedly into the stuffy room and said without any prologue: + +"Now I must have one of you chaps this afternoon. Otherwise I promise +you you won't get all the things you want." + +Silence fell on the mess. + +"The C.O. isn't here, sir," said Captain Resmith. + +"I can't help that. I'm not going alone." + +"Cannon, you'd better go with Major Tumulty. Major, this is Mr. Cannon, +our latest addition." + +George only knew about Major Tumulty that he was Major Tumulty and that +he did not belong to No. 2 Battery. So far as George was concerned he +was a major in the air. After drinking a glass of port with the mess, +Major Tumulty suddenly remembered that he was in a hurry, and took +George off and put him into a scarlet London-General motor-bus that was +throbbing at the door of the public-house, with an ordinary civilian +driver at the steering-wheel and a soldier on the step. George felt like +a parcel; he had no choice of movement, no responsibility, no knowledge. +The mentality of a parcel was not disagreeable to him. But at times, +vaguely uneasy, he would start out of it, and ask himself: "What is +wrong?" And then the vision of a distant, half-forgotten street called +Elm Park Road would rise in his mind and he would remember: "My wife is +very ill, and everything is upset at home." + +The motor-bus travelled a few yards and stopped; and out of yet another +office a soldier carried, staggering, a heavy bag with a brass lock, and +dropped it on the floor of the bus between the Major and George; and the +bus, after a good imitation by the soldier-conductor of a professional +double ting on the bell, went away afresh. + +"That's money," said the Major, in his mild, veiled voice, pointing to +the bag. + +Little by little George learnt that the Major had 'won' the bus 'out of' +the War Office, and had been using it daily for several days for the +purpose of buying and collecting urgent stores and equipment. The bus +had become celebrated within the Division in an astoundingly short time, +and on this, the last day preceding the trek, the various units had +burdened the good-natured Major with a multitude of commissions. + +"I try to keep accounts," said the Major. "But I know I've made a loss +every day. I've been in the T.F. ever since there was one, and it has +always cost me money. Now, I shall put you in charge of this little +book." + +The little book was a penny account-book, with pages lettered in pencil +A, B, C, D, etc., and items scribbled on each page. + +"The letters show the batteries," the Major explained. "I've got a key +to the batteries somewhere in my pocket. And here's what I call my grand +list." He produced a roll of foolscap. "I like everything orderly. It +saves so much trouble, doesn't it? I mean in the end. Now, as I buy +things I shall strike them off here, and I want you to strike them off +in your book and put down the price from the bill. I always insist on a +receipted bill. It saves so much trouble in the end. I meant to bring a +file or a clip for the bills, but I forgot. You understand, don't you?" + +George answered solemnly and sharply: + +"Yes, sir." + +The Major weakly cried: + +"Hall!" + +"Yessir!" The soldier-conductor came to attention. + +"Did you tell him to go to Harrods first?" + +"Yessir!" + +"I think we might go and sit on the top," said the Major. "It's a nice +afternoon." + +So the two officers went and sat on the top of the motor-bus. The Major +gossiped with soothing tranquillity. He said that he was a pianoforte +manufacturer; his father, from whom he had inherited, had traded under a +German name because people preferred German pianos to English; he now +regretted this piece of astuteness on the part of his father; he was +trying to sell his business--he had had enough of it. + +"Hi! You!" he called, standing up quite unexpectedly and leaning over +the front of the bus to hail the driver. "Hi! You!" But the driver did +not hear, and the bus drove forward like fate. The Major, who had +hitherto seemed to be exempt from the general perturbation of Wimbledon +troops, suddenly showed excitement. "We must stop this bus somehow! Why +the devil doesn't he stop? I've forgotten the rope-shop." + +"I'll stop it, sir," said George, maintaining an admirable presence of +mind in the crisis, and he rose and pushed down the knob of the +signal-rod at the back of the bus. The bus did actually stop. + +"Ah!" murmured the Major, calmed. + +The soldier raced upstairs. + +"Hall!" + +"Yessir." + +"Do you know a rope and string shop near the Granville Theatre of +Varieties at Walham Green?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville." + +"Yessir." + +The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw the first +contents-bill of the afternoon papers. + +"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked. + +"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons business is +serious." + +"Yes, sir." + +The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. When the rope +had been purchased and new silver brought forth from the bag, and the +receipt made out, and the item struck off and the amount entered, and +the bus had started again, George perceived that he would soon be +passing the end of Elm Park Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect +the bus into Elm Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He +dared not. The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless +unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its forehead, +rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham Road, pursued by the +disappointed glances of gesturing wayfarers who wanted it to take them +to Liverpool Street. + +After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major stopped his +bus at a Tube station in the north of London. + +"I mustn't forget my pens," said he. "I have to spend three-quarters of +my time mewed up in the office, and I don't grumble; but I'm very +particular about nibs, and if I don't have my own I cannot work. It's +useless to expect it." + +Then to the soldier: + +"Hall! You go down to Partridge & Cooper's, at the corner of Chancery +Lane and Fleet Street, and buy a sixpenny box of their 'No. 6 Velvet' +pen-nibs. You understand: 'No. 6 Velvet.'" + +"Yessir. With the bus, sir?" + +"With the bus. Here's sixpence." He took a coin out of the bag, locked +it, and gave the key to George. "And keep an eye on this bag, my boy. +You will then come back and wait for us--let me see--outside Piccadilly +Tube Station in Jermyn Street." + +"Yessir." + +The Major and George entered the North London station and proceeded to +the lift. + +"Tickets!" demanded the lift-man. + +The Major halted and gazed at him. + +"On service!" said the Major, with resentment and disdain. "A fortnight +ago you civilians were raising your hats to us. Now you ask us for +tickets! Haven't you grasped yet that there's a war on? Don't you think +you'd look better in khaki?" He showed excitement, as at every personal +encounter. + +The lift-man bowed his head, inarticulately muttering, and the officers +passed into the lift, having created a certain amount of interest among +the other passengers. The Major was tranquillized in a moment. They came +to the surface again at Piccadilly Circus, where at the lift a similar +scene occurred. + +"Do you know anything about pyjamas?" said the Major. + +"Well, sir--" + +"I never wear them myself. I'm rather old-fashioned. But I have to buy +three pairs--suits for Colonel Hullocher--at Swan & Edgar's. Oh! Bother +it! Have you any money? I forgot to take some out of the bag." + +The Major purchased the pyjamas with George's money, and his attitude +towards the shopman during the transaction was defiant, indicating to +the shopman that, though personally he, the Major, never wore pyjamas, +he was an expert in pyjamas and not to be gulled. George took the +resulting parcel and the receipted bill, and they walked across to +Jermyn Street, where surely the bus, with the sixpenny box of pens, was +waiting for them. It was perfectly magical. As the vehicle swung with +them into the Circus the Major exclaimed: + +"We're getting on very well. What do you say to some tea?" + +"Certainly, sir." + +The bus, having stopped by order at the second tea-house on the left in +Piccadilly, was immediately assaulted, without success, by several +would-be passengers. A policeman, outraged by the spectacle of a bus +stationary at a spot where buses are absolutely forbidden to be +stationary, hurried forward in fury. But the Major, instantly excited, +was ready for him. + +"This motor-bus is a military vehicle on service, and I'll thank you to +mind your own business. If you've any complaints to make, you'd better +make them to Lord Kitchener." + +The policeman touched his hat. + +"They have music here," said the Major mildly, entering the tea-house. +"I always like music. Makes things so much jollier, doesn't it?" + +During tea the Major inquired about George's individual circumstances, +and George said that he was an architect. + +"Student of bricks and mortar, eh?" said the Major benevolently. "How +long have you been in the Army?" + +"Rather less than half a day, sir." + +The Major, raising his eyebrows, was very interested and kind. +Perceiving that he had virgin material under his hands, he began to +shape the material, and talked much about the niceties of the etiquette +of saluting. George listened, yet at intervals his attention would +wander, and he would be in Elm Park Road. But the illusion of home was +very faint. His wife and family seemed to be slipping away from him. +"How is it," he thought, "that I am not more upset about Lois than I +am?" The various professional and family matters which in his haste he +had left unsettled were diminishing hourly in their apparent importance. +He came back to the tea-house with a start, hearing the Major praise his +business capacity as displayed during the afternoon. The friendly aspect +of the thin, pallid face inspired him with a sort of emotional audacity, +and in ten words he suddenly informed the Major of his domestic +situation. + +"H'm!" said the Major. "I'm a bachelor myself." + +There was a pause. + +"I'll give you a tip," said the Major, resuming the interrupted topic. +"War is a business. The more business capacity you have, the more likely +you are to succeed. I'm a business man myself." + +On leaving the tea-house they discovered the military vehicle surrounded +by an enchanted multitude who were staring through its windows at the +merchandise--blankets, pans, kettles, saddles, ropes, parcels, stoves, +baskets, and box of nibs--within, while the policeman strove in vain to +keep both the road and the pavement clear. George preceded the Major, +pushing aside with haughty military impatience the civilians so +reluctant to move. He felt as though he had been in the Army for years. +No longer did his uniform cause him the slightest self-consciousness. + +At Wimbledon in the dusk the bus was met by several military wagons each +from a different unit, and each anxious to obtain goods. This piece of +organization rather impressed George. + +"Well, my boy," said the Major, "you'd better go and report yourself. +You've been a great help to me." + +George saluted according to the Major's own doctrine, and departed. At +Battery Headquarters he met Captain Resmith. + +"How did you get on with Auntie?" asked Resmith in his loud, firm voice. + +George winked. + +Resmith gave a scarcely perceptible smile. + +"Look here," he said. "I'm just going round the horse-lines. If you'll +come with me I'll show you a thing or two, and we can choose a mount for +you. Then after dinner if you like I'll take you through the orders for +to-morrow. By the way, there's a telegram for you." + +The telegram read: + +"Girl. Everything fairly satisfactory. Don't worry too much. Laurencine +sleeps here.--NUNKS" + +The telegram was entirely characteristic of his stepfather--curt, exact, +realistic, kind. + +He thought: + +"Three girls, by Jove!" + + +V + + +The early sun, carrying into autumn the tradition of a magnificent +summer, shone on the artillery camps. The four guns of the No. 2 Battery +of the Second Brigade were ranged side by side in the vast vague space +in front of the officers' hutments. Each gun had six horses in three +pairs, and a rider for each pair. On the guns and the gun-teams +everything glittered that could glitter--leather, metal, coats of +horses, faces of men. Captain Resmith rode round, examining harness and +equipment with a microscope that he called his eye. George rode round +after him. Sometimes Captain Resmith spoke to a N.C.O., sometimes even +to a man, but for the most part the men stared straight in front of them +into eternity. Major Craim trotted up. Captain Resmith approached the +Major and saluted, saying in his best military voice: + +"The Battery is all correct and ready to move off, sir." + +The Major in his drawing-room voice replied: + +"Thank you, Captain Resmith." + +Silence reigned in No. 2 Battery, except for the faint jingling +restlessness of the horses. + +Then Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant pranced into sight. The Adjutant +saluted the Major and made an inquiry. The Major saluted, and all three +chatted a little. + +George, who had accompanied Captain Resmith into the background, +murmured to him, as cautiously as a convict talking at exercise: + +"He's got his knife into me." + +"Who?" + +"The Colonel." + +"Don't you know why?" + +"No. I was specially recommended to him." + +"Well, that's one reason, isn't it? But there was a difficulty between +him and the Major as to when you should come. The old man got the better +of him--always does. But he's a good officer." + +"Who?" + +"Hullocher. Shut up." + +These two had reached familiarity with the swiftness characteristic of +martial life. + +During the brief colloquy Resmith had sat very upright on his horse, the +chin slightly lifted, the head quite still, even the lips scarcely +moving to articulate. Colonel Hullocher seemed now to be approaching. It +was a false alarm. The Colonel and his Adjutant pranced off. After a +long time, and at a considerable distance, could just be heard the voice +of the Colonel ordering the Brigade to move. But No. 2 Battery did not +stir for another long period. Suddenly, amid a devolution of orders, No. +2 Battery moved. The Major, attended by his trumpeter, and followed by +the Battery staff of range-takers, director-men, telephonists, and the +serjeant-major, inaugurated a sinuous procession into the uneven, +rutted track leading to the side-road. Then the guns one by one wheeled +to the right, the horses' hoofs stamping into the damp ground as they +turned, and became part of the procession. Then the quartermaster and +other N.C.O.'s and men joined; and last were Captain Resmith, attended +by _his_ trumpeter, and George. Resmith looked over his shoulder at the +Third Battery which surged behind. There were nearly two hundred men and +over a hundred and fifty horses and many vehicles in the Battery. The +Major was far out of sight, and the tail of the column was equally out +of sight in the rear, for the total length of Major Craim's cavalcade +exceeded a mile; and of the Brigade three miles, and two other similar +Brigades somewhere in the region of Wimbledon were participating in the +grand Divisional trek. + +Captain Resmith cantered ahead to a bend in the track, and anxiously +watched a gun-team take the sharp curve, which was also a sharp slope. +The impression of superb, dangerous physical power was tremendous. The +distended nostrils of horses, the gliding of their muscles under the +glossy skin, the muffled thud of their hoofs in the loose soil, the +grimacing of the men as they used spur and thong, the fierce straining +of straps and chains, the creaking, the grinding, and finally the +swaying of the 90-millimetre gun, coddled and polished, as it swung +helplessly forward, stern first, and its long nose describing an arc in +the air behind--these things marvellously quickened the blood. + +"Good men!" said Captain Resmith, enthusiastic. "It's great, isn't it? +You know, there's nothing so fine as a battery--nothing in the whole +world." + +George heartily agreed with him. + +"This is the best Battery in the Division," said Resmith religiously. + +And George was religiously convinced that it was. + +He was astoundingly happy. He thought, amazed, that he had never been so +happy, or at any rate so uplifted, in all his life. He simply could not +comprehend his state of bliss, which had begun that morning at 6.30 when +the grey-headed, simple-minded servant allotted to him had wakened him, +according to instructions, with a mug of tea. Perhaps it was the far, +thin sound of bugles that produced the rapturous effect, or the fresh +air blowing in through the broken pane of the hut, or the slanting +sunlight, or the feeling that he had no responsibility and nothing to do +but blindly obey orders. + +He had gone to sleep as depressed as he was tired. A sense of futility +had got the better of him. The excursion of the afternoon had certainly +been ridiculous in a high degree. He had hoped for a more useful +evening. Captain Resmith had indeed taken him to the horse-lines, and he +had tried a mount which was very suitable, and Captain Resmith had said +that he possessed a naturally good seat and hands, and had given him a +few sagacious tips. It was plain to him that Resmith had the Major's +orders to take him in tutelage and make an officer of him. But the +satisfactoriness of the evening had suddenly ceased. Scarcely had +Resmith begun to expound the orders, and George to read the thrilling +words, 'Second Lieutenant G.E. Cannon to ride with Captain Resmith,' +when the mess had impulsively decided to celebrate the last night in +camp by a dinner at the hotel near the station, and George, fit for +nothing more important, had been detailed to run off and arrange for the +rich repast. The bulk of the mess was late to arrive, and George spent +the time in writing a descriptive and falsely gay letter on slips of +yellow Army paper to Lois. The dinner, with its facile laughter and +equally facile cynicism, had bored him; for he had joined the Army in +order to save an Empire and a world from being enslaved. He had lain +down in his truckle-bed and listened to the last echoing sounds in the +too-resonant corridor of the hutments, and thought of the wisdom of Sir +Isaac Davids, and of the peril to his wife, and of the peril to the +earth, and of his own irremediable bondage to the military machine. He, +with all his consciousness of power, had been put to school again; +deprived of the right to answer back, to argue, even to think. If one +set in authority said that black was white, his most sacred duty was to +concur and believe. And there was no escape.... + +And then, no sooner had he gone to sleep than it was bright day, and the +faint, clear call of bugles had pierced the clouds of his depression and +they had vanished! Every moment of the early morning had been exquisite. +Although he had not been across a horse for months, he rode comfortably, +and the animal was reliable. Resmith in fact had had to warn him against +fatiguing himself. But he knew that he was incapable of fatigue. The +day's trek was naught--fifteen miles or less--to Epsom Downs, at a +walk!... Lois? He had expected a letter from 'Nunks' or his mother, but +there was no letter, and no news was good news, at any rate with 'Nunks' +in charge of communications. Lois could not fail to be all right. He +recalled the wise generalization of 'Nunks' on that point ... Breakfast +was a paradisiacal meal. He had never 'fancied' a meal so much. And +Resmith had greatly enheartened him by saying sternly: "You've got +exactly the right tone with the men. Don't you go trying to alter it." +The general excitement was intense, and the solemn synchronizing of +watches increased it further. An orderly brought a newspaper, and nobody +would do more than disdainfully glance at it. The usual daily stuff +about the war!... Whereas Epsom Downs glittered in the imagination like +a Canaan. And it lay southward. Probably they were not going to France, +but probably they would have the honour of defending the coast against +invasion. George desired to master gunnery instantly, and Resmith +soothed him with the assurance that he would soon be sent away on a +gunnery course, which would give him beans. And in the meantime George +might whet his teeth on the detailed arrangements for feeding and +camping the Battery on Epsom Downs. This organization gave George pause, +especially when he remembered that the Battery was a very trifling item +in the Division, and when Resmith casually informed him that a Division +on the trek occupied fifteen miles of road. He began to perceive the +difference between the Army and a circus, and to figure the Staff as +something other than a club of haughty, aristocratic idlers in red hats. +And when the Battery was fairly under way in the side-road, with another +Battery in front and another Battery behind, and more Artillery Brigades +and uncounted Infantry Brigades and a screen of Yeomanry all invisibly +marching over the map in the direction of Epsom, and bound to reach a +certain lettered square on the map at a certain minute--when this +dynamic situation presented itself to the tentacles of his grasping +mind, he really did feel that there could be no game equal to war. + +The Battery 'rode easy,' the men were smoking, talking, and singing in +snatches, when suddenly all sounds were silenced. Captain Resmith, who +had been summoned to the Major, reined in his horse, and George did +likewise, and the Battery passed by them on the left. The Major's voice +was heard: + +"No. 2 Battery. Eyes--_right_!" + +George asked: + +"What's this?" + +"C.R.A.'s ahead," murmured Resmith. + +Then another officer cried: + +"Right section. Eyes--_right_." + +And then an N.C.O. bawled: + +"A sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +Then only did George, from the rear, see the drivers, with a +simultaneous gesture, twist their heads very sharply to the right, raise +their whips, and fling the thongs over the withers of the hand-horses, +while the section-officer saluted. + +Another N.C.O. bawled: + +"B sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +And the same action followed. + +Then another officer cried: + +"Left section. Eyes--_right_." + +So the rite proceeded. + +Resmith and George had now gone back to their proper places. George +could see the drivers of the last gun gathering up the whip thongs into +their hands preparatory to the salute. C sub-section received the +command. + +And then, not many yards ahead, the voice of an N.C.O.: + +"D sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +Heads turned; whips were raised and flung outwards; horses swerved +slightly. + +"Get ready," muttered Resmith to George. + +The figure of the C.R.A., Brigadier-General Rannion, motionless on a +charger, came into view. George's heart was beating high. Resmith and he +saluted. The General gazed hard at him and never moved. They passed +ahead. + +The officer commanding the Third Battery had already called: + +"Battery. _Eyes--right."_ + +The marvellous ceremonial slipped rearwards. George was aware of tears +in his eyes. He was aware of the sentiment of worship. He felt that he +would have done anything, accomplished any deed, died, at the bidding of +the motionless figure on the charger. It was most curious. + +There was a terrific crash of wood far behind. Resmith chuckled. + +"One of those G.S. wagons has knocked down the Automobile Club +'Cross-Roads' sign," he said. "Good thing it wasn't a lamp-post! You +see, with their eyes right, they can't look where they're going, and the +whip touches up the horses, and before you can say knife they're into +something. Jolly glad it's only the Am. Col. Jones will hear of this." +He chuckled again. Jones was the Captain commanding the Ammunition +Column. + +The order ran down the line: + +"Eyes--_front_." + +Soon afterwards they came to some policemen, and two girls in very gay +frocks with bicycles, and the cross-roads. The Battery swung into the +great high road whose sign-post said, 'To Ewell and Epsom.' Another unit +had been halted to let the Artillery pass into its definitive place in +the vast trek. It was about this time that George began to notice the +dust. Rain had fallen before dawn and made the roads perfect; but now +either all the moisture had evaporated in the blazing sun, or the +Battery had reached a zone where rain had not fallen. At first the dust +rose only in a shallow sea to the height of fetlocks; but gradually it +ascended and made clouds, and deposited a layer on the face and on the +tongue and in the throat. And the surface itself of the road, +exasperated by innumerable hoofs and wheels, seemed to be in a kind of +crawling fermentation. The smell of humanity and horses was strong. The +men were less inclined to sing. + +"Left!" yelled a voice. + +And another: + +"_Left_!" + +And still another, very close on the second one: + +"LEFT!" + +"Keep your distances there!" Resmith shouted violently. + +A horn sounded, and the next moment a motor-car, apparently full of +red-hats, rushed past the Battery, overtaking it, in a blinding storm of +dust. It was gone, like a ghost. + +"That's the Almighty himself," Resmith explained, with unconscious awe +and devotion in his powerful voice. "Gramstone, Major-General." + +George, profoundly impressed (he knew not why), noticed in his brain a +tiny embryo of a thought that it might be agreeable to ride in a car. + +A hand went up, and the Battery stopped. It was the first halt. + +"Look at your watch," said Resmith, smiling. + +"Ten to, exactly." + +"That's right. We have ten minutes in each hour." + +All dismounted, examined horses for galls, and looked at their shoes, +took pulls at water-bottles, lit cigarettes, expectorated, coughed, +flicked at flies with handkerchiefs. The two chromatic girls cycled past +slowly, laughing. A stretcher-party also went past, and shortly +afterwards returned with the stretcher laden. + + +VI + + +It was after the long halt at midday that the weather changed. The +horses, martyrized by insects, had been elaborately watered and fed with +immense labour; officers and men had eaten rations and dust from their +haversacks, and for the most part emptied their water-bottles; and the +march had been resumed in a temper captious and somewhat exacerbated. + +"Get your horse away; he's kicking mine!" said Captain Resmith +impatiently to George, reflecting the general mood. And George, who was +beginning to experience fatigue in the region of the knees, visited on +his horse the resentment he felt at Resmith's tone. + +At precisely that moment some drops of rain fell. Nobody could believe +at first that the drops were raindrops for the whole landscape was +quivering in hot sunshine. However, an examination of the firmament +showed a cloud perpendicularly overhead; the drops multiplied; the cloud +slowly obscured the sun. An almost audible sigh of relief passed down +the line. Everybody was freshened and elated. Some men with an instinct +for the apposite started to sing: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +And nearly the whole Battery joined in the tune. The rain persevered, +thickening. The sun accepted defeat. The sky lost all its blue. Orders +were given as to clothing. George had the sensation that something was +lacking to him, and found that it was an umbrella. On the outskirts of +Ewell the Battery was splashing through puddles of water; the coats of +horses and of men had darkened; guns, poles, and caps carried chaplets +of raindrops; and all those stern riders, so proud and scornful, with +chins hidden in high, upturned collars, and long garments disposed +majestically over their legs and the flanks of the horses, nevertheless +knew in secret that the conquering rain had got down the backs of their +necks, and into their boots and into their very knees but they were +still nobly maintaining the illusion of impermeability against it. The +Battery, riding now stiffly 'eyes front,' was halted unexpectedly in +Ewell, filling the whole of the village, to the village's extreme +content. Many minutes elapsed. Rumour floated down that something, was +wrong in front. Captain Resmith had much inspectorial cantering to do, +and George faithfully followed him for some time. At one end of the +village a woman was selling fruit and ginger-beer to the soldiers at +siege prices; at the other, men and women out of the little gardened +houses were eagerly distributing hot tea and hot coffee free of charge. +The two girls from the crossroads entered the village, pushing their +bicycles, one of which had apparently lost a pedal. They wore +mackintoshes, and were still laughing. + +At length George said: + +"If you don't mind I'll stick where I am for a bit." + +"Tired, eh?" Resmith asked callously. + +"Well! I shall be if I keep on." + +"Dismount, my canny boy. Didn't I tell you what would happen to you? At +your age--" + +"Why! How old d'you think I am?" + +"Well, my canny boy, you'll never see thirty again, I suppose." + +"No, I shan't. Nor you either." + +Captain Resmith said: + +"I'm twenty-four." + +George was thunder-struck. The fellow was a boy, and George had been +treating him as an equal! But then the fellow was also George's superior +officer, and immeasurably his superior in physique. Do what he would, +harden himself as he might, George at thirty-three could never hope to +rival the sinews of the boy of twenty-four, who incidentally could +instruct him on every conceivable military subject. George, standing by +his sodden horse, felt humiliated and annoyed as Resmith cantered off to +speak to the officer commanding the Ammunition Column. But on the trek +there was no outlet for such a sentiment as annoyance. He was Resmith's +junior and Resmith's inferior, and must behave, and expect to be behaved +to, as such. + +"Never mind!" he said to himself. His determination to learn the art and +craft of war was almost savage in ferocity. + +When the Battery at length departed from Ewell the rain had completed +its victory but at the same time had lost much of its prestige. The +riders, abandoning illusion, admitting frankly that they were wet to the +skin, knowing that all their clothing was soaked, and satisfied that +they could not be wetter than they were if the bottom fell out of the +sky, simply derided the rain and plodded forward. Groups of them even +disdained the weather in lusty song. But not George. George was +exhausted. He was ready to fall off his horse. The sensation of fatigue +about the knees and in the small of his back was absolute torture. +Resmith told him to ride without stirrups and dangle his legs. The +relief was real, but only temporary. And the Battery moved on at the +horribly monotonous, tiring walk. Epsom was incredibly distant. George +gave up hope of Epsom; and he was right to do so, for Epsom never came. +The Battery had taken a secondary road to the left which climbed slowly +to the Downs. At the top of this road, under the railway bridge, just +before fields ceased to be enclosed, stood the two girls. Their bicycles +leaned against the brick wall. They had taken off their mackintoshes, +and it was plain from their clinging coloured garments that they too +were utterly drenched. They laughed no more. Over the open Downs the +wind was sweeping the rain in front of it; and the wind was the night +wind, for the sky had begun to darken into dusk. The Battery debouched +into a main road which seemed full of promise, but left it again within +a couple of hundred yards, and was once more on the menacing, high, +naked Downs, with a wide and desolate view of unfeatured plains to the +north. The bugles sounded sharply in the wet air, and the Battery, now +apparently alone in the world, came to a halt. George dropped off his +horse. A multiplicity of orders followed. Amorphous confusion was +produced out of a straight line. This was the bivouacking ground. And +there was nothing--nothing but the track by which they had arrived, and +the Downs, and a distant blur to the west in the shape of the Epsom +Grand Stand, and the heavy, ceaseless rain, and the threat of the +fast-descending night. According to the theory of the Divisional Staff a +dump furnished by the Army Service Corps ought to have existed at a spot +corresponding to the final letter in the words 'Burgh Heath' on the map, +but the information quickly became general that no such dump did in +practice exist. To George the situation was merely incredible. He knew +that for himself there was only one reasonable course of conduct. He +ought to have a boiling bath, go to bed with his dressing-gown over his +pyjamas, and take a full basin of hot bread-and-milk adulterated by the +addition of brandy--and sleep. Horses and men surged perilously around +him. The anarchical disorder, however, must have been less acute than he +imagined, for a soldier appeared and took away his horse; he let the +reins slip from his dazed hand. The track had been transformed into a +morass of viscous mud. + + +VII + + +It was night. The heavy rain drove out of the dark void from every +direction at once, and baptized the chilled faces of men as though it +had been discharged from the hundred-holed rose of a full watering-can. +The right and the left sections of the Battery were disposed on either +side of the track. Fires were burning. Horse-lines had been laid down, +and by the light of flickering flames the dim forms of tethered animals +could be seen with their noses to the ground pessimistically pretending +to munch what green turf had survived in the mud. Lanterns moved +mysteriously to and fro. In the distance to the west more illuminations +showed that another unit had camped along the track. The quartermaster +of No. 2, had produced meagre tinned meats and biscuits from his +emergency stores, and had made a certain quantity of tea in dixies; he +had even found a half-feed of oats for the horses; so that both horses +and men were somewhat appeased. But the officers had had nothing, and +the Army Service Corps detachment was still undiscoverable. + +George sat on an empty box at the edge of the track, submissive to the +rain. Resmith had sent him to overlook men cutting straight branches in +a wood on Park Downs, and then he had overlooked them as, with the said +branches and with waterproofs laced together in pairs, they had erected +sleeping shelters for the officers under the imperfect shelter of the +sole tree within the precincts of the camp. From these purely ornamental +occupations he had returned in a condition approximating to collapse, +without desire and without hope. The invincible cheerfulness of unseen +men chanting music-hall songs in the drenched night made no impression +on him, nor the terrible staccato curtness of a N.C.O. mounting guard. +Volition had gone out of him; his heart was as empty as his stomach. + +Then a group of officers approached, with a mounted officer in the +middle of them, and a lantern swinging. The group was not proceeding in +any particular direction, but following the restless motions of the +uneasy horse. George, suddenly startled, recognized the voice of the +rider; it was Colonel Hullocher's voice. The Brigade-Commander had come +in person to investigate the melancholy inexcusable case of No. 2 +Battery, and he was cursing all men and all things, and especially the +Divisional Staff. It appeared that the Staff was responsible for the +hitch of organization. During the day the Staff had altered its +arrangements for No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade, and had sent an +incomplete message to the Army Service Corps Headquarters. The A.S.C. +had waited in vain for the completion of the message, and had then, at +dark, dispatched a convoy with provender for No. 2 with instructions to +find No. 2. This convoy had not merely not found No. 2--it had lost +itself, vanished in the dark universe of rain. But let not No. 2 imagine +that No. 2 was blameless! No. 2 ought to have found the convoy. By some +means, human or divine, by the exercise of second sight or the vision of +cats or the scent of hounds, it ought to have found the convoy, and +there was no excuse for it not having done so. Such was the expressed +opinion of Colonel Hullocher, and a recital by Major Craim of the +measures taken by him did nothing to shake that opinion. + +"How exactly do you stand now?" the Colonel fiercely demanded. + +"The men and the horses will manage fairly well with what they've had, +sir," said the Major; and he incautiously added: "But my officers +haven't had anything at all." + +The Colonel seized the opening with fury. + +"What the devil do I care for your officers? It's your horses and your +men that I'm thinking about. It's to-morrow morning that I'm thinking +about. I--" + +The horse, revolving, cut short his harangue. + +"Keep that d--d lantern out of his eyes!" cried the Colonel. + +George jumped up, and as he did so the water swished in his boots, and a +stream poured off his cap. The horse was being fatally attracted towards +him. The beam of the lantern fell on him, illuminating before his face +the long slants of rain. + +"Ha! Who's this?" the Colonel demanded, steadying the horse. + +George smartly saluted, forgetting his fatigue. + +"You, is it? And what are _you_ supposed to be doing? Look here--" +Colonel Hullocher stopped in full career of invective, remembering +military etiquette. "Major, I suggest you send Mr. Cannon with some men +to find the convoy." The Major having eagerly concurred, the Colonel +went on: "Take a few men and search every road and track between here +and Kingswood Station--systematically. Kingswood's the rail-head, and +somewhere between here and there that convoy is bound to be. +Systematically, mind! It's not a technical job. All that's wanted is +common sense and thoroughness." + +The Colonel's gaze was ruthlessly challenging. George met it stiffly. He +knew that the roads, if not the tracks, had already been searched. He +knew that he was being victimized by a chance impulse of the Colonel's. +But he ignored all that. He was coldly angry and resentful. Utterly +forgetting his fatigue, he inimically surveyed the Colonel's squat, +shining figure in the cavalry coat, a pyramid of which the apex was a +round head surmounted by a dripping cap. + +"Yes, sir," he snapped. + +By rights the tyrant ought to have rolled off his horse dead. But +Colonel Hullocher was not thus vulnerable. He could give glance for +glance with perhaps any human being on earth, and indeed thought little +more of subalterns than of rabbits. + +He finished, after a pause: + +"You will be good enough, Major, to let this officer report to me +personally when he has found the convoy." + +"Certainly, sir." + +The horse bounded away, scattering the group. + +Rather less than half an hour later George had five men (including his +own servant and Resmith's) and six lanterns round a cask, on the top of +which was his map. There were six possible variations of route to +Kingswood Station, and he explained them all, allotting one to each man +and keeping one for himself. He could detect the men exchanging looks, +but what the looks signified he could not tell. He gave instructions +that everybody should go forward until either discovering the convoy or +reaching Kingswood. He said with a positive air of conviction that by +this means the convoy could not fail to be discovered. The men received +the statement with strict agnosticism; they could not see things with +the eye of faith, fortified though they were with tea and tinned meats. +An offered reward of ten shillings to the man who should hit on the +convoy did not appreciably inspirit them. George himself was of course +not a bit convinced by his own argument, and had not the slightest +expectation that the convoy would be found. The map, which the breeze +lifted and upon which the rain drummed, seemed to be entirely +unconnected with the actual facts of the earth's surface. The party +mounted tired, unwilling horses and filed off. Some soldiers in the +darkness, watching the string of lanterns, gave a half-ironical +'Hurrah.' One by one, as the tracks bifurcated, George dispatched his +men, with renewed insistent advice, and at last he and his horse were +alone on the Downs. + +His clothes were exceedingly heavy with all the moisture they had +imbibed. Repose had mitigated his fatigue, but every slow, slouching +step of the horse intensified it again--and at a tremendous rate. Still, +he did not care, having mastered the great truth that he would either +fall off the horse in exhaustion or arrive at Kingswood--and which of +the alternatives happened did not appear to him to matter seriously. The +whole affair was fantastic; it was unreal, in addition to being silly. +But, real or unreal, he would finish it. If he was a phantom and +Kingswood a mirage, the phantom would reach the mirage or sink senseless +into astral mud. He had Colonel Hullocher in mind, and, quite +illogically, he envisaged the Colonel as a reality. Often he had heard +of the ways of the Army, and had scarcely credited the tales told and +printed. Well, he now credited them. Was it conceivable that that madman +of a Colonel had packed him, George, off on such a wild and idiotic +errand in the middle of the night, merely out of caprice? Were such +doings-- + +He faintly heard voices through the rain, and the horse started at this +sign of life from the black, unknown world beyond the circle of +lantern-light. George was both frightened and puzzled. He thought of +ghosts and haunted moors. Then he noticed a penumbra round about the +form of what might be a small hillock to the left of the track. He +quitted the track, and cautiously edged his horse forward, having +commendably obscured the lantern beneath his overcoat. The farther side +of the hillock had been tunnelled to a depth of perhaps three feet; a +lantern suspended somehow in the roof showed the spade which had done +the work; it also showed, within the cavity, the two girls who had +accompanied the Brigade from Wimbledon, together with two soldiers. The +soldiers were rankers, but one of the girls talked with perfect +correctness in a very refined voice; the other was silently eating. Both +were obviously tired to the limit of endurance, and very dirty and +draggled. The gay colours of their smart frocks had, however, survived +the hardships of the day. George was absolutely amazed by the spectacle. +The vagaries of autocratic Colonels were nothing when compared to this +extravagance of human nature, this glimpse of the subterranean life of +regiments, this triumphant and forlorn love-folly in the midst of the +inclement, pitiless night. And he was touched, too. The glimmer of the +lantern on the green and yellow of the short skirts half disclosed under +the mackintoshes was at once pathetic and exciting. The girl who had +been eating gave a terrible scream; she had caught sight of the figure +on horseback. The horse shied violently and stood still. George +persuaded him back into the track and rode on, guessing that already he +had become a genuine phantom for the self-absorbed group awakened out of +its ecstasy by the mysterious vision of a nightrider. + +Half a mile farther on he saw the red end of a cigarette swimming on the +sea of darkness; his lantern had expired, and he had not yet tried to +relight it. + +"Hi there!" he cried. "Who are you?" + +The cigarette approached him, in a wavy movement, and a man's figure was +vaguely discerned. + +"A.S.C. convoy, sir." + +"Where are you supposed to be going to?" + +"No. 2 Battery, Second Brigade, sir. Can't find it, sir. And we've got +off the road. The G.S. wagon fell into a hole and broke an axle, sir." + +"And what do you think you're doing?" + +"Waiting for daylight, sir." + +The man's youthful voice was quite cheerful. + +"D'you know what time it is?" + +"No, sir." + +"How many other vehicles have you got?" + +"Three altogether, sir. Six horses." + +"Well, I'm from No. 2 Battery, and I'm looking for you. You've +unharnessed, I suppose." + +"Oh yes, sir, and fed." + +"Well, you'd better harness up your other two carts like lightning and +come along with me. Show me the way. We'll see about the G.S. wagon +later on." + +"It's about a hundred yards from here, sir." + +For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue. Exultation, +though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every part of his body. +Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, he rode comfortably on hard +packages till within sight of the Battery camp, when he took saddle +again and went off alone to find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand +Stand, where Colonel Hullocher and other grandees had billeted +themselves. The Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite +ready to eat George. + +"Ah! You, is it? Found that convoy?" + +George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was conceivable: + +"Yes, sir." + +"Brought it back?" + +"Part of it, sir." + +He explained the circumstances. + +The Colonel coughed, and said: + +"Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?" + +George reflected for an instant. The Colonel seemingly had a core of +decency, but George said in his heart: "I've not done with you yet, my +fat friend." And aloud, grimly. + +"Thank you very much, sir. But I shall ask you to excuse me." + +Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by this +unparalleled response. + +The Colonel barked: + +"Why? Teetotaller?" + +"No, sir. But I've eaten nothing since lunch, and a glass of whisky +might make me drunk." + +Colonel Hullocher might have offered George some food to accompany the +whisky, but he did not. He had already done a marvel; a miracle was not +to be expected. He looked at George and George looked at him. + +"No doubt you're right. Good night." + +"Good night, sir." George saluted and marched off. + + +VIII + + +He prepared to turn in. The process was the simplest in the world. He +had only to wrap a pair of blankets round his soaked clothes, and, +holding them in place with one hand, creep under the shelter. There were +four shelters. The Major had a small one, nearest the trunk of the tree, +and the others were double shelters, to hold two officers apiece. He +glanced about. The invisible camp was silent and still, save for a +couple of lieutenants who were walking to and fro like young ducks in +the heavy rain. Faint fires here and there in the distance showed how +the troops were spread over the Downs. Heaven and earth were equally +mysterious and inscrutable. He inserted himself cautiously into the +aperture of the shelter, where Resmith already lay asleep, and, having +pushed back his cap, arranged his right arm for a pillow. The clammy +ground had been covered with dry horse-litter. As soon as he was settled +the noise of the rain ceaselessly pattering on the waterproof became +important. He could feel the chill of the wind on his feet, which, with +Resmith's, projected beyond the shelter. The conditions were certainly +astounding. Yet, despite extreme fatigue, he was not depressed. On the +contrary he was well satisfied. He had accomplished something. He had +been challenged, and had accepted the challenge, and had won. The +demeanour of the mess when he got back to the camp clearly indicated +that he had acquired prestige. He was the man who had organized an +exhaustive search for the convoy and had found the convoy in the pitchy +blackness. He was the man who had saved the unit from an undeserved +shame. The mess had greeted him with warm food. Perhaps he had been +lucky--the hazard of a lighted cigarette in the darkness! Yes, but luck +was in everything. The credit was his, and men duly gave it to him, and +he took it. He thought almost kindly of Colonel Hullocher, against whom +he had measured himself. The result of the match was a draw, but he had +provided the efficient bully with matter for reflection. After all, +Hullocher was right. When you were moving a Division, jobs had to be +done, possible or impossible; human beings had to be driven; the +supernatural had to be achieved. And it had been! That which in the +morning existed at Wimbledon now existed on the Downs. There it lay, +safe and chiefly asleep, in defiance of the weather and of accidents and +miscarriage! And the next day it would go on. + +The vast ambitions of the civilian had sunk away. He thought, exalted as +though by a wonderful discovery: + +"_There is something in this Army business_!" + +He ardently desired to pursue it further. He ardently desired sleep and +renewal so that he might rise afresh and pursue it further. What he had +done and been through was naught, less than naught. To worry about +physical discomforts was babyish. Inviting vistas of knowledge, +technical attainment, experience, and endurance stretched before him, +illuminating the night. His mind dwelt on France, on Mons, on the idea +of terror and cataclysm. And it had room too for his wife and children. +He had had no news of them for over twenty-four hours; and he had broken +his resolve to write to Lois every day; he had been compelled to break +it. But in the morning, somehow, he would send a telegram and he would +get one. + +"If it's true the French Government has left Paris--" + +The nocturnal young ducks were passing the shelter. + +"And who says it's true? Who told you, I should like to know?" + +"The Major has heard it." + +"Rats! I lay you a fiver the Allies are in Berlin before Christmas." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Roll-Call, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12654 *** diff --git a/12654-h/12654-h.htm b/12654-h/12654-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fba103 --- /dev/null +++ b/12654-h/12654-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17784 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html +PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" +"http://www.w3c.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <title>The Roll-Call by Arnold Bennett.</title> + + <meta http-equiv="content-type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { + margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10% +} +p { + text-align: justify +} +blockquote { + text-align: justify +} +h1 { + text-align: center +} +h2 { + text-align: center +} +h3 { + text-align: center +} +h4 { + text-align: center +} +h5 { + text-align: center +} +h6 { + text-align: center +} +pre { + font-size: 0.7em +} +hr { + width: 50%; 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PATERNOSTER ROW</i> + </center> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 3 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page_vi" name="page_vi">[pg vi]</a> + </span> + + <h4>NOTE</h4> + + <center>This novel was written before "The Pretty Lady", and is + the first of the author's war-novels. + <br /> + + A.B.</center> + + <br /> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 4 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="pagevii" name="pagevii">[pg vii]</a> + </span> + + <h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + <br /> + + <table border="0" width="50%" align="center" + summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <th colspan="2" align="center">PART I</th> + </tr> + + <tr> + <th align="right" width="20%">CHAP.</th> + + <th align="right" /> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">I.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page001">THE NEW LODGING</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">II.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page016">MARGUERITE</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">III.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page042">THE CHARWOMAN</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">IV.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page054">THE LUNCHEON</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">V.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page073">THE TEA</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">VI.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page094">THE DINNER</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">VII.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page121">THE RUPTURE</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">VIII.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page149">INSPIRATION</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">IX.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page173">COMPETITION</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <th colspan="3" align="center">PART II</th> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">I.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page213">THE TRIUMPH</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">II.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page243">THE ROLL-CALL</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">III.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page265">IN THE MACHINE</a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + +<!-- Page 5 --> + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 6 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page001" name="page001">[pg 1]</a> + </span> + + <h1>THE ROLL-CALL</h1> + + <h2>PART I</h2> + + <h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + <h3>THE NEW LODGING</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <p>In the pupils' room of the offices of Lucas & Enwright, + architects, Russell Square, Bloomsbury, George Edwin Cannon, an + articled pupil, leaned over a large drawing-board and looked up + at Mr. Enwright, the head of the firm, who with cigarette and + stick was on his way out after what he called a good day's + work. It was past six o'clock on an evening in early July 1901. + To George's right was an open door leading to the principals' + room, and to his left another open door leading to more rooms + and to the staircase. The lofty chambers were full of + lassitude; but round about George, who was working late, there + floated the tonic vapour of conscious virtue. Haim, the + factotum, could be seen and heard moving in his cubicle which + guarded the offices from the stairs. In the rooms shortly to be + deserted and locked up, and in the decline of the day, the + three men were drawn together like survivors.</p> + + <p>"I gather you're going to change your abode," said Mr. + Enwright, having stopped.</p> + + <p>"Did Mr. Orgreave tell you, then?" George asked.</p> + + <p>"Well, he didn't exactly tell me...."</p> + + <p>John Orgreave was Mr. Enwright's junior partner; and for + nearly two years, since his advent in London from the Five + Towns, George had lived with Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave at Bedford + Park. The Orgreaves, too, sprang from the Five Towns. John's + people and George's people were closely entwined in the local + annals.</p> + + <p>Pupil and principal glanced discreetly at one another, +<!-- Page 7 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page002" name="page002">[pg 2]</a> + </span> + + exchanging in silence vague, malicious, unutterable critical + verdicts upon both John Orgreave and his wife.</p> + + <p>"Well, I am!" said George at length.</p> + + <p>"Where are you going to?"</p> + + <p>"Haven't settled a bit," said George. "I wish I could live + in Paris."</p> + + <p>"Paris wouldn't be much good to you yet," Mr. Enwright + laughed benevolently.</p> + + <p>"I suppose it wouldn't. Besides, of + course——"</p> + + <p>George spoke in a tone of candid deferential acceptance, + which flattered Mr. Enwright very much, for it was the final + proof of the prestige which the grizzled and wrinkled and + peculiar Fellow and Member of the Council of the Royal + Institute of British Architects had acquired in the estimation + of that extremely independent, tossing sprig, George Edwin + Cannon. Mr. Enwright had recently been paying a visit to Paris, + and George had been sitting for the Intermediate Examination. + "You can join me here for a few days after the exam., if you + care to," Mr. Enwright had sent over. It was George's + introduction to the Continent, and the circumstances of it were + almost ideal. For a week the deeply experienced connoisseur of + all the arts had had the fine, eager, responsive virgin mind in + his power. Day after day he had watched and guided it amid + entirely new sensations. Never had Mr. Enwright enjoyed himself + more purely, and at the close he knew with satisfaction that he + had put Paris in a proper perspective for George, and perhaps + saved the youth from years of groping misapprehension. As for + George, all his preconceived notions about Paris had been + destroyed or shaken. In the quadrangles of the Louvre, for + example, Mr. Enwright, pointing to the under part of the stone + bench that foots so much of the walls, had said: "Look at that + curve." Nothing else. No ecstasies about the sculptures of Jean + Goujon and Carpeaux, or about the marvellous harmony of the + East facade! But a flick of the cane towards the half-hidden + moulding! And George had felt with a thrill what an exquisite + curve and what an original curve and what a modest curve that + curve was. Suddenly and magically his eyes had been opened. Or + it might have been that a deceitful mist had rolled away and + the real Louvre been revealed in its esoteric and sole + authentic beauty....</p> + + <p>"Why don't you try Chelsea?" said Mr. Enwright over his + shoulder, proceeding towards the stairs.</p> + + <p>"I was thinking of Chelsea."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 8 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page003" name="page003">[pg 3]</a> +</span> + + You were!" Mr. Enwright halted again for an instant. "It's the + only place in London where the structure of society is anything + like Paris. Why, dash it, in the King's Road the grocers know + each other's business!" Mr. Enwright made the last strange + remark to the outer door, and vanished.</p> + + <p>"Funny cove!" George commented tolerantly to Mr. Haim, who + passed through the room immediately afterwards to his nightly + task of collecting and inspecting the scattered instruments on + the principal's august drawing-board.</p> + + <p>But Mr. Haim, though possibly he smiled ever so little, + would not compromise himself by an endorsement of the criticism + of his employer. George was a mere incident in the eternal + career of Mr. Haim at Lucas & Enwright's.</p> + + <p>When the factotum came back into the pupils' room, George + stood up straight and smoothed his trousers and gazed + admiringly at his elegant bright socks.</p> + + <p>"Let me see," said George in a very friendly manner. " + <i>You</i> + + live somewhere in Chelsea, don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," answered Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Whereabouts, if it isn't a rude question?"</p> + + <p>"Well," said Mr. Haim, confidentially and benignantly, + captivated by George's youthful charm, "it's near the Redcliffe + Arms." He mentioned the Redcliffe Arms as he might have + mentioned the Bank, Piccadilly Circus, or Gibraltar. "Alexandra + Grove. No. 8. To tell you the truth, I own the house."</p> + + <p>"The deuce you do!"</p> + + <p>"Yes. The leasehold, that is, of course. No freeholds + knocking about loose in that district!"</p> + + <p>George saw a new and unsuspected Mr. Haim. He was impressed. + And he was glad that he had never broken the office tradition + of treating Mr. Haim with a respect not usually accorded to + factotums. He saw a property-owner, a tax-payer, and a human + being behind the spectacles of the shuffling, rather shabby, + ceremonious familiar that pervaded those rooms daily from + before ten till after six. He grew curious about a living + phenomenon that hitherto had never awakened his curiosity.</p> + + <p>"Were you really looking for accommodation?" demanded Mr. + Haim suavely.</p> + + <p>George hesitated. "Yes."</p> + + <p>"Perhaps I have something that might suit you."</p> + + <p>Events, disguised as mere words, seemed to George to be + pushing him forward.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 9 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page004" name="page004">[pg 4]</a> +</span> + + I should like to have a look at it," he said. He had to say it; + there was no alternative.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim raised a hand. "Any evening that happens to be + convenient."</p> + + <p>"What about to-night, then?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly," Mr. Haim agreed. For a moment George + apprehended that Mr. Haim was going to invite him to dinner. + But Mr. Haim was not going to invite him to dinner. "About + nine, shall we say?" he suggested, with a courtliness softer + even than usual.</p> + + <p>Later, George said that he would lock up the office himself + and leave the key with the housekeeper.</p> + + <p>"You can't miss the place," said Mr. Haim on leaving. "It's + between the Workhouse and the Redcliffe."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>At the corner dominated by the Queen's Elm, which on the + great route from Piccadilly Circus to Putney was a public-house + and halt second only in importance to the Redcliffe Arms, night + fell earlier than it ought to have done, owing to a vast + rain-cloud over Chelsea. A few drops descended, but so warm and + so gently that they were not like real rain, and + sentimentalists could not believe that they would wet. People, + arriving mysteriously out of darkness, gathered sparsely on the + pavements, lingered a few moments, and were swallowed by + omnibuses that bore them obscurely away. At intervals an + individual got out of an omnibus and adventured hurriedly forth + and was lost in the gloom. The omnibuses, all white, trotted on + an inward curve to the pavement, stopped while the conductor, + with hand raised to the bell-string, murmured apathetically the + names of streets and of public-houses, and then they jerked off + again on an outward curve to the impatient double ting of the + bell. To the east was a high defile of hospitals, and to the + west the Workhouse tower faintly imprinted itself on the sombre + sky.</p> + + <p>The drops of rain grew very large and heavy, and the + travellers, instead of waiting on the kerb, withdrew to the + shelter of the wall of the Queen's Elm. George was now among + the group, precipitated like the rest, as it were, out of the + solution of London. George was of the age which does not admit + rain or which believes that it is immune from the usual + consequences of exposure to rain. When advised, +<!-- Page 10 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page005" name="page005">[pg 5]</a> + + </span> + + especially by women, to defend himself against the treacheries + of the weather, he always protested confidently that he would + 'be all right.' Thus with a stick and a straw hat he would + affront terrible dangers. It was a species of valour which the + event often justified. Indeed he generally was all right. But + to-night, afoot on the way from South Kensington Station in a + region quite unfamiliar to him, he was intimidated by the + slapping menace of the big drops. Reality faced him. His scared + thought ran: "Unless I do something at once I shall get wet + through." Impossible to appear drenched at old Haim's! So he + had abandoned all his pretensions to a magical invulnerability, + and rushed under the eave of the Queen's Elm to join the + omnibus group.</p> + + <p>He did not harmonize with the omnibus group, being both too + elegant and too high-spirited. His proper rôle in the + circumstances would have been to 'jump into a hansom'; but + there were no empty hansoms, and moreover, for certain reasons + of finance, he had sworn off hansoms until a given date. He + regarded the situation as 'rather a lark,' and he somehow knew + that the group understood and appreciated and perhaps resented + his superior and tolerant attitude. An omnibus rolled palely + into the radiance of the Queen's Elm lamp, the horses' flanks + and the lofty driver's apron gleaming with rain. He sprang + towards the vehicle; the whole group sprang. "Full inside!" + snapped the conductor inexorably. Ting, ting! It was gone, + glimmering with its enigmatic load into the distance. George + turned again to the wall, humiliated. It seemed wrong that the + conductor should have included him with the knot of common + omnibus-travellers and late workers. The conductor ought to + have differentiated.... He put out a hand. The rain had + capriciously ceased! He departed gaily and triumphantly. He was + re-endowed with the magical invulnerability.</p> + + <p>The background of his mind was variegated. The incidents of + the tremendous motor-car race from Paris to Berlin, which had + finished nearly a week earlier, still glowed on it. And the + fact that King Edward VII had driven in a car from Pall Mall to + Windsor Castle in sixty minutes was beautifully present. Then, + he was slightly worried concerning the Mediterranean Fleet. He + knew nothing about it, but as a good citizen he suspected in + idle moments, like a number of other good citizens, that all + was not quite well with the Mediterranean Fleet. As for the + war, he had only begun to be interested in the war within the + last six months, and +<!-- Page 11 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page006" name="page006">[pg 6]</a> + + </span> + + already he was sick of it. He knew that the Boers had just + wrecked a British military train, and his attitude towards such + methods of fighting was rather severe and scornful; he did not + regard them as 'war.' However, the apparent permanence of the + war was splendidly compensated by the victory of the brothers + Doherty over the American lawn-tennis champions in the + Gentlemen's Doubles at Wimbledon. Who could have expected the + brothers to win after the defeat of R.H. by Mr. Gore in the + Singles? George had most painfully feared that the Americans + would conquer, and their overthrowing by the twin brothers + indicated to George, who took himself for a serious student of + affairs, that Britain was continuing to exist, and that the new + national self-depreciative, yearning for efficiency might + possibly be rather absurd after all.</p> + + <p>In the midst of these and similar thoughts, and of + innumerable minor thoughts about himself, in the very centre of + his mind and occupying nearly the whole of it, was the vast + thought, the obsession, of his own potential power and its + fulfilment. George's egotism was terrific, and as right as any + other natural phenomenon. He had to get on. Much money was + included in his scheme, but simply as a by-product. He had to + be a great architect, and—equally important—he had + to be publicly recognized as a great architect, and recognition + could not come without money. For him, the entire created + universe was the means to his end. He would not use it + unlawfully, but he would use it. He was using it, as well as he + yet knew how, and with an independence that was as complete as + it was unconscious. In regard to matters upon which his + instinct had not suggested a course of action, George was + always ready enough to be taught; indeed his respect for an + expert was truly deferential. But when his instinct had begun + to operate he would consult nobody and consider nobody, being + deeply sure that infallible wisdom had been granted to him. + (Nor did experience seem to teach him.) Thus, in the affair of + a London lodging, though he was still two years from his + majority and had no resources save the purse of his stepfather, + Edwin Clayhanger, he had decided to leave the Orgreaves without + asking or even informing his parents. In his next letter home + he would no doubt inform them, casually, of what he meant to do + or actually had done, and if objections followed he would + honestly resent them.</p> + + <p>A characteristic example of his independence had happened +<!-- Page 12 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page007" name="page007">[pg 7]</a> + + </span> + + when at the unripe age of seventeen he left the Five Towns for + London. Upon his mother's marriage to Edwin Clayhanger his own + name had been informally changed for him to Clayhanger. But a + few days before the day of departure he had announced that, as + Clayhanger was not his own name and that he preferred his own + name, he should henceforth be known as 'Cannon,' his father's + name. He did not invite discussion. Mr. Clayhanger had + thereupon said to him privately and as one man of the world to + another: "But you aren't really entitled to the name Cannon, + sonny." "Why?" "Because your father was what's commonly known + as a bigamist, and his marriage with your mother was not legal. + I thought I'd take this opportunity of telling you. You needn't + say anything to your mother—unless of course you feel you + must." To which George had replied: "No, I won't. But if Cannon + was my father's name I think I'll have it all the same." And he + did have it. The bigamy of his father did not apparently affect + him. Upon further inquiry he learnt that his father might be + alive or might be dead, but that if alive he was in + America.</p> + + <p>The few words from Mr. Enwright about Chelsea had sufficed + to turn Chelsea into Elysium, Paradise, almost into Paris. No + other quarter of London was inhabitable by a rising architect. + As soon as Haim had gone George had begun to look up Chelsea in + the office library, and as Mr. Enwright happened to be an + active member of the Society for the Survey of the Memorials of + Greater London, the library served him well. In an hour and a + half he had absorbed something of the historical topography of + Chelsea. He knew that the Fulham Road upon which he was now + walking was a boundary of Chelsea. He knew that the Queen's Elm + public-house had its name from the tradition that Elizabeth had + once sheltered from a shower beneath an elm tree which stood at + that very corner. He knew that Chelsea had been a 'village of + palaces,' and what was the function of the Thames in the + magnificent life of that village. The secret residence of + Turner in Chelsea, under the strange + <i>alias</i> + + of Admiral Booth, excited George's admiration; he liked the + idea of hidden retreats and splendid, fanciful pseudonyms. But + the master-figure of Chelsea for George was Sir Thomas More. He + could see Sir Thomas More walking in his majestic garden by the + river with the King's arm round his neck, and Holbein close by, + and respectful august prelates and a nagging wife in the + background. And he could see Sir Thomas More +<!-- Page 13 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page008" name="page008">[pg 8]</a> + + </span> + + taking his barge for the last journey to the Tower, and Sir + Thomas More's daughter coming back in the same barge with her + father's head on board. Curious! He envied Sir Thomas More.</p> + + <p>"Darned bad tower for a village of palaces!" he thought, not + of the Tower of London, but of the tower of the Workhouse which + he was now approaching. He thought he could design an + incomparably better tower than that. And he saw himself in the + future, the architect of vast monuments, strolling in a grand + garden of his own at evening with other distinguished and witty + persons.</p> + + <p>But there were high-sounding names in the history of Chelsea + besides those of More and Turner. Not names of people! Cremorne + and Ranelagh! Cremorne to the west and Ranelagh to the east. + The legend of these vanished resorts of pleasure and vice + stirred his longings and his sense of romantic + beauty—especially Ranelagh with its Rotunda. (He wanted, + when the time came, to be finely vicious, as he wanted to be + everything. An architect could not be great without being + everything.) He projected himself into the Rotunda, with its + sixty windows, its countless refreshment-boxes, its huge + paintings, and the orchestra in the middle, and the expensive + and naughty crowd walking round and round and round on the + matting, and the muffled footsteps and the swish of trains on + the matting, and the specious smiles and whispers, and the + blare of the band and the smell of the lamps and candles.... + Earl's Court was a poor, tawdry, unsightly thing after + that.</p> + + <p>When he had passed under the Workhouse tower he came to a + side street which, according to Haim's description of the + neighbourhood, ought to have been Alexandra Grove. The large + lamp on the corner, however, gave no indication, nor in the + darkness could any sign be seen on the blind wall of either of + the corner houses in Fulham Road. Doubtless in daytime the + street had a visible label, but the borough authorities + evidently believed that night endowed the stranger with powers + of divination. George turned hesitant down the mysterious + gorge, which had two dim lamps of its own, and which ended in a + high wall, whereat could be descried unattainable + trees—possibly the grove of Alexandra. Silence and a + charmed stillness held the gorge, while in Fulham Road not a + hundred yards away omnibuses and an occasional hansom rattled + along in an ordinary world. George soon decided that he was not + in Alexandra Grove, +<!-- Page 14 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page009" name="page009">[pg 9]</a> + + </span> + + on account of the size of the houses. He could not conceive Mr. + Haim owning one of them. They stood lofty in the gloom, in + pairs, secluded from the pavement by a stucco garden-wall and + low bushes. They were double-fronted, and their doors were at + the summits of flights of blanched steps that showed through + the bars of iron gates. They had three stories above a + basement. Still, he looked for No. 8. But just as the street + had no name, so the houses had no numbers. No. 16 alone could + be distinguished; it had figures on its faintly illuminated + fanlight. He walked back, idly counting.</p> + + <p>Then, amid the curtained and shuttered facades, he saw, + across the road, a bright beam from a basement. He crossed and + peeped through a gate, and an interior was suddenly revealed to + him. Near the window of a room sat a young woman bending over a + table. A gas-jet on a bracket in the wall, a few inches higher + than her head and a foot distant from it, threw a strong + radiance on her face and hair. The luminous living picture, + framed by the window in blackness, instantly entranced him. All + the splendid images of the past faded and were confuted and + invalidated and destroyed by this intense reality so present + and so near to him. (Nevertheless, for a moment he thought of + her as the daughter of Sir Thomas More.) She was drawing. She + was drawing with her whole mind and heart. At intervals, + scarcely moving her head, she would glance aside at a paper to + her left on the table.... She seemed to search it, to drag some + secret out of it, and then she would resume her drawing. She + was neither dark nor fair; she was comely, perhaps beautiful; + she had beautiful lips, and her nose, behind the nostrils, + joined the cheek in a lovely contour, like a tiny bulb. Yes, + she was superb. But what mastered him was less her fresh + physical charm than the rapt and extreme vitality of her + existing.... He knew from her gestures and the tools on the + table that she could be no amateur. She was a professional. He + thought: Chelsea!... Marvellous place, Chelsea! He ought to + have found that out long ago. He imagined Chelsea full of such + pictures—the only true home of beauty and romance.</p> + + <p>Then the impact of a single idea startled his blood. He went + hot. He flushed. He had tingling sensations all down his back, + and in his legs and in his arms. It was as though he had been + caught in a dubious situation. Though he was utterly innocent, + he felt as though he had something to be +<!-- Page 15 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page010" name="page010">[pg 10]</a> + + </span> + + ashamed of. The idea was: she resembled old Haim, facially! + Ridiculous idea! But she did resemble old Haim, particularly in + the lobal termination of the nose. And in the lips too. And + there was a vague, general resemblance. Absurd! It was a + fancy.... He would not have cared for anybody to be watching + him then, to surprise him watching her. He heard unmistakable + footsteps on the pavement. A policeman darkly approached. + Policemen at times can be very apposite. George moved his gaze + and looked with admirable casualness around.</p> + + <p>"Officer, is this Alexandra Grove?" (His stepfather had + taught him to address all policemen as 'officer.')</p> + + <p>"It is, sir."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Well, which is No. 8? There're no numbers."</p> + + <p>"You couldn't be much nearer to it, sir," said the policeman + dryly, and pointed to a large number, fairly visible, on the + wide gate-post. George had not inspected the gate-post.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Thanks!"</p> + + <p>He mounted the steps, and in the thick gloom of the portico + fumbled for the bell and rang it. He was tremendously excited + and expectant and apprehensive and puzzled. He heard rain + flatly spitting in big drops on the steps. He had not noticed + till then that it had begun again. The bell jangled below. The + light in the basement went out. He flushed anew. He thought, + trembling: "She's coming to the door herself!"</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>"It had occurred to me some time ago," said Mr. Haim, "that + if ever you should be wanting rooms I might be able to suit + you."</p> + + <p>"Really!" George murmured. After having been shown into the + room by the young woman, who had at once disappeared, he was + now recovering from the nervousness of that agitating entry and + resuming his normal demeanour of an experienced and + well-balanced man of the world. He felt relieved that she had + gone, and yet he regretted her departure extremely, and hoped + against fear that she would soon return.</p> + + <p>"Yes!" said Mr. Haim, as it were triumphantly, like one who + had whispered to himself during long years: "The hour will + come." The hour had come.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 16 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page011" name="page011">[pg 11]</a> + + </span> + + Mr. Haim was surprising to George. The man seemed much older in + his own parlour than at the office—his hair thinner and + greyer, and his face more wrinkled. But the surprising part of + him was that he had a home and was master in it, and possessed + interests other than those of the firm of Lucas & Enwright. + George had never until that day conceived the man apart from + Russell Square. And here he was smoking a cigarette in an + easy-chair and wearing red morocco slippers, and being called + 'father' by a really stunning creature in a thin white blouse + and a blue skirt.</p> + + <p>The young girl, opening the front door, had said: "Do you + want to see father?" And instantly the words were out George + had realized that she might have said: " + <i>Did</i> + + you want to see father?" ... in the idiom of the shop-girl or + clerk, and that if she had said 'did' he would have been + gravely disappointed and hurt. But she had not. Of course she + had not! Of course she was incapable of such a locution, and it + was silly of him to have thought otherwise, even momentarily. + She was an artist. Entirely different from the blonde and + fluffy Mrs. John Orgreave—(and a good thing too, for Mrs. + John with her eternal womanishness had got on his + nerves)—Miss Haim was without doubt just as much a lady, + and probably a jolly sight more cultured, in the true sense. + Yet Miss Haim had not in the least revealed herself to him in + the hall as she indicated the depository for his hat and stick + and opened the door of the sitting-room. She had barely smiled. + Indeed she had not smiled. She had not mentioned the weather. + On the other hand, she had not been prim or repellent. She had + revealed nothing of herself. Her one feat had been to stimulate + mightily his curiosity and his imagination concerning + her—rampant enough even before he entered the house!</p> + + <p>The house—what he saw of it—suited her and set + her off, and, as she was different from Mrs. John, so was the + house different from the polished, conventional abode of Mrs. + John at Bedford Park. To George's taste it knocked Bedford Park + to smithereens. In the parlour, for instance, an oak chest, an + oak settee, an oak gate-table, one tapestried easy chair, + several rush-bottomed chairs, a very small brass fender, a + self-coloured wall-paper of warm green, two or three old + engravings in maple-wood or tarnished gilt frames, several + small portraits in maple-wood frames, brass candlesticks on the + mantelpiece and no clock, self-coloured brown curtains across + the windows (two windows opposite each other at either +<!-- Page 17 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page012" name="page012">[pg 12]</a> + + </span> + + end of the long room), sundry rugs on the dark-stained floor, + and so on! Not too much furniture, and not too much symmetry + either. An agreeable and original higgledy-piggledyness! The + room was lighted by a fairly large oil-lamp, with a paper shade + hand-painted in a design of cupids—delightful personal + design, rough, sketchy, adorable! She had certainly done + it.</p> + + <p>George sat on the oak settle, fronting the old man in the + easy chair. It was a hard, smooth oak settle; it had no + upholstering nor cushion; but George liked it.</p> + + <p>"May I smoke?" asked George.</p> + + <p>"Please do. Please do," said Mr. Haim, who was smoking a + cigarette himself, with courteous hospitality. However, it was + a match and not a cigarette that he offered to George, who + opened his own dandiacal case.</p> + + <p>"I stayed rather late at the office to-night," said George, + as he blew out those great clouds with which young men + demonstrate to the world that the cigarette is actually + lighted. And as Mr. Haim, who was accustomed to the boastings + of articled pupils, made no comment, George proceeded, lolling + on the settle and showing his socks: "You know, I like Chelsea. + I've always had a fancy for it." He was just about to continue + cosmopolitanly: "It's the only part of London that's like + Paris. The people in the King's Road," etc., when fortunately + he remembered that Mr. Haim must have overheard these remarks + of Mr. Enwright, and ceased, rather awkwardly. Whereupon Mr. + Haim suggested that he should see the house, and George said + eagerly that he should like to see the house.</p> + + <p>"We've got one bedroom more than we want," Mr. Haim remarked + as he led George to the hall.</p> + + <p>"Oh yes!" said George politely.</p> + + <p>The hall had a small bracket-lamp, which Mr. Haim unhooked, + and then he opened a door opposite to the door of the room + which they had quitted.</p> + + <p>"Now this is a bedroom," said he, holding the lamp high.</p> + + <p>George was startled. A ground-floor bedroom would have been + unthinkable at Bedford Park. Still, in a flat.... Moreover, the + idea had piquancy. The bedroom was sparsely furnished. Instead + of a wardrobe it had a corner curtained off with cretonne.</p> + + <p>"A good-sized room," said Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Very," said George. "Two windows, too, like the + drawing-room." +<!-- Page 18 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page013" name="page013">[pg 13]</a> + + </span> + + Then they went upstairs to the first floor, and saw two more + bedrooms, each with two windows. One of them was Miss Haim's; + there was a hat hung on the looking-glass, and a table with a + few books on it. They did not go to the second floor. The + staircase to the second floor was boarded up at the point where + it turned.</p> + + <p>"That's all there is," said Mr. Haim on the landing. "The + studio people have the second floor, but they don't use my + front door." He spoke the last words rather defiantly.</p> + + <p>"I see," said George untruthfully, for he was mystified. But + the mystery did not trouble him.</p> + + <p>There was no bathroom, and this did not trouble him either, + though at Bedford Park he could never have seriously considered + a house without a bathroom.</p> + + <p>"You could have your choice of ground floor or first floor," + said Mr. Haim confidentially, still on the landing. He moved + the lamp about, and the shadows moved accordingly on the + stairs.</p> + + <p>"Oh, I don't mind in the least," George answered. "Whichever + would suit you best."</p> + + <p>"We could give you breakfast, and use of sitting-room," Mr. + Haim proceeded in a low tone. "But no other meals."</p> + + <p>"That would be all right," said George cheerfully. "I often + dine in town. Like that I can get in a bit of extra work at the + office, you see."</p> + + <p>"Except on Sundays," Mr. Haim corrected himself. "You'd want + your meals on Sundays, of course. But I expect you're out a + good deal, what with one thing or another."</p> + + <p>"Oh, I am!" George concurred.</p> + + <p>The place was perfect, and he was determined to establish + himself in it. Nothing could baulk him. A hitch would have + desolated him completely.</p> + + <p>"I may as well show you the basement while I'm about it," + said Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Do!" said George ardently.</p> + + <p>They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably + at the office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute + correctness of an educated Londoner. His deportment gave + distinction and safety even to the precipitous and mean + basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by the knees of + pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about + along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient + layers of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted + yellow, and some were painted grey, and some were not +<!-- Page 19 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page014" name="page014">[pg 14]</a> + + </span> + + painted. Mr. Haim exhibited first the kitchen. George saw a + morsel of red amber behind black bars, a white deal table and a + black cat crouched on a corner of the table, a chair, and a + tea-cloth drying over the back thereof. He liked the scene; it + reminded him of the Five Towns, and showed + reassuringly—if he needed reassurance, which he did + not—that all houses are the same at heart. Then Mr. Haim, + flashing a lamp-ray on the coal-hole and the area door as he + turned, crossed the stone passage into the other basement + room.</p> + + <p>"This is our second sitting-room," said Mr. Haim, + entering.</p> + + <p>There she was at work, rapt, exactly as George had seen her + from the outside. But now he saw the right side of her face + instead of the left. It was wonderful to him that within the + space of a few minutes he should have developed from an + absolute stranger to her into an acquaintance of the house, + walking about in it, peering into its recesses, disturbing its + secrets, which were hers. But she remained as mysterious, as + withdrawn and intangible, as ever. And then she shifted round + suddenly on the chair, and her absorbed, intent face softened + into a most beautiful, simple smile—a smile of welcome. + An astonishing and celestial change!... She was not one of + those queer girls, as perhaps she might have been. She was a + girl of natural impulses. He smiled back, uplifted.</p> + + <p>"My daughter designs bookbindings," said Mr. Haim. "Happens + to be very busy to-night on something urgent."</p> + + <p>He advanced towards her, George following.</p> + + <p>"Awfully good!" George murmured enthusiastically, and quite + sincerely, though he was not at all in a condition to judge the + design. Strange, that he should come to the basement of an + ordinary stock-size house in Alexandra Grove to see + bookbindings in the making! This was a design for a boy's book. + He had possessed many such books. But it had never occurred to + him that the gay bindings of them were each the result of + individual human thought and labour. He pulled at his + cigarette.</p> + + <p>There was a sound of pushing and rattling outside.</p> + + <p>"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"It's the area door. I bolted it. I dare say it's Mrs. + Lobley," said the girl indifferently.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim moved sharply.</p> + + <p>"Why did you bolt it, Marguerite? No, I'll go myself."</p> + + <p>He picked up the lamp, which he had put down, and shuffled + quickly out in his red morocco slippers, closing the door.</p> + + <p>Marguerite? Yes, it suited her; and it was among the +<!-- Page 20 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page015" name="page015">[pg 15]</a> + + </span> + + most romantic of names. It completed the picture. She now + seemed to be listening and waiting, her attention on the unseen + area door. He felt shy and yet very happy alone with her. + Voices were distinctly heard. Who was Mrs. Lobley? Was Mr. Haim + a little annoyed with his daughter, and was Marguerite + exquisitely defiant? Time hung. The situation was slightly + awkward, he thought. And it was obscure, alluring.... He stood + there, below the level of the street, shut in with those beings + unknown, provocative, and full of half-divined implications. + And all Chelsea was around him and all London around + Chelsea.</p> + + <p>"Father won't be a moment," said the girl. "It's only the + charwoman."</p> + + <p>"Oh! That's quite all right," he answered effusively, and + turning to the design: "The outlining of that lettering fairly + beats me, you know."</p> + + <p>"Not really!... I get that from father, of course."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim was famous in the office as a letterer.</p> + + <p>She sat idly glancing at her own design, her plump, small + hands lying in the blue lap. George compared her, unspeakably + to her advantage, with the kind, coarse young woman at the + chop-house, whom he had asked to telephone to the Orgreaves for + him, and for whom he had been conscious of a faint + penchant.</p> + + <p>"I can't colour it by gaslight," said Marguerite Haim. "I + shall have to do that in the morning."</p> + + <p>He imagined her at work again early in the morning. Within a + week or so he might be living in this house with this girl. He + would be,—watching her life! Seducing prospect, scarcely + credible! He remembered having heard when he first went to + Lucas & Enwright's that old Haim was a widower.</p> + + <p>"Do excuse me," said Mr. Haim, urgently apologetic, + reappearing.</p> + + <p>A quarter of an hour later, George had left the house, + having accepted Mr. Haim's terms without the least argument. In + five days he was to be an inmate of No. 8 Alexandra Grove. The + episode presented itself to him as a vast, romantic adventure, + staggering and enchanting. His luck continued, for the + rain-cloud was spent. He got into an Earl's Court bus. The + dimly perceived travellers in it seemed all of them in a new + sense to be romantic and mysterious.... "Yes," he thought, "I + did say good-night to her, but I didn't shake hands."</p> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 21 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page016" name="page016">[pg 16]</a> + + </span> + + <a name='CHAPTER_II'> + </a> + + <h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + + <h3>MARGUERITE</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <p>More than two months later George came into the office in + Russell Square an hour or so after his usual time. He had been + to South Kensington Museum to look up, for professional + purposes, some scale drawings of architectural detail which + were required for a restaurant then rising in Piccadilly under + the direction of Lucas & Enwright. In his room Mr. Everard + Lucas was already seated. Mr. Lucas was another articled pupil + of the firm; being a remote cousin of the late senior partner, + he had entered on special terms. Although a year older than + George he was less advanced, for whereas George had passed the + Intermediate, Mr. Lucas had not. But in manly beauty, in + stylishness, in mature tact, and especially in persuasive + charm, he could beat George.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" Lucas greeted. "How do you feel? Fit?"</p> + + <p>"Fit?" said George enthusiastically "I feel so fit I could + push in the side of a house."</p> + + <p>"What did I tell you?" said Lucas.</p> + + <p>George rubbed his hand all over Lucas's hair, and Lucas + thereupon seized George's other hand and twisted his arm, and a + struggle followed. In this way they would often lovingly salute + each other of a morning. Lucas had infected George with the + craze for physical exercises as a remedy for all ills and + indiscretions, including even late nights and excessive + smoking. The competition between them to excel in the quality + of fitness was acute, and sometimes led to strange challenges. + After a little discussion about springing from the toes, Lucas + now accused George's toes of a lack of muscularity, and upon + George denying the charge, he asserted that George could not + hang from the mantelpiece by his toes. They were both men of + the world, capable of great heights of dignity, figures in an + important business, aspirants +<!-- Page 22 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page017" name="page017">[pg 17]</a> + + </span> + + to a supreme art and profession. They were at that moment in a + beautiful late-eighteenth-century house of a stately and + renowned square, and in a room whose proportions and ornament + admittedly might serve as an exemplar to the student; and not + the least lovely feature of the room was the high carved + mantelpiece. The morning itself was historic, for it was the + very morning upon which, President McKinley having expired, + Theodore Roosevelt ascended the throne and inaugurated a new + era. Nevertheless, such was their peculiar time of life that + George, a minute later, was as a fact hanging by his toes from + the mantelpiece, while Lucas urged him to keep the blood out of + his head. George had stood on his hands on a box and lodged his + toes on the mantelpiece, and then raised his hands—and + Lucas had softly pushed the box away. George's watch was + dangling against his flushed cheek.</p> + + <p>"Put that box back, you cuckoo!" George exploded + chokingly.</p> + + <p>Then the door opened and Mr. Enwright appeared. + Simultaneously some shillings slipped out of George's pocket + and rolled about the floor. The hour was Mr. Enwright's + customary hour of arrival, but he had no fair excuse for + passing through that room instead of proceeding along the + corridor direct to the principals' room. His aspect, as he + gazed at George's hair and at the revealed sateen back of + George's waistcoat, was unusual. Mr. Enwright commonly entered + the office full of an intense and aggrieved consciousness of + his own existence—of his insomnia, of the reaction upon + himself of some client's stupidity, of the necessity of going + out again in order to have his chin lacerated by his favourite + and hated Albanian barber. But now he had actually forgotten + himself.</p> + + <p>"What + <i>is</i> + + this?" he demanded.</p> + + <p>Lucas having quickly restored the box, George subsided + dangerously thereon, and arose in a condition much disarrayed + and confused, and beheld Mr. Enwright with shame.</p> + + <p>"I—I was just looking to see if the trap of the + chimney was shut," said George. It was foolish in the extreme, + but it was the best he could do, and after all it was a rather + marvellous invention. Lucas sat down and made no remark.</p> + + <p>"You might respect the mantelpiece," said Mr. Enwright + bitterly, and went into the principals' room, where John + Orgreave could be heard dictating letters. +<!-- Page 23 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page018" name="page018">[pg 18]</a> + + </span> + + George straightened his clothes and picked up his money, and + the two men of the world giggled nervously at each other.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim next disturbed them. The shabby, respectable old + man smiled vaguely, with averted glance.</p> + + <p>"I think he's heard the result," said he.</p> + + <p>Both men knew that 'he' was Mr. Enwright, and that the + 'result' was the result of the open competition for the + £150,000 Law Courts which a proud provincial city proposed + to erect for itself. The whole office had worked very hard on + the drawings for that competition throughout the summer, while + cursing the corporation which had chosen so unusual a date for + sending-in day. Even Lucas had worked. George's ideas for + certain details, upon which he had been engaged on the evening + of his introduction to Mr. Haim's household, had been accepted + by Mr. Enwright. As for Mr. Enwright, though the exigencies of + his beard, and his regular morning habit of inveighing against + the profession at great length, and his inability to decide + where he should lunch, generally prevented him from beginning + the day until three o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Enwright had + given many highly concentrated hours of creative energy to the + design. And Mr. Haim had adorned the sheets with the finest + lettering. The design was held to be very good. The principals + knew the identity of all the other chief competitors and their + powers, and they knew also the idiosyncrasies of the Assessor; + and their expert and impartial opinion was that the Lucas & + Enwright design ought to win and would win. This view, indeed, + was widespread in the arcana of the architectural world. George + had gradually grown certain of victory. And yet, at Mr. Haim's + words, his hopes sank horribly away.</p> + + <p>"Have we won?" he asked sharply.</p> + + <p>"That I can't say, Mr. Cannon," answered Haim.</p> + + <p>"Well, then, how do you know he's heard? Has he told + you?"</p> + + <p>"No," said the factotum mysteriously. "But I think he's + heard." And upon this Mr. Haim slouched off quite calmly. Often + he had assisted at the advent of such vital news in the + office—news obtained in advance by the principals through + secret channels—and often the news had been bad. But the + firm's calamities seemed never to affect the smoothness of Mr. + Haim's earthly passage.</p> + + <p>The door into the principals' room opened, and Mr. +<!-- Page 24 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page019" name="page019">[pg 19]</a> + + </span> + + Enwright's head showed. The gloomy, resenting eyes fixed George + for an instant.</p> + + <p>"Well, you've lost that competition," said Mr. Enwright, and + he stepped into full view. His unseen partner had ceased to + dictate, and the shorthand-clerk could be heard going out by + the other door.</p> + + <p>"No!" said George, in a long, outraged murmur. The news + seemed incredible and quite disastrous; and yet at the same + time had he not, in one unvisited corner of his mind, always + foreknown it? Suddenly he was distressed, discouraged, + disillusioned about the whole of life. He thought that Everard + Lucas, screwing up a compass, was strangely unmoved. But Mr. + Enwright ignored Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Who's got it?" George asked.</p> + + <p>"Whinburn."</p> + + <p>"That chap!... Where are + <i>we</i> + + ?"</p> + + <p>"Nowhere."</p> + + <p>"Not placed?"</p> + + <p>"Not in it. Skelting's second. And Grant third. I shouldn't + have minded so much if Grant had got it. There was something to + be said for his scheme. I knew + <i>we</i> + + shouldn't get it. I knew that perfectly well—not with + Corver assessing."</p> + + <p>George wondered that his admired principal should thus state + the exact opposite of what he had so often affirmed during the + last few weeks. People were certainly very queer, even the best + of them. The perception of this fact added to his puzzled + woe.</p> + + <p>"But Whinburn's design is grotesque!" he protested borrowing + one of Mr. Enwright's adjectives.</p> + + <p>"Of course it is."</p> + + <p>"Then why does Sir Hugh Corver go and give him the award? + Surely he must know——"</p> + + <p>"Know!" Mr. Enwright growled, destroying Sir Hugh and his + reputation and his pretensions with one single + monosyllable.</p> + + <p>"Then why did they make him Assessor—that's what I + can't understand."</p> + + <p>"It's quite simple," rasped Mr. Enwright. "They made him + assessor because he's got so much work to do it takes him all + his time to trot about from one job to another on his blooming + pony. They made him assessor because his pony's a piebald pony. + Couldn't you think of that for yourself? Or have you been stone + deaf in this office for two years? It +<!-- Page 25 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page020" name="page020">[pg 20]</a> + + </span> + + stands to reason that a man who's responsible for all the + largest new eyesores in London would impress any corporation. + Clever chap, Corver! Instead of wasting his time in travel and + study, he made a speciality of learning how to talk to + committees. And he was always full of ideas like the piebald + pony, ever since I knew him."</p> + + <p>"It's that façade that did for us," broke in another + voice. John Orgreave stood behind Mr. Enwright. He spoke + easily; he was not ruffled by the immense disappointment, + though the mournful greatness of the topic had drawn him + irresistibly into the discussion. John Orgreave had grown + rather fat and coarse. At one period, in the Five Towns, he had + been George's hero. He was so no longer. George was still fond + of him, but he had torn him down from the pedestal and + established Mr. Enwright in his place. George in his heart now + somewhat patronized the placid Orgreave, regarding him as an + excellent person who comprehended naught that was worth + comprehending, and as a husband who was the dupe of his + wife.</p> + + <p>"You couldn't have any other façade," Mr. Enwright + turned on him, "unless you're absolutely going to ignore the + market on the other side of the Square. Whinburn's façade + is an outrage—an outrage. Give me a cigarette. I must run + out and get shaved."</p> + + <p>While Mr. Enwright was lighting the cigarette, George + reflected in desolation upon the slow evolving of the firm's + design for the Law Courts. Again and again in the course of the + work had he been struck into a worshipping enthusiasm by the + brilliance of Mr. Enwright's invention and the happy beauty of + his ideas. For George there was only one architect in the + world; he was convinced that nobody could possibly rival Mr. + Enwright, and that no Law Courts ever had been conceived equal + to those Law Courts. And he himself had contributed something + to the creation. He had dreamed of the building erected and of + being able to stand in front of some detail of it and say to + himself: "That was my notion, that was." And now the building + was destroyed before its birth. It would never come into + existence. It was wasted. And the prospect for the firm of + several years' remunerative and satisfying labour had vanished. + But the ridiculous, canny Whinburn would be profitably + occupied, and his grotesque building would actually arise, and + people would praise it, and it would survive for + centuries—at any rate for a century.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 26 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page021" name="page021">[pg 21]</a> + + </span> + + Mr. Enwright did not move.</p> + + <p>"It's no use regretting the façade, Orgreave," he said + suddenly. "There's such a thing as self-respect."</p> + + <p>"I don't see that self-respect's got much to do with it," + Orgreave replied lightly.</p> + + <p>("Of course you don't," George thought. "You're a decent + sort, but you don't see, and you never will see. Even Lucas + doesn't see. I alone see." And he felt savage and defiant.)</p> + + <p>"Better shove my self-respect away into this cupboard, I + suppose!" said Mr. Enwright, with the most acrid cynicism, and + he pulled open one door of a long, low cupboard whose top + formed a table for portfolios, dusty illustrated books, and + other accumulations.</p> + + <p>The gesture was dramatic, and none knew it better than Mr. + Enwright. The cupboard was the cupboard which contained the + skeleton. It was full of designs rejected in public + competitions. There they lay, piles and piles of them, the + earliest dating from the late seventies. The cupboard was + crammed with the futility of Enwright's genius. It held + monuments enough to make illustrious a score of cities. Lucas + & Enwright was a successful firm. But, confining itself + chiefly to large public works, it could not escape from the + competition system; and it had lost in far more competitions + than it had won. It was always, and always would be, at the + mercy of an Assessor. The chances had always been, and always + would be, against the acceptance of its designs, because they + had the fatal quality of originality combined with modest + adherence to the classical tradition. When they conquered, it + was by sheer force. George glanced at the skeleton, and he was + afraid. Something was very wrong with architecture. He agreed + with Mr. Enwright's tiresomely reiterated axiom that it was the + Cinderella of professions and the chosen field of ghastly + injustice. He had embraced architecture; he had determined to + follow exactly in the footsteps of Mr. Enwright; he had sworn + to succeed. But could he succeed? Suppose he failed! Yes, his + faith faltered. He was intensely, miserably afraid. He was the + most serious man in Russell Square. Astounding that only a few + minutes ago he had hung triumphantly by his feet from the + mantelpiece!</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright kicked-to the door of the cupboard.</p> + + <p>"Look here," he said to his partner, "I shan't be back just + yet. I have to go and see Bentley. I'd forgotten it."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 27 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page022" name="page022">[pg 22]</a> + + </span> + + Nobody was surprised at this remark. Whenever Mr. Enwright was + inconveniently set back he always went off to visit Bentley, + the architect of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral at + Westminster, on the plea of an urgent appointment.</p> + + <p>" + <i>You</i> + + had a look at the cathedral lately?" he demanded of George as + he left.</p> + + <p>"No, I haven't," said George, who, by reason of a series of + unaccountable omissions, and of the fullness of his life as an + architect and a man of the world, had never seen the celebrated + cathedral at all.</p> + + <p>"Well," said Mr. Enwright sarcastically, "better take just a + glance at it—some time—before they've spoilt the + thing with decorations. There's a whole lot of 'em only waiting + till Bentley's out of the way to begin and ruin it."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Before the regular closing hour of the office the two + articled pupils had left and were walking side by side through + Bloomsbury. They skirted the oval garden of Bedford Square, + which, lying off the main track to the northern termini, and + with nothing baser in it than a consulate or so, took + precedence in austerity and selectness over Russell Square, + which had consented to receive a grand hotel or 'modern + caravanserai' and a shorthand school. Indeed the aspect of + Bedford Square, where the great institution of the basement and + area still flourished in perfection, and wealthy menials with + traditional manners lived sensually in caves beneath the + spacious, calm salons of their employers and dupes,—the + aspect of Bedford Square gave the illusion that evolution was + not, and that Bloomsbury and the whole impressive structure of + British society could never change. Still, from a more dubious + Bloomsbury, demure creatures with inviting, indiscreet eyes + were already traversing the prim flags of Bedford Square on + their way to the evening's hard diplomacy. Mr. Lucas made quiet + remarks about their qualities, but George did not respond.</p> + + <p>"Look here, old man," said Lucas, "there's no use in all + this gloom. You might think Lucas & Enwright had never put + up a building in their lives. Just as well to dwell now and + then on what they have done instead of +<!-- Page 28 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page023" name="page023">[pg 23]</a> + + </span> + + on what they haven't done. We're fairly busy, you know. + Besides——"</p> + + <p>He spoke seriously, tactfully, with charm, and he had a + beautiful voice.</p> + + <p>"Quite right! Quite right!" George willingly agreed, + swinging his stick and gazing straight ahead. And he thought: + "This chap has got his head screwed on. He's miles wiser than I + am, and he's really nice. I could never be nice like that."</p> + + <p>In a moment they were at the turbulent junction of Tottenham + Court Road and Oxford Street, where crowds of Londoners, deeply + unconscious of their own vulgarity, and of the marvellous + distinction of Bedford Square, and of the moral obligation to + harmonize socks with neckties, were preoccupying themselves + with omnibuses and routes, and constituting the spectacle of + London. The high-heeled, demure creatures were lost in this + crowd, and Lucas and George were lost in it.</p> + + <p>"Well," said Lucas, halting on the pavement. "You're going + down to the cathedral."</p> + + <p>"It'll please the old cock," answered George, anxious to + disavow any higher motive. "You aren't coming?"</p> + + <p>Lucas shook his head. "I shall just go and snatch a + hasty".... 'Cup of tea' was the unuttered end of the + sentence.</p> + + <p>"Puffin's?"</p> + + <p>Lucas nodded. Puffin's was a cosy house of sustenance in a + half-new street on the site of the razed slums of St. Giles's. + He would not frequent the orthodox tea-houses, which were all + alike and which had other serious disadvantages. He adventured + into the unusual, and could always demonstrate that what he + found was subtly superior to anything else.</p> + + <p>"That affair still on?" George questioned.</p> + + <p>"It's not off."</p> + + <p>"She's a nice little thing—that I will say."</p> + + <p>"It all depends," Lucas replied sternly. "I don't mind + telling you she wasn't so jolly nice on Tuesday."</p> + + <p>"Wasn't she?" George raised his eyebrows.</p> + + <p>Lucas silently scowled, and his handsomeness vanished for an + instant.</p> + + <p>"However——" he said.</p> + + <p>As George walked alone down Charing Cross Road, he thought: + "That girl will have to look out,"—meaning that in his + opinion Lucas was not a man to be trifled with. Lucas +<!-- Page 29 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page024" name="page024">[pg 24]</a> + + </span> + + was a wise and an experienced man, and knew the world. And what + he did could not be other than right. This notion comforted + George, who had a small affair of his own, which he had not yet + even mentioned to Lucas. Delicacy as well as diffidence had + prevented him from doing so. It was a very different affair + from any of Lucas's, and he did not want Lucas to misesteem it; + neither did he want Lucas to be under the temptation to regard + him as a ninny.</p> + + <p>Not the cathedral alone had induced George to leave the + office early. The dissembler had reflected that if he called in + a certain conventional tea-shop near Cambridge Circus at a + certain hour he would probably meet Marguerite Haim. He knew + that she had an appointment with one of her customers, a firm + of bookbinders, that afternoon, and that on similar occasions + she had been to the tea-shop. In fact he had already once + deliciously taken tea with her therein. To-day he was + disappointed, to the extent of the tea, for he met her as she + was coming out of the shop. Their greetings were rather + punctilious, but beneath superficial formalities shone the + proofs of intimacy. They had had large opportunities to become + intimate, and they had become intimate. The immediate origin of + and excuse for the intimacy was a lampshade. George had needed + a lampshade for his room, and she had offered to paint one. She + submitted sketches. But George also could paint a bit. Hence + discussions, conferences, rival designs, and, lastly, an + agreement upon a composite design. Before long, the lampshade + craze increasing in virulence, they had between them + re-lampshaded the entire house. Then the charming mania + expired; but it had done its work. During the summer holiday + George had written twice to Marguerite, and he had thought + pleasurably about her the whole time. He had hoped that she + would open the door for him upon his return, and that when he + saw her again he would at length penetrate the baffling secret + of her individuality. She had opened the door for him, + exquisitely, but the secret had not yielded itself. It was + astonishing to George, how that girl could combine the candours + of honest intimacy with a profound reserve.</p> + + <p>"Were you going in there for tea?" she asked, looking up at + him gravely.</p> + + <p>"No," he said. "I don't want any tea. I have to wend my way + to the Roman Catholic Cathedral—you know, the new one, + near Victoria. I suppose you wouldn't care to see it?"</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 30 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page025" name="page025">[pg 25]</a> + + </span> + + "I should love to," she answered, with ingenuous eagerness. "I + think it might do me good."</p> + + <p>A strange phrase, he thought! What did she mean?</p> + + <p>"Would you mind walking?" she suggested.</p> + + <p>"Let me take that portfolio, then."</p> + + <p>So they walked. She had her usual serious expression, as it + were full of the consciousness of duty. It made him think how + reliable she would always be. She held herself straight and + independently, and her appearance was very simple and very + trim. He considered it wrong that a girl with such beautiful + lips should have to consult callous bookbinders and accept + whatever they chose to say. To him she was like a lovely and + valiant martyr. The spectacle of her was touching. However, he + could not have dared to hint at these sentiments. He had to + pretend that her exposure to the stresses of the labour-market + was quite natural and right. Always he was careful in his + speech with her. When he got to know people he was apt to be + impatient and ruthless; for example, to John Orgreave and his + wife, and to his mother and stepfather, and sometimes even to + Everard Lucas. He would bear them down. But he was restrained + from such freedoms with Enwright, and equally with Marguerite + Haim. She did not intimidate him, but she put him under a + spell.</p> + + <p>Crossing Piccadilly Circus he had a glimpse of the rising + walls and the scaffolding of the new restaurant. He pointed to + the building without a word. She nodded and smiled.</p> + + <p>In the Mall, where the red campanile of the cathedral was + first descried, George began to get excited. And he perceived + that Marguerite sympathetically responded to his excitement. + She had never even noticed the campanile before, and the reason + was that the cathedral happened not to be on the route between + Alexandra Grove and her principal customers. Suddenly, out of + Victoria Street, they came up against the vast form of the + Byzantine cathedral. It was hemmed in by puny six-story blocks + of flats, as ancient cathedrals also are hemmed in by the + dwellings of townsfolk. But here, instead of the houses having + gathered about the cathedral, the cathedral had excavated a + place for itself amid the houses. Tier above tier the + expensively curtained windows of dark drawing-rooms and + bedrooms inhabited by thousands of the well-to-do blinked up at + the colossal symbol that dwarfed them all. George knew that he + was late. If the watchman's gate was shut for the night he + would look a fool. But his confidence in his magic power +<!-- Page 31 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page026" name="page026">[pg 26]</a> + + </span> + + successfully to run risks sustained him in a gallant and + assured demeanour. The gate in the hoarding that screened the + west front was open. With a large gesture he tipped the + watchman a shilling, and they passed in like princes. The + transition to the calm and dusty interior was instantaneous and + almost overwhelming. Immense without, the cathedral seemed + still more immense within. On one side of the nave was a + steam-engine; on the other some sort of a mill; and everywhere + lay in heaps the wild litter of construction, among which moved + here and there little parties of aproned pygmies engaged + silently and industriously on sub-contracts; the main army of + labourers had gone. The walls rose massively clear out of the + white-powdered confusion into arches and high domes; and the + floor of the choir, and a loftier floor beyond that, also rose + clear. Perspectives ended in shadow and were illimitable, while + the afternoon light through the stone grille of the western + windows made luminous spaces in the gloom.</p> + + <p>The sensation of having the mysterious girl at his elbow in + that wonder-striking interior was magnificent.</p> + + <p>He murmured, with pride:</p> + + <p>"Do you know this place has the widest nave of any cathedral + in the world? It's a much bigger cathedral than St. Paul's. In + fact I'm not sure if it isn't the biggest in England."</p> + + <p>"You know," he said again, "in the whole of the nineteenth + century only one cathedral was built in England."</p> + + <p>"Which was that?"</p> + + <p>"Truro.... And you could put Truro inside this and leave a + margin all round. Mr. Enwright says this is the last cathedral + that ever will be built, outside America."</p> + + <p>They gazed, more and more aware of a solemn miracle.</p> + + <p>"It's marvellous—marvellous!" he breathed.</p> + + <p>After a few moments, glancing at her, a strong impulse to be + confidential mastered him. He was obliged to tell that + girl.</p> + + <p>"I say, we've lost that competition—for the Law + Courts."</p> + + <p>He smiled, but the smile had no effect.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" She positively started.</p> + + <p>He saw that her eyes had moistened, and he looked quickly + away, as though he had seen something that he ought not to have + seen. She cared! She cared a great deal! She was shocked by the + misfortune to the firm, by the injustice to transcendent merit! + She knew nothing whatever about any design in the competition. + But it was her +<!-- Page 32 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page027" name="page027">[pg 27]</a> + + </span> + + religion that the Lucas & Enwright design was the best, and + by far the best. He had implanted the dogma, and he felt that + she was ready to die for it. Mystery dropped away from her. Her + soul stood bare to him. He was so happy and so proud that the + intensity of his feeling dismayed him. But he was enheartened + too, and courage to surmount a thousand failures welled up in + him as from an unimagined spring.</p> + + <p>"I wonder who that is?" she said quietly and ordinarily, as + if a terrific event had not happened.</p> + + <p>On the highest floor, at the other extremity of the + cathedral, in front of the apse, a figure had appeared in a + frock-coat and a silk hat. The figure stood solitary, gazing + around in the dying light.</p> + + <p>"By Jove! It's Bentley! It's the architect!"</p> + + <p>George literally trembled. He literally gave a sob. The + vision of Bentley within his masterpiece, of Bentley whom + Enwright himself worshipped, was too much for him. Renewed + ambition rushed through him in electric currents. All was not + wrong with the world of architecture. Bentley had succeeded. + Bentley, beginning life as an artisan, had succeeded supremely. + And here he stood on the throne of his triumph. Genius would + not be denied. Beauty would conquer despite everything. What + completed the unbearable grandeur of the scene was that Bentley + had cancer of the tongue, and was sentenced to death. Bentley's + friends knew it; the world of architecture knew it; Bentley + knew it.... "Shall I tell her?" George thought. He looked at + her; he looked at the vessel which he had filled with emotion. + He could not speak. A highly sensitive decency, an abhorrence + of crudity, restrained him. "No," he decided, "I can't tell her + now. I'll tell her some other time."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>With no clear plan as to his dinner he took her back to + Alexandra Grove. The dusk was far advanced. Mounting the steps + quickly Marguerite rang the bell. There was no answer. She + pushed up the flap of the letter-aperture and looked + within.</p> + + <p>"Have you got your latchkey?" she asked, turning round on + George. "Father's not come home—his hat's not hanging up. + He promised me certain that he would +<!-- Page 33 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page028" name="page028">[pg 28]</a> + + </span> + + be here at six-thirty at the latest. Otherwise I should have + taken the big key."</p> + + <p>She did not show resentment against her father; nor was + there impatience in her voice. But she seemed to be firmly and + impassively judging her father, as his equal, possibly even as + somewhat his superior. And George admired the force of her + individuality. It flattered him that a being so independent and + so strong should have been so meltingly responsive to him in + the cathedral.</p> + + <p>An adventurous idea occurred to him in a flash and he + impulsively adopted it. His latchkey was in his pocket, but if + the house door was once opened he would lose her—he would + have to go forth and seek his dinner and she would remain in + the house; whereas, barred out of the house, she would be bound + to him—they would be thrust together into exquisite + contingencies, into all the deep potentialities of dark + London.</p> + + <p>"Dash it!" he said, first fumbling in one waistcoat pocket, + and then ledging the portfolio against a step and fumbling in + both waistcoat pockets simultaneously. "I must have left it in + my other clothes."</p> + + <p>It is doubtful whether his conscience troubled him. But he + had a very exciting sense of risk and of romance and of + rapture, as though he had done something wonderful and + irremediable.</p> + + <p>"Ah! Well!" she murmured, instantly acquiescent, and without + the least hesitation descended the steps.</p> + + <p>How many girls (he demanded) would or could have made up + their minds and faced the situation like that? Her faculty of + decision was simply masculine! He looked at her in the twilight + and she was inimitable, unparalleled. And yet by virtue of the + wet glistening of her eyes in the cathedral she had somehow + become mystically his! He. permitted himself the suspicion: + "Perhaps she guesses that I'm only pretending about the + latchkey." The suspicion which made her an accessory to his + crime did not lower her in his eyes. On the contrary, the + enchanting naughtiness with which it invested her only made her + variety more intoxicant and perfection more perfect. His regret + was that the suspicion was not a certainty.</p> + + <p>Before a word could be said as to the next move, a figure in + a grey suit and silk hat, and both arms filled with packages, + passed in front of the gate and then halted.</p> + + <p>"Oh! It's Mr. Buckingham Smith!" exclaimed +<!-- Page 34 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page029" name="page029">[pg 29]</a> + + </span> + + Marguerite. "Mr. Buckingham Smith, we're locked out till father + comes." She completed the tale of the mishap, to George's equal + surprise and mortification.</p> + + <p>Mr. Buckingham Smith, with Mr. Alfred Prince, was tenant of + the studio at the back of No. 8. He raised his hat as well as + an occupied arm would allow.</p> + + <p>"Come and wait in the studio, then," he suggested + bluntly.</p> + + <p>"You know Mr. Cannon, don't you?" said Marguerite, + embarrassed.</p> + + <p>George and Mr. Buckingham Smith had in fact been introduced + to one another weeks earlier in the Grove by Mr. Haim. + Thereafter Mr. Buckingham Smith had, as George imagined, + saluted George with a kind of jealous defiance and mistrust, + and the acquaintance had not progressed. Nor, by the way, had + George's dreams been realized of entering deeply into the + artistic life of Chelsea. Chelsea had been no more welcoming + than Mr. Buckingham Smith. But now Mr. Buckingham Smith grew + affable and neighbourly. Behind the man's inevitable insistence + that George should accompany Miss Haim into the studio was a + genuine, eager hospitality.</p> + + <p>The studio was lofty and large, occupying most of the garden + space of No. 8. Crimson rep curtains, hung on a thick, + blackened brass rod, divided it into two unequal parts. By the + wall nearest the house a staircase ran up to a door high in the + gable, which door communicated by a covered bridge with the + second floor of No. 8, where the artists had bedrooms. The + arrangement was a characteristic example of the manner in which + building was added to building in London contrary to the + intention of the original laying-out, and George in his expert + capacity wondered how the plans had been kept within the + by-laws of the borough, and by what chicane the consent of the + ground-landlord had been obtained.</p> + + <p>Mr. Alfred Prince, whom also George knew slightly, was + trimming a huge oil-lamp which depended by a wire from the + scarcely visible apex of the roof. When at length the natural + perversity of the lamp had been mastered and the metal shade + replaced, George got a general view of the immense and complex + disorder of the studio. It was obviously very dirty—even + in the lamplight the dust could be seen in drifts on the + moveless folds of the curtains—it was a pigsty; but it + was romantic with shadowed spaces, and gleams of copper and of + the pale arms of the etching-press, and glimpses of pictures; +<!-- Page 35 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page030" name="page030">[pg 30]</a> + + </span> + + and the fellow desired a studio of his own! He was glad, now, + that Mr. Buckingham Smith had invited them in. He had wanted to + keep Marguerite Haim to himself; but it was worth while to + visit the studio, and it was especially worth while to watch + her under the illumination of the lamp.</p> + + <p>"Lucky we have a clean tablecloth," said Mr. Buckingham + Smith, opening his packages and setting a table. "Brawn, Miss + Haim! And beer, Miss Haim! That is to say, Pilsener. From the + only place in Chelsea where you can get it."</p> + + <p>And his packages really did contain brawn and beer (four + bottles of the Pilsener); also bread and a slice of butter. The + visitors learnt that they had happened on a feast, a feast + which Mr. Buckingham Smith had conceived and ordained, a feast + to celebrate the triumph of Mr. Alfred Prince. An etching by + Mr. Prince had been bought by Vienna. Mr. Buckingham Smith did + not say that the etching had been bought by any particular + gallery in Vienna. He said 'by Vienna,' giving the idea that + all Vienna, every man, woman, and child in that distant and + enlightened city where etchings were truly understood, had + combined for the possession of a work by Mr. Prince. Mr. + Buckingham Smith opined that soon every gallery in Europe would + be purchasing examples of Alfred Prince. He snatched from a + side-table and showed the identical authentic letter from + Vienna to Mr. Alfred Prince, with its official heading, foreign + calligraphy, and stilted English. The letter was very + complimentary.</p> + + <p>In George's estimation Mr. Prince did not look the part of + an etcher of continental renown. He was a small, pale man, with + a small brown beard, very shabby, and he was full of small + nervous gestures. He had the innocently-red nose which pertains + to indigestion. His trousers bagged horribly at the knees, and + he wore indescribable slippers. He said little, in an extremely + quiet, weak voice. His eyes, however, were lively and + attractive. He was old, probably at least thirty-five. Mr. + Buckingham Smith made a marked contrast to him. Tall, with + newish clothes, a powerful voice and decisive gestures, Mr. + Buckingham Smith dominated, though he was younger than his + friend. He tried to please, and he mingled the grand + seigneurial style with the abrupt. It was he who played both + the parlourmaid and the host. He forced Marguerite to have some + brawn, serving her with a vast portion; but he could not force + her to take Pilsener.</p> + + <p>"Now, Mr. Cannon," he said, pouring beer into a glass +<!-- Page 36 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page031" name="page031">[pg 31]</a> + + </span> + + with an up-and-down motion of the bottle so as to put a + sparkling head on the beer.</p> + + <p>"No, thank you," said George decidedly. "I won't have + beer."</p> + + <p>Mr. Buckingham Smith gazed at him challengingly out of his + black eyes. "Oh! But you've got to," he said. It was as if he + had said: "I am generous. I love to be hospitable, but I am not + going to have my hospitality thwarted, and you needn't think + it."</p> + + <p>George accepted the beer and joined in the toasting of Mr. + Alfred Prince's health.</p> + + <p>"Old chap!" Mr. Buckingham Smith greeted his chum, and then + to George and Marguerite, informingly and seriously: "One of + the best."</p> + + <p>It was during the snack that Mr. Buckingham Smith began to + display the etchings of Mr. Alfred Prince, massed in a + portfolio. He extolled them with his mouth half-full of brawn, + or between two gulps of Pilsener. They impressed George + deeply—they were so rich and dark and austere.</p> + + <p>"Old Princey boy's one of the finest etchers in Europe + to-day, if you ask me," said Mr. Buckingham Smith off-handedly, + and with the air of stating the obvious. And George thought + that Mr. Prince was. The etchings were not signed 'Alfred + Prince,' but just 'Prince,' which was quietly imposing. + Everybody agreed that Vienna had chosen the best one.</p> + + <p>"It's a dry-point, isn't it?" Marguerite asked, peering into + it. George started. This single remark convinced him that she + knew all about etching, whereas he himself knew nothing. He did + not even know exactly what a dry-point was.</p> + + <p>"Mostly," said Mr. Prince. "You can only get that peculiar + quality of line in dry-point."</p> + + <p>George perceived that etching was an entrancing subject, and + he determined to learn something about it—everything + about it.</p> + + <p>Then came the turn of Mr. Buckingham Smith's paintings. + These were not signed 'Smith' as the etchings were signed + 'Prince.' By no means! They were signed 'Buckingham Smith.' + George much admired them, though less than he admired the + etchings. They were very striking and ingenious, in particular + the portraits and the still-life subjects. He had to admit that + these fellows to whom he had scarcely given a thought, these + fellows who existed darkly behind the house, were prodigiously + accomplished.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 37 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page032" name="page032">[pg 32]</a> + + </span> + + "Of course," said Mr. Buckingham Smith negligently, "you can't + get any idea of them by this light—though," he added + warningly, "it's the finest artificial light going. Better than + all your electricity."</p> + + <p>There was a pause, and Mr. Prince sighed and said:</p> + + <p>"I was thinking of going up to the Promenades to-night, but + Buck won't go."</p> + + <p>George took fire at once. "The Glazounov ballet music?"</p> + + <p>"Glazounov?" repeated Mr. Prince uncertainly. "No. I rather + wanted to hear the new Elgar."</p> + + <p>George was disappointed, for he had derived from Mr. + Enwright positive opinions about the relative importance of + Elgar and Glazounov.</p> + + <p>"Go often?" he asked.</p> + + <p>"No," said Mr. Prince. "I haven't been this season yet, but + I'm always meaning to." He smiled apologetically. "And I + thought to-night——" Despite appearances, he was not + indifferent after all to his great Viennese triumph; he had had + some mild notion of his own of celebrating the affair.</p> + + <p>"I suppose this is what etchings are printed with," said + George to Mr. Buckingham Smith, for the sake of conversation, + and he moved towards the press. The reception given to the + wonderful name of Glazounov in that studio was more than a + disappointment for George; he felt obscurely that it amounted + to a snub.</p> + + <p>Mr. Buckingham Smith instantly became the urbane and alert + showman. He explained how the pressure was regulated. He pulled + the capstan-like arms of the motive wheel and the blanketed + steel bed slid smoothly under the glittering cylinder. Although + George had often been in his stepfather's printing works he now + felt for the first time the fascination of manual work, of + artisanship, in art, and he regretted that the architect had no + such labour. He could indistinctly hear Mr. Prince talking to + Marguerite.</p> + + <p>"This is a monotype," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, picking up + a dusty print off the window-sill. "I do one occasionally."</p> + + <p>"Did you do this?" asked George, who had no idea what a + monotype was and dared not inquire.</p> + + <p>"Yes. They're rather amusing to do. You just use a match or + your finger or anything."</p> + + <p>"It's jolly good," said George. "D'you know, it reminds me a + bit of Cézanne."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 38 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page033" name="page033">[pg 33]</a> + + </span> + + Of course it was in Paris that he had heard of the great + original, the martyr and saviour of modern painting. Equally of + course it was Mr. Enwright who had inducted him into the + esoteric cult of Cézanne, and magically made him see + marvels in what at the first view had struck him as a wilful + and clumsy absurdity.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" murmured Buck, stiffening.</p> + + <p>"What do you think of Cézanne?"</p> + + <p>"Rule it out!" said Buck, with a warning cantankerous + inflection, firmly and almost brutally reproving this + conversational delinquency of George's. "Rule it out, young + man! We don't want any of that sort of mountebanking in + England. We know what it's worth."</p> + + <p>George was cowed. More, his faith in Cézanne was + shaken. He smiled sheepishly and was angry with himself. Then + he heard Mr. Prince saying calmly and easily to Miss + Haim—the little old man could not in fact be so nervous + as he seemed:</p> + + <p>"I suppose + <i>you</i> + + wouldn't come with me to the Prom?"</p> + + <p>George was staggered and indignant. It was inconceivable, + monstrous, that those two should be on such terms as would + warrant Mr. Prince's astounding proposal. He felt that he + simply could not endure them marching off together for the + evening. Her acceptance of the proposal would be an outrage. He + trembled. However, she declined, and he was lifted from the + rack.</p> + + <p>"I must really go," she said. "Father's sure to be home by + now."</p> + + <p>"May I?" demanded Mr. Buckingham Smith, stooping over + Marguerite's portfolio of designs, and glancing round at her + for permission to open it. Already his hand was on the + tape.</p> + + <p>"On no account!" she cried. "No! No!... Mr. Cannon, please + take it from him!" She was serious.</p> + + <p>"Oh! All right! All right!" Mr. Buckingham Smith rose to the + erect good-humouredly.</p> + + <p>After a decent interval George took the portfolio under his + arm. Marguerite was giving thanks for hospitality. They left. + George was singularly uplifted by the fact that she never + concealed from him those designs upon which Mr. Buckingham + Smith had not been allowed to gaze. And, certain contretemps + and disappointments notwithstanding, he was impressed by the + entity of the studio. It had made a desirable picture in his + mind: the romantic paraphernalia, the etchings, the canvases, + the lights and shadows, the informality, the warm odours of the + lamp and of the Pilsener, +<!-- Page 39 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page034" name="page034">[pg 34]</a> + + </span> + + the dazzling white of the tablecloth, the quick, positive tones + of Buckingham Smith, who had always to be convincing not only + others but himself that he was a strong man whose views were + unassailable, the eyes of Buckingham Smith like black holes in + his handsome face, the stylish gestures and coarse petulance of + Buckingham Smith, the shy assurance of little old Prince. He + envied the pair. Their existence had a cloistral quality which + appealed to something in him. They were continually in the + studio, morning, afternoon, evening. They were independent. + They had not to go forth to catch omnibuses and trains, to sit + in offices, to utilize the services of clerks, to take orders, + to consider the idiosyncrasies of superiors. They were + self-contained, they were consecrated, and they were free. No + open competitions for them! No struggles with committees and + with contractors! And no waiting for the realization of an + idea! They sat down and worked, and the idea came at once to + life, complete, without the necessity of other human + co-operation! They did not sit in front of a painting or + etching and say, as architects had too often to say in front of + their designs: "That is wasted! That will never come into + being." Architecture might be the art of arts, and indeed it + was, but there were terrible drawbacks to it....</p> + + <p>And next he was outside in the dark with Marguerite Haim, + and new, intensified sensations thrilled him. She was very + marvellous in the dark.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim had not returned.</p> + + <p>"Well!" she muttered; and then dreamily: "What a funny + little man Mr. Prince is, isn't he?" She spoke + condescendingly.</p> + + <p>"Anyhow," said George, who had been respecting Mr. Alfred + Prince, "anyhow, I'm glad you didn't go to the concert with + him."</p> + + <p>"Why?" she asked, with apparent simplicity. "I adore the + Proms. Don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Let's go, then," he suggested. "We shan't be very late, and + what else is there for you to do?"</p> + + <p>His audacity frightened him. There she stood with him in the + porch, silent, reflective. She would never go. For sundry + practical and other reasons she would refuse. She must + refuse.</p> + + <p>"I'll go," she said, as if announcing a well-meditated + decision. He could scarcely believe it. This could not be + London that he was in.</p> + + <p>They deposited the portfolio under the mat in the porch.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + +<!-- Page 40 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page035" name="page035">[pg 35]</a> + + </span> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When they got into the hall the band was sending forth a + tremendous volume of brilliant exhilarating sound. A vast + melody seemed to ride on waves of brass. The conductor was very + excited, and his dark locks shook with the violence of his + gestures as he urged onward the fingers and arms of the + executants flying madly through the maze of the music to a + climax. There were flags; there was a bank of flowers; there + was a fountain; there were the huge crimson-domed lamps that + poured down their radiance; and there was the packed crowd of + straw-hatted and floral-hatted erect figures gazing with + upturned, intent faces at the immense orchestral machine. Then + came a final crash, and for an instant the thin, silvery tinkle + of the fountain supervened in an enchanted hush; and then + terrific applause, with yells and thuds above and below the + hand-clapping, filled and inflamed the whole interior. The + conductor, recovering from a collapse, turned round and bowed + low with his hand on his shirt-front; his hair fell over his + forehead; he straightened himself and threw the hair back + again, and so he kept on, time after time casting those plumes + to and fro. At last, sated with homage, he thought of justice, + and pointed to the band and smiled with an unconvincing air of + humility, as if saying: "I am naught. Here are the true + heroes." And on the end of his stick he lifted to their feet + eighty men, whose rising drew invigorated shouts. Enthusiasm + reigned; triumph was accomplished. Even when the applause had + expired, enthusiasm still reigned; and every person present had + the illusion of a share in the triumph. It was a great night at + the Promenades.</p> + + <p>George and Marguerite looked at each other happily. They + both were inspired by the feeling that life was a grand thing, + and that they had reached suddenly one of the summits of + existence. George, observing the excitement in her eyes, + thought how wonderful it was that she too should be + excited.</p> + + <p>"What was that piece?" she asked.</p> + + <p>"I don't quite know," he said. "There don't appear to be any + programmes about." He wished he had been able to identify the + piece, but he was too content to be ashamed of his ignorance. + Moreover, his ignorance was hers also, and he liked that.</p> + + <p>The music resumed. He listened, ready to put himself +<!-- Page 41 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page036" name="page036">[pg 36]</a> + + </span> + + into the mood of admiration if it was the Glazounov item. Was + it Glazounov? He could not be certain. It sounded fine. Surely + it sounded Russian. Then he had a glimpse of a programme held + by a man standing near, and he peered at it. "No. 4. + Elgar—Sea-Pictures." No. 5 was the Glazounov.</p> + + <p>"It's only the Elgar," he said, with careless condescension, + perceiving at once, by the mere virtue of a label, that the + music was not fine and not Russian. He really loved music, but + he happened to be at that age, from which some people never + emerge, at which the judgment depends almost completely on + extraneous suggestion.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" murmured Marguerite indifferently, responding to his + tone.</p> + + <p>"Glazounov's next," he said.</p> + + <p>"I suppose we couldn't sit down," she suggested.</p> + + <p>Yet it was she who had preferred the Promenade to the Grand + Circle or the Balcony.</p> + + <p>"We'll find something," he said, with his usual assurance. + And in the corridor that surrounded the hemicycle they climbed + up on to a narrow ledge in the wall and sat side by side in + perfect luxury, not dreaming that they were doing anything + unusual or undignified. As a fact, they were not. Other couples + were perched on other ledges, and still others on the cold + steam-pipes. A girl with a big face and heavy red lips sat + alone, lounging, her head aslant. She had an open copy of + <i>Home Notes</i> + + in one hand. Elgar had sent the simple creature into an + ecstasy, and she never stirred; probably she did not know + anyone named Enwright. Promenaders promenaded in and out of the + corridor, and up and down the corridor, and nobody troubled to + glance twice either at the heavy-lipped, solitary girl or at + the ledged couples.</p> + + <p>Through an arched doorway could be seen the orchestra and + half the auditorium.</p> + + <p>"This is the best seat in the hall," George observed + proudly. Marguerite smiled at him.</p> + + <p>When the "Sea-Pictures" were finished she gave a sigh of + appreciation, having forgotten, it seemed, that persons who had + come to admire Glazounov ought not to relish Elgar. And George, + too, reflecting upon the sensations produced within him by + Elgar, was ready to admit that, though Elgar could of course + not be classed with the foreigner, there might be something to + be said for him after all.</p> + + <p>"This is just what I needed," she murmured.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 42 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page037" name="page037">[pg 37]</a> + </span> + + "Oh?"</p> + + <p>"I was very depressed this afternoon," she said.</p> + + <p>"Were you?" He had not noticed it.</p> + + <p>"Yes. They've cut down my price from a pound to seventeen + and six." 'They' were the employing bookbinders, and the price + was the fixed price for a design—side and back.</p> + + <p>He was shocked, and he felt guilty. How was it that he had + noticed nothing in her demeanour? He had been full of the + misfortune of the firm, and she had made the misfortune her + own, keeping silence about the grinding harshness of + bookbinders. He was an insensible egotist, and girls were + wondrous. At any rate this girl was wondrous. He had an intense + desire to atone for his insensibility and his egotism by + protecting her, spoiling her, soothing her into forgetfulness + of her trouble.... Ah! He understood now what she meant when + she had replied to his suggestion as to visiting the cathedral: + "It might do me good."</p> + + <p>"How rotten!" he exclaimed, expressing his sympathy by means + of disgust. "Couldn't you tell them to go to the dickens?"</p> + + <p>"You have to take what they'll give," she answered. + "Especially when they begin to talk about bad trade and that + sort of thing."</p> + + <p>"Well, it's absolutely rotten!"</p> + + <p>It was not the arbitrary reduction of her earnings that he + resented, but the fact of her victimhood. Scandalous, infamous, + that this rare and delicate creature should be defenceless + against commercial brutes!</p> + + <p>The Glazounov ballet music, "The Seasons," started. Knowing + himself justified, he surrendered himself to it, to its + exoticism, to its Russianism, to its wilful and disconcerting + beauty. And there was no composer like Glazounov. Beneath the + sensory spell of the music, his memory wandered about through + the whole of his life. He recalled days in his mother's + boarding-house at Brighton; musical evenings, at which John + Orgreave was present, at his stepfather's house in the Five + Towns; and in all kinds of scenes at the later home at + Ladderedge Hall—scenes in which his mother again + predominated, becoming young again and learning sports and + horsewomanship as a girl might have learnt them.... And they + were all beautiful beneath the music. The music softened; the + fountain was heard; the striking of matches was heard.... + Still, all was beautiful. Then he touched +<!-- Page 43 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page038" name="page038">[pg 38]</a> + </span> + + Marguerite's hand as it rested a little behind her on the + ledge. The effect of contact was surprising. With all his other + thoughts he had not ceased to think of the idea of shielding + and enveloping her. But now this idea utterly possessed him. + The music grew louder, and as it were under cover of the music + he put his hand round her hand. It was a venturesome act with + such a girl; he was afraid.... The hand lay acquiescent within + his! He tightened the pressure. The hand lay acquiescent; it + accepted. The flashing realization of her compliance + overwhelmed him. He was holding the very symbol of wild purity, + and there was no effort to be free. None guessed. None could + see. They two had the astonishing, the incredible secret + between them. He looked at her profile, taking precautions. No + sign of alarm or disturbance. Her rapt glance was fixed + steadily on the orchestra framed in the arched doorway.... + Incredible, the soft, warm delicacy of the cotton glove!</p> + + <p>The applause at the end of the number awoke them. He + released her hand. She slipped neatly down from the ledge.</p> + + <p>"I think I ought to be going back home.... Father ..." she + murmured. She met his eyes; but his embarrassed eyes would not + meet hers.</p> + + <p>"Certainly!" he agreed quickly, though they had been in the + hall little more than half an hour. He would have agreed to any + suggestion from her. It seemed to him that the least he could + do at that moment was to fulfil unquestioningly her slightest + wish. Then she looked away, and he saw that a deep blush + gradually spread over her lovely face. This was the supreme + impressive phenomenon. Before the blush he was devotional.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>They walked down Regent Street almost in silence, enjoying + simultaneously the silence and solitude of the curving + thoroughfare and the memory of the bright, crowded, triumphant + scene which they had left. At Piccadilly Circus George inquired + for the new open motor-buses which had just begun to run + between the Circus and Putney, passing the Redcliffe Arms. + Already, within a year, the time was historically distant when + a policeman had refused to allow the automobile of a Member of + Parliament to enter Palace Yard, on the ground that there was + no precedent for such a desecration. The new motor-buses, + however, did not run +<!-- Page 44 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page039" name="page039">[pg 39]</a> + </span> + + at night. Human daring had limits, and it was reported that at + least one motor-driver, succumbing to the awful nervous strain + of guiding these fast expresses through the traffic of the West + End, had been taken to the lunatic asylum. George called a + hansom, of which there were dozens idling about. Marguerite + seemed tacitly to object to this act as the germ of + extravagance; but it was the only classic thing to do, and he + did it.</p> + + <p>The hansom rolled rapidly and smoothly along upon that + well-established novelty, india-rubber tyres. Bits of the + jingling harness oscillated regularly from side to side. At + intervals the whip-thong dragged gently across the horse's + back, and the horse lifted and shook its head. The shallow and + narrow interior of the hansom was constructed with exactitude + to hold two. Neither occupant could move in any direction, and + neither desired to move. The splendidly lighted avenues, of + which every detail could be discerned as by day, flowed evenly + past the vehicle.</p> + + <p>"I've never been in a hansom before," said Marguerite + timidly—because the situation was so dismaying in its + enchantment.</p> + + <p>He, from the height of two years of hansom-using, was + touched, delighted, even impressed. The staggering fact + increased her virginal charm and its protectiveness. He thought + upon the simplicity of her existence. Of course she had never + been in a hansom! Hansoms were obviously outside her scheme. He + said nothing, but he sought for and found her hand beneath the + apron. She did not resist. He reflected "Can she resist? She + cannot." Her hand was in a living swoon. Her hand was his; it + was admittedly his. She could never deny it, now. He touched + the button of the glove, and undid it. Then, moving her passive + hand, he brought both his to it, and with infinitely delicate + and considerate gestures he slowly drew off the glove, and he + held her hand ungloved. She did not stir nor speak. Nothing so + marvellous as her exquisite and confiding stillness had ever + happened.... The hansom turned into Alexandra Grove, and when + it stopped he pushed the glove into her hand, which closed on + it. As they descended the cabman, accustomed to peer down on + loves pure and impure, gave them a beneficent look.</p> + + <p>"He's not come in," said Marguerite, glancing through the + flap of the front door. She was exceedingly self-conscious, but + beneath her self-consciousness could be noticed an indig +<!-- Page 45 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page040" name="page040">[pg 40]</a> + </span> + + nant accusation against old Haim. She had rung the bell and + knocked.</p> + + <p>"Are you sure? Can you see the hat-stand?"</p> + + <p>"I can see it enough for that."</p> + + <p>"Look here," George suggested, with false lightness, "I + expect I could get in through my window." His room was on the + ground floor, and not much agility was needed to clamber up to + its ledge from the level of the area. He might have searched + his pockets again and discovered his latchkey, but he would + not. Sooner than admit a deception he would have remained at + the door with her all night.</p> + + <p>"Think you could?"</p> + + <p>"Yes. I could slide the window-catch."</p> + + <p>He jumped down the steps and showed her how he could climb. + In two minutes he was opening the front door to her from the + inside. She moved towards him in the gloom.</p> + + <p>"Oh! My portfolio!" She stopped, and bent down to the + mat.</p> + + <p>Then she busily lighted the little hall-lamp with his + matches, and hurried down, taking the matches, to the kitchen. + After a few moments George followed her; he was obliged to + follow her. She had removed her coat; it lay on the sole chair. + The hat and blouse which she wore seemed very vivid in the + kitchen—vestiges of past glorious episodes in + concert-halls and hansoms. She had lighted the kitchen-lamp and + was standing apparently idle. The alarum-clock on the black + mantelpiece ticked noisily. The cat sat indifferently on the + corner of the clean, bare table. George hesitated in the + doorway. He was extremely excited, because the tremendous fact + of what he had done and what she had permitted, with all the + implications, had to be explicitly acknowledged between them. + Of course it had to be acknowledged! They were both fully aware + of the thing, she as well as he, but spoken words must + authenticate its existence as only spoken words could.</p> + + <p>She said, beginning sternly and finishing with a peculiar + smile:</p> + + <p>"I do think this business of father and Mrs. Lobley is going + rather far."</p> + + <p>And George had a sudden new sense of the purely feminine + adroitness of women. In those words she had clearly conceded + that their relations were utterly changed. Never before had she + made even the slightest, most distant reference to the + monstrous household actuality, unadmitted and yet patent, of + the wooing of Mrs. Lobley the charwoman by her father, +<!-- Page 46 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page041" name="page041">[pg 41]</a> + </span> + + the widower of her mother. If Mr. Haim stayed away from home of + an evening, Mrs. Lobley was the siren who deflected him from + the straight domestic path. She knew it; George surmised it; + the whole street had its suspicions. But hitherto Marguerite + had given no sign. She now created George the confidant of her + resentment. And her smile was not an earnest of some indulgence + for her father—her smile was for George alone.</p> + + <p>He went boldly up to her, put his arms round her, and kissed + her. She did not kiss. But she allowed herself to be kissed, + and she let her body loose in his embrace. She looked at him + with her eyes nearly upon his, and her eyes glittered with a + mysterious burning; he knew that she was content. That she + should be content, that it should please her to let him have + the unimaginable experience of holding that thrilled and + thrilling body close to his, seemed to him to be a marvellous + piece of sheer luck and overwhelming good fortune. She was so + sensuous and yet so serious. Her gaze stimulated not only love + but conscience. In him ambition was superlatively vigorous. + Nevertheless he felt then as though he had never really known + ambition till that moment. He thought of the new century and of + a new life. He perceived the childishness and folly of his + favourite idea that an artist ought to pass through a phase of + Don Juanism. He knew that the task of satisfying the lofty and + exacting and unique girl would be immense, and that he could + fulfil it, but on the one condition that it monopolized his + powers. Thus he was both modest and proud, anxious and divinely + elated. His mind was the scene of innumerable impulses and + sensations over which floated the banner of the male who has + won an impassioned allegiance.</p> + + <p>"Don't let's tell anyone yet," she murmured.</p> + + <p>"No."</p> + + <p>"I mean for a long time," she insisted.</p> + + <p>"No, we won't," he agreed, and added scornfully: "They'd + only say we're too young."</p> + + <p>The notion of secrecy was an enchanting notion.</p> + + <p>She cut magic cake and poured out magic milk. And they ate + and drank together, for they were hungry. And at this point the + cat began to show an interest in their doings.</p> + + <p>And after they were both in their beds, but not after they + were asleep, Mr. Haim, by the clicking of a latchkey in a lock, + reminded them of something which they had practically + forgotten—his disordered existence.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_III'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 47 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page042" name="page042">[pg 42]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + + <h3>THE CHARWOMAN</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George entered Alexandra Grove very early the next evening, + having dined inadequately and swiftly so that he might reach + the neighbourhood of Marguerite at the first moment + justifiable. He would have omitted dinner and trusted to + Marguerite's kitchen, only that, in view of the secrecy + resolved upon, appearances had to be preserved. The secrecy in + itself was delicious, but even the short experiences of the + morning had shown both of them how extremely difficult it would + be for two people who were everything to each other to behave + as though they were nothing to each other. George hoped, + however, that Mr. Haim would again be absent, and he was + anticipating exquisite hours.</p> + + <p>At the precise instant when he put his latchkey in the door + the door was pulled away from him by a hand within, and he saw + a woman of about thirty-five, plump but not stout, in a blue + sateen dress, bonneted but not gloved. She had pleasant, + commonplace features and brown hair. Several seconds elapsed + before George recognized in her Mrs. Lobley, the charwoman of + No. 8, and when he did so he was a little surprised at her + presentableness. He had met her very seldom in the house. He + was always late for breakfast, and his breakfast was always + waiting for him. On Sundays he was generally out. If he did + catch sight of her, she was invariably in a rough apron and as + a rule on her knees. Their acquaintance had scarcely progressed + far enough for him to call her 'Mrs. Lob' with any confidence. + He had never seen her at night, though upon occasion he had + heard her below in the basement, and for him she was associated + with mysterious nocturnal goings and comings by the basement + door. That she should be using the front door was as startling + as that she should be so nobly attired in blue sateen.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 48 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page043" name="page043">[pg 43]</a> + </span> + + Good evening—Mr. Cannon," she said, in her timid voice, + too thin for her body. He noticed that she was perturbed. + Hitherto she had always addressed him as 'sir.'</p> + + <p>"Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic air she + slipped past him and departed out of the house.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim was visible just within the doorway of the + sitting-room, and behind him the table with the tea-things + still on it. George had felt considerably self-conscious in Mr. + Haim's presence at the office; and he was so preoccupied by his + own secret mighty affair that his first suspicion connected the + strange apparition of a new Mrs. Lobley and the peculiar look + on Mr. Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and + dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, + though absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other + way.</p> + + <p>"Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early + to-night."</p> + + <p>"A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to + read, you know." He was using the word 'read' in the + examination sense.</p> + + <p>"If you could spare me a minute," smiled Mr. Haim</p> + + <p>"Certainly."</p> + + <p>"Have a cigarette," said Mr. Haim, as soon as George had + deposited his hat and come into the room. This quite + unprecedented offer reassured George, who in spite of reason + had continued to fear that the landlord had something on his + mind about his daughter and his lodger. Mr. Haim presented his + well-known worn cigarette-case, and then with precise and calm + gestures carefully shut the door.</p> + + <p>"The fact is," said he, "I wanted to tell you something. I + told Mr. Enwright this afternoon, as I thought was proper, and + it seems to me that you are the next person who ought to be + informed."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes?"</p> + + <p>"I am going to be married."</p> + + <p>"The deuce you are!"</p> + + <p>The light words had scarcely escaped from young George + before he perceived that his tone was a mistake, and that Mr. + Haim was in a state of considerable emotion, which would have + to be treated very carefully. And George too now suddenly + partook of the emotion. He felt himself to be astonished and + even shaken by Mr. Haim's news. The atmosphere of the interview + changed in an instant. +<!-- Page 49 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page044" name="page044">[pg 44]</a> + </span> + + Mr. Haim moved silently on slippered feet to the mantelpiece, + out of the circle of lamplight, and dropped some ash into the + empty fire-place.</p> + + <p>"I congratulate you," said George.</p> + + <p>"Thank you!" said Mr. Haim brightly, seizing gratefully on + the fustian phrase, eager to hall-mark it as genuine and put it + among his treasures. Without doubt he was flattered. "Yes," he + proceeded, as it were reflectively, "I have asked Mrs. Lobley + to be my wife, and she has done me the honour to consent." He + had the air of having invented the words specially to indicate + that Mrs. Lobley was descending from a throne in order to + espouse him. It could not have occurred to him that they had + ever been used before and that the formula was classic. He + smiled again, and went on: "Of course I've known and admired + Mrs. Lobley for a long time. What we should have done without + her valuable help in this house I don't like to think. I really + don't."</p> + + <p>"'Her help in this house,'" thought the ruthless George, + behind cigarette smoke. "Why doesn't he say right out she's the + charwoman? If I was marrying a charwoman, I should say I was + marrying a charwoman." And then he had a misgiving: "Should I? + I wonder whether I should." And he remembered that ultimately + the charwoman was going to be his own mother-in-law. He was + aware of a serious qualm.</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Lobley has had an uphill fight since her first + husband's death," said Mr. Haim. "He was an insurance + agent—the Prudential. She's come out of it splendidly. + She's always kept up her little home, though it was only two + rooms, and she'll only leave it because I can offer her a + better one. I have always admired her, and I'm sure the more + you know her the more you'll like her. She's a woman in a + thousand, Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>"I expect she is," George agreed feebly. He could not think + of anything to say.</p> + + <p>"And I'm thankful I + <i>can</i> + + offer her a better home. I don't mind telling you now that at + one time I began to fear I shouldn't have a home. I've had my + ambitions, Mr. Cannon. I was meant for a quantity surveyor. I + was one—you may say. But it was not to be. I came down in + the world, but I kept my head above water. And then in the end, + with a little money I had I bought this house. £575. It + needed some negotiation. Ground-rent £10 per annum, and + seventy years to run. You see, all along I had had the +<!-- Page 50 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page045" name="page045">[pg 45]</a> + </span> + + idea of building a studio in the garden. I was one of the first + to see the commercial possibilities of studios in Chelsea. But + of course I know Chelsea. I made the drawings for the studio + myself. Mr. Enwright kindly suggested a few improvements. With + all my experience I was in a position to get it put up as + cheaply as possible. You'd be surprised at the number of people + in the building line anxious to oblige me. It cost under + £300. I had to borrow most of it. But I've paid it off. + What's the consequence? The consequence is that the rent of the + studio and the top rooms brings me in over eight per cent on + all I spent on the house and the studio together. And I'm + living rent free myself."</p> + + <p>"Jolly good!"</p> + + <p>"Yes.... If I'd had capital, Mr. Cannon, I could have made + thousands out of studios. Thousands. I fancy I've the gift. But + I've never had the capital. And that's all there is to it." He + smacked his lips, and leaned back against the mantelpiece. "You + may tell me I've realized my ambitions. Not all of them, Mr. + Cannon. Not all of them. If I'd had money I should have had + leisure, and I should have improved myself. Reading, I mean. + Study. Literature. Music. Painting. History of architecture. + All that sort of thing. I've got the taste for it. I know I've + got the taste for it. But what could I do? I gave it up. You'll + never know how lucky you are, Mr. Cannon. I gave it up. + However, I've nothing to be ashamed of. At any rate I hope + not."</p> + + <p>George nodded appreciatively. He was touched. He was even + impressed. He admitted the + <i>naiveté</i> + + of the ageing man, his vanity, his sentimentality. But he saw + himself to be in the presence of an achievement. And though the + crown of Mr. Haim's achievement was to marry a charwoman, still + the achievement impressed. And the shabby man with the lined, + common face was looking back at the whole of his + life—there was something positively formidable in that + alone. He was at the end; George was at the beginning, and + George felt callow and deferential. The sensation of callowness + at once heightened his resolve to succeed. All George's + sensations seemed mysteriously to transform themselves into + food for this great resolve.</p> + + <p>"And what does Miss Haim say to all this?" he asked, rather + timidly and wildly. It was a venturesome remark; it might well + have been called an impertinence; but the +<!-- Page 51 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page046" name="page046">[pg 46]</a> + </span> + + image of Marguerite was involved in all the workings of his + mind, and it would not be denied expression.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim lifted his back from the mantelpiece sharply. Then + he hesitated, moving forward a little.</p> + + <p>"Mr. Cannon," he said, "it's curious you should ask that." + His voice trembled, and at the vibration George was suddenly + apprehensive. Mr. Haim had soon recovered from his original + emotion, but now he seemed to be in danger of losing control of + himself.</p> + + <p>George nervously cleared his throat and apologized.</p> + + <p>"I didn't mean——"</p> + + <p>"I'd better tell you," Mr. Haim interrupted him, rather + loudly. "We've just had a terrible scene with my daughter, a + terrible scene!" He seldom referred to Marguerite by her + Christian name, "Mr. Cannon, I had hoped to get through my life + without a scandal, and especially an open scandal. But it seems + as if I shouldn't—if I know my daughter! It was not my + intention to say anything. Far from it. Outsiders ought not to + be troubled.... I—I like you, Mr. Cannon. She left us a + few minutes ago And as she didn't put her hat on she must be + either at the studio or at Agg's...."</p> + + <p>"She went out of the house?" George questioned + awkwardly.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim nodded, and then without warning he dropped like an + inert lump on to a chair and let his head fall on to his + hand.</p> + + <p>George was frightened as well as mystified. The spectacle of + the old man—at one moment boasting ingenuously of his + career, and at the next almost hysterical with woe—roused + his pity in a very disconcerting manner, and from his sight the + Lucas & Enwright factotum vanished utterly, and was + supplanted by a tragic human being. But he had no idea how to + handle the unexampled situation with dignity; he realized + painfully his own lack of experience, and his over-mastering + impulse was to get away while it was still possible to get + away. Moreover, he desired intensely to see and hear + Marguerite.</p> + + <p>"Perhaps I had better find out where she is," he absurdly + suggested, and departed from the room feeling like a criminal + reprieved.</p> + + <p>The old man did not stir.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + +<!-- Page 52 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page047" name="page047">[pg 47]</a> + </span> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>"Can I come in?" said George, hatless, pushing open the door + of the studio, which was ajar.</p> + + <p>There were people in the bright and rather chilly studio, + and none of them moved until the figure arriving out of the + darkness was identified. Mr. Prince, who in the far corner was + apparently cleaning or adjusting his press, then came forward + with a quiet, shy, urbane welcome. Marguerite herself stood + nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg, who was seated. + The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in her + somewhat deep voice to Marguerite:</p> + + <p>"I must go."</p> + + <p>Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a + broad-minded and turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal + headship of a hard-working and successful barrister. She was a + painter, and lived and slept in semi-independence in a studio + of her own in Manresa Road, but maintained close and constant + relations with the rest of the tribe. In shape and proportions + fairly tall and fairly thin, she counted in shops among the + stock-sizes; but otherwise she was entitled to call herself + unusual. She kept her hair about as short as the hair of a boy + who has postponed going to the barber's for a month after the + proper time, and she incompletely covered the hair with the + smallest possible hat. Her coat was long and straight and her + skirt short. Her boots were high, reaching well up the calf, + but they had high heels and were laced in some hundreds of + holes. She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was + twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast + with one another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and + liked it.</p> + + <p>"Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking + hands.</p> + + <p>George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her + father's house. Having yet to learn the important truth that it + takes all sorts to make a world, he did not like her and + wondered why she existed. He could understand Agg being fond of + Marguerite, but he could not understand Marguerite being fond + of Agg; and the friendship between these two, now that he + actually for the first time saw it in being, irked him.</p> + + <p>"Is anything the matter?... Have you seen father?" asked + Marguerite in a serious, calm tone, turning to him. +<!-- Page 53 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page048" name="page048">[pg 48]</a> + </span> + + Like George, she had run into the studio without putting on any + street attire.</p> + + <p>George perceived that there was no secret in the studio as + to the crisis in the Haim family. Clearly the topic had been + under discussion. Prince as well as Agg was privy to it. He did + not quite like that. He was vaguely jealous of both Prince and + Agg. Indeed he was startled to find that Marguerite could + confide such a matter to Prince—at any rate without + consulting himself. While not definitely formulating the claim + in his own mind, he had somehow expected of Marguerite that + until she met him she would have existed absolutely sole, + without any sentimental connexions of any sort, in abeyance, + waiting for his miraculous advent. He was glad that Mr. + Buckingham Smith was not of the conclave; he felt that he could + not have tolerated Mr. Buckingham Smith.</p> + + <p>"Yes, I've seen him," George answered.</p> + + <p>"Did he tell you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince, after a little hovering, retired to his press, + and a wheel could be heard creaking.</p> + + <p>"What did he tell you?"</p> + + <p>"He told me about—the marriage.... And I gathered + there'd been a bit of a scene."</p> + + <p>"Nothing else?"</p> + + <p>"No."</p> + + <p>Agg then interjected, fixing her blue eyes on George:</p> + + <p>"Marguerite is coming to live with me in my studio."</p> + + <p>And her challenging gaze met George's.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" George could not suppress his pained inquietude at + this decision having been made without his knowledge. Both + girls misapprehended his feeling. "That's it, is it?"</p> + + <p>"Well," said Agg, "what can Mr. Haim expect? Here + Marguerite's been paying this woman two shillings a day and her + food, and letting her take a parcel home at nights. And then + all of a sudden she comes dressed up for tea, and sits down, + and Mr. Haim says she's his future wife. What + <i>does</i> + + he expect? Does he expect Marguerite to kiss her and call her + mamma? The situation's impossible."</p> + + <p>"But you can't stop people from falling in love, Agg, you + know. It's not a crime," said Mr. Prince in his weak voice + surprisingly from the press.</p> + + <p>"I know it's not a crime," said Agg sharply. "And nobody + wants to stop people from falling in love. If Mr. +<!-- Page 54 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page049" name="page049">[pg 49]</a> + </span> + + Haim chooses to go mad about a charwoman, when his wife, and + such a wife, 's been dead barely three years, that's his + concern. It's true the lady isn't much more than half his age, + and that the whole business would be screamingly funny if it + wasn't disgusting; but still he's a free agent. And + Marguerite's a free agent too, I hope. Of course he's + thunder-struck to discover that Marguerite + <i>is</i> + + a free agent. He would be!"</p> + + <p>"He certainly is in a state," said George, with an uneasy + short laugh.</p> + + <p>Agg continued:</p> + + <p>"And why is he in a state? Because Marguerite says she shall + leave the house? Not a bit. Only because of what he thinks is + the scandal of her leaving. Mr. Haim is a respectable man. He's + simply all respectability. Respectability's his + god—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Always has been. He'd + sacrifice everything to respectability—except the lovely + Lobley. It's not respectable in a respectable family for a girl + to leave home on account of her stepmother. And so he's in a + state, if you please!... If he wanted to carry on with Mrs. + Lobley, let him carry on with her. But no! That's not + respectable. He's just got to marry her!" Agg sneered.</p> + + <p>George was startled, perhaps excusably, at the monstrous + doctrine implied in Agg's remarks. He had thought himself a man + of the world, experienced, unshockable. But he blenched, and + all his presence of mind was needed to preserve a casual, cool + demeanour. The worst of the trial was Marguerite's tranquil + acceptance of the attitude of her friend. She glanced at Agg in + silent, admiring approval. He surmised that until that moment + he had been perfectly ignorant of what girls really were.</p> + + <p>"I see," said George courageously. And then, strangely, he + began to admire too. And he pulled himself together.</p> + + <p>"I think I shall leave to-morrow," Marguerite announced. + "Morning. It will be much better. She can look after him. I + don't see that I owe any duty ..."</p> + + <p>"Yes, you do, dear," Agg corrected her impressively. "You + owe a duty to your mother—to her memory. That's the duty + you owe. I'll come round for you to-morrow myself in a + four-wheeler—let me see, about eleven."</p> + + <p>George hated the sound of the word 'duty.'</p> + + <p>"Thank you, dear," Marguerite murmured, and the girls shook + hands; they did not kiss.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 55 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page050" name="page050">[pg 50]</a> + </span> + + Bye-bye, Princey."</p> + + <p>"Bye-bye, Agg."</p> + + <p>"Good night, Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>Agg departed, slightly banging the door.</p> + + <p>"I think I'll go back home now," said Marguerite, in a + sweet, firm tone. "Had they gone out?"</p> + + <p>"Who? Your father and What's-her-name? She's gone, but he + hasn't. If you don't want to meet him to-night again, hadn't + you better——"</p> + + <p>"Oh! If she's gone, he'll be gone too by this time. Trust + him!"</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince approached them, urging Marguerite soothingly to + stay as long as she liked. She shook her head, and pressed his + hand affectionately.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When George and Marguerite re-entered No. 8 by the front + door, Mr. Haim was still sitting overcome at the tea-table. + They both had sight of him through the open door of the + parlour. Marguerite was obviously disturbed to see him there, + but she went straight into the room. George moved into the + darkness of his own room. He heard the voices of the other + two.</p> + + <p>"Then you mean to go?" Haim asked accusingly.</p> + + <p>Marguerite answered in a calm, good-humoured, sweet + tone:</p> + + <p>"Of course, if you mean to marry Mrs. Lobley."</p> + + <p>"Marry Mrs. Lobley! Of course I shall marry her!" Haim's + voice rose. "What right have you to settle where I shall marry + and where I shan't?"</p> + + <p>"I've fixed everything up with Celia Agg," said Marguerite + very quietly.</p> + + <p>"You've soon arranged it!"</p> + + <p>No reply from Marguerite. The old man spoke again:</p> + + <p>"You've no right—It'll be an open scandal."</p> + + <p>Then a silence. George now thought impatiently that a great + fuss was being made about a trifle, and that a matter much more + important deserved attention. His ear caught a violent + movement. The old man came out of the parlour, and, instead of + taking his hat and rushing off to find the enchantress, he + walked slowly and heavily upstairs, preceded by his immense + shadow thrown from the hall-lamp. He dis +<!-- Page 56 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page051" name="page051">[pg 51]</a> + </span> + + appeared round the corner of the stairs. George, under the + influence of the apparition, was forced to modify his view that + all the fuss was over a trifle. He tiptoed into the parlour. + Marguerite was standing at the table. As soon as George came in + she began to gather the tea-things together on the tray.</p> + + <p>"I + <i>say</i> + + !" whispered George.</p> + + <p>Marguerite's bent, tranquil face had a pleasant look as she + handled the crockery.</p> + + <p>"I shall get him a nice breakfast to-morrow," she said, also + in a whisper. "And as soon as he's gone to the office I shall + pack. It won't take me long, really."</p> + + <p>"But won't Mrs. Lobley be here?"</p> + + <p>"What if she is? I've nothing against Mrs. Lobley. Nor, as + far as that goes, against poor father either—you see what + I mean."</p> + + <p>"He told me you'd had a terrible scene. That's what he + said'—a terrible scene."</p> + + <p>"It depends what you call a scene," she said smoothly. "I + was rather upset just at first—who wouldn't be?—but + ..." She stopped, listening, with a glance at the ceiling. + There was not the slightest sound overhead. "I wonder what he's + doing?"</p> + + <p>She picked up the tray.</p> + + <p>"I'll carry that," said George.</p> + + <p>"No! It's all right. I'm used to it. You might bring me the + tablecloth. But you won't drop the crumbs out of it, will + you?"</p> + + <p>He followed her with the bunched-up tablecloth down the + dangerous basement steps into the kitchen. She passed straight + into the little scullery, where the tray with its contents was + habitually left for the attention of Mrs. Lobley the next + morning. When she turned again, he halted her, as it were, at + the entrance from the scullery with a question.</p> + + <p>"Shall you be all right?"</p> + + <p>"With Agg?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"How do you mean—'all right'?"</p> + + <p>"Well, for money, and so on."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes!" She spoke lightly and surely, with a faint + confident smile.</p> + + <p>"I was thinking as they'd cut down your + prices——"</p> + + <p>"I shall have heaps. Agg and I—why, we can live + splendidly for next to nothing. You'll see."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 57 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page052" name="page052">[pg 52]</a> + </span> + + He was rebuffed. He felt jealous of both Agg and Prince, but + especially of Prince. It still seemed outrageous to him that + Prince should have been taken into her confidence. Prince had + known of the affair before himself. He was more than jealous; + he had a greater grievance. Marguerite appeared to have + forgotten all about love, all about the mighty event of their + betrothal. She appeared to have put it away, as casually as she + had put away the tray. Yet ought not the event to count supreme + over everything else—over no matter what? He was desolate + and unhappy.</p> + + <p>"Did you tell Agg?" he asked.</p> + + <p>"What about?"</p> + + <p>"Our being engaged—and so on."</p> + + <p>She started towards him.</p> + + <p>"Dearest!" she protested, not in the least irritated or + querulous, but kindly, affectionately. "Without asking you + first? Didn't we agree we wouldn't say anything to anybody? But + we shall have to think about telling Agg."</p> + + <p>He met her and suddenly seized her. They kissed, and she + shut her eyes. He was ecstatically happy.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she murmured in his embrace. "I'm so glad I've got + you."</p> + + <p>And she opened her eyes and tears fell from them. She cried + quietly, without excitement and without shame. She cried with + absolute naturalness. Her tears filled him with profound + delight. And in the exquisite subterranean intimacy of the + kitchen, he saw with his eyes and felt with his arms how + beautiful she was. Her face, seen close, was incredibly soft + and touching. Her nose was the most wonderful nose ever + witnessed. He gloated upon her perfection. For, literally, to + him she was perfect. With what dignity and with what a sense of + justice she had behaved, in the studio, in the parlour, and + here. He was gloriously reassured as he realized how in their + joint future he would be able to rely upon her fairness, her + conscientiousness, her mere pleasantness which nothing could + disturb. Throughout the ordeal of the evening she had not once + been ruffled. She had not said an unkind word, nor given an + unkind gesture, nor exhibited the least trace of resentment. + Then, she had taste, and she was talented. But perhaps the + greatest quality of all was her adorable beauty and charm. And + yet no! The final attraction was that she trusted him, depended + on him, cried in his embrace.... He loosed her with reluctance, + and she +<!-- Page 58 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page053" name="page053">[pg 53]</a> + </span> + + deliciously wiped her eyes on his handkerchief, and he took her + again.</p> + + <p>"I suppose I must leave here too, now," he said.</p> + + <p>"Oh, George!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't! Why should you? I + don't want you to."</p> + + <p>"Don't you? Why?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't! Truly. You'll be just as well looked after as + if I was here. I do hope you'll stay."</p> + + <p>That settled it. And Manresa Road was not far off.</p> + + <p>She sat on the table and leaned against him a long time. + Then she said she must go upstairs to her room—she had so + much to do. He could not forbid, because she was irresistible. + She extinguished the kitchen-lamp, and, side by side, they + groped up the stairs to the first floor. The cat nonchalantly + passed them in the hall.</p> + + <p>"Put the lights out here, will you, when you go to bed?" she + whispered. He felt flattered.</p> + + <p>She offered her face.... The lovely thing slipped away + upstairs with unimaginable, ravishing grace. She vanished. + There was silence. After a moment George could hear the clock + ticking in the kitchen below. He stood motionless, amid the + dizzying memories of her glance, her gestures, the softness of + her body. What had happened to him was past belief. He + completely forgot the existence of the old man in love.</p> + +<!-- Page 59 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page054" name="page054">[pg 54]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + + <h3>THE LUNCHEON</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George, having had breakfast in bed, opened his door for the + second time that morning, and duly found on the mat the can of + hot water (covered with a bit of old blanket) and the can of + cold water which comprised the material for his bath. There was + no sound in the house. The new spouse might be upstairs or she + might be downstairs—he could not tell; but the cans + proved that she was immanent and regardful; indeed, she never + forgot anything. And George's second state at No. 8 was + physically even better than his first. In the transition + through autumn from summer to winter—a transition which, + according to the experience of tens of thousands of London + lodgers, is capable of turning comparative comfort into + absolute discomfort—Mrs. Haim had behaved with + benevolence and ingenuity. For example, the bedroom fire, laid + overnight, was now burning up well from the mere touch of the + lodger's own match. Such things are apt to count, and they + counted with George.</p> + + <p>As for Mr. Haim, George knew that he was still in bed, + because, since his marriage, Mr. Haim had made a practice of + staying in bed on Sunday mornings. The scheme was his wife's; + she regarded it as his duty to himself to exercise this grand + male privilege of staying in bed; to do so gave him majesty, + magnificence, and was a sign of authority. A copy of + <i>The Referee</i> + + , fresh as fruit new-dropped from the bough, lay in the hall at + the front door. Mr. Haim had read + <i>The Referee</i> + + since + <i>The Referee</i> + + was. He began his perusal with the feature known as "Mustard + and Cress," which not only amused him greatly, but convinced + him that his own ideas on affairs were really very sagacious. + His chief and most serious admiration, however was kept for + "Our Hand-Book." "It's my Bible," he had once remarked, " +<!-- Page 60 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page055" name="page055">[pg 55]</a> + </span> + + and I'm not ashamed to say it. And there are scores and scores + of men who'd say the same." Church bells could not be heard at + No. 8. + <i>The Referee</i> + + lying in the hall was the gracious sign of Sabbath morning. + Presently Mrs. Haim would carry it upstairs, respectfully. For + her it was simply and unanalysably + <i>The Referee</i> + + . She did not dream of looking into it. Mr. Haim did not expect + her to look into it. Her mission was to solace and to charm, + his alone to supply the intellectual basis upon which their + existence reposed. George's nose caught the ascending beautiful + odour of bacon; he picked up his cans and disappeared.</p> + + <p>When he was dressed, he brought forward the grindstone to + the fire, and conscientiously put his nose to it, without even + lighting a cigarette. It had been agreed between himself and + Marguerite that there should be no more cigarettes until after + lunch. It had also been agreed that he should put his nose to + the grindstone that Sunday morning, and that she should do the + same away in Manresa Road. George's grindstone happened to be + Miers and Crosskey's + <i>The Soil in Relation to Health</i> + + . He was preparing for his Final Examination. In addition to + the vast imperial subject of Design, the Final comprised four + other subjects—Construction, Hygiene, Properties and Uses + of Building Materials, and Ordinary Practice of Architecture. + George was now busy with one branch of the second of these + subjects. Perhaps he was not following precisely the order of + tactics prescribed by the most wily tacticians, for as usual he + had his own ideas and they were arbitrary; but he was veritably + and visibly engaged in the slow but exciting process of + becoming a great architect. And he knew and felt that he was. + And the disordered bed, and the untransparent bath-water, and + the soap-tin by the side of the bath, and the breakfast-tray on + a chair, were as much a part of the inspiring spectacle as + himself tense and especially dandiacal in the midst.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless appearances deceived. On a table were the + thirteen folio and quarto glorious illustrated volumes of + Ongania's + <i>Basilica di San Marco</i> + + , which Mr. Enwright had obtained for him on loan, and which + had come down to No. 8 in a big box by Carter Paterson van. And + while George sat quite still with his eyes and his volition + centred fiercely on Miers and Crosskey, his brain would keep + making excursions across the room to the Church of St. Mark at + Venice. He brought it back again and again with a jerk +<!-- Page 61 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page056" name="page056">[pg 56]</a> + </span> + + but he could not retain it in place. The minutes passed; the + quarters passed, until an hour and a half had gone. Then he + closed Miers and Crosskey. He had sworn to study Miers and + Crosskey for an hour and a half. He had fought hard to do so, + and nobody could say that he had not done so. He was aware, + however, that the fight had not been wholly successful; he had + not won it; on the other hand neither had he lost it. Honour + was saved, and he could still sincerely assert that in regard + to the Final Examination he had got time fiercely by the + forelock. He rose and strolled over to the + <i>Basilica di San Marco</i> + + , and opened one or two of those formidable and enchanting + volumes. Then he produced a cigarette, and struck a match, and + he was about to light the cigarette, when squinting down at it + he suddenly wondered: "Now how the deuce did that cigarette + come into my mouth?" He replaced the cigarette in his case, and + in a moment he had left the house.</p> + + <p>He was invited to Mrs. John Orgreave's new abode at Bedford + Park for lunch. In the early part of the year, Mrs. John had + inherited money—again, and the result had been an + increase in the spaciousness of her existence. George had not + expected to see the new house, for he had determined to have + nothing more to do with Mrs. John. He was, it is to be feared, + rather touchy. He and Mrs. John had not openly quarrelled, but + in their hearts they had quarrelled. George had for some time + objected to her attitude towards him as a boarder. She would + hint that, as she assuredly had no need of boarders, she was + conferring a favour on him by boarding him. It was of course + true, but George considered that her references to the fact + were offensive. He did not understand and make allowances for + Adela. Moreover, he thought that a woman who had been through + the Divorce Court ought to be modest in demeanour towards + people who had not been through the Divorce Court. Further, + Adela resented his frequent lateness for meals. And she had + said, with an uncompromising glance: "I hope you'll turn over a + new leaf when we get into the new house." And he had replied, + with an uncompromising glance: "Perhaps + <i>I</i> + + shan't get into the new house." Nothing else. But that ended + it. After that both felt that mutual detestation had set in. + John Orgreave was not implicated in the discreet rupture. + Possibly he knew of it; possibly he didn't; he was not one to + look for trouble, and he accepted the theory that it was part + of George's vital scheme to inhabit Chelsea. And then +<!-- Page 62 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page057" name="page057">[pg 57]</a> + </span> + + Adela, all fluffiness and winsomeness, had called, in the + previous week, at Russell Square and behaved like a woman whose + sole aim in life is to please and cosset men of genius. "I + shall be dreadfully hurt if you don't come to one of my Sunday + lunches, George!" she had said. And also: "We + <i>miss</i> + + you, you know," and had put her head on one side.</p> + + <p>Marguerite had thoroughly approved his acceptance of the + invitation. She thought that he 'ought' to accept. He had + promised, as she had an urgent design to do, not to arrive at + the studio before 8 p.m., and he had received a note from her + that morning to insist on the hour.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The roads were covered with a very even, very thin coating + of mud; it was as though a corps of highly skilled + house-painters had laid on the mud, and just vanished. The + pavements had a kind of yellowish-brown varnish. Each of the + few trees that could be seen—and there were a + few—carried about six surviving leaves. The sky was of a + blue-black with golden rents and gleams that travelled steadily + eastwards. Except the man with newspapers at the corner of + Alexandra Grove, scarcely a sign of life showed along the + vistas of Fulham Road; but the clock over the jeweller's was + alive and bearing the usual false witness. From the upper open + galleries of the Workhouse one or two old men and old women in + uniform looked down indifferently upon the free world which + they had left for ever. Then an omnibus appeared faintly + advancing from the beautiful grey distance of the straight and + endless street. George crossed the road on his way towards + Redcliffe Gardens and Earl's Court. He was very smart, indeed + smarter than ever, having produced in himself quite naturally + and easily a fair imitation of the elegant figures which, upon + his visits to the restaurant-building in Piccadilly, he had + observed airing themselves round about Bond Street. His hair + was smooth like polished marble; his hat and stick were at the + right angle; his overcoat was new, and it indicated the + locality of his waist; the spots of colour in his attire + complied with the operative decrees. His young face had in it + nothing that obviously separated him from the average youth of + his clothes. Nobody would have said of him, at a glance, that + he might be a particularly serious individual. And most people + would have +<!-- Page 63 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page058" name="page058">[pg 58]</a> + </span> + + at once classed him as a callow pleasure-seeking person in the + act of seeking pleasure.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless he was at that moment particularly serious, and + his seriousness was growing. His secret engagement had affected + him, in part directly, and in part by the intensification of + ambitious endeavour which had resulted from contact with that + fount of seriousness, Marguerite. Although still entirely + dependent—even to cigarette money—upon the + benevolence of a couple of old individuals a hundred and fifty + miles off, he reckoned that he was advancing in the world. The + Intermediate Examination was past, and already he felt that he + had come to grips with the Final and would emerge victorious. + He felt too that his general knowledge and the force and + variety of his ideas were increasing. At times, when he and + Marguerite talked, he was convinced that both of them had + achieved absolute knowledge, and that their criticisms of the + world were and would always be unanswerable. After the Final, + he hoped, his uncle would buy him a share in the Lucas & + Enwright practice. In due season, his engagement would be + revealed, and all would be immensely impressed by his + self-restraint and his good taste, and the marriage would + occur, and he would be a London architect, an established + man—at the mature age of, say, twenty-two.</p> + + <p>No cloud would have obscured the inward radiance caused by + the lovely image of Marguerite and by his confidence in + himself, had it not been for those criticisms of the world. He + had moods of being rather gravely concerned as to the world, + and as to London. He was recovering from the first great attack + of London. He saw faults in London. He was capable of being + disturbed by, for example, the ugliness and the inefficiency of + London. He even thought that something ought to be done about + it. Upon this Sunday morning, fresh from visions of Venice, and + rendered a little complacent by the grim execution of the + morning's programme of work, he was positively pained by the + aspect of Redcliffe Gardens. The Redcliffe Arms public-house, + locked and dead, which was the daily paradise of hundreds of + human beings, and had given balm and illusion to whole + generations, seemed simply horrible to him in its Sunday + morning coma. The large and stuffy unsightliness of it could + not be borne. (However, the glimpse of a barmaid at an upper + window interested him pleasantly for a moment.) And the + Redcliffe Arms was the true gate to the stucco and areas of + Redcliffe Gardens. He +<!-- Page 64 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page059" name="page059">[pg 59]</a> + </span> + + looked down into the areas and saw therein the furtive + existence of squalor behind barred windows. All the obscene + apparatus of London life was there. And as he raised his eyes + to the drawing-room and bedroom stories he found no relief. His + eyes could discover nothing that was not mean, ugly, frowzy, + and unimaginative. He pictured the heavy, gloomy, lethargic + life within. The slatternly servants pottering about the bases + of the sooty buildings sickened and saddened him. A solitary + Earl's Court omnibus that lumbered past with its sinister, + sparse cargo seemed to be a spectacle absolutely + tragic—he did not know why. The few wayfarers were + obviously prim and smug. No joy, no elegance, anywhere! Only, + at intervals, a feeling that mysterious and repulsive wealth + was hiding itself like an ogre in the eternal twilight of + fastnesses beyond the stuccoed walls and the grimy curtains.... + The city worked six days in order to be precisely this on the + seventh. Truly it was very similar to the Five Towns, and in + essentials not a bit better.—A sociological discovery + which startled him! He wanted to destroy Redcliffe Gardens, and + to design it afresh and rebuild it under the inspiration of St. + Mark's and of the principles of hygiene as taught for the Final + Examination. He had grandiose ideas for a new design. As for + Redcliffe Square, he could do marvels with its spaces.</p> + + <p>He arrived too soon at Earl's Court Station, having + forgotten that the Underground Railway had a treaty with the + Church of England and all the Nonconformist churches not to run + trains while the city, represented by possibly two per cent of + its numbers, was at divine worship. He walked to and fro along + the platforms in the vast echoing cavern peopled with wandering + lost souls, and at last a train came in from the void, and it + had the air of a miracle, because nobody had believed that any + train ever would come in. And at last the Turnham Green train + came in, and George got into a smoking compartment, and Mr. + Enwright was in the compartment.</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright also was going to the Orgreave luncheon. He was + in what the office called 'one of his moods.' The other + occupants of the compartment had a stiff and self-conscious + air: some apparently were proud of being abroad on Sunday + morning; some apparently were ashamed. Mr. Enwright's demeanour + was as free and natural as that of a child. His lined and drawn + face showed worry and self-absorption in the frankest manner. + He began at once to explain how badly +<!-- Page 65 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page060" name="page060">[pg 60]</a> + </span> + + he had slept; indeed he asserted that he had not slept at all; + and he complained with extreme acerbity of the renewal of his + catarrh. 'Constant secretion. Constant secretion,' was the + phrase he used to describe the chief symptom. Then by a forced + transition he turned to the profession of architecture, and + restated his celebrated theory that it was the Cinderella of + professions. The firm had quite recently obtained a very + important job in a manufacturing quarter of London, without + having to compete for it; but Mr. Enwright's great leading + ideas never fluctuated with the fluctuation of facts. If the + multiplicity of his lucrative jobs had been such as to compel + him to run round from one to another on a piebald pony in the + style of Sir Hugh Corver, his view of the profession would not + have altered. He spoke with terrible sarcasm apropos of a + rumour current in architectural circles that a provincial city + intended soon to invite competitive designs for a building of + really enormous proportions, and took oath that in no case + should his firm, enter for the competition. In short, his + condition was markedly pessimistic.</p> + + <p>George loved him, and was bound to humour him; and in order + to respond sympathetically to Enwright's pessimism he attempted + to describe his sensations concerning the London Sunday, and in + particular the Sunday morning aspect of Earl's Court streets. + He animadverted with virulence, and brought forward his new + startling discovery that London was in truth as provincial as + the provinces.</p> + + <p>"Well, I don't think it is," said Enwright, instantly + becoming a judicial truth-seeker.</p> + + <p>"Why don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Simply because it's bigger—so much bigger. That's the + principal difference, and you'll never get over it. You must + appreciate size. An elephant is a noble animal, but it wouldn't + be if it was only as big as a fly. London's an elephant, and + forget it not."</p> + + <p>"It's frightfully ugly, most of it, anyhow, and especially + on Sunday morning," George persisted.</p> + + <p>"Is it? I wonder whether it is, now. The architecture's + ugly. But what's architecture? Architecture isn't everything. + If you can go up and down London and see nothing but + architecture, you'll never be an A1 architect." He spoke in a + low, kindly, and reasonable tone. "I like London on Sunday + mornings. In fact it's marvellous. You say it's untidy and all + that ... slatternly, and so on. Well, so it ought to be when it + gets up late. Jolly bad sign if it +<!-- Page 66 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page061" name="page061">[pg 61]</a> + </span> + + wasn't. And that's part of it! Why, dash it, look at a bedroom + when you trail about, getting up! Look how you leave it! The + existence of a big city while it's waking up—lethargy + business—a sort of shamelessness—it's like a great + animal! I think it's marvellous, and I always have thought + so."</p> + + <p>George would not openly agree, but his mind was illuminated + with a new light, and in his mind he agreed, very + admiringly.</p> + + <p>The train stopped; people got out; and the two were alone in + the compartment.</p> + + <p>"I thought all was over between you and Adela," said Mr. + Enwright, confidentially and quizzically.</p> + + <p>George blushed a little. "Oh no!"</p> + + <p>"I don't know what I'm going to her lunch for, I'm sure. I + suppose I have to go."</p> + + <p>"I have, too," said George.</p> + + <p>"Well, she won't do you any good, you know. I was glad when + you left there."</p> + + <p>George looked worldly. "Rum sort, isn't she?"</p> + + <p>I'll tell you what she is, now. You remember + <i>Aida</i> + + at the Paris Opéra. The procession in the second act where + you lost your head and said it was the finest music ever + written. And those girls in white, waving palms in front of the + hero—What's-his-name. There are some women who are born + to do that and nothing else. Thin lips. Fixed idiotic smile. + They don't think a bit about what they're doing. They're + thinking about themselves all the time. They simply don't care + a damn about the hero, or about the audience, or anything, and + they scarcely pretend to. Arrogance isn't the word. It's + something more terrific—it's stupendous! Mrs. John's like + that. I thought of it as I was coming along here."</p> + + <p>"Is she?" said George negligently. "Perhaps she is. I never + thought of her like that."</p> + + <p>Turnham Green Station was announced.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Despite the fresh pinky horrors of its external + architecture, and despite his own desire and firm intention to + the contrary, George was very deeply impressed by the new + Orgreave home. It was far larger than the previous house. The + entrance was spacious, and the drawing-room, with a great fire + at either +<!-- Page 67 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page062" name="page062">[pg 62]</a> + </span> + + end, immense. He had never been in an interior so splendid. He + tried to be off-hand in his attitude towards it, but did not + fully succeed. The taste shown in the decoration and furniture + was almost unexceptionable. White walls—Heppel-white; + chintz—black, crackling chintz strewn with tens of + thousands of giant roses. On the walls were a few + lithographs—John's contribution to the general effect. + John having of late years begun to take himself seriously as a + collector of lithographs.</p> + + <p>One-third of the room was divided from the rest by an arched + and fretted screen of red lacquer, and within this open cage + stood Mrs. John, surveying winsomely the expanse of little + tables, little chairs, big chairs, huge chairs, sofas, rugs, + flower-vases, and knick-knacks. She had an advantage over most + blondes nearing the forties in that she had not stoutened. She + was in fact thin as well as short; but her face was too thin. + Still, it dimpled, and she held her head knowingly on one side, + and her bright hair was wonderfully done up. Dressed richly as + she was, and assisted by the rejuvenating magic of jewels, she + produced, in the shadow of the screen, a notable effect of + youthful vivacity, which only the insult of close inspection + could destroy. With sinuous gestures she waved Mr. Enwright's + metaphorical palm before the approaching George. Her smile + flattered him; her frail, dinging hand flattered him. He had + known her in her harsh morning moods; he had seen that + persuasive, manufactured mask vanish for whole minutes, to + reveal a petty egotism, giving way, regardless of appearances, + to rage; he clearly observed now the hard, preoccupied eyes. + Nevertheless, the charm which she exercised was undeniable. Her + husband was permanently under its spell. There he stood, near + her, big, coarsening, good-natured, content, proud of her. He + mixed a cocktail and he threw a match into the fire, in exactly + the old Five Towns manner, which he would never lose. But as + for her, she had thrown off all trace of the Five Towns; she + had learnt London, deliberately, thoroughly. And even George, + with the unmerciful, ruthless judgment of his years, was + obliged to admit that she possessed a genuine pertinacity and + had marvellously accomplished an ambition. She had held John + Orgreave for considerably over a decade; she had had the + tremendous courage to Leave the heavy provincial manufacturer, + her first husband; she had passed through the Divorce Court as + a respondent without blenching; she had slowly darned her + reputation with such skill that you +<!-- Page 68 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page063" name="page063">[pg 63]</a> + </span> + + could scarcely put your finger on the place where the hole had + been; and lo! she was reigning in Bedford Park and had all she + wanted—except youth. Nor did she in the least show the + resigned, disillusioned air of women who have but recently lost + their youth. She bore herself just as though she still had no + fear of strong lights, and as though she was still the + dazzling, dashing blonde of whom John in his earliest twenties + used to say, with ingenuous enthusiasm, that she was + 'ripping'—the ripping Mrs. Chris Hamson. An epical + creature!</p> + + <p>This domestic organism created by Mrs. John inspired George, + and instantly he was rapt away in dreams of his own future. He + said to himself again, and more forcibly, that he had a natural + taste for luxury and expensiveness, and that he would have the + one and practise the other. He invented gorgeous interiors + which would be his and in which he would be paramount and at + ease. He positively yearned for them. He was impatient to get + back home and resume the long labours that would lead him to + them. Every grand adjunct of life must be his, and he could not + wait. Absurd to apprehend that Marguerite would not rise to his + dreams! Of course she would! She would fit herself perfectly + into them, completing them. She would understand all the + artistic aspects of them, because she was an artist; and in + addition she would be mistress, wife, hostess, commanding + impeccable servants, receiving friends with beauty and + unsurpassable sweet dignity, wearing costly frocks and jewels + as though she had never worn anything else. She had the calm + power, she had the individuality, to fulfil all his desires for + her. She would be the authentic queen of which Mrs. John was + merely the imitation. He wanted intensely to talk to her about + the future.... And then he had the seductive idea of making + presentable his bed-sitting-room at Mr. Haim's. He saw the room + instantaneously transformed; he at once invented each necessary + dodge for absolutely hiding during the day the inconvenient + fact that it had to serve as a bedroom at night; he refurnished + it; he found the money to refurnish it. And just as he was + impatient to get back home in order to work, so he was + impatient to get back home in order to transform his chamber + into the ideal. Delay irked him painfully. And yet he was + extremely happy in the excitement of the dreams that ached to + be fulfilled.</p> + + <p>"Now, Mr. Enwright," said Mrs. John in an accent to draw + honey out of a boulder. "You haven't told me what you think of + it."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 69 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page064" name="page064">[pg 64]</a> + </span> + + Enwright was wandering about by himself.</p> + + <p>"He's coming on with his lithographs," he replied, as if + after a decision. "One or two of these are rather + interesting."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't mean the lithographs. You know those are all + Jack's affairs. I mean—well, the room. Now do pay me a + compliment."</p> + + <p>The other guests listened.</p> + + <p>Enwright gave a little self-conscious smile, characteristic + of him in these dilemmas, half kind and half malicious.</p> + + <p>"You must have taken a great deal of trouble over it," he + said, with bright amiability; and then relapsing from the + effort: "it's all very nice and harmless."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Mr. Enwright! Is that all?" She pouted, though still + waving the palm. "And you so fond of the eighteenth century, + too!"</p> + + <p>"But I heard a rumour at the beginning of this year that + we're living in the twentieth," said Enwright.</p> + + <p>"And I thought I should please you!" sighed Adela. "What + <i>ought</i> + + I to have done?"</p> + + <p>"Well, you might have asked me to design you some furniture. + Nobody ever has asked me yet." He rubbed his eyeglasses and + blinked.</p> + + <p>"Oh! You geniuses.... Janet darling!"</p> + + <p>Mrs. John moved forward to meet Miss Orgreave, John's + appreciably elder sister, spinster, who lived with another + brother, Charles, a doctor at Ealing. Janet was a prim + emaciated creature, very straight and dignified, whose glance + always seemed to hesitate between benevolence and + fastidiousness. Janet and Charles had consented to forget the + episode of the Divorce Court. Marion, however, the eldest + Orgreave sister, mother of a family of daughters, had never + received the divorcee. On the other hand the divorcee, obeying + her own code, had obstinately ignored the wife of Jim Orgreave, + a younger brother, who, according to the universal opinion, had + married disgracefully.</p> + + <p>When the sisters-in-law had embraced, with that unconvincing + fulsomeness which is apt to result from a charitable act of + oblivion, Janet turned lovingly to George and asked after his + mother. She was his mother's most intimate friend. In the past + he had called her Auntie, and was accustomed to kiss her and be + kissed. Indeed he feared that she might want to kiss him now, + but he was spared. As with negligence of tone he answered her + fond inquiries, he was busy reconstructing quite anew his + scheme for the bed-sitting +<!-- Page 70 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page065" name="page065">[pg 65]</a> + </span> + + room—for it had actually been an eighteenth-century + scheme, and inspired by the notions of Mrs. John!</p> + + <p>At the lunch-table George found that the party consisted of + ten persons, of whom one, seated next to himself, was a + youngish, somewhat plump woman who had arrived at the last + moment. He had not been introduced to her, nor to the four + other strangers, for it had lately reached Bedford Park that + introductions were no longer the correct prelude to a meal. A + hostess who wished to be modern should throw her guests in + ignorance together and leave them to acquire knowledge by their + own initiative. This device added to the piquancy of a + gathering. Moreover, there was always a theory that each + individual was well known, and that therefore to introduce was + subtly to insult. On Mrs. John's right was a beautifully + braided gentleman of forty or so, in brown, with brown necktie + and hair to match, and the hair was so perfect and ended so + abruptly that George at first took it for a wig; but soon + afterwards he decided that he had been unkind. Mr. Enwright was + opposite to this brown gentleman.</p> + + <p>Mrs. John began by hoping that the brown gentleman had been + to church.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied, with gentle regret in + his voice.</p> + + <p>And in the course of the conversation he was frequently + afraid. Nevertheless his attitude was by no means a fearful + attitude; on the contrary it was very confident. He would grasp + the edge of the table with his hands, and narrate at length, + smiling amiably, and looking from side to side regularly like a + public speaker. He narrated in detail the difficulties which he + had in obtaining the right sort of cutlets rightly cooked at + his club, and added: "But of course there's only one club in + London that would be satisfactory in all this—shall I + say?—finesse, and I'm afraid I don't belong to it."</p> + + <p>"What club's that?" John Orgreave sent the inquiry down the + table.</p> + + <p>"The Orleans."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, the Orleans! I suppose that + <i>is</i> + + the best."</p> + + <p>And everybody seemed glad and proud that everybody had known + of the culinary supremacy of the Orleans.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid you'll all think I'm horribly greedy," said the + brown gentleman apologetically. And then at once, having + noticed that Mr. Enwright was gazing up at the great sham oak + rafters that were glued on to the white ceiling, he started + upon this new architectural picturesqueness which +<!-- Page 71 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page066" name="page066">[pg 66]</a> + </span> + + was to London and the beginning of the twentieth century what + the enamelled milking-stool had been to the provinces and the + end of the nineteenth century—namely, a reminder that + even in an industrial age romance should still survive in the + hearts of men. The brown gentleman remarked that with due + deference to 'you professional gentlemen,' he was afraid he + liked the sham rafters, because they reminded him of the good + old times and all that sort of thing.</p> + + <p>He was not only a conscientious conversationalist, but he + originated talk in others, and listened to them with his best + attention. And he invariably stepped into gaps with + praise-worthy tact and skill. Thus the chat meandered easily + from subject to subject—the Automobile Club's tour from + London to Southsea, the latest hotel, Richter, the war (which + the brown gentleman treated with tired respect, as some + venerable survival that had forgotten to die), the abnormally + early fogs, and the abnormally violent and destructive gales. + An argument arose as to whether these startling weather + phenomena were or were not a hint to mankind from some + undefined Higher Power that a new century had in truth begun + and that mankind had better mind what it was about. Mrs. John + favoured the notion, and so did Miss Orgreave, whereas John + Orgreave coarsely laughed at it. The brown gentleman held the + scales admirably; he was chivalrously sympathetic to the two + ladies, and yet he respected John's materialism. He did, + however, venture to point out the contradictions in the + character of 'our host,' who was really very responsive to + music and art, but who seemed curiously to ignore certain other + influences—etc. etc.</p> + + <p>"How true that is!" murmured Mrs. John.</p> + + <p>The brown gentleman modestly enjoyed his triumph. With only + three people had he failed—Mr. Enwright, George, and the + youngish woman next to George.</p> + + <p>"And how's Paris, Miss Ingram?" he pointedly asked the + last.</p> + + <p>George was surprised. He had certainly taken her for a + married woman, and one of his generalizations about life was + that he did not like young married women; hence he had not + liked her. He now regarded her with fresh interest. She blushed + a little, and looked very young indeed.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Paris is all right!" she answered shortly.</p> + + <p>The brown gentleman after a long, musing smile, discreetly + abandoned the opening; but George, inquiring in a low voice if + she lived in Paris, began a private talk with Miss Ingram, +<!-- Page 72 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page067" name="page067">[pg 67]</a> + </span> + + who did live in Paris. He had his doubts about her entire + agreeableness, but at any rate they got on to a natural, + brusque footing, which contrasted with the somewhat ceremonious + manner of the general conversation. She exceeded George in + brusqueness, and tended to patronize him as a youngster. He + noticed that she had yellow eyes.</p> + + <p>"What do you think of his wig?" she demanded in an + astonishing whisper, when the meal was over and chairs were + being vacated.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Is</i> + + it a wig?" George exclaimed ingenuously.</p> + + <p>"Oh, you boys!" she protested, with superiority. "Of course + it's a wig."</p> + + <p>"But how do you know it's a wig?" George insisted + stoutly.</p> + + <p>"'Is it a wig!'" she scorned him.</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm not up in wigs," said George. "Who is he, + anyhow?"</p> + + <p>"I forget his name. I've only met him once, here at tea. I + think he's a tea-merchant. He seemed to remember me all + right."</p> + + <p>"A tea-merchant! I wonder why Mrs. John put him on her + right, then, and Mr. Enwright on her left." George resented the + precedence.</p> + + <p>"Is Mr. Enwright really very great, then?"</p> + + <p>"Great! You bet he is.... I was in Paris with him in the + summer. Whereabouts do you live in Paris?"</p> + + <p>She improved, especially at the point where she said that + Mr. Enwright's face was one of the most wonderful faces that + she had ever seen. Evidently she knew Paris as well as George + knew London. Apparently she had always lived there. But their + interchanges concerning Paris, on a sofa in the drawing-room, + were stopped by a general departure. Mr. Enwright began it. The + tea-merchant instantly supported the movement. Miss Ingram + herself rose. The affair was at an end. Nothing interesting had + been said in the general talk, and little that was sincere. No + topic had been explored, no argument taken to a finish. No wit + worth mentioning had glinted. But everybody had behaved very + well, and had demonstrated that he or she was familiar with the + usages of society and with aspects of existence with which it + was proper to be familiar. And everybody—even Mr. + Enwright—thanked Mrs. John most heartily for her quite + delightful luncheon; Mrs. John insisted warmly on her own + pleasure and her appreciation of her guests' extreme good +<!-- Page 73 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page068" name="page068">[pg 68]</a> + </span> + + nature in troubling to come, and she was beyond question + joyously triumphant. And George, relieved, thought, as he tried + to rival the rest in gratitude to Mrs. John:</p> + + <p>"What was it all about? What did they all come for? + <i>I</i> + + came because she made me. But why did the others come?"</p> + + <p>The lunch had passed like a mild nightmare, and he felt as + though, with the inconsequence of dream-people, these people + had gone away without having accomplished some essential act + which had been the object of their gathering.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When George came out of the front door, he beheld Miss + Ingram on the kerb, in the act of getting into a very rich fur + coat. A chauffeur, in a very rich livery, was deferentially + helping her. Behind them stretched a long, open motor-car. This + car, existing as it did at a time when the public acutely felt + that automobiles splashed respectable foot-farers with arrogant + mud and rendered unbearable the lives of the humble in village + streets, was of the immodest kind described, abusively, as + 'powerful and luxurious.' The car of course drew attention, + because it had yet occurred to but few of anybody's friends + that they might themselves possess even a modest car, much less + an immodest one. George had not hitherto personally known a + single motor-car owner.</p> + + <p>But what struck him even more than the car was the fur coat, + and the haughty and fastidious manner in which Miss Ingram + accepted it from the chauffeur, and the disdainful, accustomed + way in which she wore it—as though it were a cheap + rag—when once it was on her back. In her gestures he + glimpsed a new world. He had been secretly scorning the affairs + of the luncheon and all that it implied, and he had been + secretly scorning himself for his pitiful lack of brilliancy at + the luncheon. These two somewhat contradictory sentiments were + suddenly shrivelled in the fire of his ambition which had + flared up anew at contact with a spark. And the spark was the + sight of the girl's costly fur coat. He must have a costly fur + coat, and a girl in it, and the girl must treat the fur coat + like a cheap rag. Otherwise he would die a disappointed + man.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" called Miss Ingram.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" +<!-- Page 74 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page069" name="page069">[pg 69]</a> + </span> + + She had climbed into the car, and turned her head to look at + him. He saw that she was younger even than he had thought. She + seemed quite mature when she was still, but when she moved she + had the lithe motions of immaturity. As a boy, he now + infallibly recognized a girl.</p> + + <p>"Which way are you going?"</p> + + <p>"Well—Chelsea more or less."</p> + + <p>"I'll give you a lift."</p> + + <p>He ought to have said: "Are you sure I shan't be taking you + out of your way?" But he said merely: "Oh! Thanks awfully!"</p> + + <p>The chauffeur held the door for him, and then arranged a fur + rug over the knees of the boy and the girl. To be in the car + gave George intense pleasure, especially when the contrivance + thrilled into life and began to travel. He was thankful that + his clothes were as smart as they ought to be. She could not + think ill of his clothes—no matter who her friends + were.</p> + + <p>"This is a great car," he said. "Had it long?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! It's not mine," answered Miss Ingram. "It's Miss + Wheeler's."</p> + + <p>"Who's Miss Wheeler, if I may ask?"</p> + + <p>"Miss Wheeler! She's a friend of mine. She lives in Paris. + But she has a flat in London too. I came over with her. We + brought the car with us. She was to have come to the + Orgreaves's to-day, but she had a headache. So I took the + car—and her furs as well. They fit me, you see.... I say, + what's your Christian name? I hate surnames, don't you?"</p> + + <p>"George. What's yours?"</p> + + <p>"Mine's Lois."</p> + + <p>"What? How do you spell it?"</p> + + <p>She spelt it, adding 'Of course.' He thought it was somehow + a very romantic name. He decidedly liked the name. He was by no + means sure, however, that he liked the girl. He liked her + appearance, though she was freckled; she was unquestionably + stylish; she had ascendancy; she imposed herself; she sat as + though the world was the instrument of her individuality. + Nevertheless he doubted if she was kind, and he knew that she + was patronizing. Further, she was not a conversationalist. At + the luncheon she had not been at ease; but here in the car she + was at ease absolutely, yet she remained taciturn.</p> + + <p>"D'you drive?" he inquired.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 75 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page070" name="page070">[pg 70]</a> + </span> + + Yes," she said. "Look here, would you like to sit in front? And + I'll drive."</p> + + <p>"Good!" he agreed vigorously. But he had a qualm about the + safety of being driven by a girl.</p> + + <p>She abruptly stopped the car, and the chauffeur swerved to + the pavement.</p> + + <p>"I'm going to drive, Cuthbert," she said.</p> + + <p>"Yes, miss," said the chauffeur willingly. "It's a bit + side-slippy, miss."</p> + + <p>She gave no answer to this remark, but got out of the car + with a preoccupied, frowning air, as if she was being obliged + to take a responsible post, which she could fill better than + anybody else, rather against her inclination. A few persons + paused to watch. She carefully ignored them; so did George.</p> + + <p>As soon as she had seized the wheel, released the brake and + started the car, she began to talk, looking negligently about + her. George thought: "She's only showing off." Still, the car + travelled beautifully, and there was a curious illusion that + she must have the credit for that. She explained the function + of handles, pedals, and switches, and George deemed it proper + to indicate that he was not without some elementary knowledge + of the subject. He leaned far back, as Lois leaned, and as the + chauffeur had leaned, enjoying the brass fittings, the + indicators, and all the signs of high mechanical + elaboration.</p> + + <p>He noticed that Lois sounded her horn constantly, and often + upon no visible provocation. But once as she approached + cross-roads at unslackened speed, she seemed to forget to sound + it and then sounded it too late. Nothing untoward happened; + Sunday traffic was thin, and she sailed through the danger-zone + with grand intrepidity.</p> + + <p>"I say, George," she remarked, looking now straight in front + of her. ("She's a bit of a caution," he reflected happily.) + "Have you got anything special on this afternoon?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing what you may call deadly special," he answered. He + wanted to call her 'Lois,' but his volition failed at the + critical moment.</p> + + <p>"Well, then, won't you come and have tea with Miss Wheeler + and me? There'll only be just a few people, and you must be + introduced to Miss Wheeler."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't think I'd better." He was timid.</p> + + <p>"Why not?" She pouted.</p> + + <p>"All right, then. Thanks. I should like to."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 76 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page071" name="page071">[pg 71]</a> + </span> + + By the way, what's your surname?"</p> + + <p>("She + <i>is</i> + + a caution," he reflected.)</p> + + <p>"I wasn't quite sure," she said, when he had told her.</p> + + <p>He was rather taken aback, but he reassured himself. No + doubt girls of her environment did behave as she behaved. After + all, why not?</p> + + <p>They entered Hammersmith. It was a grand and inspiring + sensation to swing through Hammersmith thus aristocratically + repudiating the dowdy Sunday crowd that stared in ingenuous + curiosity. And there was a wonderful quality in the spectacle + of the great, formidable car being actuated and controlled by + the little gloved hands and delicately shod feet of this frail, + pampered, wilful girl.</p> + + <p>In overtaking a cab that kept nearly to the middle of the + road, Lois hesitated in direction, appeared to defy the rule, + and then corrected her impulse.</p> + + <p>"It's rather confusing," she observed, with a laugh. "You + see, in France you keep to the right and overtake things on + their left."</p> + + <p>"Yes. But this is London," said George dryly.</p> + + <p>Half a minute later, just beyond the node of Hammersmith, + where bright hats and frocks were set off against the + dark-shuttered fronts of shops, Lois at quite a good speed + inserted the car between a tramcar and an omnibus, meeting the + tram and overtaking the omnibus. The tram went by like thunder, + all its glass and iron rattling and shaking; the noise + deafened, and the wind blew hard like a squall. There appeared + to be scarcely an inch of space on either side of the car. + George's heart stopped. For one horrible second he expected a + tremendous smash. The car emerged safe. He saw the + omnibus-driver gazing down at them with reproof. After the roar + of the tram died he heard the trotting of the omnibus horses + and Lois's nervous giggle. She tried, and did not fail, to be + jaunty; but she had had a shock, and the proof was that by mere + inadvertence she nearly charged the posts of the next + street-refuge.... George switched off the current. She herself + had shown him how to do it. She now saw him do it. The engine + stopped, and Lois, remembering in a flash that her dignity was + at stake, raised her hand and drew up fairly neatly at the + pavement.</p> + + <p>"What's the matter?" she demanded imperiously.</p> + + <p>"Are you going to drive this thing all the way into London, + Lois?" he demanded in turn.</p> + + <p>They looked at each other. The chauffeur got down. " +<!-- Page 77 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page072" name="page072">[pg 72]</a> + </span> + + Of course."</p> + + <p>"Not with me in it, anyhow!"</p> + + <p>She sneered. "Oh! You boys! You've got no pluck."</p> + + <p>"Perhaps not," he returned viciously. "Neither have you got + any sense of danger. Girls like you never have. I've noticed + that before." Even his mother with horses had no sense of + danger.</p> + + <p>"You're very rude," she replied. "And it was very rude of + you to stop the car."</p> + + <p>"I dare say. But you shouldn't have told me you could + drive."</p> + + <p>He was now angry. And she not less so. He descended, and + slammed the door.</p> + + <p>"Thanks so much," he said, raised his hat, and walked away. + She spoke, but he did not catch what she said. He was saying to + himself: "Pluck indeed!" (He did not like her accusation.) + "Pluck indeed! Of all the damned cheek!... We might all have + been killed—or worse. The least she could have done was + to apologize. But no! Pluck indeed! Women oughtn't to be + allowed to drive. It's too infernally silly for words."</p> + + <p>He glanced backward. The chauffeur had started the car + again, and was getting in by Lois's side. Doubtless he was a + fatalist by profession. She drove off.</p> + + <p>"Yes!" thought George. "And you'd drive home yourself now + even if you knew for certain you'd have an accident. You're + just that stupid kind."</p> + + <p>The car looked superb as it drew away, and she reclined in + the driver's seat with a superb effrontery. George was envious; + he was pierced by envy. He hated that other people, and + especially girls, should command luxuries which he could not + possess. He hated that violently. "You wait!" he said to + himself. "You wait! I'll have as good a car as that, and a + finer girl than you in it. And she won't want to drive either. + You wait." He was more excited than he knew by the episode.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_V'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 78 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page073" name="page073">[pg 73]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + + <h3>THE TEA</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>"Tea is ready, Mr. Cannon," said Mr. Haim in his most + courteous style, coming softly into George's room. And George + looked up at the old man's wrinkled face, and down at his + crimson slippers, with the benevolent air of a bookworm + permitting himself to be drawn away from an ideal world into + the actual. Glasses on the end of George's nose would have set + off the tableau, but George had outgrown the spectacles which + had disfigured his boyhood. As a fact, since his return that + afternoon from Mrs. John's, he had, to the detriment of modesty + and the fostering of conceit, accomplished some further study + for the Final, although most of the time had been spent in + dreaming of women and luxury.</p> + + <p>"All right," said he. "I'll come."</p> + + <p>"I don't think that lamp's been very well trimmed to-day," + said Mr. Haim apologetically, sniffing.</p> + + <p>"Does it smell?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I do notice a slight odour."</p> + + <p>"I'll open the window," said George heartily. He rose, + pulled the curtains, and opened the front French window with a + large gesture. The wild, raw, damp air of Sunday night rushed + in from the nocturnal Grove, and instantly extinguished the + lamp.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Haim, rather nervously.</p> + + <p>"Saved me the trouble," said George.</p> + + <p>As he emerged after Mr. Haim from the dark room, he was + thinking that it was ridiculous not to have electricity, and + that he must try to come to some arrangement with Mr. Haim for + the installation of electricity. Fancy oil-lamps in the middle + of London in the twentieth century! Shocks were waiting in + George's mind for Mr. Haim. He intended, if he could, to get + the room on the first floor, empty since the +<!-- Page 79 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page074" name="page074">[pg 74]</a> + </span> + + departure of Marguerite, and to use it for a bedroom, while + keeping the ground-floor room exclusively for work and society. + His project would involve shocks also for Mr. Edwin Clayhanger + in the Five Towns, who would be called upon to pay; but George + had an airy confidence in the ability of his stepfather to meet + such shocks in a satisfactory manner.</p> + + <p>To George's surprise, Mr. Alfred Prince was in the + sitting-room. Shabby and creased as usual, he looked far more + like a clerk in some establishment where clerks were not + morally compelled to imitate dandies than like an etcher of + European renown. But, also as usual, he was quietly at ease and + conversational; and George at once divined that he had been + invited with the object of relieving the social situation + created by the presence of the brilliant young lodger at tea. + This tea was the first meal to be taken by George with Mr. and + Mrs. Haim, for he was almost never at home on Sunday + afternoons, and he was not expected to be at home. The table + showed, as Mr. Haim's nervousness had shown, that the + importance of the occasion had been realized. It was an + obviously elaborate table. The repast was ready in every + detail; the teapot was under the cosy; the cover was over the + hot crumpets; Mrs. Haim alone lacked.</p> + + <p>"Where's missus?" asked George lightly. Mr. Haim had not + come into the room.</p> + + <p>"I don't know," said Mr. Prince. "She brought the tea in a + minute ago. You been working this afternoon?"</p> + + <p>At that moment Mr. Haim entered. He said:</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim isn't feeling very well. She's upstairs. She says + she's sure she'll be all right in a little while. In the + meantime she prefers us to go on with our tea."</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince and Mr. Haim looked at each other, and George + looked at Mr. Haim. The older men showed apprehension. The + strange idea of unconquerable destiny crossed George's + mind—destiny clashing ruthlessly with ambition and + desire. The three males sat down in obedience to the wish of + the woman who had hidden herself in the room above. All of them + were dominated by the thought of her. They did not want to sit + down and eat and drink, and they were obliged to do so by the + invisible volitional force of which Mr. Haim was the unwilling + channel. Mr. Haim, highly self-conscious, began to pour out the + tea. Mr. Prince, highly self-conscious, suggested that he + should make himself useful by distributing the crumpets while + they were hot. George, highly self +<!-- Page 80 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page075" name="page075">[pg 75]</a> + </span> + + conscious, accepted a crumpet. Mr. Prince chatted; George + responded in a brave worldly fashion; Mr. Haim said 'Yes,' + 'Ye-es,' very absently.</p> + + <p>And then Mrs. Haim appeared smiling in the doorway. "Ah!" + breathed everybody, assuaged. "Ah!" Mr. Haim moved from in + front of the tea-tray to the next seat. Mrs. Haim was perhaps + somewhat pale, but she gave a sincere, positive assurance that + she was perfectly well again. Reassurance spread throughout the + company. Forebodings vanished; hearts lightened; gladness + reigned; the excellence of crumpets became apparent. And all + this swift, wonderful change was brought about by the simple + entry of the woman. But beneath the genuine relief and + satisfaction of the men there stirred vaguely the thought of + the mysteriousness of women, of the entire female sex. Mrs. + Haim, charwoman, was just as mysterious as any other woman. As + for George, despite the exhilaration which he could feel rising + in him effortless and unsought, he was preoccupied by more than + women's mysteriousness; the conception of destiny lingered and + faintly troubled him. It was as though he had been walking on a + clear path through a vast and empty and safe forest, and the + eyes of a tiger had gleamed for an instant in the bush and + gone. Not a real tiger! And if a real tiger, then a tiger that + would never recur, and the only tiger in the forest!... Yet the + entire forest was transformed.</p> + + <p>Mrs. Haim was wearing the blue sateen. It was a dress + unsuited to her because it emphasized her large bulk; but it + was her best dress; it shone and glittered; it imposed. Her + duty was to wear it on that Sunday afternoon. She was shy, + without being self-conscious. To preside over a society + consisting of young bloods, etchers of European renown, and + pillars of the architectural profession was an ordeal for her. + She did not pretend that it was not an ordeal. She did not + pretend that the occasion was not extraordinary. She was quite + natural in her calm confusion. She was not even proud, being + perhaps utterly incapable of social pride. Her husband was + proud for her. He looked at her earnestly, wistfully. He could + not disguise his anxiety for her success. Was she equal to the + rôle? She was. Of course she was. He had never doubted + that she would be (he said to himself). His pride increased, + scarcely escaped being fatuous.</p> + + <p>"I must congratulate you on the new front doormat, Mrs. + Haim," said Mr. Prince, with notable conversational tact. "I + felt it at once in the dark."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 81 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page076" name="page076">[pg 76]</a> + </span> + + Mrs. Haim smiled.</p> + + <p>"I do like a good doormat," she said. "It saves so much + work, I always think. I told Mr. Haim I thought we needed a new + one, and bless me if he didn't take me straight out to buy + one."</p> + + <p>The new doormat expressed Mrs. Haim's sole and + characteristic criticism of the organism into which she had so + unassumingly entered. Secure in the adoration of Mr. Haim, she + might safely have turned the place upside-down and proved to + the Grove that she could act the mistress with the best of + them; but she changed nothing except the doormat. The kitchen + and scullery had already been hers before the eye of Mr. Haim + had fallen upon her; she was accustomed to them and had largely + fashioned their arrangements. Her own furniture, such of it as + was retained, had been put into the spare bedroom and the + kitchen, and was hardly noticeable there. The dramatic thing + for her to do would have been to engage another charwoman. But + Mrs. Haim was not dramatic; she was accommodating. She fitted + herself in. The answer to people who asked what Mr. Haim could + see in her, was that what Mr. Haim first saw was her mere way + of existing, and that in the same way she loved. At her + tea-table, as elsewhere, she exhibited no special quality; she + said little; she certainly did not shine. Nevertheless the + three men were quite happy and at ease, because her way of + existing soothed and reinspired them. George especially got + gay; and he narrated the automobile adventure of the afternoon + with amusing gusto. He was thereby a sort of hero, and he liked + that. He was bound by his position in the world and by his + clothes and his style to pretend to some extent that the + adventure was much less extraordinary to him than it seemed to + them. The others made no pretence. They were open-mouthed. + Their attitude admitted frankly that above them was a world to + which they could not climb, that they were not familiar with it + and knew nothing about it. They admired George; they put it to + his credit that he was acquainted with these lofty matters and + moved carelessly and freely among them; and George too somehow + thought that credit was due to him and that his superiority was + genuine.</p> + + <p>"And do you mean to say she'd never met you before?" + exclaimed Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Never in this world!"</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince remarked calmly: " +<!-- Page 82 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page077" name="page077">[pg 77]</a> + </span> + + You must have had a very considerable effect on her then." His + eyes twinkled.</p> + + <p>George flushed slightly. The idea had already presented + itself to him with great force. "Oh no!" He negligently + pooh-poohed it.</p> + + <p>"Well, does she go about asking every man she meets what his + Christian name is?"</p> + + <p>"I expect she just does."</p> + + <p>There was silence for a moment. Mrs. Haim refilled a + cup.</p> + + <p>"Something will have to be done soon about these + motor-cars," observed Mr. Haim at length, sententiously, in the + vein of 'Mustard and Cress.' "That's very evident."</p> + + <p>"They cost so much," said Mr. Prince. "Why! They cost as + much as a house, some of them."</p> + + <p>"More!" said George.</p> + + <p>"Nay, nay!" Mr. Haim protested. The point had come at which + his imagination halted.</p> + + <p>"Anyhow, you had a lucky escape," said Mr. Prince. "You + might have been lamed for life—or anything."</p> + + <p>George laughed.</p> + + <p>"I am always lucky," said he. He thought: "I wonder whether + I + <i>am</i> + + !" He was afraid.</p> + + <p>Mrs. Haim was half-way towards the door before any of the + men noticed what she was about. She had risen silently and + quickly; she could manoeuvre that stout frame of hers with + surprising facility. There was a strange, silly look on her + face as she disappeared, and the face was extremely pale. Mr. + Haim showed alarm, and Mr. Prince concern. Mr. Haim's hands + clasped the arms of his chair; he bent forward + hesitatingly.</p> + + <p>"What——?"</p> + + <p>Then was heard the noise of a heavy subsidence, apparently + on the stairs. George was out of the room first. But the other + two were instantly upon him. Mrs. Haim had fallen at the turn + of the stairs; her body was distributed along the little + half-landing there.</p> + + <p>"My God! She's fainted!" muttered Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"We'd better get her into the bedroom," said Mr. Prince, + with awe.</p> + + <p>The trouble had come back, but in a far more acute form. The + prostrate and unconscious body, all crooked and heaped in the + shadow, intimidated the three men, convicting them of + helplessness and lack of ready wit. George stood aside and let + the elder pair pass him. Mr. Haim hurried up the +<!-- Page 83 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page078" name="page078">[pg 78]</a> + </span> + + stairs, bent over his wife, and seized her under the arms. Mr. + Prince took her by the legs. They could not lift her. They were + both thin little men, quite unaccustomed to physical exertion. + Mrs. Haim lay like a giantess, immovably recumbent between + their puny, straining figures.</p> + + <p>"Here, let me try," said George eagerly, springing towards + the group.</p> + + <p>With natural reluctance Mr. Haim gave way to him. George + stooped and braced himself to the effort. His face was close to + the blanched, blind face of Mrs. Haim. He thought she looked + very young, astonishingly young in comparison with either Haim + or Prince. Her complexion was damaged but not destroyed. Little + fluffy portions of her hair seemed absolutely girlish. Her body + was full of nice curves, which struck George as most + enigmatically pathetic. But indeed the whole of her was + pathetic, very touching, very precious and fragile. Even her + large, shiny, shapeless boots and the coarse sateen stuff of + her dress affected him. A lump embarrassed his throat. He + suddenly understood the feelings of Mr. Haim towards her. She + was inexpressibly romantic.... He lifted her torso easily; and + pride filled him because he could do easily what others could + not do at all. Her arms trailed limp. Mr. Haim and Mr. Prince + jointly raised her lower limbs. George staggered backwards up + the remainder of the stairs. As they steered the burden into + the bedroom, where a candle was burning, Mrs. Haim opened her + eyes and, gazing vacantly at the ceiling, murmured in a weak, + tired voice:</p> + + <p>"I'm all right. It's nothing. Please put me down."</p> + + <p>"Yes, yes, my love!" said Mr. Haim, agitated.</p> + + <p>They deposited her on the bed. She sighed; then smiled. A + slight flush showed on her cheek under the light of the candle + which Mr. Prince was holding aloft. Mysterious creature, with + the mysterious forces of life flowing and ebbing + incomprehensibly within her! To George she was marvellous, she + was beautiful, as she lay defenceless and silently + appealing.</p> + + <p>"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Thank you very much," said Mr. Haim, + turning to the strong man.</p> + + <p>It was a dismissal. George modestly departed from the + bedroom, which was no place for him. After a few minutes Mr. + Prince also descended. They stood together at the foot of the + stairs in the draught from the open window of George's + room.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 84 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page079" name="page079">[pg 79]</a> + </span> + + Hadn't I better go for a doctor?" George suggested.</p> + + <p>"That's what I said," replied Mr. Prince. "But she won't + have one."</p> + + <p>"But——"</p> + + <p>"Well, she won't."</p> + + <p>The accommodating, acquiescent dame, with scarcely strength + to speak, was defeating all three of them on that one + point.</p> + + <p>"What is it?" asked George confidentially.</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't suppose it's anything, really."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>That George should collect the tea-things together on the + tray, and brush and fold the cloth, and carry the loaded tray + downstairs into the scullery, was sufficiently strange. But it + was very much more strange that he should have actually had the + idea of washing-up the tea-things himself. In his time, in the + domestic crises of Bursley, he had boyishly helped ladies to + wash-up, and he reckoned that he knew all about the operation. + There he stood, between the kitchen and the scullery, elegantly + attired, with an inquiring eye upon the kettle of warm water on + the stove, debating whether he should make the decisive gesture + of emptying the kettle into the large tin receptacle that lay + on the slop-stone. Such was the miraculous effect on him of + Mrs. Haim's simplicity, her weakness, and her predicament. Mrs. + Haim was a different woman for him now that he had carried her + upstairs and laid her all limp and girlish on the solemn + conjugal bed! He felt quite sure that old Haim was incapable of + washing-up. He assuredly did not want to be caught in the act + of washing-up, but he did want to be able to say in his + elaborately nonchalant manner, answering a question about the + disappearance of the tea-things: "I thought I might as well + wash-up while I was about it." And he did want Mrs. Haim to be + put in a flutter by the news that Mr. George Cannon had + washed-up for her. The affair would positively cause a + sensation.</p> + + <p>He was about to begin, taking the risks of premature + discovery, when he heard a noise above. It was Mr. Haim at last + descending the stairs to the ground floor. George started. He + had been alone in the lower parts of the house for a period + which seemed long. (Mr. Prince had gone to the +<!-- Page 85 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page080" name="page080">[pg 80]</a> + </span> + + studio, promising to return later.) The bedroom containing Mr. + and Mrs. Haim had become for him the abode of mystery. The + entity of the enchanted house had laid hold of his imagination. + He had thought of Marguerite as she used to pervade the house, + and of his approaching interview with her at the Manresa Road + studio. He had thought very benevolently of Marguerite and also + of, Mr. and Mrs. Haim. He had involved them all three, in his + mind, in a net of peace and goodwill. He saw the family quarrel + as something inevitable, touching, absurd—the work of a + maleficent destiny which he might somehow undo and exorcise by + the magic act of washing-up, to be followed by other acts of a + more diplomatic and ingenious nature. And now the dull, distant + symptoms of Mr. Haim on the stairs suddenly halted him at the + very outset of his benignant machinations. He listened. If the + peace of the world had depended upon his washing-up he could + not have permitted himself to be actually seen in the rôle + of kitchen-girl by Mr. Haim—so extreme was his lack of + logic and right reason. There was a silence, a protracted + silence, and then Mr. Haim unmistakably came down the basement + stairs, and George thanked God that he had not allowed his + impulse to wash-up run away with his discretion, to the ruin of + his dignity.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim, hesitating in the kitchen doorway, peered in front + of him as if at a loss. George had shifted the kitchen lamp + from its accustomed place.</p> + + <p>"I'm here," said George, moving slightly in the dim light. + "I thought I might as well make myself useful and clear the + table for you. How is she going on?" He spoke cheerfully, even + gaily, and he expected Mr. Haim to be courteously + appreciative—perhaps enthusiastic in gratitude.</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim is quite recovered, thank you. It was only a + passing indisposition," said Mr. Haim, using one of his + ridiculously stilted phrases. His tone was strange; it was very + strange.</p> + + <p>"Good!" exclaimed George, with a gaiety that was now forced, + a bravado of gaiety.</p> + + <p>He thought:</p> + + <p>"The old chump evidently doesn't like me interfering. Silly + old pompous ass!" Nevertheless his attitude towards the huffy + landlord, if scornful, was good-humoured and indulgent.</p> + + <p>Then he noticed that Mr. Haim held in his hand a half-sheet + of note-paper which disturbingly seemed familiar. " +<!-- Page 86 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page081" name="page081">[pg 81]</a> + </span> + + What is the meaning of this, Mr. Cannon?" Mr. Haim demanded, + advancing towards the brightness of the lamp and extending the + paper. He was excessively excited. Excitement always + intensified his age.</p> + + <p>The offered document was the letter which George had that + morning received from Marguerite. The missive was short, a mere + note, but its terms could leave no doubt as to the relations + between the writer and the recipient. Moreover, it ended with a + hieroglyphic sign, several times repeated, whose significance + is notorious throughout the civilized world.</p> + + <p>"Where did you get that?" muttered George, with a defensive + menace half formed in his voice. He faltered. His mood had not + yet become definitive.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim answered:</p> + + <p>"I have just picked it up in the hall, sir. The wind must + have blown it off the table in your room, and the door was left + open. I presume that I have the right to read papers I find + lying about in my own house."</p> + + <p>George was dashed. On returning home from Mrs. John's lunch + he had changed his suit for another one almost equally smart, + but of Angora and therefore more comfortable. He liked to + change. He had taken the letter out of a side-pocket of the + jacket and put it with his watch, money, and other kit on the + table while he changed, and he had placed everything back into + the proper pockets, everything except the letter. Carelessness! + A moment of negligence had brought about the irremediable. The + lovely secret was violated. The whole of his future life and of + Marguerite's future life seemed to have been undermined and + contaminated by that single act of omission. Marguerite wrote + seldom to him because of the risks. But precautions had been + arranged for the occasions when she had need to write, and she + possessed a small stock of envelopes addressed by himself, so + that Mr. Haim might never by chance, picking up an envelope + from the hall floor, see George's name in his daughter's hand. + And now Mr. Haim had picked up an actual letter from the hall + floor. And the fault for the disaster was George's own.</p> + + <p>"May I ask, sir, are you engaged to my daughter?" demanded + Mr. Haim, getting every instant still more excited.</p> + + <p>George had once before seen him agitated about Marguerite, + but by no means to the same degree. He trembled. He shook. His + dignity had a touch of the grotesque; yet it remained dignity, + and it enforced respect. For George, destiny seemed to dominate + the kitchen and the scullery like +<!-- Page 87 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page082" name="page082">[pg 82]</a> + </span> + + a presence. He and the old man were alone together in that + presence, and he was abashed. He was conscious of awe. The old + man's mien accused him of an odious crime, of something base + and shameful. Useless to argue with himself that he was + entirely guiltless, that he had the right to be the betrothed + of either Mr. Haim's daughter or any other girl, and to publish + or conceal the betrothal as he chose and as she chose. Yes, + useless! He felt, inexplicably, a criminal. He felt that he had + committed an enormity. It was not a matter of argument; it was + a matter of instinct. The old man's frightful and irrational + resentment was his condemnation. He could not face the old + man.</p> + + <p>He thought grievously: "I am up against this man. All + politeness and conventions have vanished. It's the real, inmost + me, and the real, inmost him." Nobody else could take a part in + the encounter. And he was sad, because he could not blame the + old man. Could he blame the old man for marrying a charwoman? + Why, he could only admire him for marrying the charwoman. In + marrying the charwoman the old man had done a most marvellous + thing. Could he blame Marguerite? Impossible. Marguerite's + behaviour was perfectly comprehensible. He understood + Marguerite and he understood her father; he sympathized with + both of them. But Marguerite could not understand her father, + and her father could not understand either his daughter or + George. Never could they understand! He alone understood. And + his understanding gave him a melancholy, hopeless feeling of + superiority, without at all lessening the strange conviction of + guilt. He had got himself gripped by destiny. Destiny had + captured all three of them. But not the fourth. The charwoman + possessed the mysterious power to defy destiny. Perhaps the + power lay in her simplicity.... Fool! An accursed negligence + had eternally botched his high plans for peace and + goodwill.</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said. "I am."</p> + + <p>"And how long have you been engaged, sir?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Since before Marguerite left here." He tried to talk + naturally and calmly.</p> + + <p>"Then you've been living here all this time like a + spy—a dirty spy. My daughter behaves to us in an infamous + manner. She makes an open scandal. And all the time + you're——"</p> + + <p>George suddenly became very angry. And his anger relieved + and delighted him. With intense pleasure he felt +<!-- Page 88 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page083" name="page083">[pg 83]</a> + </span> + + his anger surging within him. He frowned savagely. His eyes + blazed. But he did not move.</p> + + <p>"Excuse me," he interrupted, with cold and dangerous fury. + "She didn't do anything of the kind."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim went wildly on, intimidated possibly by George's + defiance, but desperate:</p> + + <p>"And all the time, I say, you stay on here, deceiving us, + spying on us. Going every night to that wicked, cruel, shameful + girl and tittle-tattling. Do you suppose that if we'd had the + slightest idea——"</p> + + <p>George walked up to him.</p> + + <p>"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you talking about + Marguerite like that."</p> + + <p>Their faces were rather close together. George forced + himself away by a terrific effort and left the kitchen.</p> + + <p>"Jackanapes!"</p> + + <p>George swung round, very pale. Then with a hard laugh he + departed. He stood in the hall, and thought of Mrs. Haim + upstairs. The next moment he had got his hat and overcoat and + was in the street. A figure appeared in the gloom. It was Mr. + Prince.</p> + + <p>"Hallo! Going out? How are things?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Fine!" He could scarcely articulate. A ghastly sob + impeded the words. Tears gushed into his eyes. The dimly + glowing oblongs in the dark façades of the Grove seemed + unbearably tragic.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>No. 6 Romney Studios, Manresa Road, Chelsea, was at the end + of the narrow alley which, running at right angles to the road, + had a blank wall on its left and Romney Studios on its right. + The studios themselves were nondescript shanties which reminded + George of nothing so much as the office of a clerk-of-the-works + nailed together anyhow on ground upon which a large building is + in course of erection. They were constructed of brick, wood, + waterproof felting, and that adaptable material, corrugated + iron. No two were alike. None had the least pretension to + permanency, comeliness, or even architectural decency. They + were all horribly hot in summer, and they all needed immense + stoves to render them habitable in winter. In putting them up, + however, cautiously and one by one, the landlord had esteemed + them to be the +<!-- Page 89 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page084" name="page084">[pg 84]</a> + </span> + + sort of thing that was good enough for artists and that artists + would willingly accept. He had not been mistaken. Though + inexpensive they were dear, but artists accepted them with + eagerness. None was ever empty. Thus it was demonstrated once + more that artists were exactly what capitalists and other + sagacious persons had always accused them of being.</p> + + <p>When George knocked on the door of No. 6, the entire studio, + and No. 5 also, vibrated. As a rule Agg, the female Cerberus of + the shanty, answered any summons from outside; but George hoped + that to-night she would be absent; he knew by experience that + on Sunday nights she usually paid a visit to her obstreperous + family in Alexandra Grove.</p> + + <p>The door was opened by a young man in a rich but torn and + soiled eighteenth-century costume, and he looked, in the + half-light of the entrance, as though he was just recovering + from a sustained debauch. The young man stared haughtily in + silence. Only after an appreciable hesitation did George see + through the disguise and recover himself sufficiently to remark + with the proper nonchalance:</p> + + <p>"Hallo, Agg! What's the meaning of this?"</p> + + <p>"You're before your time," said she, shutting the door.</p> + + <p>While he took off his overcoat Agg walked up the studio. She + made an astonishingly life-like young man. George and Agg were + now not unfriendly; but each constantly criticized the other in + silence, and both were aware of the existence of this vast body + of unspoken criticism. Agg criticized more than George, who had + begun to take the attitude that Agg ought to be philosophically + accepted as incomprehensible rather than criticized. He had not + hitherto seen her in male costume, but he would not exhibit any + surprise.</p> + + <p>"Where's Marguerite?" he inquired, advancing to the Stove + and rubbing his hands above it.</p> + + <p>"Restrain your ardour," said Agg lightly. "She'll appear in + due season. I've told you—you're before your time."</p> + + <p>George offered no retort. Despite his sharp walk, he was + still terribly agitated and preoccupied, and the phenomena of + the lamplit studio had not yet fully impressed his mind. He saw + them, including Agg, as hallucinations gradually turning to + realities. He could not be worried with Agg. His sole desire + was to be alone with Marguerite immediately, and he regarded + the fancy costume chiefly as an obstacle to the fulfilment of + that desire, because Agg could not depart until she had changed + it for something else.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 90 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page085" name="page085">[pg 85]</a> + </span> + + Then his gaze fell upon a life-size oil-sketch of Agg in the + eighteenth-century male dress. The light was bad, but it + disclosed the sketch sufficiently to enable some judgment on it + to be formed. The sketch was exceedingly clever, painted in the + broad, synthetic manner which Steer and Sickert had introduced + into England as a natural reaction from the finicking, false + exactitudes of the previous age. It showed Agg, glass in hand, + as a leering, tottering young drunkard in frills and velvet. + The face was odious, but it did strongly resemble Agg's face. + The hair was replaced by a bag wig.</p> + + <p>"Who did that?"</p> + + <p>"I did, of course," said Agg. She pointed to the large + mirror at the opposite side of the studio.</p> + + <p>"The dickens you did!" George murmured, struck. But now that + he knew the sketch to be the work of a woman he at once became + more critical, perceiving in it imitative instead of original + qualities. "What is it? I mean, what's the idea at the back of + it, if it isn't a rude question, Agg?"</p> + + <p>"Title: 'Bonnie Prince Charlie,'" said Agg, without a smile. + She was walking about, in a convincingly masculine style. + Unfortunately she could not put her hands in her pockets, as + the costume was without pockets.</p> + + <p>"Is that your notion of the gent?"</p> + + <p>"Didn't you know I'm supposed to be very like him?" cried + Agg, vain. The stern creature had frailties. Then she smiled + grimly. "Look at my cold blue eyes, my sharp chin, my + curly-curly lips, my broad forehead, my clear complexion. And I + hope I'm thin enough. Look!" She picked up the bag wig, which + was lying on a chair, and put it on, and posed. The pose was + effective.</p> + + <p>"You seem to know a lot about this Charlie."</p> + + <p>"Well, our well-beloved brother Sam is writing a monograph + on him, you see. Besides, every one——"</p> + + <p>"But what's the idea? What's the scheme? Why is he + drunk?"</p> + + <p>"He always was drunk. He was a confirmed drunkard at thirty. + Both his fair ladies had to leave him because he was just a + violent brute. And so on and so on. I thought it was about time + Charlie was shown up in his true colours. And I'm doing it!... + After all the sugar-stick Academy pictures of him, my picture + will administer a much-needed tonic to our dear public. I + expect I can get it into next year's New English Art Club, and + if I do it will be the sensation of the show.... I haven't done + with it yet. In fact I only +<!-- Page 91 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page086" name="page086">[pg 86]</a> + </span> + + started yesterday. There's going to be a lot more realism in + it. All those silly Jacobite societies will furiously rage + together.... And it's a bit of pretty good painting, you + know."</p> + + <p>"It is," George agreed. "But it's a wild scheme."</p> + + <p>"Not so wild as you think, my minstrel boy. It's very, much + needed. It's symbolic, that picture is. It's a symbolic + antidote. Shall I tell you what put me on to it? Look + here."</p> + + <p>She led him to Marguerite's special work-table, under the + curtained window. There, on a sheet of paper stretched upon a + drawing-board, was the finished design which Marguerite had + been labouring at for two days. It was a design for a + bookbinding, and the title of the book was, + <i>The Womanly Woman,</i> + + and the author of the book was Sir Amurath Onway, M.D., D.Sc., + F.R.S., a famous specialist in pathology. Marguerite, under + instruction from the bookbinders, had drawn a sweet picture, in + quiet colours, of a womanly woman in a tea-gown, sitting in a + cosy corner of a boudoir. The volume was destined to open the + spring season of a publishing firm of immense and historic + respectability.</p> + + <p>"Look at it! Look at it!" Agg insisted. "I've read the book + myself. Poor Marguerite had to go through the proofs, so that + she could be sure of getting the spirit of the binding right. + Do you know why he wrote it? He hates his wife—that's + why. His wife isn't a womanly woman, and he's put all his + hatred of her into this immortal rubbish. Read this great work, + and you will be made to see what fine, noble creatures we men + are"—she strode to and fro—"and how a woman's first + duty is to recognize her inferiority to us, and be womanly.... + Damme!... As soon as I saw what poor Marguerite had to do I + told her I should either have to go out and kill some one, or + produce an antidote. And then it occurred to me to tell the + truth about one of the leading popular heroes of history." She + bowed in the direction of the canvas. "I began to feel better + at once. I got the costume from a friend of the learned Sam's, + and I've ruined it.... I'm feeling quite bright to-night."</p> + + <p>She gazed at George with her cold blue eyes, arraigning in + his person the whole sex which she thought she despised but + which her deepest instinct it was to counterfeit. George, while + admiring, was a little dismayed. She was sarcastic. She had + brains and knowledge and ideas. There was an intellectual + foundation to her picture. And she could paint—like a + witch! Oh! She was ruthlessly clever! Well, he +<!-- Page 92 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page087" name="page087">[pg 87]</a> + </span> + + did not like her. What he wanted, though he would not admit it, + was old Onway's womanly woman. And especially in that hour he + wanted the womanly woman.</p> + + <p>"What's Marguerite up to?" he asked quietly.</p> + + <p>"After the heat and the toil of the day she's beautifying + herself for your august approval," said Agg icily. "I expect + she's hurrying all she can. But naturally you expect her to be + in a permanent state of waiting for you—fresh out of the + cotton-wool."</p> + + <p>The next instant Marguerite appeared from the cubicle or + dressing-room which had been contrived in a corner of the + studio to the left of the door. She was in her plain, everyday + attire, but she had obviously just washed, and her smooth hair + shone from the brush.</p> + + <p>"Well, George."</p> + + <p>"Well, Marguerite."</p> + + <p>Both spoke casually. Celia Agg was the only person in the + world privy to their engagement; but they permitted themselves + no freedoms in front of her. As Marguerite came near to George, + she delicately touched his arm—nothing more. She was + smiling happily, but as soon as she looked close at his face + under the lamp, her face changed completely. He thought: "She + understands there's something up."</p> + + <p>She said, not without embarrassment:</p> + + <p>"George, I really must have some fresh air. I haven't had a + breath all day. Is it raining?"</p> + + <p>"No. Would you like to go for a walk?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! I should!"</p> + + <p>He was very grateful, and also impressed by the accuracy of + her intuitions and her quick resourcefulness. She had + comprehended at a glance that he had a profound and urgent need + to be alone with her. She was marvellously comforting, precious + beyond price. All his susceptibilities, wounded by the scene at + Alexandra Grove, and further irritated by Agg, were + instantaneously salved and soothed. Her tones, her scarcely + perceptible gesture of succour, produced the assuaging miracle. + She fulfilled her role to perfection. She was a talented and + competent designer, but as the helpmeet of a man she had + genius. His mind dwelt on her with rapture.</p> + + <p>"You'll be going out as soon as you've changed, dear?" she + said affectionately to Agg.</p> + + <p>"Yes," answered Agg, who at the mirror was wiping from her + face the painted signs of alcoholism. She had thrown +<!-- Page 93 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page088" name="page088">[pg 88]</a> + </span> + + off the bag wig. "You'd better take the key with you. You'll be + back before I am." She sat down on one of the draped settees + which were beds in disguise, and Marguerite got a hat, cloak, + and gloves.</p> + + <p>While George was resuming his overcoat, which Marguerite + held for him, Agg suddenly sprang up and rushed towards + them.</p> + + <p>"Good night, Flora Macdonald," she murmured in her deep + voice in Marguerite's ear, put masculine arms round her, and + kissed her. It was a truly remarkable bit of male + impersonating, as George had to admit, though he resented + it.</p> + + <p>Then she gave a short, harsh laugh.</p> + + <p>"Good night, old Agg," said Marguerite, with sweet + responsiveness, and smiled ingenuously at George.</p> + + <p>George, impatient, opened the door, and the damp wind swept + anew into the studio.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was a fine night; the weather had cleared, and the + pavements were drying. George, looking up in a pause of the + eager conversational exchanges, drew tonic air mightily into + his lungs.</p> + + <p>"Where are we?" he asked.</p> + + <p>"Tite Street," said Marguerite. "That's the Tower House." + And she nodded towards the formidable sky-scraper which another + grade of landlord had erected for another grade of artists who + demanded studios from the capitalist. Marguerite, the Chelsea + girl, knew Chelsea, if she knew nothing else; her feet turned + corners in the dark with assurance, and she had no need to look + at street-signs. George regarded the short thoroughfare made + notorious by the dilettantism, the modishness, and the + witticisms of art. It had an impressive aspect. From the + portico of one highly illuminated house a crimson carpet + stretched across the pavement to the gutter; some dashing blade + of the brush had maliciously determined to affront the + bourgeois Sabbath. George stamped on the carpet; he hated it + because it was not his carpet; and he swore to himself to + possess that very carpet or its indistinguishable brother.</p> + + <p>"I was a most frightful ass to leave that letter lying + about!" he exclaimed.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George!" she protested lovingly. "It could so +<!-- Page 94 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page089" name="page089">[pg 89]</a> + </span> + + easily happen—a thing like that could. It was just bad + luck."</p> + + <p>A cushion! The divinest down cushion! That was what she was! + She was more. She defended a man against himself. She restored + him to perfection. Her affectionate faith was a magical + inspiration to him; it was, really, the greatest force in the + world. Most women would have agreed with him, however + tactfully, that he had been careless about the letter. An Adela + would certainly have berated him in her shrewish, thin tones. A + Lois would have been sarcastic, scornfully patronizing him as a + 'boy.' And what would Agg have done?... They might have + forgiven and even forgotten, but they would have indulged + themselves first. Marguerite was exteriorly simple. She would + not perhaps successfully dominate a drawing-room. She would cut + no figure playing with lives at the wheel of an automobile. + After all, she would no doubt be ridiculous in the costume of + Bonnie Prince Charlie. But she was finer than the other women + whose images floated in his mind. And she was worth millions of + them. He was overpowered by the sense of his good fortune in + finding her. He went cold at the thought of what he would have + missed if he had not found her. He would not try to conceive + what his existence would be without her, for it would be + unendurable. Of this he was convinced.</p> + + <p>"Do you think he'll go talking about it?" George asked, + meaning of course Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"More likely + <i>she</i> + + will," said Marguerite.</p> + + <p>He positively could feel her lips tightening. Futile to put + in a word for Mrs. Haim! When he had described the swoon, + Marguerite had shown neither concern nor curiosity. Not the + slightest! Antipathy to her stepmother had radiated from her + almost visibly in the night like the nimbus round a street + lamp. Well, she did not understand; she was capable of + injustice; she was quite wrong about Mrs. Haim. What matter? + Her whole being was centralized on himself. He was aware of his + superiority.</p> + + <p>He went on quietly:</p> + + <p>"If the old man gets chattering at the office, the Orgreaves + will know, and the next minute the news'll be in the Five + Towns. I can't possibly let my people hear from anybody else of + + <i>my engagement</i> + + before they hear from me. However, if it comes to the point, + we'll tell everybody. Why not?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, but dearest! It was so nice it being a secret. It was + the loveliest thing in the world."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 95 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page090" name="page090">[pg 90]</a> + </span> + + Yes, it was jolly."</p> + + <p>"Perhaps father will feel differently in the morning, and + then you can——"</p> + + <p>"He won't," said George flatly. "You don't know what a state + he's in. I didn't tell you—he called me a spy in the + house, a dirty spy. Likewise a jackanapes. Doubtless a delicate + illusion to my tender years."</p> + + <p>"He + <i>didn't</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>"He did, honestly."</p> + + <p>"So that was what upset you so!" Marguerite murmured. It was + her first admission that she had noticed his agitation.</p> + + <p>"Did I look so upset, then?"</p> + + <p>"George, you looked terrible. I felt the only thing to do + was for us to go out at once."</p> + + <p>"Oh! But surely I wasn't so upset as all that?" said George, + finding in Marguerite's statement a reflection upon his ability + to play the part of an imperturbable man of the world. "Agg + didn't seem to see anything."</p> + + <p>"Agg doesn't know you like I do."</p> + + <p>She insinuated her arm into his. He raised his hand and took + hold of hers. In the left pocket of his overcoat he could feel + the somewhat unwieldy key of the studio. He was happy. The + domestic feel of the key completed his happiness.</p> + + <p>"Of course I can't stay on there," said he.</p> + + <p>"At father's? Oh! I do wish father hadn't talked like that." + She spoke sadly, not critically.</p> + + <p>"I suppose I must sleep there to-night. But I'm not going to + have my breakfast there to-morrow morning. No fear! I'll have + it up town. Lucas'll be able to put me up to some new digs. He + always knows about that sort of thing. Then I'll drive down and + remove all my worldly in a four-wheeler."</p> + + <p>He spoke with jauntiness, in his role of male who is easily + equal to any situation. But she said in a low, tenderly + commiserating voice:</p> + + <p>"It's a shame!"</p> + + <p>"Not a bit!" he replied. Then he suddenly stood still and + brought her to a halt. Under his erratic guidance they had + turned along Dilke Street, and northwards again, past the + Botanical Garden. "And this is Paradise Row!" he said, + surveying the broad street which they had come into.</p> + + <p>"Paradise Row?" she corrected him softly. "No, dear, it's + Queen's Road. It runs into Pimlico Road."</p> + + <p>"I mean it used to be Paradise Row," he explained. " +<!-- Page 96 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page091" name="page091">[pg 91]</a> + </span> + + It was the most fashionable street in Chelsea, you know. + Everybody that was anybody lived here."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Really!" She showed an amiable desire to be interested, + but her interest did not survive more than a few seconds. "I + didn't know. I know Paradise Walk. It's that horrid little + passage down there on the right."</p> + + <p>She had not the historic sense; and she did not understand + his mood, did not in the slightest degree suspect that events + had been whipping his ambition once more, and that at that + moment he was enjoying the seventeenth and even the sixteenth + centuries, and thinking of Sir Thomas More and Miss More, and + all manner of grandiose personages and abodes, and rebelling + obstinately against the fact, that he was as yet a nonentity in + Chelsea, whereas he meant in the end to yield to nobody in + distinction and renown. He knew that she did not understand, + and he would not pretend to himself that she did. There was no + reason why she should understand. He did not particularly want + her to understand.</p> + + <p>"Let's have a look at the river, shall we?" he suggested, + and they moved towards Cheyne Walk.</p> + + <p>"Dearest," she said, "you must come and have breakfast at + the studio to-morrow morning. I shall get it myself."</p> + + <p>"But Agg won't like me poking my nose in for breakfast."</p> + + <p>"You great silly! Don't you know she simply adores you?"</p> + + <p>He was certainly startled by this remark, and he began to + like Agg.</p> + + <p>"Old Agg! Not she!" he protested, pleased, but a little + embarrassed. "Will she be up?"</p> + + <p>"You'll see whether she'll be up or not. Nine o'clock's the + time, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>They reached the gardens of Cheyne Walk. Three bridges hung + their double chaplets of lights over the dark river. On the + southern shore the shapes of high trees waved mysteriously + above the withdrawn woodland glades that in daytime were + Battersea Park. Here and there a tiny red gleam gave warning + that a pier jutted out into the stream; but nothing moved on + the water. The wind that swept clean the pavements had + unclouded ten million stars. It was a wind unlike any other + wind that ever blew, at once caressing and roughly challenging. + The two, putting it behind them, faced eastward, and began to + pass one by one the innumerable ornate gas-lamps of Chelsea + Embankment, which stretched absolutely +<!-- Page 97 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page092" name="page092">[pg 92]</a> + </span> + + rectilinear in front of them for a clear mile. No soul but + themselves was afoot. But on the left rose gigantic and + splendid houses, palaces designed by modern architects, vying + with almost any houses in London, some dark, others richly + illuminated and full of souls luxurious, successful, and + dominant. As the girl talked creatively about the breakfast, + her arm pressed his, and his fingers clasped her acquiescent + fingers, and her chaste and confiding passion ran through him + in powerful voltaic currents from some inexhaustible source of + energy in her secret heart. It seemed to him that since their + ride home in the hansom from the Promenade concert her faculty + for love had miraculously developed. He divined great deeps in + her, and deeps beyond those deeps. The tenderness which he felt + for her was inexpressible. He said not a word, keeping to + himself the terrific resolves to which she, and the wind, and + the spectacular majesty of London inspired him. He and she + would live regally in one of those very houses, and people + should kowtow to her because she was the dazzling wife of the + renowned young architect, George Cannon. And he would show her + to Mrs. John Orgreave and to Lois, and those women should + acknowledge in her a woman incomparably their superior. They + should not be able to hide their impressed astonishment when + they saw her.</p> + + <p>Nothing of all this did he impart to her as she hung + supported and inspiring on his arm. He held it all in reserve + for her. And then, thinking again for a moment of what she had + said about Agg's liking for him, he thought of Agg's picture + and of Marguerite's design which had originated the picture. It + was a special design, new for Marguerite, whose bindings were + generally of conventional patterns; it was to be paid for at a + special price because of its elaborateness; she had worked on + it for nearly two days; in particular she had stayed indoors + during the whole of Sunday to finish it; and it was efficient, + skilful, as good as it could be. It had filled her life for + nearly two days—and he had not even mentioned it to her! + In the ruthless egotism of the ambitious man he had forgotten + it, and forgotten to imagine sympathetically the contents of + her mind. Sharp remorse overcame him; she grew noble and + pathetic in his eyes.... Contrast her modest and talented + industry with the exacting, supercilious, incapable idleness of + a Lois!</p> + + <p>"That design of yours is jolly good," he said shortly + without any introductory phrases.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 98 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page093" name="page093">[pg 93]</a> + </span> + + She perceptibly started.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! I'm so glad you think so. I was afraid. You + know it was horribly difficult—they give you no + chance."</p> + + <p>"I know. I know. You've come out of it fine."</p> + + <p>She was in heaven; he also, because it was so easy for him + to put her there. He glanced backwards a few hours into the + past, and he simply could not comprehend how it was that he had + been so upset by the grotesque scene with Mr. Haim in the + basement of No. 8. Everything was all right; everything was + utterly for the best.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_VI'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 99 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page094" name="page094">[pg 94]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + + <h3>THE DINNER</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Early on the morning of a Tuesday in the second half of June + 1903, George Cannon was moving fast on a motor-bicycle + westwards down the slope of Piccadilly. At any rate he had the + sensation of earliness, and was indeed thereby quite + invigorated; it almost served instead of the breakfast which he + had not yet taken. But thousands of people travelling in the + opposite direction in horse-omnibuses and in a few motor-buses + seemed to regard the fact of their being abroad at that hour as + dully normal. They had fought, men and girls, for places in the + crammed vehicles; they had travelled from far lands such as + Putney; they had been up for hours, and the morning, which was + so new to George, had lost its freshness for them; they were + well used to the lustrous summer glories of the Green Park; + what they chiefly beheld in the Green Park was the endless + lines of wayfarers, radiating from Victoria along the various + avenues, on the way, like themselves, to offices, ware-houses, + and shops. Of the stablemen, bus-washers, drivers, mechanics, + chauffeurs, and conductors, who had left their beds much in + advance even of the travellers, let us not speak—even + they had begun the day later than their wives, mothers, or + daughters. All this flying population, urged and preoccupied by + pitiless time, gazed down upon George and saw a gay young swell + without a care in the world rushing on 'one of those + motor-bikes' to freedom.</p> + + <p>George was well aware of the popular gaze, and he supported + it with negligent pride. He had the air of having been born to + greatness; cigarette smoke and the fumes of exploded petrol and + the rattle of explosions made a fine wake behind his greatness. + In two years, since he had walked into Mr. Haim's parlour, his + body had broadened, his eyes had slightly hardened, and his + complexion and hair +<!-- Page 100 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page095" name="page095">[pg 95]</a> + </span> + + had darkened. And there was his moustache, very sprightly, and + there was a glint of gold in his teeth. He had poor teeth, but + luxuriant hair, ruthlessly cut and disciplined and subjugated. + His trousers were clipped tightly at the ankles, and his jacket + loosely buttoned by the correct button; his soft felt hat + achieved the architect's ideal of combining the perfectly + artistic with the perfectly modish. But the most remarkable and + envy-raising portion of his attire was the loose, washable, + yellow gloves, with large gauntlets, designed to protect the + delicately tended hands when they had to explore among + machinery.</p> + + <p>He had obtained the motor-bicycle in a peculiar way. On + arriving at Axe Station for the previous Christmas holidays, he + had seen two low-hung lamps brilliantly flashing instead of the + higher and less powerful lamps of the dogcart, and there had + been no light-reflecting flanks of a horse in front of the + lamps. The dark figure sitting behind the lamps proved to be + his mother. His mother herself had driven him home. He noted + calmly that as a chauffeur she had the same faults as the + contemned Lois Ingram. Still, she did drive, and they reached + Ladderedge Hall in safety. He admired, and he was a little + frightened by, his mother's terrific volition to widen her + existence. She would insist on doing everything that might be + done, and nobody could stop her. Who would have dreamt that + she, with her narrow, troubled past, and her passionate + temperament rendered somewhat harsh by strange experiences, + would at the age of forty-six or so be careering about the + country at the wheel of a motor-car? Ah! But she would! She + would be a girl. And by her individual force she successfully + carried it off! Those two plotters, she and his stepfather, had + conspired to buy a motor-car in secret from him. No letter from + home had breathed a word of the motor-car. He was + thunder-struck, and jealous. He had spent the whole of the + Christmas holidays in that car, and in four days could drive + better than his mother, and also—what was more + difficult—could convince her obstinate self-assurance + that he knew far more about the mechanism than she did. As a + fact, her notions of the mechanism, though she was convinced of + their rightness, were mainly fantastic. George of course had + had to punish his parents. He had considered it his duty to do + so. "The + <i>least</i> + + you can do," he had said discontentedly and menacingly, "the + <i>least</i> + + you can do is to give me a decent motor-bike!" The guilty pair + had made amends in the +<!-- Page 101 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page096" name="page096">[pg 96]</a> + </span> + + manner thus indicated for them. George gathered from various + signs that his stepfather was steadily and rapidly growing + richer. George had acted accordingly—not only in the + matter of the motor-bicycle, but in other matters.</p> + + <p>Now, on this June morning he had just begun to breast the + slope rising from the hollow to Hyde Park Corner when a boy + shot out from behind a huge, stationary dust-cart on the left + and dashed unregarding towards him. George shouted. The boy, + faced with sudden death, was happily so paralysed that he fell + down, thus checking his momentum by the severest form of + friction. George swerved aside, missing the small, outstretched + hands by an inch or two, but missing also by an inch or two the + front wheel of a tremendous motor-bus on his right. He gave a + nervous giggle as he flashed by the high red side of the + motor-bus; and then he deliberately looked back at the + murderous boy, who had jumped up. At the same moment George was + brought to a sense of his own foolishness in looking back by a + heavy jolt. He had gone over half a creosoted wood block which + had somehow escaped from a lozenge-shaped oasis in the road + where two workmen were indolently using picks under the magic + protection of a tiny, dirty red flag. Secure in the + guardianship of the bit of bunting, which for them was as + powerful and sacred as the flag of an empire, the two workmen + gazed with indifference at George and at the deafening traffic + which swirled affronting but harmless around them. George + slackened speed, afraid lest the jar might have snapped the + plates of his accumulator. The motor-bicycle was a wondrous + thing, but as capricious and delicate as a horse. For a trifle, + for nothing at all, it would cease to function. The + high-tension magneto and the float-feed carburetter, whose + invention was to transform the motor-bicycle from an + everlasting harassment into a means of loco-motion, were yet + years away in the future. However, the jar had done no harm. + The episode, having occupied less than ten seconds, was closed. + George felt his heart thumping. He thought suddenly of the + recent Paris-Madrid automobile race, in which the elite of the + world had perished. He saw himself beneath the motor-bus, and a + futile staring crowd round about. Simply by a miracle was he + alive. But this miracle was only one of a score of miracles. He + believed strongly in luck. He had always believed in it. The + smoke of the cigarette displayed his confidence to all + Piccadilly. Still, his heart was thumping.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 102 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page097" name="page097">[pg 97]</a> + </span> + + And it had not ceased to thump when a few minutes later he + turned into Manresa Road. Opposite the entrance to the alley of + Romney Studios, there happened to be a small hiatus in the + kerbstone. George curved the machine largely round and, + mounting the pavement through this hiatus, rode gingerly up the + alley, in defiance of the regulations of a great city, and + stopped precisely at the door of No. 6. It was a matter of + honour with him to arrive thus. Not for a million would he have + walked the machine up the alley. He got off, sounded a + peremptory call on the horn, and tattooed with the knocker. No + answer came. An apprehension visited him. By the last post on + the previous night he had received a special invitation to + breakfast from Marguerite. Never had he been kept waiting at + the door. He knocked again. Then he heard a voice from the side + of the studio:</p> + + <p>"Come round here, George."</p> + + <p>In the side of the studio was a very small window from which + the girls, when unpresentable, would parley with early + tradesmen. Agg was at the window. He could see only her head + and neck, framed by the window. Her short hair was tousled, and + she held a dressing-gown tight about her neck. For the first + time she seemed to him like a real feminine girl, and her tones + were soft as they never were when Marguerite was present with + her.</p> + + <p>"I'm very sorry," she said. "You woke me. I was fast asleep. + You can't come in."</p> + + <p>"Anything up?" he questioned, rather anxiously. "Where's + Marguerite?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, George! A dreadful night!" she answered, almost + plaintively, almost demanding sympathy from the male—she, + Agg! "We were wakened up at two o'clock. Mr. Prince came round + to fetch Marguerite to go to No. 8."</p> + + <p>"To go to No. 8?" he repeated, frightened, and wondered why + he should be frightened. "What on earth for?"</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim very ill!" Agg paused. "Something about a + baby."</p> + + <p>"And did she go?"</p> + + <p>"Yes; she put on her things and went off at once."</p> + + <p>He was silent. He felt the rough grip of destiny, of some + strange power irresistible and unescapable, just as he had + momentarily felt it in the basement of No. 8 more than eighteen + months before, when the outraged Mr. Haim had quarrelled with + him. The mere idea of Marguerite being at No. 8 made him feel + sick. He no longer believed in his luck. " +<!-- Page 103 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page098" name="page098">[pg 98]</a> + </span> + + How soon d'ye think she'll be back?"</p> + + <p>"I—I don't know, George. I should have thought she'd + have been back before this."</p> + + <p>"I'll run round there," he said curtly.</p> + + <p>Agg was disconcertingly, astoundingly sympathetic. Her + attitude increased his disturbance.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When George rang the bell at No. 8 Alexandra Grove his + mysterious qualms were intensified. He dreaded the moment when + the door should open, even though it should be opened by + Marguerite herself. And yet he had a tremendous desire to see + Marguerite—merely to look at her face, to examine it, to + read it. His summons was not answered. He glanced about. The + steps were dirty. The brass knob and the letter-flap had not + been polished. After a time he pushed up the flap and gazed + within, and saw the interior which he knew so well and which he + had not entered for so many months. Nothing was changed in it, + but it also had a dusty and neglected air. Every detail roused + his memory. The door of what had once been his room was shut; + he wondered what the room was now. This house held the greatest + part of his history. It lived in his mind as vitally as even + the boarding-house kept by his mother in a side-street in + Brighton, romantic and miserable scene of his sensitive + childhood. It was a solemn house for him. Through the basement + window on a dark night he had first glimpsed Marguerite. + Unforgettable event! Unlike anything else that had ever + happened to anybody!... He heard a creak, and caught sight + through the letter-aperture of a pair of red slippers, and then + the lower half of a pair of trousers, descending the stairs. + And he dropped the flap hurriedly. Mr. Haim was coming to open + the door. Mr. Haim did open the door, started at the apparition + of George, and stood defensively and forbiddingly in the very + centre of the doorway.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said George nervously. "How is Mrs. Haim?"</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim is very ill indeed." The reply was emphatic and + inimical.</p> + + <p>"I'm sorry."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim said nothing further. George had not seen him since + the previous Saturday, having been excused by Mr. Enwright from + the office on Monday on account of +<!-- Page 104 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page099" name="page099">[pg 99]</a> + </span> + + examination work. He did not know that Mr. Haim had not been to + the office on Monday either. In the interval the man had + shockingly changed. He seemed much older, and weaker too; he + seemed worn out by acute anxiety. Nevertheless he so evidently + resented sympathy that George was not sympathetic, and regarded + him coldly as a tiresome old man. The official relations + between the two had been rigorously polite and formal. No + reference had ever been made by either to the quarrel in the + basement or to the cause of it. And for the world in general + George's engagement had remained as secret as before. + Marguerite had not seen her father in the long interval, and + George had seen only the factotum of Lucas & Enwright. But + he now saw Marguerite's father again—a quite different + person from the factotum.... Strange, how the house seemed + forlorn! 'Something about a baby,' Agg had said vaguely. And it + was as though something that Mr. Haim and his wife had + concealed had burst from its concealment and horrified and put + a curse on the whole Grove. Something not at all nice! What in + the name of decent propriety was that slippered old man doing + with a baby? George would not picture to himself Mrs. Haim + lying upstairs. He did not care to think of Marguerite secretly + active somewhere in one of those rooms. But she was there; she + was initiated. He did not criticize her.</p> + + <p>"I should like to see Marguerite," he said at length. + Despite himself he had a guilty feeling.</p> + + <p>"My daughter!" Mr. Haim took up the heavy rôle.</p> + + <p>"Only for a minute," said George boyishly, and irritated by + his own boyishness.</p> + + <p>"You can't see her, sir."</p> + + <p>"But if she knows I'm here, she'll come to me," George + insisted. He saw that the old man's hatred of him was + undiminished. Indeed, time had probably strengthened it.</p> + + <p>"You can't see her, sir. This is my house."</p> + + <p>George considered himself infinitely more mature than in the + November of 1901 when the old man had worsted him. And yet he + was no more equal to this situation than he had been to the + former one.</p> + + <p>"But what am I to do, then?" he demanded, not fiercely, but + crossly.</p> + + <p>"What are you to do? Don't ask me, sir. My wife is very ill + indeed, and you come down the Grove making noise enough to wake + the dead"—he indicated the motor-bicycle, +<!-- Page 105 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page100" name="page100">[pg 100]</a> + </span> + + of which the silencer was admittedly defective—"and you + want to see my daughter. My daughter has more important work to + do than to see you. I never heard of such callousness. If you + want to communicate with my daughter you had better + write—so long as she stays in this house."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim shut the door, which rendered his advantage over + George complete.</p> + + <p>From the post office nearly opposite the end of the Grove + George dispatched a reply-paid telegram to Marguerite:</p> + + <p>"Where and when can I see you?—GEORGE. Russell + Square."</p> + + <p>It seemed a feeble retort to Mr. Haim, but he could think of + nothing better.</p> + + <p>On the way up town he suddenly felt, not hungry, but empty, + and he called in at a tea-shop. He was the only customer, in a + great expanse of marble-topped tables. He sat down at a + marble-topped table. On the marble-topped table next to him + were twenty-four sugar-basins, and on the next to that a large + number of brass bells, and on another one an infinity of + cruets. A very slatternly woman was washing the linoleum in a + corner of the floor. Two thin, wrinkled girls in shabby black + were whispering together behind the counter. The cash-den was + empty. Through the open door he could keep an eye on his + motor-bicycle, which was being surreptitiously regarded by a + boy theoretically engaged in cleaning the window. A big van + drove up, and a man entered with pastry on a wooden tray and + bantered one of the girls in black. She made no reply, being + preoccupied with the responsibility of counting cakes. The man + departed and the van disappeared. Nobody took the least notice + of George. He might have been a customer invisible and + inaudible. After the fiasco of his interview with Mr. Haim, he + had not the courage to protest. He framed withering sentences + to the girls in black, such as: "Is this place supposed to be + open for business, or isn't it?" but they were not uttered. + Then a girl in black with a plain, ugly white apron and a dowdy + white cap appeared on the stairs leading from the basement, and + removed for her passage a bar of stained wood lettered in gilt: + 'Closed,' and she halted at George's table. She spoke no word. + She just stood over him, unsmiling, placid, flaccid, immensely + indifferent. She was pale, a poor sort of a girl, without + vigour. But she had a decent, honest face. She was not aware + that she ought to be bright, welcoming, provocative, for a + penny farthing an hour. She had +<!-- Page 106 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page101" name="page101">[pg 101]</a> + </span> + + never heard of Hebe. George thought of the long, desolating day + that lay before her. He looked at her seriously. His eyes did + not challenge hers as they were accustomed to challenge Hebe's. + He said in a friendly, matter-of-fact tone:</p> + + <p>"A meat-pie, please, and a large coffee."</p> + + <p>And she repeated in a thin voice:</p> + + <p>"Meat-pie. Large coffee."</p> + + <p>A minute later she dropped the order on the table, as it + might have been refuse, and with it a bit of white paper. The + sadness of the city, and the inexplicable sadness of June + mornings, overwhelmed George as he munched at the meat-pie and + drank the coffee, and reached over for the sugar and reached + over for the mustard. And he kept saying to himself:</p> + + <p>"She doesn't see her father at all for nearly two years, and + then she goes off to him like that in the middle of the + night—at a word."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The office was not at its normal. The empty cubicle of the + factotum looked strange enough. But there was more than that in + the abnormality. There were currents of excitement in the + office. The door of the principals' room was open, and George + saw John Orgreave and Everard Lucas within, leaning over one of + the great flat desks. The hour was early for Lucas, and + self-satisfaction was on Lucas's face as he raised it to look + at the entering of George.</p> + + <p>"I say," he remarked quietly through the doorway, "that town + hall scheme is on again."</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said George, depositing his hat and gloves and + strolling into the principals' room. "Good morning, Mr. + Orgreave. Got the conditions there?" For a moment his attitude + of interest was a pose, but very quickly it became sincere. + Astonishing how at sight of a drawing-board and a problem he + could forget all that lay beyond them! He was genuinely and + extremely disturbed by the course of affairs at Chelsea; + nevertheless he now approached Mr. Orgreave and Lucas with + eagerness, and Chelsea slipped away into another dimension.</p> + + <p>"No," said John Orgreave, "the conditions aren't out yet. + But it's all right this time. I know for a fact."</p> + + <p>The offices of all the regular architectural competitors in + London were excited that morning. For the conception of +<!-- Page 107 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page102" name="page102">[pg 102]</a> + </span> + + the northern town hall was a vast one. Indeed, journalists had + announced, from their mysterious founts of information, that + the town hall would be the largest public building erected in + England during half a century. The scheme had been the sport of + municipal politics for many months, for years. Apparently it + could not get itself definitely born. And now the Town Clerk's + wife had brought about the august parturition. It is true that + her agency was unintentional. The Town Clerk had belonged to a + powerful provincial dynasty of town clerks. He had the illusion + that without him a great town would cease to exist. There was + nothing uncommon in this illusion, which indeed is rife among + town clerks; but the Town Clerk in question had the precious + faculty of being able to communicate it to mayors, aldermen, + and councillors. He was a force in the municipal council. + Voteless, he exercised a moral influence over votes. And he + happened to be opposed to the scheme for the new town hall. He + gave various admirable reasons for the postponement of the + scheme, but he never gave the true reasons, even to himself. + The true reasons were, first, that he hated and detested the + idea of moving office, and, second, that he wanted acutely to + be able to say in the fullness of years that he had completed + half a century of municipal work in one and the same room. If + the pro-scheme party had had the wit to invent a pretext for + allowing the Town Clerk to remain in the old municipal + buildings, the scheme would instantly have taken life. The Town + Clerk, being widowed, had consoled himself with a young second + wife. This girl adored dancing; the Town Clerk adored her; and + therefore where she danced he deemed it prudent to attend. + Driving home from a January ball at 4 a.m. the Town Clerk had + caught pneumonia. In a week he was dead, and his dynasty with + him. In a couple of months the pro-scheme party had carried the + council off its feet. Such are the realities, never printed in + newspapers, of municipal politics in the grim north.</p> + + <p>Sketches of the site had appeared in the architectural + press. John Orgreave and Lucas were pencilling in turn upon one + of these, a page torn out of a weekly. George inserted himself + between them, roughly towards Lucas and deferentially towards + Mr. John.</p> + + <p>"But you've got the main axis wrong!" he exclaimed.</p> + + <p>"How, wrong?" John Orgreave demanded.</p> + + <p>"See here—give me the pencil, Looc."</p> + + <p>George felt with a little thrill of satisfaction the respect + +<!-- Page 108 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page103" name="page103">[pg 103]</a> + </span> + + for him which underlay John Orgreave's curt tone of a + principal—and a principal from the Midlands. He did not + miss, either, Lucas's quick, obedient, expectant gesture in + surrendering the pencil. Ideas for the plan of the building + sprang up multitudinously in his mind. He called; they came. He + snatched towards him a blank sheet of tracing-paper, and + scrawled it over with significant lines.</p> + + <p>"That's my notion. I thought of it long ago," he said. "Or + if you prefer—"</p> + + <p>The other two were impressed. He himself was impressed. His + notion, which he was modifying and improving every moment, + seemed to him perfect and ever more perfect. He was intensely + and happily stimulated in the act of creation; and they were + all three absorbed.</p> + + <p>"Why hasn't my desk been arranged?" said a discontented + voice behind them. Mr. Enwright had arrived by the farther door + from the corridor.</p> + + <p>Lucas glanced up.</p> + + <p>"I expect Haim hasn't come again to-day," he answered + urbanely, placatingly.</p> + + <p>"Why hasn't he come?"</p> + + <p>"I hear his wife's very ill," said George.</p> + + <p>"Who told you?"</p> + + <p>"I happened to be round that way this morning."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I thought all was over between you two."</p> + + <p>George flushed. Nothing had ever been said in the office as + to his relations with Haim, though it was of course known that + George no longer lodged with the factotum. Mr. Enwright, + however, often had disconcerting intuitions concerning matters + to which Mr. Orgreave and Lucas were utterly insensible.</p> + + <p>"Oh no!" George haltingly murmured.</p> + + <p>"Well, this is all very well, this is——!" Mr. + Enwright ruthlessly proceeded, beginning to marshal the + instruments on his desk.</p> + + <p>He had been a somewhat spectacular martyr for some time + past. A mysterious facial neuralgia had harried his nights and + days. For the greater part of a week he had dozed in an + arm-chair in the office under the spell of eight tabloids of + aspirin per diem. Then a specialist had decided that seven of + his side teeth, already studded with gold, must leave him. + Those teeth were not like any other person's teeth, and in Mr. + Enwright's mind the extracting of them had become a major + operation, as, for example, the taking off of a limb. He had +<!-- Page 109 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page104" name="page104">[pg 104]</a> + </span> + + spent three days in a nursing home in Welbeck Street. His life + was now saved, and he was a convalescent, and passed several + hours daily in giving to friends tragi-farcical accounts of + existence in a nursing home. Mr. Enwright's career was one + unending romance.</p> + + <p>"I was just looking at that town hall affair," said John + Orgreave.</p> + + <p>"What town hall?" his partner snapped.</p> + + <p>" + <i>The</i> + + town hall," answered the imperturbable John. "George here has + got an idea."</p> + + <p>"I suppose you know Sir Hugh Corver, Bart., is to be the + assessor," said Mr. Enwright in a devastating tone.</p> + + <p>Sir Hugh Corver, formerly a mere knight, had received a + baronetcy, to Mr. Enwright's deep disgust. Mr. Enwright had + remarked that any decent-minded man who had been a husband and + childless for twenty-four years would have regarded the + supplementary honour as an insult, but that Sir Hugh was not + decent-minded and, moreover, was not capable of knowing an + insult when he got one. This theory of Mr. Enwright's, however, + did not a bit lessen his disgust.</p> + + <p>"Oh yes," John Orgreave admitted lamely.</p> + + <p>"I for one am not going in for any more competitions with + Corver as assessor," said Mr. Enwright. "I won't do it."</p> + + <p>Faces fell. Mr. Enwright had previously published this + resolve, but it had not been taken quite seriously. It was + entirely serious. Neuralgia and a baronetcy had given it the + consistency of steel.</p> + + <p>"It isn't as if we hadn't got plenty of work in the office," + said Mr. Enwright.</p> + + <p>This was true. The firm was exceedingly prosperous.</p> + + <p>Nobody else spoke.</p> + + <p>"What + <i>can</i> + + you expect from a fellow like Corver?" Mr. Enwright cried, with + a special glance at George. "He's the upas-tree of decent + architecture."</p> + + <p>George's mood changed immediately. Profound discouragement + succeeded to his creative stimulation. Mr. Enwright had reason + on his side. What + <i>could</i> + + you expect from a fellow like Corver? With all the ardour of a + disciple George dismissed the town hall scheme, and + simultaneously his private woes surged up and took full + possession of him. He walked silently out of the room, and + Lucas followed. As a fact, Mr. Enwright ought not to have + talked in such a way before the pupils. A question of general + policy should +<!-- Page 110 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page105" name="page105">[pg 105]</a> + </span> + + first have been discussed in private between the partners, and + the result then formally announced to the staff. Mr. Enwright + was not treating his partner with proper consideration. But Mr. + Enwright, as every one said at intervals, was 'like that'; and + his partner did not seem to care greatly.</p> + + <p>Lucas shut the door between the principals' room and the + pupils' room.</p> + + <p>"I say," said Lucas importantly. "I've got a show on + to-night. Women. Café Royal. I want a fourth. You must + come."</p> + + <p>"Yes," sneered George. "And what about my exam., I should + like to know.... Besides, I can't."</p> + + <p>The Final was due to begin on Thursday.</p> + + <p>"That's all right," Lucas answered, with tact. "That's all + right. I'd thought of the exam., of course. You'll have + to-morrow to recover. It'll do you all the good in the world. + And you know you're more than ready for the thing. You don't + want to be overtrained, my son. Besides, you'll sail through + it. As for 'can't,' 'can't' be damned. You've got to."</p> + + <p>A telegraph boy, after hesitating at the empty cubicle, came + straight into the room.</p> + + <p>"Name of Cannon?"</p> + + <p>George nodded, trembling.</p> + + <p>The telegram read:</p> + + <p>"Impossible to-day.—MARGUERITE."</p> + + <p>It was an incredible telegram, as much by what it said as by + what it didn't say. It overthrew George.</p> + + <p>"Seven forty-five, and I'll drive you round," said + Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Tis well," said George.</p> + + <p>Immediately afterwards Mr. Enwright summoned Lucas.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The two young men of fashion were silent that evening as + they drove to the Café Royal in the car which Lucas + loosely called 'my car,' but which was his mother's and only to + be obtained by him upon his own conditions after delicate + diplomacies. The chief of his conditions was that the chauffeur + should not accompany the car. Lucas, having been engaged upon + outdoor work for the firm, had not seen George throughout the + day. Further, he was late in calling for George, and therefore + rather exacerbated in secret; and if George had +<!-- Page 111 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page106" name="page106">[pg 106]</a> + </span> + + not been ready and waiting for him at the club trouble might + have arisen. George understood his host's mood and respected + it. Lucas drove rapidly and fiercely, with appropriate frowns + and settings of cruel teeth; his mien indeed had the arrogance + of the performer who, having given only a fraction of his time + to the acquirement of skill, reckons that he can beat the + professional who has given the whole of his time. Lucas's + glances at chauffeurs who hindered his swiftness were + masterpieces of high disdain, and he would accelerate, after + circumventing them, with positive ferocity.</p> + + <p>George himself, an implacable critic, could not find fault + with the technique of Lucas's driving. But exacerbation tells, + even in the young, and at Piccadilly Circus, Lucas, in obeying + a too suddenly uplifted hand of a policeman, stopped his + engine. The situation, horribly humiliating for Lucas and also + for George, provided pleasure for half the chauffeurs and + drivers in Piccadilly Circus, and was the origin of much + jocularity of a kind then fairly new. Lucas cursed the innocent + engine, and George leapt down to wield the crank. But the + engine, apparently resenting curses, refused to start again. + No, it would not start. Lucas leapt down too. "Get out of the + way," he muttered savagely to George, and scowled at the bonnet + as if saying to the engine: "I'm not going to stand any of your + infernal nonsense!" But still the engine refused to start.</p> + + <p>The situation, humiliating before, was now appalling. Two + entirely correct young gentlemen, in evening dress, with light + overcoats and opera hats, struggling with a refractory car that + in its obstinacy was far more dignified than + themselves—and the car obstructing traffic at the very + centre of the world in the very hour when the elect of Britain + were driving by on the way to + <i>Tristan</i> + + at the Opera! Sebastians both, they were martyrized by the + poisoned arrows of vulgar wit, shot at them from all sides and + especially from the lofty thrones of hansom-cab drivers. The + policeman ordered them to shove the car to the kerb, and with + the aid of a boy and the policeman himself they did so, + opposite the shuttered front of Swan & Edgar's.</p> + + <p>The two experts then examined the engine in a professional + manner; they did everything but take it down; they tried in + vain all known devices to conquer the recalcitrancy of engines; + and when they had reached despair and fury George, startlingly + visited by an idea, demanded:</p> + + <p>"Any petrol in the tank?..." +<!-- Page 112 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page107" name="page107">[pg 107]</a> + </span> + + In those days men of fashion were apt to forget, at moments of + crisis, that the first necessity of the engine was petrol. + George behaved magnanimously. He might have extinguished Lucas + with a single inflection as Lucas, shamed to the uttermost, + poured a spare half-tin of petrol into the tank. He + refrained.</p> + + <p>In one minute, in less than one minute, they were at the + side entrance to the Café Royal, which less than a minute + earlier had been inconceivably distant and unattainable. Lucas + dashed first into the restaurant. To keep ladies waiting in a + public place was for him the very worst crime, surpassing in + turpitude arson, embezzlement, and the murder of innocents. The + ladies must have been waiting for a quarter of an hour, half an + hour! His reputation was destroyed!</p> + + <p>However, the ladies had not arrived.</p> + + <p>"That's all right," Lucas breathed, at ease at last. The + terrible scowl had vanished from his face, which was perfectly + recomposed into its urbane, bland charm.</p> + + <p>"Now perhaps you'll inform me who they are, old man," George + suggested, relinquishing his overcoat to a flunkey, and + following Lucas into the cloister set apart for the cleansing + of hands which have meddled with machinery.</p> + + <p>"The Wheeler woman is one—didn't I tell you?" Lucas + answered, unsuccessfully concealing his pride.</p> + + <p>"Wheeler?"</p> + + <p>"Irene Wheeler. You know."</p> + + <p>George was really impressed. Lucas had hitherto said no word + as to his acquaintance with this celebrated woman. It was true + that recently Lucas had been spreading himself in various + ways—he had even passed his Intermediate—but George + had not anticipated such a height of achievement as the feat of + entertaining at a restaurant a cynosure like Irene Wheeler. + George had expected quite another sort of company at dinner, + for he had publicly dined with Lucas before. All day he had + been abstracted, listless, and utterly desolate. All day he had + gone over again and again the details of the interview with Mr. + Haim, his telegram to Marguerite and her unspeakable telegram + to him, hugging close a terrific grievance. Only from pique + against Marguerite had he accepted Lucas's invitation. The + adventure in Piccadilly Circus had somewhat enlivened him, and + now the fluttering prospect of acquaintance with the legendary + Irene Wheeler pushed Marguerite into the background of his + mind, and excitement became quite pleasant. " +<!-- Page 113 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page108" name="page108">[pg 108]</a> + </span> + + And a Miss Ingram," Lucas added.</p> + + <p>"Not Lois Ingram?" exclaimed George, suddenly dragging the + names of Ingram and Wheeler out of the same drawer of his + memory.</p> + + <p>"No. Laurencine. But she has a sister named Lois. What do + <i>you</i> + + know about her?" Lucas spoke challengingly, as if George had + trespassed on preserves sacred to himself alone. He had not yet + admitted that it was merely Mrs. John Orgreave who had put him + in the way of Irene Wheeler.</p> + + <p>George was surprised and shocked that it had never occurred + to him to identify Lois Ingram's wealthy friend Miss Wheeler + with the Irene Wheeler of society columns of newspapers. And + Lois Ingram rose in his esteem, not because of the distinction + of her friend, but because she had laid no boastful stress on + the distinction of her friend.</p> + + <p>"Don't you remember?" he said. "I told you once about a girl + who jolly nearly got me into a motor accident all through her + fancying herself as a chauffeur. That was Lois Ingram. Paris + girl. Same lot, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Was + <i>that</i> + + Lois?" Lucas murmured. "Well, I'm dashed!"</p> + + <p>They returned in a hurry to the entrance-hall, fearful lest + the ladies might have arrived. However, the ladies had not + arrived. Lucas had the inexpressible satisfaction of finding in + an illustrated weekly a full-page portrait of Miss Irene + Wheeler.</p> + + <p>"Here you are!" he ejaculated, with an air of use, as though + he was habitually picking up from the tables of fashionable + restaurants high-class illustrated papers containing portraits + of renowned beauties to whom he said "Come!" and they came. It + was a great moment for Lucas.</p> + + <p>Ten minutes later the ladies very calmly arrived, seeming + perfectly unaware that they were three-quarters of an hour + behind time. Lucas felt that, much as he already knew about + life, he had learned something fresh.</p> + + <p>To George, Irene Wheeler was not immediately recognizable as + the original of her portrait. He saw the resemblance when he + looked for it, but if after seeing the photograph he had met + the woman in the street he would have passed her by unknowing. + At first he was disappointed in her. He had never before + encountered celebrated people—except architects, who, + Enwright always said, never could be really + celebrated—and he had to learn that celebrated people + seldom differ in appearance from uncelebrated people. + Nevertheless it was +<!-- Page 114 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page109" name="page109">[pg 109]</a> + </span> + + not to be expected that George should escape where the most + experienced and the most wary of two capitals had not escaped. + He did not agree that she was beautiful, but her complexion + enthralled him. He had never seen such a complexion; nobody had + ever seen such a complexion. It combined extremely marvellous + whites and extremely marvellous pinks, and the skin had the + exquisite, incredible softness of a baby's. Next he was struck + by her candid, ingenuous, inquiring gaze, and by her thin voice + with the slight occasional lisp. The splendid magnificence of + her frock and jewels came into play later. Lastly her demeanour + imposed itself. That simple gaze showed not the slightest + diffidence, scarcely even modesty; it was more brazen than + effrontery. She preceded the other three into the restaurant, + where electricity had finally conquered the expiring daylight, + and her entry obviously excited the whole room; yet, guided by + two waving and fawning waiters, and a hundred glances upon her, + she walked to the appointed table without a trace of + self-consciousness—as naturally as a policeman down a + street. When she sat down, George on her right, Lucas on her + left, and the tall, virginal Laurencine Ingram opposite, she + was the principal person in the restaurant. George had already + passed from disappointment to an impressed nervousness. The + inquisitive diners might all have been quizzing him instead of + Irene Wheeler. He envied Lucas, who was talking freely to both + Miss Wheeler and Laurencine about what he had ordered for + dinner. That morning over a drawing-board and an architectural + problem, Lucas had been humble enough to George, and George by + natural right had laid the law down to Lucas; but now Lucas, + who—George was obliged to admit—never said anything + brilliant or original, was outshining him.... It was + unquestionable that in getting Irene Wheeler to dinner, Lucas, + by some mysterious talent which he possessed, had performed a + feat greater even than George had at first imagined—a + prodigious feat.</p> + + <p>George waited for Irene Wheeler to begin to talk. She did + not begin to talk. She was content with the grand function of + existing. Lucas showed her the portrait in the illustrated + paper, which he had kept. She said that it was comparatively an + old one, and had been taken at the Durbar in January. "Were you + at the Durbar?" asked the simpleton George. Irene Wheeler + looked at him. "Yes. I was in the Viceroy's house-party," she + answered mildly. And then she said to Lucas that she had sat + three times to photographers +<!-- Page 115 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page110" name="page110">[pg 110]</a> + </span> + + that week—"They won't leave me alone"—but that the + proofs were none of them satisfactory. At this Laurencine + Ingram boldly and blushingly protested, maintaining that one of + them was lovely. George was attracted to Laurencine, in whom he + saw no likeness to her sister Lois. She could not long have + left school. She was the product finished for the world; she + had been taught everything that was considered + desirable—even to the art of talking easily and yet + virginally on all subjects at table; and she was a nice, + honest, handsome girl, entirely unspoilt by the mysterious + operations practised upon her. She related how she had been + present when a famous photographer arrived at Miss Wheeler's + flat with his apparatus, and what the famous photographer had + said. The boys laughed. Miss Wheeler smiled faintly. "I'm glad + we didn't have to go to that play to-night," she remarked, + quitting photography. "However, I shall have to go to-morrow + night. And I don't care for first nights in London, only they + will have me go." In this last phrase, and in the intonation of + it, was the first sign she had given of her American origin; + her speech was usually indistinguishable from English English, + which language she had in fact carefully acquired years + earlier. George gathered that Lucas's success in getting Miss + Wheeler to dinner was due to the accident of a first night + being postponed at the last moment and Miss Wheeler thus + finding herself with an empty evening. He covertly examined + her. Why was the feat of getting Miss Wheeler to dinner + enormous? Why would photographers not leave her alone? Why + would theatrical managers have her accept boxes gratis which + they could sell for money? Why was she asked to join the + Viceregal party for the Durbar? Why was the restaurant agog? + Why was he himself proud and flattered—yes, proud and + flattered—to be seen at the same table with her?... She + was excessively rich, no doubt; she was reputed to be the niece + of a railway man in Indianapolis who was one of the major + rivals of Harriman. She dressed superbly, perhaps too superbly. + But there were innumerable rich and well-dressed women on + earth. After all, she put her gold bag and her gloves down on + the table with just the same gesture as other women did; and + little big Laurencine had a gold bag too. She was not witty. He + questioned whether she was essentially kind. She was not young; + her age was an enigma. She had not a remarkable figure, nor + unforgettable hair, nor incendiary eyes. She seemed too placid + and self-centred for +<!-- Page 116 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page111" name="page111">[pg 111]</a> + </span> + + love. If she had loved, it must have been as she sat to + photographers or occupied boxes on first nights—because + 'they' would have it so. George was baffled to discover the + origin of her prestige. He had to seek it in her complexion. + Her complexion was indubitably miraculous. He enjoyed looking + at it, though he lacked the experience to know that he was + looking at a complexion held by connoisseurs who do naught else + but look at complexions to be a complexion unique in Europe. + George, unsophisticated, thought that the unaffected + simplicity—far exceeding self-confidence—with which + she acquiesced in her prestige was perhaps more miraculous than + her complexion. It staggered him.</p> + + <p>The dinner was a social success. Irene Wheeler listened + adroitly, if without brilliance, and after one glass of wine + George found himself quite able to talk in the Enwright manner + about architecture and the profession of architecture, and also + to talk about automobiles. The casualness with which he + mentioned his Final Examination was superb—the examiners + might have been respectfully waiting for him to arrive and + discomfit them. But of course the main subject was automobiles. + Even Laurencine knew the names of all the leading makers, and + when the names of all the leading makers had been enumerated + and their products discussed, the party seemed to think that it + had accomplished something that was both necessary and stylish. + When the tablecloth had been renewed, and the solemn moment + came for Everard Lucas to order liqueurs, George felt almost + gay. He glanced round the gilded and mirrored apartment, now + alluringly animated by the subdued yet vivacious intimacies of + a score of white tables, and decided that the institution of + restaurants was a laudable and agreeable institution. + Marguerite had receded further than ever into the background of + his mind; and as for the Final, it had diminished to a + formality.</p> + + <p>"And you?" Everard asked Laurencine, after Miss Wheeler.</p> + + <p>George had thought that Laurencine was too young for + liqueurs. She had had no wine. He expected her to say 'Nothing, + thanks,' as conventionally as if her late head mistress had + been present. But she hesitated, smiling, and then, obedient + to the profound and universal instinct which seems to guide all + young women to the same liqueur, she said:</p> + + <p>"May I have a + <i>crême de menthe</i> + + ? I've never had + <i>crême de menthe</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>George was certainly shocked for an instant. But no +<!-- Page 117 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page112" name="page112">[pg 112]</a> + </span> + + one else appeared to be shocked. Miss Wheeler, in charge of + Laurencine, offered no protest. And then George reflected: "And + why not? Why shouldn't she have a + <i>crême de menthe</i> + + ?" When Laurencine raised the tiny glass to her firm, large + mouth, George thought that the sight of the young virginal + thing tasting a liqueur was a fine and a beautiful sight.</p> + + <p>"It's just heavenly!" murmured Laurencine ecstatically.</p> + + <p>Miss Wheeler was gazing at George.</p> + + <p>"What's the matter?" he demanded, smiling, and rested one + elbow on the table and looked enigmatically through the smoke + of his cigar.</p> + + <p>"I was just wondering about you," said Miss Wheeler. Her + voice, always faint, had dropped to a murmur which seemed to + expire as it reached George's ear.</p> + + <p>"Why?" He was flattered.</p> + + <p>"I've been wanting to see you."</p> + + <p>"Really!" he laughed, rather too loudly. "What a pity I + didn't know earlier!" He was disturbed as well as flattered, + for such a remark from such a person as Irene Wheeler to such a + person as himself was bound to be disturbing. His eyes sought + audaciously to commune with hers, but hers were not responsive; + they were entirely non-committal.</p> + + <p>"You + <i>are</i> + + the man that wouldn't let my friend Lois drive him in my car, + aren't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said defiantly, but rather guiltily. "Did she tell + you about that? It's an awful long time ago."</p> + + <p>"She told me something about it."</p> + + <p>"And you've remembered it all this long while!"</p> + + <p>"Yes," she answered, and her thin, queer tone and her tepid, + impartial glance had the effect of a challenge to him to + justify himself.</p> + + <p>"And don't you think I was quite right?" he ventured.</p> + + <p>"She drives very well." It was not the sort of answer he was + expecting. His desire was to argue.</p> + + <p>"She didn't drive very well then," he said, with + conviction.</p> + + <p>"Was that a reason for your leaving her to drive home + alone?"</p> + + <p>Women were astounding!</p> + + <p>"She ought to have let the chauffeur drive," he + maintained.</p> + + <p>"Ah! A man mustn't expect too much from a woman."</p> + + <p>"But I was risking my life in that car! Do you mean to say I + ought to have kept on risking it?"</p> + + <p>"I don't express any opinion on that. That was for you +<!-- Page 118 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page113" name="page113">[pg 113]</a> + </span> + + to decide.... You must admit it was very humiliating for poor + Lois."</p> + + <p>He felt himself cornered, but whether justly or unjustly he + was uncertain.</p> + + <p>"Was she vexed?"</p> + + <p>"No, she wasn't vexed. Lois isn't the woman to be vexed. But + I have an idea she was a little hurt."</p> + + <p>"Did she say so?"</p> + + <p>"Say so? Lois? She'd never say anything against anybody. + Lois is a perfect angel.... Isn't she, Laurencine?"</p> + + <p>Laurencine was being monopolized by Everard.</p> + + <p>"What did you say?" the girl asked, collecting herself.</p> + + <p>"I was just saying what an angel Lois is."</p> + + <p>"Oh, she + <i>is</i> + + !" the younger sister agreed, with immense and sincere + emphasis.</p> + + <p>George, startled, said to himself suddenly:</p> + + <p>"Was I mistaken in her? Some girls you + <i>are</i> + + mistaken in! They're regular bricks, but they keep it from you + at first."</p> + + <p>Somehow, in spite of a slight superficial mortification, he + was very pleased by the episode of the conversation, and his + curiosity was titillated.</p> + + <p>"Lois would have come to-night instead of Laurencine," Miss + Wheeler went on, "only she wasn't feeling very well."</p> + + <p>"Is she in London? I've only seen her once from that day to + this, and then we didn't get near each other owing to the + crush. So we didn't speak. It was at Mrs. Orgreave's."</p> + + <p>"Yes, I know."</p> + + <p>"Did she tell you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Is she at your flat?"</p> + + <p>"Yes; but she's not well."</p> + + <p>"Not in bed, I hope, or anything like that?"</p> + + <p>"Oh no! She's not in bed."</p> + + <p>Laurencine threw laughingly across the table:</p> + + <p>"She's as well as I am."</p> + + <p>It was another aspect of the younger sister.</p> + + <p>When they left the restaurant it was nearly empty. They left + easily, slowly, magnificently. The largesse of Everard + Lucas—his hat slightly raked—in the foyer and at + the portico was magnificent in both quantity and manner. There + was no need to hurry; the hour, though late for the end of + dinner, was early for separation. They moved and talked without + the slightest diffidence, familiar and confident; the whole +<!-- Page 119 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page114" name="page114">[pg 114]</a> + </span> + + world was reformed and improved for them by the stimulus of + food and alcohol. The night was sultry and dark. The two women + threw their cloaks back from their shoulders, revealing the + whiteness of toilettes. At the door the head-lights of Miss + Wheeler's automobile shot horizontally right across Regent + Street. The chauffeur recognized George, and George recognized + the car; he was rather surprised that Miss Wheeler had not had + a new car in eighteen months. Lucas spoke of his own car, which + lay beyond in the middle of the side-street like a ship at + anchor. He spoke in such a strain that Miss Wheeler deigned to + ask him to drive her home in it. The two young men went to + light the head-lights. George noticed the angry scowl on + Everard's face when three matches had been blown out in the + capricious breeze. The success of the fourth match restored his + face to perfect benignity. He made the engine roar + triumphantly, imperiously sounded his horn, plunged forward, + and drew the car up in front of Miss Wheeler's. His bliss, when + Miss Wheeler had delicately inserted herself into the space by + his side, was stern and yet radiant. The big car, with George + and Laurencine on board, followed the little one like a cat + following a mouse, and Laurencine girlishly interested herself + in the chase. George, with his mind on Lois, kept saying to + himself: "She's been thinking about that little affair ever + since last November but one. They've all been thinking about + it." He felt apprehensive, but his satisfaction amounted to + excitement. His attitude was: "At any rate I gave them + something to think about!" Also he breathed appreciatively the + atmosphere of the three women—two seen and one unseen. + How extraordinarily different all of them were from Agg! They + reminded him acutely of his deep need of luxury. After all, the + life lived by those two men about town, George and Everard, was + rather humdrum and monotonous. In spite of Everard's dash, and + in spite of George's secret engagement, neither of them met + enough women or enough sorts of women. George said to himself: + "I shall see her to-night. We shall go up to the flat. She + isn't in bed. I shall see her to-night." He wanted to see her + because he had hurt her, and because she had remembered and had + talked about him and had raised curiosity about him in others. + Was she really unwell? Or had she been excusing herself! Was + she an angel? He wanted to see her again in order to judge for + himself whether she was an angel. If Laurencine said she was an + angel she must be an +<!-- Page 120 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page115" name="page115">[pg 115]</a> + </span> + + angel. Laurencine was a jolly, honest girl. To be in the car + with her was agreeable. But she was insipid. So he assessed the + splendidly budding Laurencine, patronizing her a little. Miss + Wheeler gave him pause. Her simple phrases had mysterious + intonations. He did not understand her glance. He could not + settle the first question about her—her age. She might be + very wicked; certainly she could be very ruthless. And he had + no hold over her. He could give her nothing that she wanted. He + doubted whether any man could.</p> + + <p>"Have you been in London long?" he asked Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"A week," she said. "I came over with Miss Wheeler. I didn't + think mother would let me, but she did."</p> + + <p>"And did your sister come with you?"</p> + + <p>"No; Lois only came yesterday."</p> + + <p>"By herself?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"I suppose you go about a lot?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, we + <i>do</i> + + It's such a change from Paris."</p> + + <p>"Well, I should prefer Paris."</p> + + <p>"You wouldn't! London's much more romantic. Paris is so hard + and matter-of-fact."</p> + + <p>"So's London."</p> + + <p>She squirmed about lissomly on the seat.</p> + + <p>"You don't know what I mean," she said. "I never + <i>can</i> + + make people see what I mean—about anything."</p> + + <p>He smiled indulgently and dropped the point.</p> + + <p>"Miss Wheeler taken you to Mrs. Orgreave's yet?"</p> + + <p>"Yes; we were there on Saturday afternoon."</p> + + <p>"Well, what do you think of Mrs. Orgreave?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! She's very nice," Laurencine answered, with polite + tepidity; and added eagerly: "Mr. Orgreave's a dear."</p> + + <p>George was glad that she had not been enthusiastic about + Mrs. Orgreave. Her reserve showed that she could discriminate. + Ecstasy was not altogether a habit. If she said that Lois was + an angel, Lois probably was an angel.</p> + + <p>The cars stopped at the foot of a huge block of masonry in a + vast leafy square. George suddenly became very nervous. He + thought: "I shall be seeing her in a minute."</p> + + <p>Then, as he got out of the car, he heard Miss Wheeler saying + to Lucas:</p> + + <p>"Well, good night. And thank you so much. It's been most + delightful.... We expect you soon, of course."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 121 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page116" name="page116">[pg 116]</a> + </span> + + She actually was not asking them to go up! George was + excessively disappointed. He watched Miss Wheeler and + Laurencine disappear into the rich and guarded interior with + envy, as though they had entered a delectable paradise to which + he could not aspire; and the fact that Miss Wheeler had vaguely + invited him to call did not brighten him very much. He had + assumed that he would see Lois the angel that night.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The young men finished the evening at Pickering's. + Pickering's was George's club. George considered, rightly, that + in the matter of his club he had had great luck. Pickering's + was a small club, and it had had vicissitudes. Most men whose + worldly education had been completed in St. James's were + familiar with its historical name, but few could say off-hand + where it was. Its address was Candle Court, and Candle Court + lay at the end of Candle Alley (a very short passage), between + Duke Street and Bury Street. The Court was in fact a tiny + square of several houses, chiefly used by traders and agents of + respectability—as respectability is understood in St. + James's; it had a lamp-post of its own. The report ran, and was + believed by persons entitled to an opinion, that the Duke of + Wellington had for some years hidden there the lovely desire of + his heart from an inquisitive West End. Pickering's had, of + course, originally been a coffee-house; later, like many other + coffee-houses in the neighbourhood, it had developed into a + proprietary club. Misfortunes due to the caprices of taste and + to competition had brought about an arrangement by which the + ownership was vested in a representative committee. The + misfortunes had continued, and at the beginning of the century + a crisis was reached, and Pickering's tried hard to popularize + itself, thereby doing violence to its feelings. Rules were + abated, and the entrance-fee fell. It was in this period that + Everard Lucas, whose ears were always open for useful items, + heard of it and suggested it to George. George wanted to join + Lucas's club, which was in St. James's Street itself, but Lucas + wisely pointed out that if they belonged to different clubs + each would in practice have two clubs. Moreover, he said that + George might conceivably get a permanent bedroom there. The + first sight of the prim, picturesque square, the first hint of + scandal about the Duke of Wellington, de +<!-- Page 122 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page117" name="page117">[pg 117]</a> + </span> + + cided George. It was impossible for a man about town to refuse + the chance of belonging to a club in a Court where the Duke of + Wellington had committed follies.</p> + + <p>George was proposed, seconded, and duly elected, together + with other new blood. Some of the old blood naturally objected, + but the feud was never acute. Solely owing to the impression + which his young face made on the powerful and aged hall-porter, + George obtained a bedroom. It was small, and at the top of the + house; but it was cheap, it solved the even more tiresome and + uncomfortable problem of lodging; and further it was a bedroom + at Pickering's, and George could say that he lived at his + club—an imposing social advantage. He soon learnt how to + employ the resources of the club for his own utmost benefit. + Nobody could surpass him in choosing a meal inexpensively. He + could have his breakfast in his bedroom for tenpence, or even + sixpence when his appetite was poor. He was well served by a + valet who apparently passed his whole life on stairs and + landings. This valet, courteous rather in the style of old + Haim, had a brain just equal to the problems presented by his + vocation. Every morning George would say: "Now, Downs, how soon + can I have my bath?" or "Now, Downs, what can I have for + breakfast?" And Downs would conscientiously cerebrate, and come + forth after some seconds with sound solutions, such as: "I'll + see if I can put you in before Mr. de Gales if you're in a + hurry, sir," or "Scrambled eggs, sir—it'll make a bit of + a change." And when George agreed, Downs would exhibit a + restrained but real satisfaction. Yes, George had been very + lucky. The club too was lucky. The oldest member, who being + paralysed had not visited the club for eleven years, died and + bequeathed ten thousand pounds to the institution where he had + happily played cards for several decades. Pickering's was + refurnished, and the stringency of its rules re-established. + The right wing of the committee wished that the oldest member + could have managed to die a year or two earlier and so obviated + the crisis. It was recognized, however, by the more reasonable, + that you cannot have everything in this world.</p> + + <p>Pickering's was very dull; but it was still Pickering's. + George was often bored at Pickering's. He soon reached the + stage at which a club member asserts gloomily that the club + cookery is simply damnable. Nevertheless he would have been + desolated to leave Pickering's. The place was useful to him in + another respect than the purely material. +<!-- Page 123 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page118" name="page118">[pg 118]</a> + </span> + + He learnt there the code which governs the familiar relations + of men about town.</p> + + <p>On the night of the Café Royal dinner, George and Lucas + reclined in two easy chairs in the inner smoking-room of + Pickering's. They were alone. Through the wide archway that + marked the division between the inner and the outer + smoking-rooms they could see one solitary old gentleman dozing + in an attitude of abandonment, a magazine on his knees. + Ash-trays were full of ash and cigarette ends and matches. + Newspapers were scattered around, some folded inside out, some + not folded, some whose component sheets had been divided for + ever like the members of a ruined family. The windows were + open, and one gave a view of the Court's watchful lamp-post, + and the other of the house—now occupied by an art dealer + and a commission agent—where the Duke had known both + illusion and disillusion. The delicate sound of the collision + of billiard-balls came from somewhere, and the rat-tatting of a + tape-machine from somewhere else. The two friends had arrived + at the condition of absolute wisdom and sagacity and tolerance + which is apt to be achieved at a late hour in clubs by young + and old men who have discussed at length the phenomena of + society.</p> + + <p>"Well, I must be toddling," said Lucas, yawning as he looked + idly at the coloured horses on each wall who were for ever + passing winning-posts or soaring over bullfinches or throwing + riders into brooks.</p> + + <p>"Here! Hold on!" George protested. "It's early."</p> + + <p>"Is it?"</p> + + <p>They began again to smoke and talk.</p> + + <p>"Nice little thing, What's-her-name! What's her funny + name?"</p> + + <p>"Laurencine, do you mean? Yes." Lucas spoke coldly, with a + careful indifference. George, to whom insight had not been + denied, understood that Everard did not altogether care for + Laurencine to be referred to as a little thing, that he had + rendered Laurencine sacred by his secret approval.</p> + + <p>"I say," said George, sitting up slightly, and increasing + the intimacy of his tone, "devilish odd, wasn't it, that the + Wheeler woman didn't ask us up?"</p> + + <p>Hitherto they had avoided this question in their profound + gossip. It had lain between them untouched, like a substance + possibly dangerous and explosive. Yet they could not have + parted without touching it, and George, with char +<!-- Page 124 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page119" name="page119">[pg 119]</a> + </span> + + acteristic moral courage or rashness, had touched it first. + Lucas was of a mind to reply succinctly that the Wheeler + woman's conduct was not a bit devilish odd. But sincerity won. + The dismissal at the entrance to the Mansions had affected him + somewhat deeply. It had impaired the perfection of his most + notable triumph. The temptation to release his feelings was too + strong.</p> + + <p>"Well, if you ask me," he answered, it was. After a little + pause he went on:</p> + + <p>"Especially seeing that she practically asked me to ask them + to dinner." His nice features loosened to dissatisfaction. "The + deuce she did!"</p> + + <p>"Yes! Practically asked me! Anyhow, gave me the tip What can + you do?" He implied that, far from deriving unique and + unhoped-for glory from the condescension of Irene Wheeler in + consenting to dine with him, he had conferred a favour on her + by his invitation. He implied that brilliant women all over + London competed for his invitations. His manner was entirely + serious; it probably deceived even himself. George's manner + corresponded, instinctively, chivalrously; but George was not + deceived—at any rate in the subconscious depth of his + mind.</p> + + <p>"Exactly!" murmured George.</p> + + <p>"Yes" said Lucas. "She said: 'I could bring Laurencine with + me, if you can get another man. That would make a four.' She + said she wanted to wake Laurencine up."</p> + + <p>"Did you tell her you should ask me?" George questioned.</p> + + <p>"Oh! She seemed to know all about you, my boy."</p> + + <p>"Well, but she couldn't know all about me," said George + insincerely. "Well, if you want to know then, she suggested I + should ask you."</p> + + <p>"But she'd never seen me!"</p> + + <p>"She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect."</p> + + <p>"Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically + assessing an announcement that had no intrinsic interest for + him. In reality he was greatly excited.</p> + + <p>"Well you know what those sort of women are!" Lucas summed + up wisely, as if referring to truths of knowledge common among + men of their kidney.</p> + + <p>"Oh, of course!"</p> + + <p>The magazine slid from the knees of the sleeper. The sleeper + snorted and woke up. The spell was broken. Lucas rose suddenly. + " +<!-- Page 125 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page120" name="page120">[pg 120]</a> + </span> + + Bye-bye!" He was giving an ultimatum as to his departure.</p> + + <p>George rose also, but slowly.</p> + + <p>"All that doesn't explain why she didn't ask us up," said + he.</p> + + <p>But in his heart he thought he knew why Miss Wheeler hadn't + asked them up. The reason was that she maliciously wanted to + tantalize him, George. She had roused his curiosity about Lois, + and then she had said to herself: "You think you're going to + see her to-night, but you just aren't." Such, according to + George, was Irene Wheeler the illustrious. He reflected on the + exasperating affair until he had undressed and got into bed. + But as soon as he had put out the light Marguerite appeared + before him, and at the back of her were the examiners for the + Final. He slept ill.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_VII'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 126 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page121" name="page121">[pg 121]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + + <h3>THE RUPTURE</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>During the whole of the next day George waited for a letter + from Marguerite. There was nothing at the club by the first + post; he went to the office, hoping that as he had addressed + his telegram from Russell Square she might have written to + Russell Square; there was nothing at Russell Square. At + lunch-time no word had arrived at the club; when the office + closed no word had arrived at the office; the last post brought + nothing to the club. He might have sent another telegram to + Alexandra Grove, but he was too proud to do so. He dined alone + and most miserably at the club. Inspired by unhappiness and + resentment, he resolved to go to bed; in bed he might read + himself to sleep. But in the hall of the club his feet + faltered. Perhaps it was the sight of hats and sticks that made + him vacillate, or a glimpse of reluctantly dying silver in the + firmament over Candle Court. He wavered; he stood still at the + foot of the stairs. The next moment he was in the street. He + had decided to call on Agg at the studio. Agg might have the + clue to Marguerite's astounding conduct, though he had it not. + He took a hansom, after saying he would walk; he was too + impatient for walking. Possibly Marguerite would be at the + studio; possibly a letter of hers had miscarried; letters did + miscarry. He was in a state of peculiar excitement as he paid + the cabman—an enigma to himself.</p> + + <p>The studio was quite dark. Other studios showed lights, but + not Agg's. From one studio came the sound of a + mandolin—he thought it was a mandolin—and the sound + seemed pathetic, tragic, to his ears. Agg was perhaps in bed; + he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But no! He + would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for + him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know + anything about Marguerite?" The +<!-- Page 127 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page122" name="page122">[pg 122]</a> + </span> + + affianced ought to be the leading authority as to the doings of + Marguerite. He turned away, walked a little, and perceived the + cabman swinging himself cautiously down from his perch in order + to enter a public-house. He turned back. Marguerite too might + be in bed at the studio. Or the girls might be sitting in the + dark, talking—a habit of theirs.... Fanciful + suppositions! At any rate he would not knock at the door of the + studio, would not even enter the alley again. What carried him + into the Fulham Road and westwards as far as the Workhouse + tower and the corner of Alexandra Grove? Feet! But surely the + feet of another person, over which he had no control! He went + in the lamplit dimness of Alexandra Grove like a thief; he + crept into it. The silver had not yet died out of the sky; he + could see it across the spaces between the dark houses; it was + sad in exactly the same way as the sound of the mandolin had + been sad.</p> + + <p>What did he mean to do in the Grove? Nothing! He was just + walking in it by chance. He could indeed do nothing. For if he + rang at No. 8 old Haim would again confront him in the portico. + He passed by No. 8 on the opposite side of the road. No light + showed, except a very dim glow through the blind of the + basement window to the left of the front door. Those feet + beneath him strolled across the road. The basement window was + wide open. The blind being narrower than the window-frame, he + could see, through the railings, into the room within. He saw + Marguerite. She was sitting, in an uncomfortable posture, in + the rather high-seated arm-chair in which formerly, when the + room was her studio, she used to sit at her work. Her head had + dropped, on one shoulder. She was asleep. On the table a candle + burned. His heart behaved strangely. He flushed. All his flesh + tingled. The gate creaked horribly as he tiptoed into the patch + of garden. He leaned over the little chasm between the level of + the garden and the window, and supported himself with a hand on + the lower sash. He pushed the blind sideways with the other + hand.</p> + + <p>"Marguerite!" in a whisper. Then louder: "Marguerite!"</p> + + <p>She did not stir. She was in a deep sleep. Her hands hung + limp. Her face was very pale and very fatigued. She liberated + the same sadness as the sound of the mandolin and the gleam of + silver in the June sky, but it was far more poignant. At the + spectacle of those weary and unconscious +<!-- Page 128 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page123" name="page123">[pg 123]</a> + </span> + + features and of the soft, bodily form, George's resentment was + annihilated. He wondered at his resentment. He was aware of + nothing in himself but warm, protective love. Tenderness surged + out from the impenetrable secrecy of his heart, filled him, + overflowed, and floated in waves towards the sleeper. In the + intense sadness, and in the uncertainty of events, he was + happy.</p> + + <p>An older man might have paused, but without hesitancy George + put his foot on the window-sill, pushed down the window + farther, and clambered into the room in which he had first seen + Marguerite. His hat, pressing backward the blind, fell off and + bounced its hard felt on the floor, which at the edges was + uncarpeted. The noise of the hat and the general stir of + George's infraction disturbed Marguerite, who awoke and looked + up. The melancholy which she was exhaling suddenly vanished. + Her steady composure in the alarm delighted George.</p> + + <p>"Couldn't wake you," he murmured lightly. It was part of his + Five Towns upbringing to conceal excitement. "Saw you through + the window."</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! Was I asleep?"</p> + + <p>Pleasure shone on her face. He deposited his stick and + sprang to her. He sat on the arm of the chair. He bent her head + back and examined her face. He sat on her knee and held her. + She did not kiss; she was kissed; he liked that. Her fatigue + was adorable.</p> + + <p>"I came here for something, and I just sat down for a second + because I was so tired, and I must have gone right off.... No! + No!"</p> + + <p>The admonishing negative was to stop him from getting up off + her knee. She was exhausted, yet she had vast resources of + strength to bear him on her knee. She was wearing her oldest + frock. It was shabby. But it exquisitely suited her then. It + was the frock of her capability, of her great labours, of her + vigil, of her fatigue. It covered, but did not hide, her + beautiful contours. He thought she was marvellously + beautiful—and very young, far younger than himself. As + for him, he was the dandy, in striking contrast to her. His + dandyism as he sat on her knee pleased both of them. He looked + older than his years, his shoulders had broadened, his dark + moustache thickened. In his own view he was utterly adult, as + she was in hers. But their young faces so close together, so + confident, were touchingly immature. As he observed her grave + satisfaction at his presence, +<!-- Page 129 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page124" name="page124">[pg 124]</a> + </span> + + the comfort which he gave her, he felt sure of her, and the + memory of his just resentment came to him, and he was tenderly + reproachful.</p> + + <p>"I expected to hear from you," he said. The male in him + relished the delicate accusation of his tone.</p> + + <p>Marguerite answered with a little startled intake of + breath:</p> + + <p>"She's dead!"</p> + + <p>"Dead?"</p> + + <p>"She died this afternoon. The layer-out left about half an + hour ago."</p> + + <p>Death parted them. He rose from her knee, and Marguerite did + not try to prevent him. He was profoundly shocked. With + desolating vividness he recalled the Sunday afternoon when he + had carried upstairs the plump, living woman now dead. He had + always liked Mrs. Lob—it was as Mrs. Lob that he thought + of her. He had seen not much of her. Only on that Sunday + afternoon had he and she reached a sort of + intimacy—unspoken but real. He had liked her. He had even + admired her. She was no ordinary being. And he had sympathized + with her for Marguerite's quite explicable defection. He had + often wished that those two, the charwoman and his beloved, + could somehow have been brought together. The menaces of death + had brought them together. Mrs. Lob was laid out in the bedroom + which he had once entered. Mrs. Lob had been dying while he + dined richly with Miss Wheeler and Laurencine, and while he + talked cynically with Everard Lucas. And while he had been + resenting Marguerite's neglect Marguerite was watching by the + dying bed. Oh! The despicable superficialities of restaurants + and clubs! He was ashamed. The mere receding shadow of death + shamed him.</p> + + <p>"The baby's dead too, of course," Marguerite added. "She + ought never to have had a baby. It seems she had had two + miscarriages."</p> + + <p>There were tears in Marguerite's eyes and in her voice. + Nevertheless her tone was rather matter-of-fact as she related + these recondite and sinister things. George thought that women + were very strange. Imagine Marguerite quietly talking to him in + this strain! Then the sense of the formidable secrets that lie + hidden in the history of families, and the sense of the + continuity of individual destinies, overwhelmed him. There was + silence.</p> + + <p>"And your exam. begins to-morrow," whispered the astonishing + Marguerite.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 130 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page125" name="page125">[pg 125]</a> + </span> + + Where's the old gentleman?"</p> + + <p>"He's sitting in the parlour in the dark."</p> + + <p>It was a terrible house: they two intimidated and mournful + in the basement; the widower solitary on the ground floor; the + dead bodies, the wastage and futility of conception and long + bearing, up in the bedroom. And in all the house the light of + one candle! George suddenly noticed, then, that Marguerite was + not wearing the thin, delicate ring which he had long ago given + her. Had she removed it because of her manual duties? He wanted + to ask the question, but, even unspoken, it seemed too trivial + for the hour....</p> + + <p>There was a shuffling sound beyond the door, and a groping + on the outer face of the door. Marguerite jumped up. Mr. Haim + stumbled into the room. He had incredibly aged; he looked + incredibly feeble. But as he pointed a finger at George he was + in a fury of anger, and his anger was senile, ridiculous, + awful.</p> + + <p>"I thought I heard voices," he said, half squeaking. "How + did you get in? You didn't come in by the door. Out of my + house! My wife lying dead upstairs, and you choose this night + to break in!" He was implacable against George, absolutely; and + George recoiled.</p> + + <p>The opening of the door had created a draught in which the + candle-flame trembled, and the shadow of the old man trembled + on the door.</p> + + <p>"You'd better go. I'll write. I'll write," Marguerite + murmured to George very calmly, very gently, very persuasively. + She stood between the two men. Her manner was perfect. It + eternally impressed itself on George. "Father, come and sit + down."</p> + + <p>The old man obeyed her. So did George. He snatched his hat + and stick. By the familiar stone steps of the basement, and + along the familiar hall, he felt his way to the door, turned + the familiar knob, and departed.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <p>The examination began the next day. Despite his + preoccupation about Marguerite, George's performances during + the first days were quite satisfactory to himself. Indeed, + after a few minutes in the examination-room, after the + preliminary critical assessing of the difficulty of the + problems in design, and the questions, and of his ability to + deal with +<!-- Page 131 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page126" name="page126">[pg 126]</a> + </span> + + them, George successfully forgot everything except the great + seven-day duel between the self-constituted autocratic + authorities backed by prestige and force, and the aspirants who + had naught but their wits to help them. He was neither a son, + nor a friend, nor a lover; he ceased to have human ties; he had + become an examinee. Marguerite wrote him two short letters + which were perfect, save that he always regarded her + handwriting as a little too clerical, too like her father's. + She made no reference whatever to the scene in the basement + room. She said that she could not easily arrange to see him + immediately, and that for the sake of his exam. he ought not to + be distracted. She would have seen him on the Saturday, but on + Saturday George learnt that her father was a little unwell and + required, even if he did not need, constant attention. The + funeral, unduly late, occurred by Mr. Haim's special desire on + the Sunday, most of which day George spent with Everard Lucas. + On the Monday he had a rendezvous at eight o'clock with + Marguerite at the studio.</p> + + <p>She opened the door herself; and her welcome was divine. Her + gestures spoke, delicate, and yet robust in their candour. But + she was in deep mourning.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" he said, holding her. "You're wearing black, + then."</p> + + <p>"Of course!" she answered sweetly. "You see, I had to be + there all through the funeral. And father would have been + frightfully shocked if I hadn't been in + black—naturally."</p> + + <p>"Of course!" he agreed. It was ridiculous that he should be + surprised and somewhat aggrieved to find her in mourning; + still, he was surprised and somewhat aggrieved.</p> + + <p>"Besides——" she added vaguely.</p> + + <p>And that 'besides' disquieted him, and confirmed his + grievance. Why should she wear mourning for a woman to whom she + was not related, whom she had known simply as a charwoman, and + who had forced her to leave her father's house? There was no + tie between Marguerite and her stepmother. George, for his + part, had liked the dead woman, but Marguerite had not even + liked her. No, she was not wearing black in honour of the dead, + but to humour the living. And why should her father be + humoured? George privately admitted the unreasonableness, the + unsoundness, of these considerations—obviously mourning + wear was imperative for Marguerite—nevertheless they were + present in his mind.</p> + + <p>"That frock's a bit tight, but it suits you," he said, + advancing with her into the studio.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 132 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page127" name="page127">[pg 127]</a> + </span> + + It's an old one," she smiled.</p> + + <p>"An old one?"</p> + + <p>"It's one I had for mother."</p> + + <p>He had forgotten that she had had a mother, that she had + known what grief was, only a very few years earlier. He + resented these bereavements and the atmosphere which they + disengaged. He wanted a different atmosphere.</p> + + <p>"Is the exam. really all right?" she appealed to him, taking + both his hands and leaning against him and looking up into his + face.</p> + + <p>"What did I tell you in my letter?"</p> + + <p>"Yes, I know."</p> + + <p>"The exam. is as right as rain."</p> + + <p>"I knew it would be."</p> + + <p>"You didn't," he laughed. He imitated her: "'Is the exam. + really all right?'" She just smiled. He went on confidently: + "Of course you never know your luck, you know. There's the viva + to-morrow.... Where's old Agg?"</p> + + <p>"She's gone home."</p> + + <p>"Thoughtful child! How soon will she be back?"</p> + + <p>"About nine," said Marguerite, apparently unaware that + George was being funny.</p> + + <p>"Nine!"</p> + + <p>"Oh, George!" Marguerite exclaimed, breaking away from him. + "I'm awfully sorry, but I must get on with my packing."</p> + + <p>"What packing?"</p> + + <p>"I have to take my things home."</p> + + <p>"What home?"</p> + + <p>"Father's, I mean."</p> + + <p>She was going to live with her father, who would not + willingly allow him, George, to enter the house! How astounding + girls were! She had written to him twice without giving the + least hint of her resolve. He had to learn it as it were + incidentally, through the urgency of packing. She did not tell + him she was going—she said she must get on with her + packing! And there, lying on the floor, was an open trunk; and + two of her drawing-boards already had string round them.</p> + + <p>George inquired:</p> + + <p>"How is the old man—to-day?"</p> + + <p>"He's very nervy," said Marguerite briefly and + significantly. "I'd better light the lamp; I shall see better." + She seemed to be speaking to herself. She stood on a chair and + lifted +<!-- Page 133 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page128" name="page128">[pg 128]</a> + </span> + + the chimney off the central lamp. George absently passed her + his box of matches.</p> + + <p>As she, was replacing the chimney, he said suddenly in a + very resolute tone:</p> + + <p>"This is all very well, Marguerite. But it's going to be + jolly awkward for me."</p> + + <p>She jumped lightly down from the chair, like a little + girl.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! I know!" she cried. "It will be awkward for + both of us. But we shall arrange something." She might have + resented his tone. She might have impulsively defended herself. + But she did not. She accepted his attitude with unreserved + benevolence. Her gaze was marvellously sympathetic.</p> + + <p>"I can't make out what your father's got against me," said + George angrily, building his vexation on her benevolence. "What + have I done, I should like to know."</p> + + <p>"It's simply because you lived there all that time without + him knowing we were engaged. He says if he'd known he would + never have let you stay there a day." She smiled, mournfully, + forgivingly, excusingly.</p> + + <p>"But it's preposterous!"</p> + + <p>"Oh! It is."</p> + + <p>"And how does he behave to + <i>you</i> + + ? Is he treating you decently?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Fairly. You see, he's got a lot to get over. And he's + most frightfully upset about—his wife. Well, you saw him + yourself, didn't you?"</p> + + <p>"That's no reason why he should treat you badly."</p> + + <p>"But he doesn't, George!"</p> + + <p>"Oh! I know! I know! Do you think I don't know? He's not + even decent to you. I can hear it in your voice. Why should you + go back and live with him if he isn't prepared to appreciate + it?"</p> + + <p>"But he expects it, George. And what am I to do? He's all + alone. I can't leave him all alone, can I?"</p> + + <p>George burst out:</p> + + <p>"I tell you what it is. Marguerite. You're too good-natured. + That's what it is. You're too good-natured. And it's a very bad + thing."</p> + + <p>Tears came into her eyes; she could not control them. She + was grieved by his remark.</p> + + <p>"I'm not, George, truly. You must remember father's been + through a lot this last week. So have I."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 134 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page129" name="page129">[pg 129]</a> + </span> + + "I know! I know! I admit all that. But you're too good-natured, + and I'll stick to it."</p> + + <p>She was smiling again.</p> + + <p>"You only think that because you're fond of me. Nobody else + would say it, and I'm not. Help me to lift this trunk on to the + chest."</p> + + <p>While the daylight withdrew, and the smell of the lamp + strengthened and then faded, and the shadows cast by the + lamp-rays grew blacker, she went on rapidly with her packing, + he serving her at intervals. They said little. His lower lip + fell lower and lower. The evening was immensely, horribly + different from what he had expected and hoped for. He felt once + more the inescapable grip of destiny fastening upon him.</p> + + <p>"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, after a long + time.</p> + + <p>"I told father I should be back at a quarter-past nine."</p> + + <p>This statement threw George into a condition of total dark + disgust. He made no remark. But what remarks he could have + made—sarcastic, bitter, unanswerable! Why indeed in the + name of heaven should she promise her father to be back at a + quarter-past nine, or at a quarter-past anything? Was she a + servant? Had she no rights? Had he himself, George, no + rights?</p> + + <p>A little before nine Agg arrived. Marguerite was fastening + the trunk.</p> + + <p>"Now be sure, Agg," said Marguerite. "Don't forget to hang + out the Carter Paterson card at the end of the alley to-morrow + morning. I must have these things at home to-morrow night for + certain. The labels are on. And here's twopence for the + man."</p> + + <p>"Do I forget?" retorted Agg cheerfully. "By the way, George, + I want to talk to you." She turned to Marguerite and repeated + in quite a different voice: "I want to talk to him, dear, + to-night. Do, let him stay. Will you?"</p> + + <p>Marguerite gave a puzzled assent.</p> + + <p>"I'll call after I've taken Marguerite to Alexandra Grove, + Agg—on my way back to the club."</p> + + <p>"Oh no, you won't!" said Agg. "I shall be gone to bed then. + Look at that portrait and see how I've worked. My family's + concerned about me. It wants me to go away for a holiday."</p> + + <p>George had not till then noticed the portrait at all.</p> + + <p>"But I must take Marguerite along to the Grove," he + insisted. "She can't go alone."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 135 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page130" name="page130">[pg 130]</a> + </span> + + And why can't she go alone? What sort of a conventional world + do you think you live in? Don't girls go home alone? Don't they + come in alone? Don't I? Anybody would think, to listen to some + people, that the purdah flourished in Chelsea. But it's all + pretence. I don't ask for the honour of a private interview + with you every night. You've both of you got all your lives + before you. And for once in a way Marguerite's going out alone. + At least, you can take her to the street, I don't mind that. + But don't be outside more than a minute."</p> + + <p>Agg, who had sat down, rose and slowly removed her small + hat. With pins in her mouth she said something about the + luggage to Marguerite.</p> + + <p>"All right! All right!" George surrendered gloomily. In + truth he was not sorry to let Marguerite depart solitary. And + Agg's demeanour was very peculiar; he would have been almost + afraid to be too obstinate in denying her request. He had never + seen her hysterical, but a suspicion took him that she might be + capable of hysteria.... You never knew, with that kind of girl, + he thought sagaciously.</p> + + <p>In the darkness of the alley George said to Marguerite, + feigning irritation:</p> + + <p>"What on earth does she want?"</p> + + <p>"Agg? Oh! It's probably nothing. She does get excited + sometimes, you know."</p> + + <p>The two girls had parted with strange, hard demonstrations + of affection from Agg.</p> + + <p>"I suppose you'll write," said George coldly.</p> + + <p>"To-morrow, darling," she replied quite simply and + gravely.</p> + + <p>Her kiss was warm, complete, faithful, very loving, very + sympathetic. Nothing in her demeanour as she left him showed + that George had received it in a non-committal manner. Yet she + must have noticed his wounded reserve. He did not like such + duplicity. He would have preferred her to be less miraculously + angelic.</p> + + <p>When he re-entered the studio, Agg, who very seldom smoked, + was puffing violently at a cigarette. She reclined on one elbow + on the settee, her eyes fixed on the portrait of herself. + George was really perturbed by the baffling queerness of the + scenes through which he was passing.</p> + + <p>"Look here, infant-in-arms," she began immediately. "I only + wanted to say two words to you about Marguerite. Can you stand + it?"</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 136 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page131" name="page131">[pg 131]</a> + </span> + + There was a pause. George walked in front of her, hiding the + easel.</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said gruffly.</p> + + <p>"Well, Marguerite's a magnificent girl. She's + extraordinarily capable. You'd think she could look after + herself as well as anyone. But she can't. I know her far better + than you do. She needs looking after. She'll make a fool of + herself if she isn't handled."</p> + + <p>"How do you mean?"</p> + + <p>"You know how I mean."</p> + + <p>"D'you mean about the old man?"</p> + + <p>"I mean about the perfectly horrid old man.... Ah! If I was + in your place, if I was a man," she said passionately, "do you + know what I should do with Marguerite? I should carry her off. + I should run away with her. I should drag her out of the house, + and she should know what a real man was. I'm not going to + discuss her with you. I'm not going to say any more at all. I'm + off to bed. But before you go, I do think you might tell me my + portrait's a pretty good thing."</p> + + <p>And she did not say any more.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The written part of the examination lasted four days; and + then there was an interval of one day in which the harassed and + harried aspirants might restore themselves for the two days' + ordeal of the viva voce. George had continued to be well + satisfied with his work up to the interval. He considered that + he had perfectly succeeded in separating the lover and the + examinee, and that nothing foreign to the examination could + vitiate his activity therein. It was on the day of repose, a + Wednesday, that a doubt suddenly occurred to him as to the + correctness of his answer, in the "Construction" paper, to a + question which began with the following formidable words: "A + girder, freely supported at each end and forty feet long, + carries a load of six tons at a distance of six feet from one + end and another load of ten tons——" Thus it went on + for ten lines. He had always been impatient of detail, and he + hated every kind of calculation. Nevertheless he held that + calculations were relatively easy, and that he could do them as + well as the driest duffer in the profession when he set his + mind to them. But the doubt as to the +<!-- Page 137 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page132" name="page132">[pg 132]</a> + </span> + + correctness of his answer developed into a certainty. Facing + the question in private again, he obtained four different + solutions in an hour; it was John Orgreave who ultimately set + him right, convicting him of a most elementary misconception. + Forthwith his faith in his whole "Construction" paper vanished. + He grumbled that it was monstrous to give candidates an + unbroken stretch of four hours' work at the end of a four-day + effort. Yet earlier he had been boasting that he had not felt + the slightest fatigue. He had expected to see Marguerite on the + day of repose. He did not see her. She had offered no + appointment, and he said to himself that he had not the + slightest intention of running after her. Such had become the + attitude of the lover to the beloved.</p> + + <p>On the Thursday morning, however, he felt fit enough to face + a dozen oral examiners, and he performed his morning exercises + in the club bedroom with a positive ferocity of vigour. And + then he was gradually overtaken by a black moodiness which he + could not explain. He had passed through similar though less + acute moods as a boy; but this was the first of the + inexplicable sombre humours which at moments darkened his + manhood. He had not the least suspicion that prolonged nervous + tension due to two distinct causes had nearly worn him out. He + was melancholy, and his melancholy increased. But he was proud; + he was defiant. His self-confidence, as he looked back at the + years of genuine hard study behind him, was complete. He + disdained examiners. He knew that with all their damnable + ingenuity they could not floor him.</p> + + <p>The crisis arrived in the afternoon of the first of the two + days. His brain was quite clear. Thousands of details about + drainage, ventilation, shoring, architectural practice, + lighting, subsoils, specifications, iron and steel + construction, under-pinning, the properties of building + materials, strains, thrusts, water-supply; thousands of details + about his designs—the designs in his 'testimonies of + study,' the design for his Thesis, and the designs produced + during the examination itself—all these peopled his + brain; but they were in order; they were under control; they + were his slaves. For four and a half hours, off and on, he had + admirably displayed the reality of his knowledge, and then he + was sent into a fresh room to meet a fresh examiner. There he + stood in the room alone with his designs for a small provincial + town hall—a key-plan, several one-eighth scale-plans, a + piece of half-inch detail, and two rough perspective sketches + which he knew were brilliant. The room was hot; through the + open window came the +<!-- Page 138 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page133" name="page133">[pg 133]</a> + </span> + + distant sound of the traffic of Regent Street. The strange + melancholy of a city in summer floated towards him from the + outside and reinforced his own.</p> + + <p>The examiner, who had been snatching tea, entered briskly + and sternly. He was a small, dapper, fair man of about fifty, + with wonderfully tended finger-nails. George despised him + because Mr. Enwright despised him, but he had met him once in + the way of the firm's business and found him urbane.</p> + + <p>"Good afternoon," said George politely.</p> + + <p>The examiner replied, trotting along the length of the desk + with quick, short steps:</p> + + <p>"Now about this work of yours. I've looked at it with some + care——" His speech was like his demeanour and his + finger-nails.</p> + + <p>"Boor!" thought George. But he could not actively resent the + slight. He glanced round at the walls; he was in a prison. He + was at the mercy of a tyrant invested with omnipotence.</p> + + <p>The little tyrant, however, was superficially affable. Only + now and then in his prim, courteous voice was there a hint of + hostility and cruelty. He put a number of questions, the + answers to which had to be George's justification. He said + "H'm!" and "Ah!" and "Really?" He came to the matter of + spouting.</p> + + <p>"Now, I object to hopper-heads," he said. "I regard them as + unhygienic."</p> + + <p>And he looked coldly at George with eyebrows lifted. George + returned the gaze.</p> + + <p>"I know you do, sir," George replied.</p> + + <p>Indeed it was notorious that hopper-heads to vertical + spouting were a special antipathy of the examiner's; he was a + famous faddist. But the reply was a mistake. The examiner, + secure in his attributes, ignored the sally. A little later, + taking up the general plan of the town hall, he said:</p> + + <p>"The fact is, I do—not—care for this kind of + thing. The whole tendency——-"</p> + + <p>"Excuse me, sir," George interrupted, with conscious and + elaborate respectfulness. "But surely the question isn't one of + personal preferences. Is the design good or is it bad?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I call it bad," said the examiner, showing testiness. + The examiner too could be impulsive, was indeed apt to be + short-tempered. The next instant he seized one of the brilliant + perspective sketches, and by his mere manner of +<!-- Page 139 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page134" name="page134">[pg 134]</a> + </span> + + holding it between his thumb and finger he sneered at it and + condemned it.</p> + + <p>He snapped out, not angrily—rather pityingly:</p> + + <p>"And what the devil's this?"</p> + + <p>George, furious, retorted:</p> + + <p>"What the hell do you think it is?"</p> + + <p>He had not foreseen that he was going to say such a thing. + The traffic in Regent Street, which had been inaudible to both + of them, was loud in their ears.</p> + + <p>The examiner had committed a peccadillo, George a terrible + crime. The next morning the episode, in various forms, was + somehow common knowledge and a source of immense diversion. + George went through the second day, but lifelessly. He was sure + he had failed. Apart from the significance of the fact that the + viva voce counted for 550 marks out of a total of 1200, he felt + that the Royal Institute of British Architects would know how + to defend its dignity. On the Saturday morning John Orgreave + had positive secret information that George would be + plucked.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>On that same Saturday afternoon George and Marguerite went + out together. She had given him a rendezvous in Brompton + Cemetery, choosing this spot partly because it was conveniently + near and partly in unconscious obedience to the traditional + instinct of lovers for the society of the undisturbing dead. + Each of them had a roofed habitation, but neither could employ + it for the ends of love. No. 8 was barred to George as much by + his own dignity as by the invisible sword of the old man; and + of course he could not break the immemorial savage taboo of a + club by introducing a girl into it. The Duke of Wellington + himself, though Candle Court was his purdah, could never have + broken the taboo of even so modest a club as Pickering's. Owing + to the absence of Agg, who had gone to Wales with part of her + family, the studio in Manresa Road was equally closed to the + pair.</p> + + <p>Marguerite was first at the rendezvous. George saw her + walking sedately near the entrance. Despite her sedateness she + had unmistakably the air of waiting at a tryst. Anybody at a + glance would have said that she was expecting a man. She had + the classical demure innocency of her situation. George did not + care for that. Why? She in fact was ex +<!-- Page 140 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page135" name="page135">[pg 135]</a> + </span> + + pecting a man, and in expecting him she had nothing to be + ashamed of. Well, he did not care for it. He did not care for + her being like other girls of her class. In his pocket he had + an invitation from Miss Wheeler for the next evening. Would + Miss Wheeler wait for a man in a public place, especially a + cemetery? Would Lois Ingram? Would Laurencine? He could not + picture them so waiting. Oh, simpleton, unlearned in the world! + A snob too, no doubt! (He actually thought that Hyde Park would + have been 'better' than the cemetery for their rendezvous.) And + illogical! If No. 8 had been open to them, and the studio, and + the club, he would have accepted with gusto the idea of an + open-air rendezvous. But since there was no alternative to an + open-air rendezvous the idea of it humiliated and repelled + him.</p> + + <p>Further, in addition to her culpable demure innocency, + Marguerite was wearing black. Of course she was. She had no + choice. Still, he hated her mourning. Moreover, she was too + modest; she did not impose herself. Some girls wore mourning + with splendid defiance. Marguerite seemed to apologize; seemed + to turn the other cheek to death.... He arrived critical, and + naturally he found matter to criticize.</p> + + <p>Her greeting showed quite candidly the pleasure she had in + the sight of him. Her heart was in the hand she gave him; he + felt its mystic throbbings there.</p> + + <p>"How are things?" he began. "I rather thought I should have + been hearing from you." He softened his voice to match the + tenderness of her smile, but he did it consciously.</p> + + <p>She replied:</p> + + <p>"I thought you'd have enough to worry about with the exam. + without me."</p> + + <p>It was not a wise speech, because it implied that he was + capable of being worried, of being disturbed in the effort of + absorption necessary for the examination. He laughed a little + harshly.</p> + + <p>"Well, you see the result!"</p> + + <p>He had written to tell her of the disastrous incident and + that failure was a certainty; a sort of shame had made him + recoil from telling her to her face; it was easier to be casual + in writing than in talking; the letter had at any rate tempered + for both of them the shock of communication. Now, he was out of + humour with her because he had played the ass with an ass of an + examiner—not because she was directly or indirectly + responsible for his doing so; simply because he had done so. + She was the woman. It was true that she in part +<!-- Page 141 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page136" name="page136">[pg 136]</a> + </span> + + was indirectly responsible for the calamity, but he did not + believe it, and anyhow would never have admitted it.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! What a shame it was!" As usual, not a trace of + reproach from her: an absolute conviction that he was entirely + blameless. "What shall you do? You'll have to sit again."</p> + + <p>"Sit again? Me?" he exclaimed haughtily. "I never shall! + I've done with exams." He meant it.</p> + + <p>"But—shall you give up architecture, then?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly not! My dear girl, what are you thinking of? Of + course I shan't give up architecture. But you needn't pass any + exams, to be an architect. Anybody can call himself an + architect, and be an architect, without passing exams. Exams. + are optional. That's what makes old Enwright so cross with our + beautiful profession."</p> + + <p>He laughed again harshly. All the time, beneath his quite + genuine defiance, he was thinking what an idiot he had been to + cheek the examiner, and how staggeringly simple it was to ruin + years of industry by one impulsive moment's folly, and how + iniquitous was a world in which such injustice could be.</p> + + <p>Marguerite was puzzled. In her ignorance she had imagined + that professions were inseparably connected with examinations. + However, she had to find faith to accept his dictum, and she + found it.</p> + + <p>"Now about this afternoon," he said. "I vote we take a + steamboat down the river. I've made up my mind I must have a + look at Greenwich again from the water. And we both need a + blow."</p> + + <p>"But won't it take a long time?" she mildly objected.</p> + + <p>He turned on her violently, and spoke as he had never + spoken:</p> + + <p>"What if it does?"</p> + + <p>He knew that she was thinking of her infernal father, and he + would not have it. He remembered all that Agg had said. + Assuredly Agg had shown nerve, too much nerve, to tackle him in + the way she did, and the more he reflected upon Agg's + interference the more he resented it as impertinent. Still, Agg + had happened to talk sense.</p> + + <p>"Oh, nothing!" Marguerite agreed quickly, fearfully. "I + should like to go. I've never been. Do we go to Chelsea Pier? + Down Fernshaw Road will be the nearest."</p> + + <p>"We'll go down Beaufort Street," he decided. He divined that + she had suggested Fernshaw Road in order to avoid passing the + end of the Grove, where her father might con +<!-- Page 142 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page137" name="page137">[pg 137]</a> + </span> + + ceivably see them. Well, he was not going out of his way to + avoid her father. Nay, he was going slightly out of his way in + order to give her father every chance of beholding them + together.</p> + + <p>Although the day was Saturday there was no stir on Chelsea + Pier. The pier-keeper, indeed, was alone on the pier, which + rose high on the urgent flood-tide, so that the gangway to it + sloped unusually upwards. No steamer was in sight, and it + seemed impossible that any steamer should ever call at that + forlorn and decrepit platform that trembled under the straining + of the water. Nevertheless, a steamer did after a little while + appear round the bend, in Battersea Reach; she dropped her + funnel, aimed her sharp nose at an arch of Battersea Bridge, + and finally, poising herself against the strong stream, bumped + very gently and neatly into contact with the pier. The + pier-keeper went through all the classic motions of mooring, + unbarring, barring, and casting off, and in a few seconds the + throbbing steamer, which was named with the name of a great + Londoner, left the pier again with George and Marguerite on + board. Nobody had disembarked. The shallow and handsome craft, + flying its gay flags, crossed and recrossed the river, calling + at three piers in the space of a few minutes; but all the piers + were like Chelsea Pier; all the pier-keepers had the air of + castaways upon shaking islets. The passengers on the steamer + would not have filled a motor-bus, and they carried themselves + like melancholy adventurers who have begun to doubt the + authenticity of the inspiration which sent them on a mysterious + quest. Such was travel on the Thames in the years immediately + before Londoners came to a final decision that the Thames was + meet to be ignored by the genteel town which it had + begotten.</p> + + <p>George and Marguerite sat close together near the prow, + saying little, the one waiting to spring, the other to suffer + onslaught. It was in Lambeth Reach that the broad, brimming + river challenged and seized George's imagination. A gusty, + warm, south-west wind met the rushing tide and blew it up into + foamy waves. The wind was powerful, but the tide was + irresistible. Far away, Land's End having divided the Atlantic + surge, that same wind was furiously driving vast waters up the + English Channel and round the Forelands, and also vast waters + up the west coast of Britain. The twin surges had met again in + the outer estuary of the Thames and joined their terrific + impulses to defy the very wind which had given them strength, + and the mighty flux swept with +<!-- Page 143 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page138" name="page138">[pg 138]</a> + </span> + + unregarding power through the mushroom city whose existence on + its banks was a transient episode in the everlasting life of + the river.</p> + + <p>The river seemed to threaten the city that had confined it + in stone. And George, in the background of his mind, which was + obsessed by the tormenting enigma of the girl by his side, also + threatened the city. With the uncompromising arrogance of the + student who has newly acquired critical ideas, he estimated and + judged it. He cursed the Tate Gallery and utterly damned + Doulton's works. He sternly approved Lambeth Palace, the Houses + of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Somerset House, Waterloo + Bridge, and St. Paul's. He cursed St. Thomas's Hospital and the + hotels. He patronized New Scotland Yard. The "Isambard Brunel" + penetrated more and more into the heart of the city, fighting + for every yard of her progress. Flags stood out straight in the + blue sky traversed by swift white clouds. Huge rudder-less + barges, each with a dwarf in the stern struggling at a giant's + oar, were borne westwards broadside on like straws upon the + surface of a hurrying brook. A launch with an orchestra on + board flew gaily past. Tugs with a serpentine tail of craft + threaded perilously through the increasing traffic. Railway + trains, cabs, coloured omnibuses, cyclists, and footfarers + mingled in and complicated the scene. Then the first + ocean-going steamer appeared, belittling all else. And then the + calm, pale beauty of the custom-house at last humbled George, + and for an instant made him think that he could never do + anything worth doing. His pride leapt up, unconquerable. The + ocean-going steamers, as they multiplied on the river, roused + in him wild and painful longings to rush to the ends of the + earth and gorge himself on the immense feast which the great + romantic earth had to offer.</p> + + <p>"By Jove!" he exclaimed passionately. "I'd give something to + go to Japan."</p> + + <p>"Would you?" Marguerite answered with mildness. She had not + the least notion of what he was feeling. Her voice responded to + him, but her imagination did not respond. True, as he had + always known, she had no ambition! The critical quality of his + mood developed. The imperious impulse came to take her to + task.</p> + + <p>"What's the latest about your father?" he asked, with a + touch of impatient, aggrieved disdain. Both were aware that the + words had opened a crucial interview between them. She moved + nervously on the seat. The benches +<!-- Page 144 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page139" name="page139">[pg 139]</a> + </span> + + that ran along the deck-rails met in an acute angle at the stem + of the steamer, so that the pair sat opposite each other with + their knees almost touching. He went on: "I hear he hasn't gone + back to the office yet."</p> + + <p>"No," said Marguerite. "But he'll start again on Monday, I + think."</p> + + <p>"But is he fit to go back? I thought he looked awful."</p> + + <p>She flushed slightly—at the indirect reference to the + episode in the basement on the night of the death.</p> + + <p>"It will do him good to go back," said Marguerite. "I'm sure + he misses the office dreadfully."</p> + + <p>George gazed at her person. Under the thin glove he suddenly + detected the form of her ring. She was wearing it again, then. + (He could not remember whether she had worn it at their last + meeting, in Agg's studio. The very curious fact was that at + their last meeting he had forgotten to look for the ring.) Not + only was she wearing the ring, but she carried a stylish little + handbag which he had given her. When he bought that bag, in the + Burlington Arcade, it had been a bag like any other bag. But + now it had become part of her, individualized by her + personality, a mysterious and provocative bag. Everything she + wore, down to her boots and even her bootlaces so neatly + threaded and knotted, was mysterious and provocative. He + examined her face. It was marvellously beautiful; it was + ordinary; it was marvellously beautiful. He knew her to the + depths; he did not know her at all; she was a chance + acquaintance; she was a complete stranger.</p> + + <p>"How are you getting on with him? You know you really ought + to tell me."</p> + + <p>"Oh, George!" she said, earnestly vivacious. "You're wrong + in thinking he's not nice to me. He is. He's quite forgiven + me."</p> + + <p>"Forgiven you!" George took her up. "I should like to know + what he had to forgive."</p> + + <p>"Well," she murmured timorously. "You understand what I + mean."</p> + + <p>He drummed his elegant feet on the striated deck. Out of the + corner of his left eye he saw the mediaeval shape of the Tower + rapidly disappearing. In front were the variegated funnels and + masts of fleets gathered together in St. Katherine's Dock and + London Dock. The steamer gained speed as she headed from Cherry + Gardens Pier towards the middle of the river. She was a frail + trifle compared with the big boats that +<!-- Page 145 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page140" name="page140">[pg 140]</a> + </span> + + lined the wharves; but in herself she had size and irresistible + force, travelling quite smoothly over the short, riotous, + sparkling waves which her cut-water divided and spurned away on + either side. Only a tremor faintly vibrated throughout her + being.</p> + + <p>"Has he forgiven you for being engaged?" George demanded, + with rough sarcasm.</p> + + <p>She showed no resentment of his tone, but replied + gently:</p> + + <p>"I did try to mention it once, but it was no use—he + wasn't in a condition. He made me quite afraid—not for me + of course, but for him."</p> + + <p>"Well, I give it up!" said George. "I simply give it up! + It's past me. How soon's he going to + <i>be</i> + + in condition? He can't keep us walking about the streets for + ever."</p> + + <p>"No, of course not!" She smiled to placate him.</p> + + <p>There was a pause, and then George, his eyes fixed on her + hand, remarked:</p> + + <p>"I see you've got your ring on."</p> + + <p>She too looked at her hand.</p> + + <p>"My ring? Naturally. What do you mean?"</p> + + <p>He proceeded cruelly:</p> + + <p>"I suppose you don't wear it in the house, so that the sight + of it shan't annoy him."</p> + + <p>She flushed once more.</p> + + <p>"Oh, George, dear!" Her glance asked for mercy, for + magnanimity.</p> + + <p>"Do you wear it when you're in the house, or don't you?"</p> + + <p>Her eyes fell.</p> + + <p>"I daren't excite him. Truly, I daren't. It wouldn't do. It + wouldn't be right."</p> + + <p>She was admitting George's haphazard charge against her. He + was astounded. But he merely flung back his head and raised his + eyebrows. He thought:</p> + + <p>"And yet she sticks to it he's nice to her! My God!"</p> + + <p>He said nothing aloud. The Royal Hospital, Greenwich, showed + itself in the distance like a domed island rising fabulously + out of the blue-green water. Even far off, before he could + decipher the main contours of the gigantic quadruple pile, the + vision excited him. His mind, darkened by the most dreadful + apprehensions concerning Marguerite, dwelt on it darkly, + sardonically, and yet with pleasure. And he proudly compared + his own disillusions with those of his greatest forerunners. + His studies, and the example of Mr. Enwright, had inspired him + with an extremely enthusiastic +<!-- Page 146 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page141" name="page141">[pg 141]</a> + </span> + + worship of Inigo Jones, whom he classed, not without reason, + among the great creative artists of Europe. He snorted when he + heard the Royal Hospital referred to as the largest and finest + charitable institution in the world. For him it was the supreme + English architectural work. He snorted at the thought of that + pompous and absurd monarch James I ordering Inigo Jones to + design him a palace surpassing all palaces and choosing a + sublime site therefor, and then doing nothing. He snorted at + the thought of that deluded monarch Charles I ordering Inigo + Jones to design him a palace surpassing all palaces, and + receiving from Inigo Jones the plans of a structure which would + have equalled in beauty and eclipsed in grandeur any European + structure of the Christian era—even Chambord, even the + Escurial, even Versailles—and then accomplishing nothing + beyond a tiny fragment of the sublime dream. He snorted at the + thought that Inigo Jones had died at the age of nearly eighty + ere the foundations of the Greenwich palace had begun to be + dug, and without having seen more than the fragment of his + unique Whitehall—after a youth spent in arranging masques + for a stupid court, and an old age spent in disappointment. But + then no English monarch had ever begun and finished a palace. + George wished, rather venturesomely, that he had lived under + Francis I!...</p> + + <p>The largest and finest charitable institution! The ineffable + William and Mary had merely turned it into a charitable + institution because they did not know what else to do with it. + The mighty halls which ought to have resounded to the laughter + of the mistresses of Charles II were diverted to the inevitable + squalor of almsgiving. The mutilated victims of the egotism and + the fatuity of kings were imprisoned there together under the + rules and regulations of charity, the cruellest of all rules + and regulations. And all was done meanly—that is, all + that interested George. Christopher Wren, who was building St. + Paul's and fighting libels and slanders at a salary of two + hundred a year, came down to Greenwich and for years worked + immortally for nothing amid material difficulties that never + ceased to multiply; and he too was beaten by the huge monster. + Then Vanbrugh arrived and blithely finished in corrupt brick + and flaming manifestations of decadence that which the pure and + monumental genius of Inigo Jones had first conceived. The north + frontages were marvels of beauty; the final erections to the + south amounted to an outrage upon Jones and Wren. Still, the + affair was +<!-- Page 147 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page142" name="page142">[pg 142]</a> + </span> + + the largest and finest charitable institution on earth! What a + country, thought George, hugging injustice! So it had treated + Jones and Wren and many another. So it had treated Enwright. + And so it would treat, was already treating, him, George. He + did not care. As the steamer approached Greenwich, and the + details of the aborted palace grew clearer, and he could + distinguish between the genius of Jones and the genius of Wren, + he felt grimly and victoriously sure that both Jones and Wren + had had the best of the struggle against indifference and + philistinism—as he too would have the best of the + struggle, though he should die obscure and in penury. He was + miserable and resentful, and yet he was triumphant. The steamer + stopped at the town-pier.</p> + + <p>"Are we there?" said Marguerite. "Already?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said he. "And I think we may as well go back by the + same steamer."</p> + + <p>She concurred. However, an official insisted on them + disembarking, even if they meant to re-embark at once. They, + went ashore. The facade of the palace-hospital stretched + majestically to the left of them, in sharp perspective, a + sensational spectacle.</p> + + <p>"It's very large," Marguerite commented. Her voice was + nervous.</p> + + <p>"Yes, it's rather more than large," he said dryly.</p> + + <p>He would not share his thoughts with her. He knew that she + had some inklings of taste, but in that moment he preferred to + pretend that her artistic perception was on a level with that + of William and Mary. They boarded the steamer again, and took + their old places; and the menacing problem of their predicament + was still between them.</p> + + <p>"We can have some tea downstairs if you like," he said, + after the steamer had turned round and started upstream.</p> + + <p>She answered in tones imperfectly controlled:</p> + + <p>"No, thank you. I feel as if I couldn't swallow anything." + And she looked up at him very quickly; with the embryo of a + smile, and then looked down again very quickly, because she + could not bring the smile to maturity.</p> + + <p>George thought:</p> + + <p>"Am I going to have a scene with her—on the steamer?" + It would not matter much if a scene did occur. There was nobody + else on deck forward of the bridge. They were alone—they + were more solitary than they might have been in the studio, or + in any room at No. 8. The steamer was +<!-- Page 148 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page143" name="page143">[pg 143]</a> + </span> + + now nearly heading the wind, but she travelled more smoothly, + for she had the last of the flood-tide under her.</p> + + <p>George said kindly and persuasively:</p> + + <p>"Upon my soul, I don't know what the old gentleman's got + against me."</p> + + <p>She eagerly accepted his advance, which seemed to give her + courage.</p> + + <p>"But there's nothing to know, dear. We both know that. + There's nothing at all. And yet of course I can understand it. + So can you. In fact it was you who first explained it to me. If + you'd left No. 8 when I did and he'd heard of our engagement + afterwards, he wouldn't have thought anything of it. But it was + you staying on in the house that did it, and him not knowing of + the engagement. He thought you used to come to see me at nights + at the studio, me and Agg, and make fun of everything at No. + 8—especially of his wife. He's evidently got some such + idea in his head, and there's no getting it out again."</p> + + <p>"But it's childish."</p> + + <p>"I know. However, we've said all this before, haven't + we?"</p> + + <p>"But the idea's + <i>got</i> + + to be got out of his head again!" said George + vigorously—more dictatorially and less persuasively than + before.</p> + + <p>Marguerite offered no remark.</p> + + <p>"And after all," George continued, "he couldn't have been so + desperately keen on—your stepmother. When he married her + your mother hadn't been dead so very long, had she?"</p> + + <p>"No. But he never cared for mother anything like so much as + he cared for Mrs. Lobley—at least not as far back as I + can remember. It was a different sort of thing altogether. I + think he was perfectly mad about Mrs. Lobley. Oh! He stood + mother's death much—much better than hers! You've no + idea—"</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, I have. We know all about that sort of thing," said + George the man of the world impatiently.</p> + + <p>Marguerite said tenderly:</p> + + <p>"It's broken him."</p> + + <p>"Nonsense!"</p> + + <p>"It has, George." Her voice was very soft.</p> + + <p>But George would not listen to the softness of her + voice.</p> + + <p>"Well," he objected firmly and strongly, "supposing it has! + What then? We're sorry for him. What then? That affair has + nothing to do with our affair. Is all that +<!-- Page 149 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page144" name="page144">[pg 144]</a> + </span> + + reason why I shouldn't see you in your own home? Or are we to + depend on Agg—when she happens to be at her studio? Or + are we always to see each other in the street, or in museums + and things—or steamers—just as if you were a + shop-girl? We may just as well look facts in the face, you + know."</p> + + <p>She flushed. Her features changed under emotion.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! I don't know what to do."</p> + + <p>"Then you think he's determined not to have anything to do + with me?"</p> + + <p>She was silent.</p> + + <p>"You think he's determined not to have anything to do with + me, I say?"</p> + + <p>"He may change," Marguerite murmured.</p> + + <p>"'May change' be dashed! We've got to know where we + stand."</p> + + <p>He most surprisingly stood up, staring at her. She did not + speak, but she lifted her eyes to his with timid courage. They + were wet. George abruptly walked away along the deck. The + steamer was passing the custom-house again. The tide had now + almost slacked. Fresh and heavier clouds had overcast the sky. + All the varied thoughts of the afternoon were active in + George's head at once: architecture, architects, beauty, + professional injustices, girls—his girl. Each affected + the others, for they were deeply entangled. It is a fact that + he could not put Inigo Jones and Christopher Wren out of his + head; he wondered what had been their experiences with women, + histories and textbooks of architecture did not treat of this + surely important aspect of architecture! He glanced at + Marguerite from the distance. He remembered what Agg had said + to him about her; but what Agg had said did not appear to help + him practically.... Why had he left Marguerite? Why was he + standing thirty feet from her and observing her inimically? He + walked back to her, sat down, and said calmly:</p> + + <p>"Listen to me, darling. Suppose we arrange now, definitely, + to get married in two years' time. How will that do for + you?"</p> + + <p>"But, George, can you be sure that you'll be able to marry + in two years?"</p> + + <p>He put his chin forward.</p> + + <p>"You needn't worry about that," said he. "You needn't think + because I've failed in an exam. I don't know what I'm about. + You leave all that to me. In two years I +<!-- Page 150 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page145" name="page145">[pg 145]</a> + </span> + + shall be able enough to keep a wife— + <i>and</i> + + well! Now, shall we arrange to get married in two years' + time?"</p> + + <p>"It might be a fearful drag for you," she said. "Because, + you know, I don't really earn very much."</p> + + <p>"That's not the point. I don't care what you earn. I shan't + want you to earn anything—so far as that goes. Any + earning that's wanted I shall be prepared to do. I'll put it + like this: Supposing I'm in a position to keep you, shall we + arrange to get married in two years' time?" He found a fierce + pleasure in reiterating the phrase. "So long as that's + understood, I don't mind the rest. If we have to depend on Agg, + or meet in the streets—never mind. It'll be an infernal + nuisance, but I expect I can stand it as well as you can. + Moreover, I quite see your difficulty—quite. And let's + hope the old gentleman will begin to have a little sense."</p> + + <p>"Oh, George! If he only would!"</p> + + <p>He did not like her habit of "Oh, George! Oh! George!"</p> + + <p>"Well?" He waited, ignoring her pious aspiration.</p> + + <p>"I don't know what to say, George."</p> + + <p>He restrained himself.</p> + + <p>"We're engaged, aren't we?" She gave no answer, and he + repeated: "We're engaged, aren't we?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"That's all right. Well, will you give me your absolute + promise to marry me in two years' time—if I'm in a + position to keep you? It's quite simple. You say you don't know + what to say. But you've got to know what to say." As he looked + at her averted face, his calmness began to leave him.</p> + + <p>"Oh, George! I can't promise that!" she burst out, showing + at length her emotion. The observant skipper on the bridge + noted that there were a boy and a girl forward having a bit of + a tiff.</p> + + <p>George trembled. All that Agg had said recurred to him once + more. But what could he do to act on it? Anger was gaining, on + him.</p> + + <p>"Why not?" he menaced.</p> + + <p>"It would have to depend on how father was. Surely you must + see that!"</p> + + <p>"Indeed I don't see it. I see quite the contrary. We're + engaged. You've got the first call on me, and I've got the + first call on you—not your father." The skin over his + nose +<!-- Page 151 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page146" name="page146">[pg 146]</a> + </span> + + was tight, owing to the sudden swelling of two points, one on + either side of the bone.</p> + + <p>"George, I couldn't leave him—again. I think now I may + have been wrong to leave him before. However, that's over. I + couldn't leave him again. It would be very wrong. He'd be all + alone."</p> + + <p>"Well, then, let him be friends with me."</p> + + <p>"I do wish he would."</p> + + <p>"Yes. Well, wishing won't do much good. If there's any + trouble it's entirely your father's fault. And what I want to + know is—will you give me your absolute promise to marry + me in two years' time?"</p> + + <p>"I can't, George. It wouldn't be honest. I can't! I can't! + How can you ask me to throw over my duty to father?"</p> + + <p>He rose and walked away again. She was profoundly moved, but + no sympathy for her mitigated his resentment. He considered + that her attitude was utterly monstrous—monstrous! He + could not find a word adequate for it. He was furious; his fury + increased with each moment. He returned to the prow, but did + not sit down.</p> + + <p>"Don't you think, then, you ought to choose between your + father and me?" he said in a low, hard voice, standing over + her.</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?" she faltered.</p> + + <p>"What do I mean? It's plain enough what I mean, isn't it? + Your father may live twenty years yet. Nobody knows. The older + he gets the more obstinate he'll be. We may be kept hanging + about for years and years and years. Indefinitely. What's the + sense of it? You say you've got your duty, but what's the + object of being engaged?</p> + + <p>"Do you want to break it off, George?"</p> + + <p>"Now don't put it like that. You know I don't want to break + it off. You know I want to marry you. Only you won't, and I'm + not going to be made a fool of. I'm absolutely innocent."</p> + + <p>"Of course you are!" she agreed eagerly.</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm not going to be made a fool of by your father. If + we're engaged, you know what it means. Marriage. If it doesn't + mean that, then I say we've no right to be engaged."</p> + + <p>Marguerite seemed to recoil at the last words, but she + recovered herself. And then, heedless of being in a public + place, she drew off her glove, and drew the engagement ring + from her finger, and held it out to George. She could not +<!-- Page 152 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page147" name="page147">[pg 147]</a> + </span> + + speak. The gesture was her language. George was extremely + staggered. He was stupefied for an instant. Then he took the + ring, and under an uncontrollable savage impulse he threw it + into the river. He did not move for a considerable time, + staring at the river in front. Neither did she move. At length + he said in a cold voice, without moving his head:</p> + + <p>"Here's Chelsea Pier."</p> + + <p>She got up and walked to the rail amidships. He followed. + The steamer moored. A section of rail slid aside. The + pier-keeper gave a hand to Marguerite, who jumped on to the + pier. George hesitated. The pier-keeper challenged him + testily:</p> + + <p>"Now then, are ye coming ashore or aren't ye?"</p> + + <p>George could not move. The pier-keeper banged the rail to + close the gap, and cast off the ropes, and the steamer resumed + her voyage.</p> + + <p>A minute later George saw Marguerite slowly crossing the + gangway from the pier to the embankment. There she went! She + was about to be swallowed up in the waste of human dwellings, + in the measureless and tragic expanse of the indifferent + town.... She was gone. Curse her, with her reliability! She was + too reliable. He knew that. Her father could rely on her. Curse + her, with her outrageous, incredibly cruel, and unjust sense of + duty! She had held him once. Once the sight of her had made him + turn hot and cold. Once the prospect of life without her had + seemed unbearable. He had loved her instinctively and + intensely. He now judged and condemned her. Her beauty, her + sweetness, her belief in him, her reliability—these + qualities were neutralized by her sense of duty, awful, + uncompromising, blind to fundamental justice. The affair was + over. If he knew her, he knew also himself. The affair was + over. He was in despair. His mind went round and round like a + life-prisoner exercising in an enclosed yard. No escape! Till + then, he had always believed in his luck. Infantile delusion! + He was now aware that destiny had struck him a blow once for + all. But of course he did not perceive that he was too young, + not ripe, for such a blow. The mark of destiny was on his + features, and it was out of place there.... He had lost + Marguerite. And what had he lost? What was there in her? She + was not brilliant; she had no position; she had neither + learning nor wit. He could remember nothing remarkable that + they had ever said to each other. Indeed, their conversations + had generally been rather banal. But +<!-- Page 153 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page148" name="page148">[pg 148]</a> + </span> + + he could remember how they had felt, how he had felt, in their + hours together.... The sensation communicated to him by her + hand when he had drawn off her glove in the tremendous silence + of the hansom! Marvellous, exquisite, magical sensation that no + words of his could render! And there had been others as rare. + These scenes were love; they were Marguerite; they were what he + had lost.... Strange, that he should throw the ring into the + river! Nevertheless it was a right gesture. She deserved it. + She was absolutely wrong; he was absolutely right—she had + admitted it. Towards him she had no excuse. Logically her + attitude was absurd. Yet no argument would change it. + Stupid—that was what she was! Stupid! And ruthless! She + would be capable of martyrizing the whole world to her sense of + duty, her damnable, insane sense of duty.... She was gone. He + was ruined; she had ruined him. But he respected her. He hated + to respect her, but he respected her.</p> + + <p>A thought leapt up in his mind—and who could have + guessed it? It was the thought that the secrecy of the + engagement would save him from a great deal of public + humiliation. He would have loathed saying: "We've broken it + off."</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_VIII'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 154 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page149" name="page149">[pg 149]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + + <h3>INSPIRATION</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George, despite his own dispositions, as he went up in the + lift, to obviate the danger of such a mishap, was put out of + countenance by the overwhelming splendour of Miss Irene + Wheeler's flat. And he did not quite recover his aplomb until + the dinner was nearly finished. The rooms were very large and + lofty; they blazed with electric light, though the day had not + yet gone; they gleamed with the polish of furniture, enamel, + bookbindings, marble, ivory, and precious metals; they were + ennobled by magnificent pictures, and purified by immense + quantities of lovely flowers. George had made the mistake of + arriving last. He found in the vast drawing-room five people + who had the air of being at home and intimate together. There + were, in addition to the hostess, Lois and Laurencine Ingram, + Everard Lucas, and a Frenchman from the French Embassy whose + name he did not catch. Miss Wheeler wore an elaborate Oriental + costume, and apologized for its simplicity on the grounds that + she was fatigued by a crowded and tiresome reception which she + had held that afternoon, and that the dinner was to be without + ceremony. This said, her conversation seemed to fail, but she + remained by George's side, apart from the others. George saw + not the least vestige of the ruinous disorder which, in the + society to which he was accustomed, usually accompanied a big + afternoon tea, or any sign of a lack of ceremony. He had + encountered two male servants in the hall, and had also + glimpsed a mulatto woman in a black dress and a white apron, + and a Frenchwoman in a black dress and a black apron. Now a + third man-servant entered, bearing an enormous silver-gilt tray + on which were multitudinous bottles, glasses, decanters, and + jugs. George comprehended that + <i>apéritifs</i> + + were being offered. The tray contained enough cocktails and + other combinations, some already mingled and some +<!-- Page 155 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page150" name="page150">[pg 150]</a> + </span> + + not, to produce a factitious appetite in the stomachs of a + whole platoon. The girls declined, Miss Wheeler declined, the + Frenchman declined, George declined (from prudence and + diffidence); only Lucas took an + <i>apéritif</i> + + , and he took it, as George admitted, in style. The + man-servant, superbly indifferent to refusals, marched + processionally off with the loaded tray. The great principle of + conspicuous ritualistic waste had been illustrated in a manner + to satisfy the most exacting standard of the leisured class; + and incidentally a subject of talk was provided.</p> + + <p>George observed the name of 'Renoir' on the gorgeous frame + of a gorgeous portrait in oils of the hostess.</p> + + <p>"Is that a Renoir?" he asked the taciturn Miss Wheeler, who + seemed to jump at the opening with relief.</p> + + <p>"Yes," she said, with her slight lisp. "I'm glad you noticed + it. Come and look at it. Do you think it's a good one? Do you + like Renoir?"</p> + + <p>By good fortune George had seen a Renoir or two in Paris + under the guidance of Mr. Enwright. They stared at the portrait + together.</p> + + <p>"It's awfully distinguished," he decided, employing a useful + adjective which he had borrowed from Mr. Enwright.</p> + + <p>"Isn't it!" she said, turning her wondrous complexion + towards him, and admiring his adjective. "I have a Boldini + too."</p> + + <p>He followed her across the room to the Boldini portrait of + herself, which was dazzling in its malicious flattery.</p> + + <p>"And here's a Nicholson," she said.</p> + + <p>Those three portraits were the most striking pictures in the + + <i>salon</i> + + , but there were others of at least equal value.</p> + + <p>"Are you interested in fans?" she demanded, and pulled down + a switch which illuminated the interior of a large cabinet full + of fans. She pointed out fans painted by Lami, Glaize, + Jacquemart. "That one is supposed to be a Lancret," she said. + "But I'm not sure about it, and I don't know anybody that is. + Here's the latest book on the subject." She indicated Lady + Charlotte Schreiber's work in two volumes which, bound in + vellum and gold, lay on a table. "But of course it only deals + with English fans. However, Conder is going to do me a couple. + He was here yesterday to see me about them. Of course you know + him. What a wonderful man! The only really cosmopolitan artist + in England, I say, now Beardsley's dead. I've got a Siegfried + drawing by Beardsley. He was a great friend of mine. I adored + him."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 156 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page151" name="page151">[pg 151]</a> + </span> + + This is a fine thing," said George, touching a bronze of a + young girl on the same table as the books.</p> + + <p>"You think so?" Miss Wheeler responded uncertainly. "I + suppose it + <i>is</i> + + . It's a Gilbert. He gave it me. But do you really think it + compares with this Barye? It doesn't, does it?" She directed + him to another bronze of a crouching cheetah.</p> + + <p>So she moved him about. He was dazed. His modest supply of + adjectives proved inadequate. When she paused, he murmured:</p> + + <p>"It's a great room you've managed to get here."</p> + + <p>"Ah!" she cried thinly. "But you've no idea of the trouble + I've had over this room. Do you know it's really two rooms. I + had to take two flats in order to fix this room."</p> + + <p>She was launched on a supreme topic, and George heard a full + history. She would not have a house. She would have a flat. She + instructed house-agents to find for her the best flat in + London. There was no best flat in London. London landlords did + not understand flats, which were comprehended only in Paris. + The least imperfect flats in London were two on a floor, and as + their drawing-rooms happened to be contiguous on their longer + sides, she had the idea of leasing two intolerable flats so as + to obtain one flat that was tolerable. She had had terrible + difficulties about the central heating. No flats in London were + centrally heated except in the corridors and on the staircases. + However, she had imposed her will on the landlord, and + radiators had appeared in every room. George had a vision of + excessive wealth subjugating the greatest artists and riding + with implacable egotism over the customs and institutions of a + city obstinately conservative. The cost and the complexity of + Irene Wheeler's existence amazed and intimidated + George—for this double flat was only one of her + residences. He wondered what his parents would say if they + could see him casually treading the oak parquetry and the heavy + rugs of the resplendent abode. And then he thought, the humble + and suspicious upstart: "There must be something funny about + her, or she wouldn't be asking + <i>me</i> + + here!"</p> + + <p>They went in to dinner, without ceremony. George was last, + the hostess close to his side.</p> + + <p>"Who's the Frenchman?" he inquired casually, with the sudden + boldness that often breaks out of timidity. "I didn't + catch."</p> + + <p>"It's Monsieur Defourcambault," said Miss Wheeler in a +<!-- Page 157 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page152" name="page152">[pg 152]</a> + </span> + + low voice of sincere admiration. "He's from the Embassy. A most + interesting man. Been everywhere. Seen everything. Read + everything. Done everything."</p> + + <p>George could not but be struck by the ingenuous earnestness + of her tone, so different from the perfunctory accents in which + she had catalogued her objects of art.</p> + + <p>The dining-room, the dinner, and the service of the dinner + were equally superb. The broad table seemed small in the midst + of the great mysterious chamber, of which the illumination was + confined by shades to the centre. The glance wandering round + the obscurity of the walls could rest on nothing that was not + obviously in good taste and very costly. The three + men-servants, moving soundless as phantoms, brought burdens + from a hidden country behind a gigantic screen, and at + intervals in the twilight near the screen could be detected the + transient gleam of the white apron of the mulatto, whose sex + clashed delicately and piquantly with the grave, priest-like + performances of the male menials. The table was of mahogany + covered with a sheet of plate-glass. A large gold épergne + glittered in the middle. Suitably dispersed about the rim of + the board were six rectangular islands of pale lace, and on + each island lay a complete set of the innumerable instruments + and condiments necessary to the proper consumption of the meal. + Thus, every diner dined independently, cut off from his + fellows, but able to communicate with them across expanses of + plate-glass over mahogany. George was confused by the + multiplicity of metal tools and crystal receptacles—he + alone had four wine-glasses—but in the handling of the + tools he was saved from shame by remembering the maxim—a + masterpiece of terse clarity worthy of a class which has given + its best brains to the perfecting of the formalities + preliminary to deglutition: "Take always from the outside."</p> + + <p>The man from the French Embassy sat on the right of the + hostess, and George on her left. George had Lois Ingram on his + left. Laurencine was opposite her sister. Everard Lucas, by + command of the hostess, had taken the foot of the table and was + a sort of 'Mr. Vice.' The six people were soon divided into two + equal groups, one silent and the other talkative, the talkative + three being M. Defourcambault, Laurencine and Lucas. The + diplomatist, though he could speak diplomatic English, + persisted in speaking French. Laurencine spoke French quite + perfectly, with exactly the same idiomatic ease as the + Frenchman. Lucas neither spoke nor understood +<!-- Page 158 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page153" name="page153">[pg 153]</a> + </span> + + French—he had been to a great public school. Nevertheless + these three attained positive loquacity. Lucas guessed at + words, or the Frenchman obliged with bits of English, or + Laurencine interpreted. Laurencine was far less prim and far + more girlish than at the Café Royal. She kept all the + freshness of her intensely virginal quality, but she was at + ease. Her rather large body was at ease, continually restless + in awkward and exquisite gestures; she laughed at ease, and + made fun at ease. She appeared to have no sex-consciousness, + nor even to suspect that she was a most delightful creature. + The conversation was disjointed in its gaiety, and had no claim + to the attention of the serious. Laurencine said that Lucas + ought really to know French. Lucas said he would learn if she + would teach him. Laurencine said that she would teach him if he + would have his first lesson instantly, during dinner. Lucas + said that wasn't fair. Laurencine said that it was. Both of + them appealed to M. Defourcambault. M. Defourcambault said that + it was fair. Lucas said that there was a plot between them, but + that he would consent to learn at once if Laurencine would play + the piano for him after dinner. Laurencine said she didn't + play. Lucas said she did. M. Defourcambault, invoked once + again, said that she played magnificently. Laurencine blushed, + and asked M. Defourcambault how he could!... And so on, + indefinitely. It was all naught; yet the taciturn three, + smiling indulgently and glancing from one to another of the + talkers, as taciturn and constrained persons must, envied that + peculiar ability to maintain a rush and gush of chatter.</p> + + <p>George was greatly disappointed in Lois. In the period + before dinner his eyes had avoided her, and now, since they sat + side by side, he could not properly see her without + deliberately looking at her: which he would not do. She gave no + manifestation. She was almost glum. Her French, though free, + was markedly inferior to Laurencine's. She denied any interest + in music. George decided, with self-condemnation, that he had + been deliberately creating in his own mind an illusion about + her; on no other hypothesis could either his impatience to meet + her to-night, or his disappointment at not meeting her on the + night of the Café Royal dinner, be explained. She was + nothing, after all. And he did not deeply care for Miss Irene + Wheeler, whom he could watch at will. She might be concealing + something very marvellous, but she was dull, and she ignored + the finer responsibilities of a hostess. She collected many + beautiful things; she had some +<!-- Page 159 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page154" name="page154">[pg 154]</a> + </span> + + knowledge of what they were; she must be interested in + them—or why should she trouble to possess them? She must + have taste. And yet had she taste? Was she interested in her + environment? A tone, a word, will create suspicion that the + exhibition of expertise for hours cannot allay. George did not + like the Frenchman. The Frenchman was about thirty—small, + thin, fair, with the worn face of the man who lives several + lives at once. He did not look kind; he did not look reliable; + and he offered little evidence in support of Miss Wheeler's + ardent assertion that he had been everywhere, seen everything, + read everything, done everything. He assuredly had not, for + example, read Verlaine, who was mentioned by Miss Wheeler. Now + George had read one or two poems of Verlaine, and thought them + unique; hence he despised M. Defourcambault. He could read + French, in a way, but he was incapable of speaking a single + word of it in the presence of compatriots; the least + mono-syllable would have died on his lips. He was absurdly + envious of those who could speak two languages; he thought + sometimes that he would prefer to be able to speak two + languages than to do anything else in the world; not to be able + to speak two languages humiliated him intensely; he decided to + 'take up French seriously' on the morrow; but he had several + times arrived at a similar decision.</p> + + <p>If Lois was glum, George too was glum. He wished he had not + come to the dinner; he wished he could be magically transported + to the solitude of his room at the club. He slipped into a + reverie about the Marguerite affair. Nobody could have divined + that scarcely twenty-four hours earlier he had played a + principal part in a tragedy affecting his whole life. He had + borne the stroke better than he otherwise would have done for + the simple reason that nobody knew of his trouble. He had not + to arrange his countenance for the benefit of people who were + aware what was behind the countenance. But also he was + philosophical. He recognized that the Marguerite affair was + over. She would never give way, and he would never give way. + She was wrong. He had been victimized. He had behaved with + wisdom and with correctness (save for the detail of throwing + the ring into the Thames). Agg's warnings and injunctions were + ridiculous. What could he have done that he had not done? Run + away with Marguerite, carry her off? Silly! No, he was well out + of the affair. He perceived the limitations of the world in + which Marguerite lived. It was a world too small and +<!-- Page 160 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page155" name="page155">[pg 155]</a> + </span> + + too austere for him. He required the spaciousness and the + splendour of the new world in which Irene Wheeler and the + Ingrams lived. Yea, though it was a world that excited the + sardonic in him, he liked it. It flattered authentic, if + unsuspected, appetites in him. Still, the image of Marguerite + inhabited his memory. He saw her as she stood between himself + and old Haim in the basement of No. 8. He heard her.... She was + absolutely unlike any other girl; she was so gentle, so + acquiescent. Only she put her lover second to her father.... + What would Miss Wheeler think of the basement of No. 8?</p> + + <p>The chatterers, apropos of songs in musical comedies, were + talking about a French popular song concerning Boulanger.</p> + + <p>"You knew Boulanger, didn't you, Jules?" Miss Wheeler + suggested.</p> + + <p>M. Defourcambault looked round, content. He related in + English how his father had been in the very centre of the + Boulangist movement, and had predicted disaster to the + General's cause from the instant that Madame de Bonnemain came + on the scene. (Out of consideration for the girls, M. + Defourcambault phrased his narrative with neat discretion.) His + grandfather also had been of his father's opinion, and his + grandfather was in the Senate, and had been Minister at + Brussels.... He affirmed that Madame de Bonnemain had + telegraphed to Boulanger to leave Paris at the very moment when + his presence in Paris was essential, and Boulanger had + obediently gone. He said that he always remembered what his + mother had said to him: a clever woman irregularly in love with + a man may make his fortune, but a stupid woman is certain to + ruin it. Finally he related how he, Jules Defourcambault, had + driven the General's carriage on a famous occasion through + Paris, and how the populace in its frenzy of idolatry had even + climbed on to the roof of the carriage.</p> + + <p>"And what did you do, then?" George demanded in the hard + tone of a cross-examiner.</p> + + <p>"I drove straight on," said M. Defourcambault, returning + George's cold stare.</p> + + <p>This close glimpse into history—into politics and + passion—excited George considerably. He was furiously + envious of M. Defourcambault, who had been in the middle of + things all his life, whose father, mother, and grandfather were + all in the middle of things. M. Defourcambault had an immense + and unfair advantage over him. To whatever heights he +<!-- Page 161 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page156" name="page156">[pg 156]</a> + </span> + + might rise, George would never be in a position to talk as M. + Defourcambault talked of his forbears. He would always have to + stand alone, and to fight for all he wanted. He could not even + refer to his father. He scorned M. Defourcambault because M. + Defourcambault was not worthy of his heritage. M. + Defourcambault was a little rotter, yet he had driven the + carriage of Boulanger in a crisis of the history of France! + Miss Wheeler, however, did not scorn M. Defourcambault. On the + contrary, she looked at him with admiration, as though he had + now proved that he had been everywhere, seen everything, and + done everything. George's mood was black. He was a nobody; he + would always be a nobody; why should he be wasting his time and + looking a fool in this new world?</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>After dinner, in the drawing-room which had cost Irene + Wheeler an extra flat, there was, during coffee, a certain + amount of general dullness, slackness, and self-consciousness + which demonstrated once more Miss Wheeler's defects as a + hostess. Miss Wheeler would not or could not act as shepherdess + and inspirer to her guests. She reclined, and charmingly left + them to manufacture the evening for her. George was still + disappointed and disgusted; for he had imagined, very absurdly + as he admitted, that artistic luxuriousness always implied + social dexterity and the ability to energize and reinvigorate + diversion without apparent effort. There were moments during + coffee which reminded him of the maladroit hospitalities of the + Five Towns.</p> + + <p>Then Everard Lucas opened the piano, and the duel between + him and Laurencine was resumed. The girl yielded. Electric + lights were adjusted. She began to play, while Lucas, smoking, + leaned over the piano. George was standing by himself at a + little distance behind the piano. He had perhaps been on his + way to a chair when suddenly caught and immobilized by one of + those hazards which do notoriously occur—the victim never + remembers how—in drawing-rooms. Hands in pockets, he + looked aimlessly about, smiling perfunctorily, and wondering + where he should settle or whether he should remain where he + was. In the deep embrasure of the large east bow-window Lois + was lounging. She beckoned to him, not with her hand but with a + brief, bright smile—she smiled rarely—and with a + lifting of the chin. He re +<!-- Page 162 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page157" name="page157">[pg 157]</a> + </span> + + sponded alertly and pleasurably, and went to sit beside her. + Such invitations from young women holding themselves apart in + obscurity are never received without excitement and never + unanswered.</p> + + <p>Crimson curtains of brocaded silk would have cut off the + embrasure entirely from the room had they been fully drawn, but + they were not fully drawn; one was not drawn at all, and the + other was only half drawn. Still, the mere fact of the + curtains, drawn or undrawn, did morally separate the embrasure + from the + <i>salon</i> + + ; and the shadows thickened in front of the window. The smile + had gone from Lois's face, but it had been there. Sequins + glittered on her dark dress, the line of the low neck of which + was distinct against the pallor of the flesh. George could + follow the outlines of her slanted, plump body from the hair + and freckled face down to the elaborate shoes. The eyes were + half closed. She did not speak. The figure of Laurencine, whose + back was towards the window, received an aura from the electric + light immediately over the music-stand of the piano. She played + brilliantly. She played with a brilliance that astonished + George.... She was exceedingly clever, was this awkward girl + who had not long since left school Her body might be awkward, + but not her hands. The music radiated from the piano and filled + the room with brightness, with the illusion of the joy of life, + and with a sense of triumph. To George it was an + intoxication.</p> + + <p>A man-servant entered with a priceless collection of + bon-bons, some of which he deferentially placed on a small + table in the embrasure. To do so he had to come into the + embrasure, disturbing the solitude, which had already begun to + exist, of Lois and George. He ignored the pair. His sublime + indifference seemed to say: "I am beyond good and evil." But at + the same time it left them more sensitively awake to themselves + than before. The hostess indolently muttered an order to the + man, and in passing the door on his way out he extinguished + several lights. The place and the hour grew romantic. George + was impressed by the scene, and he eagerly allowed it to + impress him. It was, to him, a marvellous scene; the splendour + of the apartment, the richly attired girls, the gay, exciting + music, the spots of high light, the glooms, the glimpses + everywhere of lovely objects. He said to himself: "I was born + for this."</p> + + <p>Lois turned her head slowly and looked out of the + window.</p> + + <p>"Wonderful view from here," she murmured.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 163 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page158" name="page158">[pg 158]</a> + </span> + + George turned his head. The flat was on the sixth story. The + slope of central London lay beneath. There was no moon, but + there were stars in a clear night. Roofs; lighted windows; + lines of lighted traffic; lines of lamps patterning the + invisible meadows of a park; hiatuses of blackness; beyond, + several towers scarcely discernible against the sky—the + towers of Parliament, and the high tower of the Roman Catholic + Cathedral: these were London.</p> + + <p>"You haven't seen it in daytime, have you?" said Lois.</p> + + <p>"No. I'd sooner see it at night."</p> + + <p>"So would I."</p> + + <p>The reply, the sympathy in it, the soft, thrilled tone of + It, startled him. His curiosity about Lois was being justified, + after all. And he was startled too at the extraordinary + surprises of his own being. Yesterday he had parted from + Marguerite; not ten years ago, but yesterday. And now already + he was conscious of pleasure, both physical and spiritual, in + the voice of another girl heard in the withdrawn obscurity of + the embrasure. Yes, and a girl whom he had despised! Yesterday + he had seriously believed himself to be a celibate for life; he + had dismissed for ever the hope of happiness. He had seen + naught but a dogged and eternal infelicity. And now he was, if + not finding happiness, expecting it. He felt + disloyal—less precisely to Marguerite than to a vanished + ideal. He felt that he ought to be ashamed. For Marguerite + still existed; she was existing at that moment less than three + miles off—somewhere over there in the dark.</p> + + <p>"See the Cathedral tower?" he said.</p> + + <p>"Yes," she answered. "What a shame Bentley died, wasn't + it?"</p> + + <p>He was more than startled, now—he was amazed and + enchanted. Something touching and strange in her voice usually + hard; something in the elegant fragility of her slipper! + Everybody knew that Bentley was the architect of the Cathedral + and that he had died of cancer on the tongue. The knowledge was + not esoteric; it did not by itself indicate a passion for + architecture or a comprehension of architecture. Yet when she + said the exclamatory words, leaning far back in the seat, her + throat emerging from the sequined frock, her tapping slipper + peeping out beneath the skirt, she cast a spell on him. He + perceived in her a woman gifted and endowed. This was the girl + whom he had bullied in the automobile. She must have bowed in + secret to his bullying; though he knew she had been hurt by it, + she had given no +<!-- Page 164 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page159" name="page159">[pg 159]</a> + </span> + + sign of resentment, and her voice was acquiescent. Above all, + she had remembered him.</p> + + <p>"You only like doing very large buildings, don't you?" she + suggested.</p> + + <p>"Who told you?"</p> + + <p>"Everard."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Did old Lucas tell you? Well, he's quite right."</p> + + <p>He had a sudden desire to talk to her about the great + municipal building in the north that was soon to be competed + for. He yielded to the desire. She listened, motionless. He + gave vent to his regret that Mr. Enwright absolutely declined + to enter for the competition. He said he had had ideas for it, + and would have liked to work for it.</p> + + <p>"But why don't you go in for it yourself, George?" she + murmured gravely.</p> + + <p>"Me!" he exclaimed, almost frightened. "It wouldn't be any + good. I'm too young. Besides——"</p> + + <p>"How old are you?"</p> + + <p>"Twenty-one."</p> + + <p>"Good heavens! You look twenty-five at least! I know I + should go in for it if I were you—if I were a man."</p> + + <p>He understood her. She could not talk well. She could not + easily be agreeable; she could easily be rude; she could not + play the piano like the delightful Laurencine. But she was + passionate. And she knew the force of ambition. He admired + ambition perhaps more than anything. Ambition roused him. She + was ambitious when she drove the automobile and endangered his + life.... She had called him by his Christian name quite + naturally. There was absolutely no nonsense about her. Now + Marguerite was not in the slightest degree ambitious. The word + had no significance for her.</p> + + <p>"I couldn't!" he insisted humbly. "I don't know enough. It's + a terrific affair."</p> + + <p>She made no response. But she looked at him, and suddenly he + saw the angel that Irene Wheeler and Laurencine had so + enthusiastically spoken of at the Cafe Royal!</p> + + <p>"I couldn't!" he murmured.</p> + + <p>He was insisting too much. He was insisting against himself. + She had implanted the idea in his mind. Why had he not thought + of it? Certainly he had not thought of it. Had he lacked + courage to think of it? He beheld the idea as though it was an + utterly original discovery, revolutionary, dismaying, and + seductive. His inchoate plans for +<!-- Page 165 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page160" name="page160">[pg 160]</a> + </span> + + the building took form afresh in his brain. And the luxury by + which he was surrounded whipped his ambition till it + writhed.</p> + + <p>Curious, she said no more! After a moment she sat up and + took a sweet.</p> + + <p>George saw, in a far corner, Jules Defourcambault talking + very quietly to Irene Wheeler, whose lackadaisical face had + become ingenuous and ardent as she listened to him under the + shelter of the dazzling music. George felt himself to be within + the sphere of unguessed and highly perturbing forces.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He left early. Lucas seemed to regard his departure as the + act of a traitor, but he insisted on leaving. And in spite of + Lucas's great social success he inwardly condescended to Lucas. + Lucas was not a serious man and could not comprehend + seriousness. George went because he had to go, because the + power of an idea drove him forth. He had no intention of + sleeping. He walked automatically through dark London, and his + eyes, turned within, saw nothing of the city. He did not walk + quickly—he was too preoccupied to walk quickly—yet + in his brain he was hurrying, he had not a moment to lose. The + goal was immensely far off. His haste was as absurd and as fine + as that of a man who, starting to cross Europe on foot, must + needs run in order to get out of Calais and be fairly on his + way.</p> + + <p>At Russell Square he wondered whether he would be able to + get into the office. However, there was still a light in the + basement, and he rang the house-bell. The housekeeper's + daughter, a girl who played at being parlourmaid in the + afternoons and brought bad tea and thick bread-and-butter to + the privileged in the office, opened the front door with + bridling exclamations of astonishment. She had her best frock + on; her hair was in curling-pins; she smelt delicately of beer; + the excitement of the Sunday League excursion and of the + evening's dalliance had not quite cooled in this respectable + and experienced young creature of central London. She was very + feminine and provocative and unparlourmaidish, standing there + in the hall, and George passed by her as callously as though + she had been a real parlourmaid on duty. She had to fly to her + mother for the key of the office. Taking the key from the + breathless, ardent little thing, he said that he +<!-- Page 166 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page161" name="page161">[pg 161]</a> + </span> + + would see to the front door being properly shut when he went + out. That was all. Her legitimate curiosity about his visit had + to go to bed hungry.</p> + + <p>In the office he switched on the lights in Haim's cubicle, + in the pupils' room, and in the principals' room. He enjoyed + the illumination and the solitude. He took deep breaths. He + walked about. After rummaging for the sketches and the printed + site-plan of the town hall projected by the northern city, he + discovered them under John Orgreave's desk. He moved them to + Mr. Enwright's desk, which was the best one, and he bent over + them rapturously. Yes, the idea of entering for the competition + himself was a magnificent idea. Strange that it should have + occurred not to him, but to Lois! A disconcerting girl, Lois! + She had said that he looked twenty-five. He liked that. Why + should he not enter for the competition himself? He would enter + for it. The decision was made, as usual without consulting + anybody; instinct was his sole guide. Failure in the final + examination was beside the point. Moreover, though he had sworn + never to sit again, he could easily sit again in December; he + could pass the exam, on his head. He might win the competition; + to be even in the selected first six or ten would rank as a + glorious achievement. But why should he not win outright? He + was lucky, always had been lucky. It was essential that he + should win outright. It was essential that he should create + vast and grandiose structures, that he should have both + artistic fame and worldly success. He could not wait long for + success. He required luxury. He required a position enabling + him to meet anybody and everybody on equal terms, and to fulfil + all his desires.</p> + + <p>He would not admit that he was too young for the enterprise. + He was not too young. He refused to be too young. And indeed he + felt that he had that very night become adult, and that a new + impulse, reducing all previous impulses to unimportance, had + inspired his life. He owed the impulse to the baffling Lois. + Marguerite would never have given him such an impulse. + Marguerite had no ambition either for herself or for him. She + was profoundly the wrong girl for him. He admitted his error + candidly, with the eagerness of youth. He had no shame about + the blunder. And the girl's environment was wrong for him also. + What had he to do with Chelsea? Chelsea was a parish; it was + not the world. He had been gravely disappointed in Chelsea. + Marguerite had no shimmer of romance. She was homely. +<!-- Page 167 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page162" name="page162">[pg 162]</a> + </span> + + And she was content with her sphere. And she was not elegant; + she had no kind of smartness; who would look twice at her? And + she was unjust, she was unfair. She had lacerated his highly + sensitive pride. She had dealt his conceit a frightful wound. + He would not think of it.</p> + + <p>And in fact he could ignore the wound in the exquisite + activity of creating town halls for mighty municipalities. He + drew plans with passion and with fury; he had scores of + alternative schemes; he was a god fashioning worlds. Having + drawn plans, he drew elevations and perspectives; he rushed to + the files (rushed—because he was in haste to reach the + goal) and studied afresh the schedules of accommodation for + other municipal buildings that had been competed for in the + past. Much as he hated detail, he stooped rather humbly to + detail that night, and contended with it in all honesty. He + worked for hours before he thought of lighting a cigarette.</p> + + <p>It was something uncanny beyond the large windows that first + gently and perceptibly began to draw away his mind from the + profusion of town halls on the desk, and so indirectly reminded + him of the existence of cigarettes. When he lighted a cigarette + he stretched himself and glanced at the dark windows, of which + the blinds had not been pulled down. He understood then what + was the matter. Dawn was the matter. The windows were no longer + quite dark. He looked out. A faint pallor in the sky, and some + stars sickening therein, and underneath the silent square with + its patient trees and indefatigable lamps! The cigarette tasted + bad in his mouth, but he would not give it up. He yawned + heavily. The melancholy of the square, awaiting without hope + the slow, hard dawn, overcame him suddenly.... Marguerite was a + beautiful girl; her nose was marvellous; he could never forget + it. He could never forget her gesture as she intervened between + him and her father in the basement at Alexandra Grove. They had + painted lamp-shades together. She was angelically kind; she + could not be ruffled; she would never criticize, never grasp, + never exhibit selfishness. She was a unique combination of the + serious and the sensuous. He felt the passionate, ecstatic + clinging of her arm as they walked under the interminable chain + of lamp-posts on Chelsea Embankment. Magical hours!... And how + she could absorb herself in her work! And what a damned shame + it was that rascally employers should have cut down her prices! + It was intolerable; it +<!-- Page 168 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page163" name="page163">[pg 163]</a> + </span> + + would not bear thinking about. He dropped the cigarette and + stamped on it angrily. Then he returned to the desk, and put + his head in his hands and shut his eyes.</p> + + <p>He awakened with a start of misgiving. He was alone in the + huge house (for the basement was under the house and, somehow, + did not count). Something was astir in the house. He could hear + it through the doors ajar. His flesh crept. It was exactly like + the flap of a washing-cloth on the stone stairs; it stopped; it + came nearer. He thought inevitably of the dead Mrs. Haim, once + charwoman and step cleaner. In an instant he believed fully in + all that he had ever heard about ghosts and spirit + manifestations. An icy wave passed down his spine. He felt that + if the phantom of Mrs. Haim was approaching him he simply could + not bear to meet it. The ordeal would kill him. Then he decided + that the sounds were not those of a washing-cloth, but of + slippered feet. Odd that he should have been so deluded. + Somebody was coming down the long stairs from the upper + stories, uninhabited at night. Burglars? He was still very + perturbed, but differently perturbed. He could not move a + muscle. The suspense as the footsteps hesitated at the cubicle + was awful. George stood up straight and called out in a rough + voice—louder than he expected it to be:</p> + + <p>"Who's there?"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright appeared. He was wearing beautiful blue pyjamas + and a plum-coloured silk dressing-gown and doe-skin slippers. + His hair was extremely deranged; he blinked rapidly, and his + lined face seemed very old.</p> + + <p>"Well, I like this, I like this!" he said in a quiet, + sardonic tone. "Sitting at my desk and blazing my electricity + away! I happened to get up, and I looked out of the window and + noticed the glare below. So I came to see what was afoot. Do + you know you frightened me?—and I don't like being + frightened."</p> + + <p>"I hadn't the slightest notion you ever slept here," George + feebly stammered.</p> + + <p>"Didn't you know I'd decided to keep a couple of rooms here + for myself?"</p> + + <p>"I had heard something about it, but I didn't know you'd + really moved in. I—I've been away so much."</p> + + <p>"I moved in, as you call it, to-day—yesterday, and a + nice night you're giving me! And even supposing I hadn't moved + in, what's that got to do with your being here? Give me a + cigarette."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 169 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page164" name="page164">[pg 164]</a> + </span> + + With hurrying deference George gave the cigarette, and struck a + match for it, and as he held the match he had a near view of Mr + Enwright's prosaic unshaved chin. The house was no longer the + haunt of lurking phantoms; it was a common worldly house + without any mystery or any menace. George's skin was no longer + the field of abnormal phenomena. Dawn was conquering Russell + Square. On the other hand, George was no longer a giant of + energy, initiating out of ample experience a tremendous and + superb enterprise. He was suddenly diminished to a boy, or at + best a lad. He really felt that it was ridiculous for him to be + sketching and scratching away there in the middle of the night + in his dress-clothes. Even his overcoat, hat, and fancy muffler + cast on a chair seemed ridiculous. He was a child, pretending + to be an adult. He glanced like a child at Mr. Enwright; he + roughened his hair with his hand like a child. He had the most + wistful and apologetic air.</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"I just came along here for a bit instead of going to bed. I + didn't know it was so late."</p> + + <p>"Do you often just come along here?"</p> + + <p>"No. I never did it before. But to-night——"</p> + + <p>"What is it you're + <i>at</i> + + ?"</p> + + <p>"I'd been thinking a bit about that new town hall."</p> + + <p>"What new town hall?"</p> + + <p>"You know——"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright did know.</p> + + <p>"But haven't I even yet succeeded in making it clear that + this firm is not going in for that particular competition?"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright's sarcastic and discontented tone challenged + George, who stiffened.</p> + + <p>"Oh! I know the firm isn't going in for it. But what's the + matter with me going in for it?"</p> + + <p>He forced himself to meet Mr. Enwright's eyes, but he could + not help blushing. He was scarcely out of his articles; he had + failed in the Final; and he aspired to create the largest + English public building of the last half-century.</p> + + <p>"Are you quite mad?" Mr. Enwright turned away from the desk + to the farther window, hiding his countenance.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George firmly. "Quite!"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright, after a pause, came back to the desk.</p> + + <p>"Well, it's something to admit that," he sneered. "At +<!-- Page 170 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page165" name="page165">[pg 165]</a> + </span> + + any rate, we know where we are. Let's have a look at the horrid + mess."</p> + + <p>He made a number of curt observations as he handled the + sheets of sketches.</p> + + <p>"I see you've got that Saracenic touch in again."</p> + + <p>"What's the scale here?"</p> + + <p>"Is this really a town hall, or are you trying to beat the + Temple at Karnak?"</p> + + <p>"If that's meant for an Ionic capital, no assessor would + stand it. It's against all the textbooks to have Ionic capitals + where there's a side-view of them. Not that it matters to + me."</p> + + <p>"Have you made the slightest attempt to cube it up? You'd + never get out of this under half a million, you know."</p> + + <p>Shaking his head, he retired once more to the window. George + began to breathe more freely, as one who has fronted danger and + still lives. Mr. Enwright addressed the window:</p> + + <p>"It's absolute folly to start on a thing like that before + the conditions are out. Absolute folly. Have you done all that + to-night?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Well, you've shifted the stuff.... But you haven't the + slightest notion what accommodation they want. You simply don't + know."</p> + + <p>"I know what accommodation they + <i>ought</i> + + to want with four hundred thousand inhabitants," George + retorted pugnaciously.</p> + + <p>"Is it four hundred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with + bland innocence. He generally left statistics to his + partner.</p> + + <p>"Four hundred and twenty-five."</p> + + <p>"You've looked it up?"</p> + + <p>"I have."</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again.</p> + + <p>"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the + principal sheet and blinking.</p> + + <p>" + <i>I shall go in for it</i> + + !" The thought swept through George's brain like a fierce + flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and + incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those + produced by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught + admiration and benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was + intensely happy, encouraged, and proud. He began to talk + eagerly; he babbled, entrusting himself to Mr. Enwright's + benevolence.</p> + + <p>"Of course there's the Final. If they give six months +<!-- Page 171 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page166" name="page166">[pg 166]</a> + </span> + + for the thing I could easily get through the Final before + sending-in day. I could take a room somewhere. I shouldn't + really want any assistance—clerk, I mean. I could do it + all myself...." He ran on until Mr. Enwright stopped him.</p> + + <p>"You could have a room here—upstairs."</p> + + <p>"Could I?"</p> + + <p>"But you would want some help. And you needn't think they'll + give six months, because they won't. They might give five."</p> + + <p>"That's no good."</p> + + <p>"Why isn't it any good?" snapped Mr. Enwright. "You don't + suppose they're going to issue the conditions just yet, do you? + Not a day before September, not a day. And you can take it from + me!"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Hurrah!"</p> + + <p>"But look here, my boy, let's be clear about one thing."</p> + + <p>"Yes?"</p> + + <p>"You're quite mad."</p> + + <p>They looked at each other.</p> + + <p>"The harmless kind, though," said George confidently, well + aware that Mr. Enwright doted upon him.</p> + + <p>In another minute the principal had gone to bed, without + having uttered one word as to his health. George had announced + that he should tidy the sacred desk before departing. When he + had done that he wrote a letter, in pencil. "It's the least I + can do," he said to himself seriously. He began:</p> + + <p>"DEAR MISS INGRAM."—"Dash it!—She calls me + 'George,'" he thought, and tore up the sheet.—"DEAR + LOIS,—I think after what you said it's only due to you to + tell you that I've decided to go in for that competition on my + own. Thanks for the tip.—Yours, GEORGE CANNON"</p> + + <p>He surveyed the message.</p> + + <p>"That's about right," he murmured.</p> + + <p>Then he looked at his watch. It showed 3.15, but it had + ceased to beat. He added at the foot of the letter: "Monday, + 3.30 a.m." He stole one of John Orgreave's ready-stamped + envelopes.</p> + + <p>In quitting the house he inadvertently banged the heavy + front door.</p> + + <p>"Do 'em good!" he said, thinking of awakened sleepers.</p> + + <p>It was now quite light. He dropped the letter into the +<!-- Page 172 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page167" name="page167">[pg 167]</a> + </span> + + pillar-box round the corner, and as soon as he had + irretrievably done so, the thought occurred to him: "I wish I + hadn't put '3.30 a.m.' There's something rottenly sentimental + about it." The chill fresh air was bracing him to a more + perfect sanity. He raised the collar of his overcoat.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>At the club on Tuesday morning Downs brought to his bedside + a letter addressed in a large, striking, and untidy hand. Not + until he had generally examined the letter did he realize that + it was from Lois Ingram. He remembered having mentioned to her + that he lived at his club—Pickering's; but he had laid no + stress on the detail, nor had she seemed to notice it. Yet she + must have noticed it.</p> + + <p>"DEAR GEORGE,—I am so glad. Miss Wheeler is going to + her bootmaker's in Conduit Street to-morrow afternoon. She's + always such a long time there. Come and have tea with me at the + new Prosser's in Regent Street, four sharp. I shall have half + an hour.—L.I."</p> + + <p>In his heart he pretended to jeer at this letter. He said it + was 'like' Lois. She calmly assumed that at a sign from her he, + a busy man, would arrange to be free in the middle of the + afternoon! Doubtless the letter was the consequence of putting + '3.30 a.m.' on his own letter. What could a fellow + expect?...</p> + + <p>All pretence! In reality the letter flattered and excited + him. He thought upon the necktie he would wear.</p> + + <p>By the same post arrived a small parcel: it contained a + ring, a few other bits of jewellery, and all the letters and + notes that he had ever written or scribbled to Marguerite. He + did not want the jewellery back; he did not want the letters + back. To receive them somehow humiliated him. Surely she might + have omitted this nauseous conventionality! She was so + exasperatingly conscientious. Her neat, clerk-like calligraphy, + on the label of the parcel, exasperated him. She had carefully + kept every scrap of a missive from him. He hated to look at the + letters. What could he do with them except rip them up? And the + miserable trinkets—which she had worn, which had been + part of her? As for him, he had not kept all her + letters—not by any means. +<!-- Page 173 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page168" name="page168">[pg 168]</a> + </span> + + There might be a few, lying about in drawers. He would have to + collect and return them. Odious job! And he could not ask + anybody else to do it for him.</p> + + <p>He was obliged to question Lucas about the Regent Street + Prosser's, of which, regrettably, he had never heard. He did + not, in so many words, request John Orgreave for the favour of + an hour off. He was now out of his articles, though still by + the force of inertia at the office, and therefore he informed + John Orgreave that unless Mr. John had any objection he + proposed to take an hour off. Mr. Enwright was not in. Lucas + knew vaguely of the rendezvous, having somewhere met + Laurencine.</p> + + <p>From the outside Prosser's was not distinguishable from any + other part of Regent Street. But George could not mistake it, + because Miss Wheeler's car was drawn up in front of the + establishment, and Lois was waiting for him therein. Strange + procedure! She smiled and then frowned, and got out sternly. + She said scarcely anything, and he found that he could make + only such silly remarks as: "Hope I'm not late, am I?"</p> + + <p>The new Prosser's was a grandiose by-product of chocolate. + The firm had taken the leading ideas of the chief tea-shop + companies catering for the million in hundreds of + establishments arranged according to pattern, and elaborated + them with what is called in its advertisements 'cachet.' Its + prices were not as cheap as those of the popular houses, but + they could not be called dear. George and Lois pushed through a + crowded lane of chocolate and confectionery, past a staircase + which bore a large notice: "Please keep to the right." This + notice was needed. They came at length to the main hall, under + a dome, with a gallery between the dome and the ground. The + floor was carpeted. The multitudinous small tables had cloths, + flowers, silver, and menus knotted with red satin ribbon. The + place was full of people, people seated at the tables and + people walking about. Above the rail of the gallery could be + seen the hats and heads of more people. People were entering + all the time and leaving all the time. Scores of waitresses, in + pale green and white, moved to and fro like an alien and + mercenary population. The heat, the stir, the hum, and the + clatter were terrific. And from on high descended thin, + strident music in a rapid and monotonous rhythm.</p> + + <p>"No room!" said George, feeling that he had at last got into + the true arena of the struggle for life.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 174 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page169" name="page169">[pg 169]</a> + </span> + + Oh yes!" said Lois, with superior confidence.</p> + + <p>She bore mercilessly across the floor. Round the edge of the + huge room, beneath the gallery, were a number of little alcoves + framed in fretted Moorish arches of white-enamelled wood. Three + persons were just emerging from one of these. She sprang + within, and sank into a wicker arm-chair.</p> + + <p>"There is always a table," she breathed, surveying the whole + scene with a smile of conquest.</p> + + <p>George sat down opposite to her with his back to the hall; + he could survey nothing but Lois, and the world of the mirror + behind her.</p> + + <p>"That's one of father's maxims," she said.</p> + + <p>"What is?"</p> + + <p>"'There is always a table.' Well, you know, there always + is."</p> + + <p>"He must be a very wise man."</p> + + <p>"He is."</p> + + <p>"What's his special line?"</p> + + <p>She exclaimed:</p> + + <p>"Don't you know father? Hasn't Miss Wheeler told you? Or + Mrs. Orgreave?"</p> + + <p>"No."</p> + + <p>"But you must know father. Father's 'Parisian' in + <i>The Sunday Journal</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Despite the mention of this ancient and very dignified + newspaper, George felt a sense of disappointment. He had little + esteem for journalists, whom Mr. Enwright was continually + scoffing at, and whom he imagined to be all poor. He had + conceived Mr. Ingram as perhaps a rich cosmopolitan financier, + or a rich idler—but at any rate rich, whatever he might + be.</p> + + <p>"Of course he does lots of other work besides that. He + writes for the + <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> + + and the + <i>St. James's Gazette.</i> + + In fact it's his proud boast that he writes for all the + gazettes, and he's the only man who does. That's because he's + so liked. Everybody adores him. I adore him myself. He's a + great pal of mine. But he's very strict."</p> + + <p>"Strict?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," she insisted, rather defensively. "Why not? I should + like a strawberry ice, and a lemon-squash, and a millefeuille + cake. Don't be alarmed, please. I'm a cave-woman. You've got to + get used to it."</p> + + <p>"What's a cave-woman?"</p> + + <p>"It's something primitive. You must come over to +<!-- Page 175 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page170" name="page170">[pg 170]</a> + </span> + + Paris. If father likes you, he'll take you to one of the weekly + lunches of the Anglo-American Press Circle. He always does that + when he likes anyone. He's the Treasurer.... Haven't you got + any millefeuille cakes?" she demanded of the waitress, who had + come to renew the table and had deposited a basket of various + cakes.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid we haven't, miss," answered the waitress, not + comprehending the strange word any better than George did.</p> + + <p>"Bit rowdy, isn't it?" George observed, looking round, when + the waitress had gone.</p> + + <p>Lois said with earnestness:</p> + + <p>"I simply love these big, noisy places. They make me feel + alive."</p> + + <br /> + + <p>He looked at her. She was very well dressed—more + stylistic than any girl that he could see in the mirror. He + could not be sure whether or not her yellow eyes had a slight + cast; if they had, it was so slight as to be almost + imperceptible. There was no trace of diffidence in them; they + commanded. She was not a girl whom you could masculinely + protect. On the contrary, she would protect not only herself + but others.</p> + + <p>"Haven't you cream?" she curtly challenged the waitress, + arriving with ice, lemon-squash, and George's tea.</p> + + <p>The alien mercenary met her glance inimically for a second, + and then, shutting her lips together, walked off with the milk. + At Prosser's the waitresses did not wear caps, and were, in + theory, ladies. Lois would have none of the theory; the + waitress was ready to die for it and carried it away with her + intact. George preferred milk to cream, but he said + nothing.</p> + + <p>"Yes," Lois went on. "You ought to come to Paris. You have + been, haven't you? I remember you told me. We're supposed to go + back next week, but if Irene doesn't go, I shan't." She + frowned.</p> + + <p>George said that positively he would come to Paris.</p> + + <p>When they had fairly begun the rich, barbaric meal, Lois + asked abruptly:</p> + + <p>"Why did you write in the middle of the night?"</p> + + <p>Sometimes her voice was veiled.</p> + + <p>"Why did I write in the middle of the night? Because I + thought I would." He spoke masterfully. He didn't mean to stand + any of her cheek.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she laughed nicely. " + <i>I</i> + + didn't mind. I liked it— +<!-- Page 176 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page171" name="page171">[pg 171]</a> + </span> + + awfully. It was just the sort of thing I should have done + myself. But you might tell me all about it. I think I deserve + that much, don't you?"</p> + + <p>Thus he told her all about it—how he had arranged + everything, got a room, meant to have his name painted on the + door, meant to make his parents take their holiday on the + north-east coast for a change, so that he could study the site, + meant to work like a hundred devils, etc. He saw with + satisfaction that the arrogant, wilful creature was + impressed.</p> + + <p>She said:</p> + + <p>"Now listen to me. You'll win that competition."</p> + + <p>"I shan't," he said. "But it's worth trying, for the + experience—that's what Enwright says."</p> + + <p>She said:</p> + + <p>"I don't care a fig what Enwright says. You'll win that + competition. I'm always right when I sort of feel—you + know."</p> + + <p>For the moment he believed in the miraculous, inexplicable + intuitions of women.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she cried, as the invisible orchestra started a new + tune. "Do you know that? It's the first time I've heard it in + London. It's the + <i>machiche</i> + + . It's all over Paris. I think it's the most wonderful tune in + the world." Her body swayed; her foot tapped.</p> + + <p>George listened. Yes, it was a maddening tune.</p> + + <p>"It is," he agreed eagerly.</p> + + <p>She cried:</p> + + <p>"Oh! I do love pleasure! And success! And money! Don't + you?"</p> + + <p>Her eyes had softened; they were liquid with yearning; but + there was something frankly sensual in them. This quality, + swiftly revealed, attracted George intensely for an + instant.</p> + + <p>Immediately afterwards she asked the time, and said she must + go.</p> + + <p>"I daren't keep Irene waiting," she said. Her eyes now had a + hard glitter.</p> + + <p>In full Regent Street he put the haughty girl into Irene's + automobile, which had turned round; he was proud to be seen in + the act; he privately enjoyed the glances of common, + unsuccessful persons. As he walked away he smiled to himself, + to hide from himself his own nervous excitement. She was a + handful, she was. Within her life burned and blazed. He + remembered Mr. Prince's remark: "You must have +<!-- Page 177 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page172" name="page172">[pg 172]</a> + </span> + + made a considerable impression on her," or words to that + effect. The startling thought visited him: "I shall marry that + woman." Then another thought: "Not if I know it! I don't like + her. I do not like her. I don't like her eyes."</p> + + <p>She had, however, tremendously intensified in him the desire + for success. He hurried off to work. The days passed too + slowly, and yet they were too short for his task. He could not + wait for the fullness of time. His life had become a breathless + race. "I shall win. I can't possibly win. The thing's idiotic. + I might.... Enwright's rather struck." Yes, it was Mr. + Enwright's attitude that inspired him. To have impressed Mr. + Enwright—by Jove, it was something!</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_IX'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 178 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page173" name="page173">[pg 173]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + + <h3>COMPETITION</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>On the face of the door on the third floor of the house in + Russell Square the words 'G.E. Cannon' appeared in dirty white + paint and the freshly added initials 'A.R.I.B.A.' in clean + white paint. The addition of the triumphant initials + (indicating that George had kissed the rod of the Royal + Institute of British Architects in order to conquer) had put + the sign as a whole out of centre, throwing it considerably to + the right on the green door-face. Within the small and bare + room, on an evening in earliest spring in 1904, sat George at + the customary large flat desk of the architect. He had just + switched on the electric light over his head. He looked sterner + and older; he looked very worried, fretful, exhausted. He was + thin and pale; his eyes burned, and there were dark patches + under the eyes; the discipline of the hair had been rather + gravely neglected. In front of George lay a number of large + plans, mounted on thick cardboard, whose upper surface had a + slight convex curve. There were plans of the basement of the + projected town hall, of the ground floor, of the building at a + height of twelve feet from the ground, of the mezzanine floor, + of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth floors; these + plans were coloured. Further, in plain black and white, there + were a plan of the roof (with tower), a longitudinal section on + the central axis, two other sections, three elevations, and a + perspective view of the entire edifice. Seventeen sheets in + all.</p> + + <p>The sum of work seemed tremendous; it made the mind dizzy; + it made George smile with terrible satisfaction at his own + industry. For he had engaged very little help. He would have + been compelled to engage more, had not the Corporation extended + by one month the time for sending in. The Corporation had + behaved with singular enlighten +<!-- Page 179 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page174" name="page174">[pg 174]</a> + </span> + + ment. Its schedules of required accommodation (George's copy + was scored over everywhere in pencil and ink and seriously + torn) were held to be admirably drawn, and its supplementary + circular of answers to questions from competitors had displayed + a clarity and a breadth of mind unusual in corporations. Still + more to the point, the Corporation had appointed a second + assessor to act with Sir Hugh Corver. In short, it had shown + that it was under no mandarin's thumb, and that what it really + and seriously wanted was the best design that the profession + could produce. Mr. Enwright, indeed, had nearly admitted regret + at having kept out of the immense affair. John Orgreave had + expressed regret with vigour and candour. They had in the main + left George alone, though occasionally at night Mr. Enwright, + in the little room, had suggested valuable solutions of certain + problems. In detail he was severely critical of George's + design, and he would pour delicate satires upon the + idiosyncrasy which caused the wilful boy to 'impurify' (a word + from Enwright's private vocabulary) a Renaissance creation with + Saracenic tendencies in the treatment of arches and + wall-spaces.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless Mr. Enwright greatly respected the design in + its entirety, and both he and John Orgreave (who had collected + by the subterranean channels of the profession a large amount + of fact and rumour about the efforts of various competitors) + opined that it stood a fair chance of being among the selected + six or ten whose authors would be invited to submit final + designs for the final award. George tried to be hopeful; but he + could not be hopeful by trying. It was impossible to believe + that he would succeed; the notion was preposterous; yet at + moments, when he was not cultivating optimism, optimism would + impregnate all his being, and he would be convinced that it was + impossible not to win. How inconceivably grand! His chief + rallying thought was that he had undertaken a gigantic task and + had accomplished it. Well or ill, he had accomplished it. He + said to himself aloud:</p> + + <p>"I've done it! I've done it!"</p> + + <p>And that he actually had done it was almost incredible. The + very sheets of drawings were almost incredible. But they + existed there. All was complete. The declaration that the + design was G.E. Cannon's personal work, drawn in his own office + by his ordinary staff, was there, in the printed envelope + officially supplied by the Corporation. The estimate of cost + and the cubing was there. The explanatory +<!-- Page 180 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page175" name="page175">[pg 175]</a> + </span> + + report on the design, duly typewritten, was there. Nothing + lacked.</p> + + <p>"I've done it! I've done it!"</p> + + <p>And then, tired as he was, the conscience of the creative + artist and of the competitor began to annoy him and spur him. + The perspective drawing did not quite satisfy—and there + was still time. The point of view for the perspective drawing + was too high up, and the result was a certain marring of the + nobility of the lines, and certainly a diminishment of the + effect of the tower. He had previously started another + perspective drawing with a lower view-point, but he had + mistakenly cast it aside. He ought to finish the first one and + substitute it for the second one. 'The perspective drawing had + a moral importance; it had a special influence on the assessors + and committees. Horrid, tiresome labour! Three, four, five, or + six hours of highly concentrated tedium. Was it worth while? It + was not. Mr. Enwright liked the finished drawing. He, George, + could not face a further strain. And yet he was not content.... + Pooh! Who said he could not face a further strain? Of course he + could face it. If he did not face it, his conscience would + accuse him of cowardice during the rest of his life, and he + would never be able to say honestly: "I did my level best with + the thing." He snapped his fingers lightly, and in one second + had decided to finish the original perspective drawing, and in + his very finest style. He would complete it some time during + the night. In the morning it could be mounted. The drawings + were to go to the north in a case on the morrow by passenger + train, and to be met at their destination by a commissionaire + common to several competitors; this commissionaire would + deliver them to the Town Clerk in accordance with the + conditions. In a few minutes George was at work, excited, + having forgotten all fatigue. He was saying to himself that he + would run out towards eight o'clock for a chop or a steak. As + he worked he perceived that he had been quite right to throw + over the second drawing; he wondered that he could have felt + any hesitation; the new drawing would be immeasurably + superior.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim 'stepped up,' discreetly knocking, entering with + dignity. The relations between these two had little by little + resumed their old, purely formal quality. Both seemed to have + forgotten that passionate anger had ever separated them and + joined them together. George was young, and capable of + oblivion. Mr. Haim had beaten him in the struggle +<!-- Page 181 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page176" name="page176">[pg 176]</a> + </span> + + and could afford to forget. They conversed politely, as though + the old man had no daughter and the youth had never had a + lover. Mr. Haim had even assisted with the lettering of the + sheets—not because George needed his help, but because + Mr. Haim's calligraphic pride needed to help. To refuse the + stately offer would have been to insult. Mr. Haim had aged, but + not greatly.</p> + + <p>"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Dash it!... Thanks!"</p> + + <p>After all George was no longer on the staff of Lucas & + Enwright, and Mr. Haim was conferring a favour.</p> + + <p>Down below in the big office everybody had gone except the + factotum.</p> + + <p>George seized the telephone receiver and called brusquely + for attention.</p> + + <p>"Is that Mr. Cannon?"</p> + + <p>"Yes. Who is it?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! It's you, George! How nice to hear your voice + again!"</p> + + <p>He recognized, but not instantly, the voice of Lois Ingram. + He was not surprised. Indeed he had suspected that the + disturber of work must be either Lois or Miss Wheeler, or + possibly Laurencine. The three had been in London again for + several days, and he had known from Lucas that a theatre-party + had been arranged for that night to witness the irresistible + musical comedy, + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + , Lucas and M. Defourcambault were to be of the party. George + had not yet seen Lois since her latest return to London; he had + only seen her twice since the previous summer; he had not + visited Paris in the interval. The tone of her voice, even as + transformed by the telephone, was caressing. He had to think of + some suitable response to her startling amiability, and to + utter it with conviction. He tried to hold fast in his mind to + the image of the perspective with its countless complexities + and the co-ordination of them all; the thing seemed to be + retreating from him, and he dared not let it go.</p> + + <p>"Do you know," said Lois, "I only came to London to + celebrate the sending-in of your design. I hear it's + marvellous. Aren't you glad you've finished it?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I haven't finished it," said George. "I'm on it + now."</p> + + <p>What did the girl mean by saying she'd only come to London + to celebrate the end of his work? An invention on her part! + Still, it flattered him. She was very strange.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 182 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page177" name="page177">[pg 177]</a> + </span> + + But Everard's told us you'd finished a bit earlier than you'd + expected. We counted on seeing your lordship to-morrow. But now + we've got to see you to-night."</p> + + <p>"Awfully sorry I can't."</p> + + <p>"But look here, George. You must really. The party's all + broken up. Miss Wheeler's had to go back to Paris to-night, and + Jules can't come. Everything's upset. The flat's going to be + closed, and Laurencine and, I will have to leave to-morrow. + It's most frightfully annoying. We've got the box all right, + and Everard's coming, and you must make the fourth. We must + have a fourth. Laurencine's here at the phone, and she says the + same as me."</p> + + <p>"Wish I could!" George answered shortly. "Look here! What + train are you going by to-morrow? I'll come and see you off. I + shall be free then."</p> + + <p>"But, George. We + <i>want</i> + + you to come to-night." There seemed positively to be tears in + the faint voice. "Why can't you come? You must come."</p> + + <p>"I haven't finished one of the drawings. I tell you I'm on + it now. It'll take me half the night, or more. I'm just in the + thick of it, you see." He spoke with a slight resentful + impatience—less at her over-persuasiveness than at the + fact that his mind and the drawing were being more and more + separated. Soon he would have lost the right mood, and he would + be compelled to re-create it before he could resume the work. + The forcible, gradual dragging away of his mind from its + passionately gripped objective was torture. He had an impulse + to throw down the receiver and run off.</p> + + <p>The distant squeaking voice changed to the petulant:</p> + + <p>"You are horrid. You could come right enough if you wanted + to."</p> + + <p>"But don't you understand? It's awfully important for + me."</p> + + <p>He was astounded, absolutely astounded. She would not + understand. She had decided that he must go to the musical + comedy and nothing else mattered. His whole future did not + matter.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Very well, then," Lois said, undisguisedly vexed. "Of + course, if you won't, you won't. But really when two girls + <i>implore</i> + + you like that.... And we have to leave to-morrow, and + everything's upset!... I do think it's ... However, good + night."</p> + + <p>"Here! Hold hard a sec. I'll come for an hour or so. What's + the number of the box?"</p> + + <p>"Fourteen," said the voice brokenly.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 183 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page178" name="page178">[pg 178]</a> + </span> + + Immediately afterwards she rang off. George was hurt and + bewildered. The girl was incredibly ruthless. She was mad. Why + had he yielded? Only a silly conventional feeling had made him + yield. And yet he was a great scorner of convention. He went + upstairs again to the perspective drawing. He looked at his + watch. He might work for half an hour before leaving to dress. + No, he could not. The mood had vanished. The perspective had + slipped into another universe. He could not even pick up a pen. + He despised himself terribly, despairingly, for yielding.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>In spite of all this he anticipated with pleasure the + theatre-party. He wanted to go; he was glad he was going; the + memory of Lois in the tea-palace excited him. And he could + refuse a hearing to his conscience, and could prevent himself + from thinking uncomfortably of the future, as well as most + young men. His secret, unadmitted voluptuous eagerness was + alloyed only by an apprehension that after the scene over the + telephone Lois might be peevish and ungracious. The fear proved + to be baseless.</p> + + <p>Owing to the imperfections of the club laundry and the + erring humanity of Downs, he arrived late. + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + had begun. He found a darkened auditorium and a glowing stage. + In the dim box Lois and Laurencine were sitting in front on + gilt chairs. Lucas sat behind Laurencine, and there was an + empty chair behind Lois. Her gesture, her smile, her glance, as + she turned to George and looked up, were touching. She was + delighted to see him; she had the mien of a child who has got + what it wanted and has absolutely forgotten that it ever + pouted, shrieked, and stamped its foot. She was determined to + charm her uttermost. Her eye in the gloom was soft with + mysterious invitations. George looked about the interior of the + box; he saw the rich cloaks of the girls hanging up next to + glossy masculine hats, the large mirror on the wall, and + mother-of-pearl opera-glasses, chocolates, and flowers on the + crimson ledge. He was very close to the powerfully built and + yet plastic Lois. He could watch her changing curves as she + breathed; the faint scent she used rose to his nostrils. He + thought, with contained rapture: "Nothing in the world is equal + to this." He did not care a fig for the effect of perspective + drawings or the +<!-- Page 184 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page179" name="page179">[pg 179]</a> + </span> + + result of the competition. Lois, her head half-turned towards + him, her gaze lost in the sombre distances of the auditorium, + talked in a low tone, ignoring the performance. He gathered + that the sudden departure of Irene Wheeler had unusually + impressed and disconcerted and, to a certain extent, mortified + the sisters, who could not explain it, and who resented the + compulsion to go back to Paris at once. And he detected in + Lois, not for the first time, a grievance that Irene kept her, + Lois, apart from the main current of her apparently gorgeous + social career. Obviously an evening at which the sole guests + were two girls and a youth all quite unknown to newspapers + could not be a major item in the life of a woman such as Irene + Wheeler. She had left them unceremoniously to themselves at the + last moment, as it were permitting them to do what they liked + within the limits of goodness for one night, and commanding + them to return sagely home on the morrow. A red-nosed actor, + hands in pockets, waddled self-consciously on to the stage, and + the packed audience, emitting murmurs of satisfaction, + applauded. Conversations were interrupted. George, expectant, + gave his attention to the show. He knew little or nothing of + musical comedy, having come under influences which had taught + him to despise it. His stepfather, for example, could be very + sarcastic about musical comedy, and through both Enwright and + John Orgreave George had further cultivated the habit of + classical music, already acquired in boyhood at home in the + Five Towns. In the previous year, despite the calls upon his + time of study for examinations, George had attended the Covent + Garden performances of the Wagnerian "Ring" as he might have + attended High Mass. He knew by name a considerable percentage + of the hundred odd themes in "The Ring," and it was his boast + that he could identify practically all the forty-seven themes + in + <i>The Meistersingers</i> + + . He raved about Ternina in + <i>Tristan</i> + + . He had worshipped the Joachim quartet. He was acquainted with + all the popular symphonies of Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, + Mozart, Glazounov, and Tschaikovsky. He even frequented the + Philharmonic Concerts, which were then conducted by a composer + of sentimental drawing-room ballads, and though he would not + class this conductor with Richter or Henry J. Wood, he yet + believed that somehow, by the magic of the sacred name of the + Philharmonic Society, the balladmonger in the man expired in + the act of raising the baton and was replaced by a serious and + sensitive artist. He was accustomed to hear the same +<!-- Page 185 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page180" name="page180">[pg 180]</a> + </span> + + pieces of music again and again and again, and they were all or + nearly all very fine, indisputably great. It never occurred to + him that once they had been unfamiliar and had had to fight for + the notice of persons who indulged in music exactly as he + indulged in music. He had no traffic with the unfamiliar. + Unfamiliar items on a programme displeased him. He had heard + compositions by Richard Strauss, but he could make nothing of + them, and his timid, untravelled taste feared to like them. Mr. + Enwright himself was mainly inimical to Strauss, as to most of + modern Germany, perhaps because of the new architecture in + Berlin. George knew that there existed young English composers + with such names as Cyril Scott, Balfour Gardiner, Donald + Tovey—for he had seen these names recently on the front + page of + <i>The Daily Telegraph</i> + + —but he had never gone to the extent of listening to + their works. He was entirely sure that they could not hold a + candle to Wagner, and his sub-conscious idea was that it was + rather like their cheek to compose at all. He had not noticed + that Hugo Wolf had just died, nor indeed had he noticed that + Hugo Wolf had ever lived.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless this lofty and exclusive adherent of the 'best' + music was not prejudiced in advance against + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + . He was anxious to enjoy it and he expected to enjoy it. + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + had already an enormous prestige; it bore the agreeable, + captivating label of Vienna; and immense sums were being made + out of it in all the capitals of the world. George did not hope + for immortal strains, but he anticipated a distinguished, + lilting gaiety, and in the 'book' a witty and cosmopolitan + flavour that would lift the thing high above such English + musical comedies as he had seen. It was impossible that a work + of so universal and prodigious a vogue should not have + unquestionable virtues.</p> + + <p>The sight of the red-nosed comedian rather shocked George, + who had supposed that red-nosed comedians belonged to the past. + However, the man was atoned for by three extremely beautiful + and graceful young girls who followed him. Round about the + small group was ranged a semicircle of handsome creatures in + long skirts, behind whom was another semicircle of young men in + white flannels; the scene was a street in Mandalay. The + red-nosed comedian began by making a joke concerning his + mother-in-law, and another concerning mendacious statements to + his wife to explain his nocturnal absences from home, and + another concerning his intoxicated condition. The three + extremely +<!-- Page 186 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page181" name="page181">[pg 181]</a> + </span> + + beautiful and graceful young girls laughed deliriously at the + red-nosed comedian; they replied in a similar vein. They + clasped his neck and kissed him rapturously, and thereupon he + sang a song, of which the message was that all three extremely + beautiful and graceful girls practised professionally the most + ancient and stable of feminine vocations; the girls, by means + of many refrains, confirmed this definition of their status in + society. Then the four of them danced, and there was + enthusiastic applause from every part of the house except the + semicircle of European odalisques lost, for some unexplained + reason, in Mandalay. These ladies, the indubitable physical + attractions of each of whom were known by the management to + fill five or six stalls every night, took no pains whatever to + hide that they were acutely bored by the whole proceedings. + Self-sufficient in their beauty, deeply aware of the power of + their beauty, they deigned to move a lackadaisical arm or leg + at intervals in accordance with the respectful suggestions of + the conductor.</p> + + <p>Soon afterwards the gay spark herself appeared, amid a + hysteria of applause. She played the part of the wife of a + military officer, and displayed therein a marvellous, a + terrifying vitality of tongue, leg, and arm. The young men in + white flannels surrounded her, and she could flirt with all of + them; she was on intimate terms with the red-nosed comedian, + and also with the trio of delightful wantons, and her ideals in + life seemed to be identical with theirs. When, through the + arrival of certain dandies twirling canes, and the mysterious + transformation of the Burmese street into a Parisian cafe, + these ideals were on the point of realization, there was a + great burst of brass in the orchestra, succeeded by a violent + chorus, some kicking, and a general wassail, and the curtain + fell on the first act. It had to be raised four times before + the gratefully appreciative clapping would cease.</p> + + <p>The auditorium shone with light; it grew murmurous with + ecstatic approval. The virginal face of Laurencine shot its + rapture to Lucas as she turned to shake hands with George.</p> + + <p>"Jolly well done, isn't it?" said Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George.</p> + + <p>Lucas, too content to notice the perfunctoriness of George's + affirmative, went on:</p> + + <p>"When you think that they're performing it this very night + in St. Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, Brussels, and, I fancy, Rome, + but I'm not sure—marvellous, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>"It is," said George ambiguously.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 187 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page182" name="page182">[pg 182]</a> + </span> + + Though continuing to like him, he now definitely despised + Everard. The fellow had no artistic perceptions; he was a + child. By some means he had got through his Final, and was soon + to be a junior partner in Enwright & Lucas. George, + however, did not envy Everard the soft situation; he only + pitied Enwright & Lucas. Everard had often urged George to + go to musical comedies more frequently, hinting that they were + frightfully better than George could conceive. + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + gave Lucas away entirely; it gave away his method of + existence.</p> + + <p>"I don't believe you like it," said sharp Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"I adore it," George protested. "Don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! + <i>I</i> + + do, of course," said Laurencine. "I knew I should."</p> + + <p>Lucas, instinctively on the defence, said:</p> + + <p>"The second act's much better than the first."</p> + + <p>George's hopes, dashed but not broken, recovered somewhat. + After all there had been one or two gleams of real jokes, and a + catchiness in certain airs; and the spark possessed temperament + in profusion. It was possible that the next act might be + diverting.</p> + + <p>"You do look tired," said Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"Oh no, darling!" Lois objected. "I think he looks + splendid."</p> + + <p>She was intensely happy in the theatre. The box was very + well placed—since Irene had bought it—with a view + equally good of the stage and of the semicircle of boxes. Lois' + glance wandered blissfully round the boxes, all occupied by gay + parties, and over the vivacious stalls. She gazed, and she + enjoyed being gazed at. She bathed herself in the glitter and + the gaudiness and the opulence and the humanity, as in tonic + fluid. She seemed to float sinuously and voluptuously immersed + in it, as in tepid water lit with sunshine.</p> + + <p>"Do have a choc.," she invited eagerly.</p> + + <p>George took a chocolate. She took one. They all took one. + They all had the unconscious pride of youth that does not know + itself young. Each was different from the others. George showed + the reserve of the artist; Lucas the ease of the connoisseur of + mundane spectacles; Laurencine the sturdy, catholic, girlish + innocence that nothing can corrupt. And the sovereign was Lois. + She straightened her shoulders; she leaned languorously; she + looked up, she looked down; she spoke softly and loudly; she + laughed and smiled. And in every movement and in every gesture + and tone she sym +<!-- Page 188 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page183" name="page183">[pg 183]</a> + </span> + + bolized the ecstasy of life. She sought pleasure, and she had + found it, and she had no afterthought. She was infectious; she + was irresistible, and terrible too. For it was dismaying, at + any rate to George, to dwell on the fierceness of her instinct + and on the fierceness of its satisfaction. To George her + burning eyes were wistful, pathetic, in their simplicity. He + felt a sort of fearful pity for her. And he admired + her—she was something definite; she was something + magnificently outright; she did live. Also he liked her; the + implications in her glance appealed to him. The peculiar + accents in which she referred to the enigma of Irene Wheeler + were extraordinarily attractive to that part of his nature + which was perverse and sophisticated. "At least she is not a + simpleton," he thought. "And she doesn't pretend to be. Some + day I shall talk to her."</p> + + <p>The orchestra resumed; the lights went out. Lois settled + herself to fresh enchantment as the curtain rolled up to + disclose the bright halls and staircases of a supper-club. The + second act was an amplification and inflammation of the themes + of the first. As for the music, George listened in vain for an + original tune, even for a tune of which he could not foretell + the end from the beginning; the one or two engaging bits of + melody which enlivened the first act were employed again in the + second. The disdainful, lethargic chorus was the same; the same + trio of delicious wantons fondled and kissed the same red-nosed + comedian, who was still in the same state of inebriety, and the + gay spark flitted roysteringly through the same evolutions, in + pursuit of the same simple ideals. The jocularity pivoted + unendingly on the same twin centres of alcohol and + concupiscence. Gradually the latter grew to more and more + importance, and the piece became a high and candid homage to + the impulse by force of which alone one generation succeeds + another. No beautiful and graceful young girl on the stage + blenched before the salacious witticisms of the tireless + comedian; on the contrary he remained the darling of the stage. + And as he was the darling of the stage, so was he the darling + of the audience.</p> + + <p>And if no beautiful and graceful young girl blenched on the + stage, neither did the beautiful and graceful young girls in + the audience blench. You could see them sitting happily with + their fathers and mothers and cousins and uncles and aunts, + savouring the spectacle from dim stalls and boxes in the most + perfect respectability. Laurencine leaning her +<!-- Page 189 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page184" name="page184">[pg 184]</a> + </span> + + elbows on the ledge of the box, watched with eager, parted + lips, and never showed the slightest sign of uneasiness.</p> + + <p>George was uneasy; he was distressed. The extraordinary + juxtaposition of respectability and a ribald sexual display + startled but did not distress him. If the whole audience was + ready to stand it he certainly was. He had no desire to protect + people from themselves, nor to blush on behalf of + others—whoever they might be. Had anybody accused him of + saintliness he would have resented the charge, quite + justifiably, and if the wit of + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + had been witty, he would have enjoyed it without a qualm. What + distressed him, what utterly desolated him, was the grossness, + the poorness, the cheapness, the dullness, and the uninventive + monotony of the interminable entertainment. He yawned, he could + not help yawning; he yawned his soul away. Lois must have heard + him yawning, but she did not move. He looked at her curiously, + pitifully, speculating how much of her luxury was due to Irene + Wheeler, and how little to 'Parisian' of + <i>The Sunday Journal</i> + + —for he had been inquiring about the fruits of + journalism. The vision of his own office and of the perspective + drawing rose seductively and irresistibly in his mind. He could + not stay in the theatre; he felt that if he stayed he would be + in danger of dropping down dead, suffocated by tedium; and the + drawing must be finished; it would not wait; it was the most + urgent thing in the world. And not a syllable had any person in + the box said to him about his great task. Lois's forearm, + braceleted, lay on the front of the box. Unceremoniously he + took her hand.</p> + + <p>"Bye-bye."</p> + + <p>"You aren't going?" Her whisper was incredulous.</p> + + <p>"Must."</p> + + <p>He gave her no chance to expostulate. With one movement he + had seized his hat and coat and slid from the box, just as the + finale of the act was imminent and the red-nosed comedian was + measuring the gay spark for new + <i>lingerie</i> + + with a giant property-cigar. He had not said good-bye to + Laurencine. He had not asked about their departure on the + morrow. But he was free.</p> + + <p>In the foyer a couple—a woman in a rose plush + <i>sortie de bal</i> + + , and a blade—were mysteriously talking. The blade looked + at him, smiled, and left the lady.</p> + + <p>"Hal<i>lo</i>, + old fellow!" It was Buckingham Smith, who had been getting on + in the world.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 190 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page185" name="page185">[pg 185]</a> + </span> + + They shook hands.</p> + + <p>"You've left Chelsea, haven't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George.</p> + + <p>"So've I. Don't see much of the old gang nowadays. Heard + anything of old Princey lately?"</p> + + <p>George replied that he had not. The colloquy was over in a + moment.</p> + + <p>"You must come and see my show—next week," Buck Smith + called out after the departing George.</p> + + <p>"I will," cried George.</p> + + <p>He walked quickly up to Russell Square, impatient to steep + himself anew in his work. All sense of fatigue had left him. + Time seemed to be flying past him, and he rushing towards an + unknown fate. On the previous day he had received an + enheartening, challenging, sardonic letter from his stepfather, + who referred to politics and envisaged a new epoch for the + country. Edwin Clayhanger was a Radical of a type found only in + the Midlands and the North. For many years Clayhanger's party, + to which he was passionately faithful, had had no war-cry and + no programme worthy of its traditions. The increasing success + of the campaign against Protection, and certain signs that the + introduction of Chinese labour into South Africa could be + effectively resisted, had excited the middle-aged + provincial—now an Alderman—and he had managed to + communicate fire to George. But in George, though he sturdily + shared his stepfather's views, the resulting righteous energy + was diverted to architectural creation.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The circumstances in which, about a month later, George + lunched with the Ingram family at their flat in the Rue + d'Athènes, near the Gare St. Lazare, Paris, had an + appearance of the utmost simplicity and ordinariness. He had + been down to Staffordshire for a rest, and had returned + unrested. And then Mr. Enwright had suggested that it would do + him good to go to Paris, even to go alone. He went, with no + plan, but having made careful arrangements for the telegraphing + to him of the result of the competition, which was daily + expected. By this time he was very seriously convinced that + there was no hope of him being among the selected six or ten, + and he preferred to get the news away from London rather than + in it; he felt that he could not face London +<!-- Page 191 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page186" name="page186">[pg 186]</a> + </span> + + on the day or the morrow of a defeat which would of course + render his youthful audacity ridiculous.</p> + + <p>He arrived in Paris on a Wednesday evening, and took a room + in a + <i>maison meublée</i> + + of the Rue de Sèze. Every inexperienced traveller in Paris + has a friend who knows a lodging in Paris which he alleges is + better and cheaper than any other lodging—and which is + not. The house in the Rue de Sèze was the economical + paradise of Buckingham Smith, whom George had encountered again + at the Buckingham Smith exhibition. Buckingham Smith, with over + half his pictures bearing the red seal that indicates 'Sold,' + felt justified in posing to the younger George as a + cosmopolitan expert—especially as his opinions on modern + French art were changing. George spent three solitary and + dejected days in Paris, affecting an interest in museums and + architecture and French opera, and committing follies. Near the + end of the third day, a Saturday, he suddenly sent a threepenny + express note to Lois Ingram. He would have telephoned had he + dared to use the French telephone. On Sunday morning, an + aproned valet having informed him that Monsieur was demanded at + the telephone, he had to use the telephone. Lois told him that + he must come to lunch, and that afterwards he would be escorted + to the races. Dejection was instantly transformed into a gay + excitation. Proud of having spoken through a French telephone, + he began to conceive romantically the interior of a Paris + home—he had seen naught but a studio or so with Mr. + Enwright—and to thrill at the prospect of Sunday races. + Not merely had he never seen a horse-race on a Sunday—he + had never seen a horse-race at all. He perhaps was conscious of + a genuine interest in Lois and her environment, but what most + satisfied and flattered him, after his loneliness, was the bare + fact of possessing social relations in Paris at all.</p> + + <p>The Ingram home was up four flights of naked oaken stairs, + fairly swept, in a plain, flat-fronted house. The door of the + home was opened by a dark, untidy, dishevelled, uncapped, fat + girl, with a full apron, dazzling white and rectangularly + creased, that had obviously just been taken out of a drawer. + Familiarly and amicably smiling, she led him into a small, + modest drawing-room where were Lois and her father and mother. + Lois was enigmatic and taciturn. Mr. and Mrs. Ingram were + ingenuous, loquacious, and at ease. Both of them had twinkling + eyes. Mrs. Ingram was rather stout and grey and small, and wore + a quiet, inexpensive blue dress, +<!-- Page 192 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page187" name="page187">[pg 187]</a> + </span> + + embroidered at the neck in the Morrisian manner, of no kind of + fashionableness. She spoke in a low voice, smiled to herself + with a benevolence that was not without a touch of the + sardonic, and often looked at the floor or at the ceiling. Mr. + Ingram, very slim and neat, was quite as small as his wife, and + seemed smaller. He talked much and rather amusingly, in a + somewhat mincing tone, as it were apologetically, truly anxious + to please. He had an extremely fair complexion, and his + youthfulness was quite startling. His golden hair and perfect + teeth might have belonged to a boy. George leapt immediately + into familiarity with these two. But nobody could have less + resembled his preconceived image of 'Parisian' than Mr. Ingram. + And he could not understand a bit whence or how such a pair had + produced their daughter Lois. Laurencine was a far more + comprehensible offspring for them.</p> + + <p>The dining-room was even less spacious than the + drawing-room, and as unpretentious. The furniture everywhere + was sparse, but there were one or two rich knick-knacks, and an + abundance of signed photographs. The few pictures, too, were + signed, and they drew attention. On the table the napkins, save + George's, were in rings, and each ring different from the + others. George's napkin had the air of a wealthy, stiff, shiny + relative of the rest. Evidently in that home the long art of + making both ends meet was daily practised. George grew + light-hearted and happy, despite the supreme preoccupation + which only a telegram could allay. He had keenly the sensation + of being abroad. The multiplicity of doors, the panelling of + the doors, the narrow planking of the oaken floor, the moulding + of the cornices, the shape of the windows, the view of the + courtyard from the dining-room and of attics and chimney-cowls + from the drawing-room, the closed anthracite stoves in lieu of + fires, the crockery, the wine-bottle, the mustard, the grey + salt, the unconventional gestures and smiles and exclamations + of the unkempt maid—all these strange details enchanted + him, and they all set off very vividly the intense, nice, + honest, reassuring Englishness of the host and hostess.</p> + + <p>It was not until after the others were seated for the meal + that Laurencine made her appearance. She was a magnificent and + handsome virgin, big-boned, physically a little awkward, + candid. How exquisitely and absurdly she flushed in shaking + hands with George! With what a delicious mock-furious setting + of the teeth and tossing of the head she frowned +<!-- Page 193 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page188" name="page188">[pg 188]</a> + </span> + + at her mother's reproaches for being late! This family knew the + meaning of intimacy but not of ceremony. Laurencine sat down at + her father's left; George was next to her on Mrs. Ingram's + right. Lois had the whole of the opposite side of the + table.</p> + + <p>"Does he know?" Laurencine asked; and turning to George: "Do + you know?"</p> + + <p>"Know what?"</p> + + <p>"You'd better tell him, dad. You like talking, and he ought + to know. I shan't be able to eat if he doesn't. It would be so + ridiculous sitting here and pretending."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Ingram looked upwards across the room at a corner of + the ceiling, and smiled faintly.</p> + + <p>"You might," she said, "begin by asking Mr. Cannon if he + particularly wants to be burdened with the weight of your + secrets, my dear child."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I particularly do," said George.</p> + + <p>"There's no secret about it—at least there won't be + soon," said Laurencine.</p> + + <p>Lois spoke simultaneously:</p> + + <p>"My dear mother, please call George George. If we call him + George, you can't possibly call him Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>"I quite admit," Mrs. Ingram replied to her eldest, "I quite + admit that you and Laurencine are entitled to criticise my + relations with my husband, because he's your father. But I + propose to carry on my affairs with other men just according to + my own ideas, and any interference will be resented. I've had a + bad night, owing to the garage again, and I don't feel equal to + calling George George. I've only known him about twenty + minutes. Moreover, I might be misunderstood, mightn't I, Mr. + Cannon?"</p> + + <p>"You might," said George.</p> + + <p>"Now, dad!" Laurencine admonished.</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram, addressing George, began:</p> + + <p>"Laurencine suffers from a grave form of + self-consciousness——"</p> + + <p>"I don't, dad."</p> + + <p>"It is a disease akin to conceit. Her sufferings are + sometimes so acute that she cannot sit up straight and is + obliged to loll and curl her legs round the legs of the chair. + We are all very sorry for her. The only treatment is brutal + candour, as she herself advocates——"</p> + + <p>Laurencine jumped up, towered over her father, and covered + his mouth with her hand.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 194 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page189" name="page189">[pg 189]</a> + </span> + + This simple hand," said Mr. Ingram, seizing it, "will soon bear + a ring. Laurencine is engaged to be married."</p> + + <p>"I'm not, father." She sat down again.</p> + + <p>"Well, you are not. But you will be, I presume, by post-time + to-night. A young man of the name of Lucas has written to + Laurencine this morning in a certain sense, and he has also + written to me. Laurencine has seen my letter, and I've seen + hers. But my envelope contained only one letter. Whether her + envelope contained more than one, whether the epistle which I + saw is written in the style usually practised by the present + age, whether it was composed for the special purpose of being + shown to me, I do not know, and discretion and nice gentlemanly + feeling forbid me to inquire. However——"</p> + + <p>At this point, Laurencine snatched her father's napkin off + his knees and put it on her own.</p> + + <p>"However, my wife and I have met this Mr. Lucas, and as our + opinion about him is not wholly unfavourable, the matter was + satisfactorily and quickly arranged—even before I had had + my bath; Laurencine and I will spend the afternoon in writing + suitable communications to Mr. Lucas. I am ready to show her + mine for a shilling, but I doubt if five pounds would procure + me a sight of hers. Yet she is only an amateur writer and I'm a + professional."</p> + + <p>There was a little silence, and then George said + awkwardly:</p> + + <p>"I congratulate old Lucas."</p> + + <p>"This news must have astonished you extremely," observed Mr. + Ingram. "It must have come as a complete surprise. In fact you + are doubtless in the condition known to charwomen as capable of + being knocked down with a feather."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Quite!" George agreed.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless, in spite of his light tone, he regretted the + engagement. He did not think Lucas was worthy of the splendid + girl. He felt sorry for her. At that moment she faced him + bravely, and smiled. Her face had a tremendous deep crimson + flush. There was a woman somewhere in the girl! Strange + phenomenon! And another strange phenomenon: if Laurencine had + been self-conscious, George also was self-conscious; and he + avoided Lois's eyes! Why? He wondered whether the circumstances + in which he had come to Paris and entered the Ingram home were + as simple and ordinary as they superficially appeared.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 195 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page190" name="page190">[pg 190]</a> + </span> + + Laurencine," said her mother, "give your father back his + serviette!"</p> + + <p>"Mine's fallen."</p> + + <p>"Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Ingram very benevolently, + and he bent down and retrieved Laurencine's napkin, which he + kept. "And now," he proceeded, "the serious operation being + over and the patient out of danger, shall we talk about + something else for a few moments?"</p> + + <p>"I should think so indeed!" Laurencine exclaimed, suddenly + gay. "George, when + <i>shall</i> + + you know about the competition?"</p> + + <p>"Any minute, I might," said he.</p> + + <p>They all talked sympathetically to George on the new + subject.</p> + + <p>After lunch, Lois disappeared. She came back resplendent for + the races, when coffee had long been finished in the + drawing-room.</p> + + <p>"Why aren't you ready, Laure?" she demanded.</p> + + <p>"I'm not going, darling."</p> + + <p>"Lois," Mr. Ingram exhorted, "don't forget the afternoon is + to be spent in literary composition."</p> + + <p>"It isn't," Laurencine contradicted. "I may as well tell you + I've written all I mean to write in the way of letters for one + day. But I don't want to go, really, Lois darling."</p> + + <p>"No. She wants to think," Mrs. Ingram explained.</p> + + <p>Lois set her lips together, and then glimpsed herself in the + large mirror over the anthracite stove. She looked too rich and + complicated for that simple drawing-room.</p> + + <p>A performance on a horn made itself heard in the street + below.</p> + + <p>"There he is!" said Laurencine.</p> + + <p>She opened a window and ran out on to the balcony and leaned + over; then glanced within the room and nodded. George had + assumed that Irene Wheeler was the author and hostess of the + race-party, and he was not mistaken. Irene's automobile had + been sent round to embark him and the girls. Mrs. Ingram urged + him to come again the next day, and he said ardently that he + would. Mrs. Ingram's 'affair' with him was progressing + rapidly.</p> + + <p>"But I hope you'll call me George, then," he added.</p> + + <p>"I may!" she said. "I may! I may go even further."</p> + + <p>Lois and George descended the stairs in silence. He had not + seen her, nor written to her, since the night of the comedy + when he had so abruptly left the box. Once or twice at the +<!-- Page 196 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page191" name="page191">[pg 191]</a> + </span> + + Ingrams' he had fancied that she might be vexed with him for + that unceremonious departure. But she was not. The frank sigh + of relief which she gave on reaching the foot of the + interminable stairs, and her equally frank smile, had no + reserve whatever.</p> + + <p>The chauffeur's welcoming grin seemed to indicate that he + was much attached to Miss Ingram. He touched his hat, bowed, + and spoke to her at some length in French. Lois frowned.</p> + + <p>"It seems Miss Wheeler doesn't feel equal to going out this + afternoon," she translated to George. "But she insists that we + shall use the car all the same."</p> + + <p>"Is she ill?"</p> + + <p>"She's lying down, trying to sleep."</p> + + <p>"Well, then, I suppose we'd better use the car, hadn't + we?"</p> + + <p>Lois said seriously:</p> + + <p>"If you don't object, I don't."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>At Longchamps the sun most candidly and lovingly blessed the + elaborate desecration of the English Sabbath. The delicately + ornamented grand stands, the flags, the swards, the terraces, + the alleys, the booths, the notice-boards, the vast dappled sea + of hats and faces in the distant cheaper parts of the + Hippodrome, were laved in the descending, caressing floods of + voluptuous, warm sunshine. The air itself seemed luminous. The + enchantment of the sun was irresistible; it stunned + apprehensions and sad memories, obliterating for a moment all + that was or might be unhappy in the past or in the future. + George yielded to it. He abandoned his preoccupations about the + unsatisfactoriness of using somebody else's car in the absence + of the owner, about Mr. and Mrs. Ingram's ignorance of the fact + that their daughter had gone off alone with him, about Lois's + perfect indifference to this fact, about the engagement of + Laurencine to a man not her equal in worth, about the strange, + uncomfortable effect of Laurencine's engagement upon his + attitude towards Lois, and finally and supremely about the + competition. He gave himself up to the bright warmth like an + animal, and forgot. And he became part of the marvellous and + complicated splendour of the scene, took pride in it, took even + credit for +<!-- Page 197 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page192" name="page192">[pg 192]</a> + </span> + + it (Heaven knew why!), and gradually passed from insular + astonishment to a bland, calm acceptance of the miracles of + sensuous beatitude which civilization had to offer.</p> + + <p>After all, he was born to such experiences; they were his + right; and he was equal to them. Nevertheless his conviction of + the miraculous fortunately was not impaired. What was impaired + was his conviction of his own culture. He was constantly + thinking that he knew everything or could imagine everything, + and constantly undergoing the shock of undeception; but the + shock of the Longchamps Sunday was excessive. He had quite + failed to imagine the race-meeting; he had imagined an organism + brilliant, perhaps, but barbaric and without form and style; he + had imagined grotesque contrasts of squalor, rascality, and + fashion; he had imagined an affair predominantly equine and + masculine. The reality did not correspond; it transcended his + imagination; it painfully demonstrated his jejune crudity. The + Hippodrome was as formalized and stylistic as an Italian + garden; the only contrasts were those of one elegance with + another; horses were not to be seen, except occasionally in the + distance when under their riders they shot past some dark + background a flitting blur of primary colours with a rumble of + muffled thunder; and women, not men, predominated.</p> + + <p>On entering the Hippodrome George and Lois had met a group + of fashionably attired women, and he had thought: "There's a + bunch of jolly well-dressed ones." But as the reserved + precincts opened out before him he saw none but fashionably + attired women. They were there not in hundreds but in + thousands. They sat in rows on the grand stands; they jostled + each other on the staircases; they thronged the alleys and + swards. The men were negligible beside them. And they were not + only fashionably and very fashionably attired—all their + frocks and all their hats and all their parasols and all their + boots were new, glittering, spick-and-span; were complex and + expensive; not one feared the sun. The conception of what those + innumerable chromatic toilettes had cost in the toil, stitch by + stitch, of malodorous workrooms and in the fatigue of pale, + industrious creatures was really formidable. But it could not + detract from the scenic triumph. The scenic triumph dazzlingly + justified itself, and proved beyond any cavilling that earth + was a grand, intoxicating place, and Longchamps under the sun + an unequalled paradise of the senses.... Ah! These women were + finished—finished to the least detail of coiffure, + sunshade-handle, +<!-- Page 198 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page193" name="page193">[pg 193]</a> + </span> + + hatpin, jewellery, handbag, bootlace, glove, stocking, + <i>lingerie</i> + + . Each was the product of many arts in co-ordination. Each was + of great price. And there were thousands of them. They were as + cheap as periwinkles. George thought: "This is Paris."</p> + + <p>He said aloud:</p> + + <p>"Seems to be a fine lot of new clothes knocking about."</p> + + <p>Evidently for Lois his tone was too impressed, not + sufficiently casual. She replied in her condescending manner, + which he detested:</p> + + <p>"My poor George, considering that this is the opening of the + spring season, and the place where all the new spring fashions + are tried out—what did you expect?"</p> + + <p>The dolt had not known that he was assisting at a solemnity + recognized as such by experts throughout the clothed world. But + Lois knew all those things. She herself was trying out a new + toilette, for which doubtless Irene Wheeler was partly sponsor. + She could hold her own on the terraces with the rest. She was + staggeringly different now from the daughter of the simple home + in the Rue d'Athènes.</p> + + <p>The eyes of the splendid women aroused George's antipathy, + because he seemed to detect antipathy in them—not against + himself but against the male in him. These women, though by + their glances they largely mistrusted and despised each other, + had the air of having combined sexually against a whole sex. + The situation was very contradictory. They had beautified and + ornamented themselves in order to attract a whole sex, and yet + they appeared to resent the necessity and instinct to attract. + They submitted with a secret repugnance to the mysterious and + supreme bond which kept the sexes inexorably together. And + while stooping to fascinate, while deliberately seeking + attention, they still had the assured mien of conquerors. Their + eyes said that they knew they were indispensable, that they had + a transcendent role to play, that no concealed baseness of the + inimical sex was hidden from them, and that they meant to + exploit their position to the full. These Latin women exhibited + a logic, an elegance, and a frankness beyond the reach of the + Anglo-Saxon. Their eyes said not that they had been + disillusioned, but rather that they had never had illusions. + They admitted the facts; they admitted + everything—economic dependence, chicane, the intention to + seize every advantage, ruthless egotism. They had no shame for + a depravity which they shared equally with the inescapable and + cherished enemy +<!-- Page 199 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page194" name="page194">[pg 194]</a> + </span> + + And it was the youngest who, beneath the languishing and the + softness and the invitation deceitful and irresistible, gazed + outmost triumphantly to the enemy: "You are the victims. We + have tried our strength and your infirmity." They were heroic. + There was a feeling in the bright air of melancholy and doom as + the two hostile forces, inseparable, inextricably involved + together, surveyed the opponent in the everlasting conflict. + George felt its influence upon himself, upon Lois, upon the + whole scene. The eyes of the most feminine women in the world, + denying their smiles and their lure, had discovered to him + something which marked a definite change in his estimate of + certain ultimate earthly values.</p> + + <p>Lois said:</p> + + <p>"Perhaps a telegram is waiting for you at the hotel."</p> + + <p>"Well, I can wait till I get back," he replied stoutly.</p> + + <p>He thought, looking at her by his side:</p> + + <p>"She is just like these Frenchwomen!" And for some reason he + felt proud.</p> + + <p>"You needn't," said Lois, "We can telephone from under the + grand stand if you like."</p> + + <p>"But I don't know the number."</p> + + <p>"We can get that out of the book, of course."</p> + + <p>"I don't reckon I can use these French telephones."</p> + + <p>"Oh! My poor boy, I'll telephone for you—unless you + prefer not to risk knowing the worst."</p> + + <p>Yes, her tone was the tone of a strange woman. And it was + she who thirsted for the result of the competition.</p> + + <p>Controlling himself, submissively he asked her to telephone + for him, and she agreed in a delightfully agreeable voice. She + seemed to know the entire geography of the Hippodrome. She + secured a telephone-cabin in a very business-like manner. As + she entered the cabin she said to George:</p> + + <p>"I'll ask them if a telegram has come, and if it has I'll + ask them to open it and read it to me, or spell it—of + course it'll be in English.... Eh?"</p> + + <p>Through the half-open door of the cabin he watched her, and + listened. She rapidly turned over the foul and torn pages of + the telephone-book with her thumb. She spoke into the + instrument very clearly, curtly, and authoritatively. George + could translate in his mind what she said—his great + resolve to learn French had carried him so far.</p> + + <p>"On the part of Monsieur Cannon, one of your clients, + Monsieur Cannon of London. Has there arrived a telegram for + him?"</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 200 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page195" name="page195">[pg 195]</a> + </span> + + She waited. The squalor of the public box increased the effect + of her young and proud stylishness and of her perfume. George + waited, humbled by her superior skill in the arts of life, and + saying anxiously to himself: "Perhaps in a moment I shall know + the result," almost trembling.</p> + + <p>She hung up the instrument, and, with a glance at George, + shook her head.</p> + + <p>"There isn't anything," she murmured.</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"It's very queer, isn't it? However ..."</p> + + <p>As they emerged from the arcana of the grand stand, Lois was + stopped by a tall, rather handsome Jew, who, saluting her with + what George esteemed to be French exaggeration of gesture, + nevertheless addressed her in a confidential tone in English. + George, having with British restraint acknowledged the salute, + stood aside, and gazed discreetly away from the pair. He could + not hear what was being said. After several minutes Lois + rejoined George, and they went back into the crowds and the + sun. She did not speak. She did not utter one word. Only, when + the numbers went up for a certain race, she remarked:</p> + + <p>"This is the Prix du Cadran. It's the principal race of the + afternoon."</p> + + <p>And when that was over, amid cheering that ran about the + field like fire through dried bush, she added:</p> + + <p>"I think I ought to go back now. I told the chauffeur to be + here after the Prix du Cadran. What time is it exactly?"</p> + + <p>They sat side by side in the long, open car, facing the + chauffeur's creaseless back. After passing the Cascade, the car + swerved into the Allée de Longchamps which led in an + absolutely straight line, two miles long, to the Port Maillot + and the city. Spring decorated the magnificent wooded + thoroughfare. The side-alleys, aisles of an interminable nave, + were sprinkled with revellers and lovers and the most + respectable families half hidden amid black branches and gleams + of tender green. Automobiles and carriages threaded the main + alley at varying speeds. The number of ancient horse-cabs + gradually increased until, after the intersection of the + Allée de la Reine Marguerite, they thronged the vast road. + All the humble and shabby genteel people in Paris who could + possibly afford a cab seemed to have taken a cab. Nearly every + cab was overloaded. The sight of this vast pathetic effort of + the disinherited towards gaiety and distraction and +<!-- Page 201 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page196" name="page196">[pg 196]</a> + </span> + + the mood of spring, intensified the vague sadness in George due + to the race-crowd, Lois's silence, and the lack of news about + the competition.</p> + + <p>At length Lois said, scowling—no doubt + involuntarily:</p> + + <p>"I think I'd better tell you now. Irene Wheeler's committed + suicide. Shot herself." She pressed her lips together and + looked at the road.</p> + + <p>George gave a startled exclamation. He could not for an + instant credit the astounding news.</p> + + <p>"But how do you know? Who told you?"</p> + + <p>"The man who spoke to me in the grand stand. He's + correspondent of + <i>The London Courier</i> + + —friend of father's of course."</p> + + <p>George protested:</p> + + <p>"Then why on earth didn't you tell me before?... Shot + herself! What for?"</p> + + <p>"I didn't tell you before because I couldn't."</p> + + <p>All the violence of George's nature came to the surface as + he said brutally:</p> + + <p>"Of course you could!"</p> + + <p>"I tell you I couldn't!" she cried. "I knew the car wouldn't + be there for us until after the Prix du Cadran. And if I'd told + you I couldn't have borne to be walking about that place + three-quarters of an hour. We should have had to talk about it. + I couldn't have borne that. And so you needn't be cross, + please."</p> + + <p>But her voice did not break, nor her eyes shine.</p> + + <p>"I was wondering whether I should tell the chauffeur at + once, or let him find it out."</p> + + <p>"I should let him find it out," said George. "He doesn't + know that you know. Besides, it might upset his driving."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I shouldn't mind about his driving," Lois murmured + disdainfully.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When the uninformed chauffeur drove the car with a grand + sweep under the marquise of the ostentatious pale yellow block + in the Avenue Hoche where Irene Wheeler had had her flat, Mr. + Ingram and a police-agent were standing on the steps, but + nobody else was near. Little Mr. Ingram came forward anxiously, + his eyes humid, and his face drawn with pain and distress.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 202 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page197" name="page197">[pg 197]</a> + </span> + + We know," said Lois. "I met Mr. Cardow at Longchamps. He + knew."</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram's pain and distress seemed to increase.</p> + + <p>He said, after a moment:</p> + + <p>"Alfred will drive you home, dear, at once. + <i>Alfred, vous seriez gentil de reconduire Mademoiselle à + la rue d'Athènes."</i> + + He had the air of supplicating the amiable chauffeur. "Mr. + Cannon, I particularly want a few words with you."</p> + + <p>"But, father, I must come in!" said Lois. "I + must——"</p> + + <p>"You will go home immediately. Please, please do not add to + my difficulties. I shall come home myself as quickly as + possible. You can do nothing here. The seals have been + affixed."</p> + + <p>Lois raised her chin in silence.</p> + + <p>Then Mr. Ingram turned to the police-agent, spoke to him in + French, and pointed to the car persuasively; and the + police-agent permissively nodded. The chauffeur, with an + affectation of detachment worthy of the greatest days of + valetry, drove off, leaving George behind. Mr. Ingram descended + the steps.</p> + + <p>"I think, perhaps, we might go to a café," said he in a + tone which dispersed George's fear of a discussion as to the + propriety of the unchaperoned visit to the races.</p> + + <p>They sat down on the + <i>terrasse</i> + + of a large café near the Place des Ternes, a few hundred + yards away from the Avenue Hoche. The café was nearly + empty, citizens being either in the Bois or on the main + boulevards. Mr. Ingram sadly ordered bocks. The waiter, + flapping his long apron, called out in a loud voice as he went + within: " + <i>Deux blonds, deux.</i> + + " George supplied cigarettes.</p> + + <p>"Mr. Cannon," began Mr. Ingram, "it is advisable for me to + tell you a most marvellous and painful story. I have only just + heard it. It has overwhelmed me, but I must do my duty." He + paused.</p> + + <p>"Certainly," said George self-consciously, not knowing what + to say. He nearly blushed as, in an attempt to seem at ease, he + gazed negligently round at the rows of chairs and marble + tables, and at the sparse traffic of the somnolent Place.</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram proceeded.</p> + + <p>"When I first knew Irene Wheeler she was an art student + here. So was I. But I was already married, of course, and older + than she. Exactly what her age was I should not care +<!-- Page 203 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page198" name="page198">[pg 198]</a> + </span> + + to say. I can, however, say quite truthfully that her + appearance has scarcely altered in those nineteen years. She + always affirmed that her relatives, in Indianapolis, were + wealthy—or at least had money, but that they were very + mean with her. She lived in the simplest way. As for me, I had + to give up art for something less capricious, but capricious + enough in all conscience. Miss Wheeler went to America and was + away for some time—a year or two. When she came back to + Paris she told us that she had made peace with her people, and + that her uncle, whom for present purposes I will call Mr. X, a + very celebrated railway magnate of Indianapolis, had adopted + her. Her new manner of life amply confirmed these + statements."</p> + + <p>" + <i>Deux bocks</i> + + ," cried the waiter, slapping down on the table two saucers and + two stout glass mugs filled with frothing golden liquid.</p> + + <p>George, unaccustomed to the ritual of cafés, began at + once to sip, but Mr. Ingram, aware that the true boulevardier + always ignores his bock for several minutes, behaved + accordingly.</p> + + <p>"She was evidently extremely rich. I have had some + experience, and I estimate that she had the handling of at + least half a million francs a year. She seemed to be absolutely + her own mistress. You have had an opportunity of judging her + style of existence. However, her attitude towards ourselves was + entirely unchanged. She remained intimate with my wife, who, I + may say, is an excellent judge of character, and she was + exceedingly kind to our girls, especially Lois—but + Laurencine too—and as they grew up she treated them like + sisters. Now, Mr. Cannon, I shall be perfectly frank with you. + I shall not pretend that I was not rather useful to Miss + Wheeler—I mean in the Press. She had social ambitions. + And why not? One may condescend towards them, but do they not + serve a purpose in the structure of society? Very rich as she + was, it was easy for me to be useful to her. And at worst her + pleasure in publicity was quite innocent—indeed, it was + so innocent as to be charming. Naïve, shall we call + it?"</p> + + <p>Here Mr. Ingram smiled sadly, tasted his bock, and threw + away the end of a cigarette.</p> + + <p>"Well," he resumed, "I am coming to the point. This is the + point, which I have learnt scarcely an hour ago—I was + called up on the telephone immediately after you and Lois had + gone. This is the point. Mr. X was not poor Irene's +<!-- Page 204 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page199" name="page199">[pg 199]</a> + </span> + + uncle, and he had not adopted her. But it was his money that + she was spending." Mr. Ingram gazed fixedly at George.</p> + + <p>"I see," said George calmly, rising to the rôle of man + of the world. "I see." He had strange mixed sensations of + pleasure, pride, and confusion. "And you've just found this + out?"</p> + + <p>"I have just found it out from Mr. X himself, whom I met for + the first time to-day—in poor Irene's flat. I never + assisted at such a scene. Never! It positively unnerved me. Mr. + X is a man of fifty-five, fabulously wealthy, used to command, + autocratic, famous in all the Stock Exchanges of the world. + When I tell you that he cried like a child ... Oh! I never had + such an experience. His infatuation for + Irene—indescribable! Indescribable! She had made her own + terms with him. He told me himself. Astounding terms, but for + him it was those terms or nothing. He accepted them—had + to. She was to be quite free. The most absolute discretion was + to be observed. He came to Paris or London every year, and + sometimes she went to America. She utterly refused to live in + America."</p> + + <p>"Why didn't she marry him?"</p> + + <p>"He has a wife. I have no doubt in my own mind that one of + his reasons for accepting her extraordinary terms was to keep + in close touch with her at all costs in case his wife should + die. Otherwise he might have lost her altogether. He told me + many things about poor Irene's family in Indianapolis which I + will not repeat. It was true that they had money, as Irene + said; but as for anything else ...! The real name was not + Wheeler."</p> + + <p>"Has he been over, here long?"</p> + + <p>"He landed at Cherbourg last night. Just arrived."</p> + + <p>"And she killed herself at once."</p> + + <p>"Whether the deed was done immediately before or immediately + after his arrival is not yet established. And I need hardly + tell you that Mr. X has already fixed up arrangements not to + appear in the case at all. But one thing is sure—she had + made all the preparations for suicide, made them with the + greatest care. The girls saw her yesterday, and both Lois and I + spoke to her on the telephone this morning. Not a trace of + anything in her voice. I assume she had given a message for + Lois to the chauffeur."</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George. "We never dreamed——"</p> + + <p>"Of course not. Of course not."</p> + + <p>"But why did she——"</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 205 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page200" name="page200">[pg 200]</a> + </span> + + Another man, my dear sir! Another man! A young man named + Defourcambault, in the French Embassy in London."</p> + + <p>"Oh, him!" George burst out. "I know him," he added + fiercely.</p> + + <p>"You do? Yes, I remember Laurencine saying.... Poor Irene, I + fear, was very deeply in love with him. She had written to Mr. + X about Defourcambault. He showed me the letter—most + touching, really most touching. His answer to it was to come to + Europe at once. But poor Irene's death had nothing to do with + his coming. She did not know he was coming. She shot herself as + she lay in bed, and on the pillow was a letter from this man + Defourcambault—well, saying good-bye to her. I saw the + letter. Not a letter that I should wish to remember. Perhaps + she had told him something of her life. I much fear that + Defourcambault will be fetched from London, though I hope not. + There would be no object.... No, thank you. I will not smoke + again. I only wanted to say this to you. All Paris knows that + my daughters were intimate with poor Irene. Now, if anything + comes out, if anything + <i>should</i> + + come out, if there's any talk—you see my fear. I wish to + assure you, Mr. Cannon, that I had not the slightest suspicion, + not the slightest. And yet we journalists cannot exactly be + called ingenuous! But I had not the slightest suspicion, nor + had my wife. You know the situation between Laurencine and your + friend Lucas. You and he are very intimate, I believe. May I + count on you to explain everything from my point of view to Mr. + Lucas? I could not bear that the least cloud should rest upon + my little Laurencine."</p> + + <p>"You needn't trouble about Lucas," said George positively. + "Lucas 'll be all right. Still, I'll talk to him."</p> + + <p>"Thank you very much. Thank you very much. I knew I could + rely on you. I've kept you a long time, but I'm sure you + understand. I'm thinking only of my girls. Not for anything + would I have them know the truth about the affair."</p> + + <p>"But aren't they bound to know it?" George asked.</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram was wounded. "I hope not. I hope not," he said + gravely. "It is not right that young girls should know such + things."</p> + + <p>"But surely, sooner or later——"</p> + + <p>"Ah! After they are married, conceivably. That would be + quite different," he admitted, with cheerfulness. "And +<!-- Page 206 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page201" name="page201">[pg 201]</a> + </span> + + now," he smiled, "I'm afraid I've got to go and write the case + up for London. I can catch the mail, I think. If not, I must + cable. But they hate me to cable when the mail is possible. Can + I drop you anywhere?"</p> + + <p>Simultaneously he signalled to a taxi and knocked on the + window for the attendance of the waiter.</p> + + <p>"Thanks. If you're going anywhere near the Place de + l'Opéra," said George.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>VI</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He was excited, rather than saddened, by the tragic event. + He was indeed very excited. And also he had a deep + satisfaction, because it seemed to him that he had at last been + truly admitted into the great secret fellowship of adult males. + The initiation flattered his pride. He left Mr. Ingram at the + door of an English newspaper office in the Boulevard des + Italiens, and, after vainly asking for telegrams at the hotel, + walked away, aimlessly at first, along broad pavements + encumbered with the chairs and tables of vast, crowded + cafés, and with bright Sunday idlers and sinister + street-vendors. But in a moment he had decided that he must and + ought to pay a call in the Rue d'Athènes. Mr. Ingram had + said nothing about his seeing Lois again, had not referred to + Mrs. Ingram's invitation to repeat his visit, might even + vaguely object to an immediate interview between him and Lois. + Yet he could not, as a man of the world, abandon Lois so + unceremoniously. He owed something to Lois and he owed + something to himself. And he was a free adult. The call was + natural and necessary, and if Mr. Ingram did not like it he + must, in the Five Towns phrase, lump it. George set off to find + the Rue d'Athènes unguided. It was pleasurable to think + that there was a private abode in the city of cafés, + hotels, and museums to which he had the social right of + entry.</p> + + <p>The watching concierge of the house nodded to him politely + as he began to mount the stairs. The Ingrams' servant smiled + upon him as upon an old and familiarly respected friend.</p> + + <p>"Mademoiselle Lois?" he said, with directness.</p> + + <p>The slatternly, benevolent girl widened her mouth still + further in a smile still more cordial, and led him to the + drawing-room. As she did so she picked up a newspaper packet + that lay on a table in the tiny hall, and, without putting it +<!-- Page 207 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page202" name="page202">[pg 202]</a> + </span> + + on a salver, deposited it in front of Lois, who was alone in + the drawing-room. George wondered what Lois would have thought + of such an outrage upon established ritual had it happened to + her in the home of Irene Wheeler instead of in her own; and + then the imagined vision of Irene lying dead in the sumptuous + home in the Avenue Hoche seemed to render all established + ritual absurd.</p> + + <p>"So you've come!" exclaimed Lois harshly. "Mother's quite + knocked over, and Laurencine's looking after her. All the usual + eau-de-Cologne business. And I should say father's not much + better. My poor parents! What did dad want you for?"</p> + + <p>The servant had closed the door. Lois had got up from her + chair and was walking about the room, pulling aside a curtain + and looking out, tapping the mantelpiece with her hand, tapping + with her feet the base of the stove, George had the sensation + of being locked in a cage with a mysterious, incalculable, and + powerful animal. He was fascinated. He thought: "I wanted to + see her alone and I am seeing her alone!"</p> + + <p>"Well?" she insisted. "What did dad want you for?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! He told me a few things about Miss Wheeler."</p> + + <p>"I suppose he told you about Jules, and I suppose he told + you I wasn't to know on any account! Poor old dad! Instead of + feeling he's my father, d'you know what I feel? I feel as if I + was his mother. He's + <i>so</i> + + clever; he's frightfully clever; but he was never meant for + this world. He's just a beautiful child. How in Heaven's name + could he think that a girl like me could be intimate with + Irene, and not know about the things that were in her mind? How + could he? Why! I've talked for hours with Irene about Jules! + She'd much sooner talk with me even than with mother. She's + cried in front of me. But I never cried. I always told her she + was making a mistake about Jules. I detested the little worm. + But she couldn't see it. No, she couldn't. She'd have + quarrelled with me if I'd let her quarrel. However, I wouldn't + let her. Fancy quarrelling—over a man! She couldn't help + being mad over Jules. I told her she couldn't—that was + why I bore with her. I always told her he was only playing with + her. The one thing that I didn't tell her was that she was too + old for him. She really believed she never got any older. When + I say too old for him, I mean for her sake, not for his. He + didn't think she was too old. He couldn't—with that + complexion of hers. I never envied her anything else except her + complexion and her money. But he +<!-- Page 208 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page203" name="page203">[pg 203]</a> + </span> + + wouldn't marry an American. His people wouldn't let him. He's + got to marry into a family like his own, and there're only + about ten for him to choose from. I know she wrote to him on + Thursday. She must have had the answer this morning. Of course + she had a revolver. I've got one myself. She went to bed and + did it. She used to say to me that if ever she did it that was + how she would do it.... And father tells me not to add to his + difficulties! Don't you think it's comic?... But she never told + me everything. I knew that. I accused her of it. She admitted + it. However ..."</p> + + <p>Lois spoke in a low, regular murmur, experimentally aware + that privacy in a Paris flat is relative. There were four doors + in the walls of the drawing-room, and a bedroom on either side. + At moments George could scarcely catch her words. He had never + heard her say so much at once, for she was taciturn by habit, + even awkward in conversation. She glowered at him darkly. The + idea flashed through his mind: "There can't be another girl + like her. She's unique." He almost trembled at the revelation. + He was afraid, and yet courageous, challenging, combative. She + had grandeur. It might be moral, or not; but it was grandeur. + And—(that touch about the complexion!)—she could + remember her freckles! She might, in her hard egotism, in the + rushing impulses of her appetites—she might be an enemy, + an enemy to close with whom would be terrible rapture, and the + war of the sexes was a sublime war, infinitely superior in + emotions to tame peace. (And had she not been certified an + angel? Had he not himself seen the angel in her?) She dwarfed + her father and mother. The conception, especially, of Mr. + Ingram at lunch, deliciously playful and dominating, and now + with the adroit wit crushed out of him and only a naïve + sentimentality left, was comic—as she had ruthlessly + characterized it. She alone towered formidably over the + devastated ruins of Irene's earthly splendour.</p> + + <p>He said nothing.</p> + + <p>She rang the bell by the mantelpiece. He heard it ring. No + answer. She rang again.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Arrivez donc, jeune fille!</i> + + " she exclaimed impatiently.</p> + + <p>The servant came.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Apportez du thé, Séraphine.</i> + + "</p> + + <p>" + <i>Oui, mademoiselle.</i> + + "</p> + + <p>Then Lois lounged towards the table and tore sharply the + wrapper of the newspaper. George was still standing.</p> + + <p>"He's probably got something in about her this week— +<!-- Page 209 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page204" name="page204">[pg 204]</a> + </span> + + about her soirée last Tuesday. We weren't invited. Of + course he went."</p> + + <p>George saw the name the + <i>Sunday Journal</i> + + . The paper had come by the afternoon mail, and had been + delivered, according to weekly custom, by messenger from Mr. + Ingram's office. Lois's tone and attitude tore fatally the + whole factitious 'Parisian' tradition, as her hand had torn the + wrapper.</p> + + <p>"See here," she said quietly, after a few seconds, and gave + the newspaper with her thumb indicating a paragraph.</p> + + <p>He could hardly read the heading, because it unnerved him; + nor the opening lines. But he read this: "The following six + architects have been selected by the Assessors and will be + immediately requested by the Corporation to submit final + designs for the town hall: Mr. Whinburn, Mr.... Mr.... Mr. + George E. Cannon ..."</p> + + <p>"What did I always tell you?" she said.</p> + + <p>And then she said:</p> + + <p>"Your telegram must have been addressed wrong, or + something."</p> + + <p>He sat down. Once again he was afraid. He was afraid of + winning in the final competition. A vista of mayors, + corporations, town clerks, committees, contractors, + clerks-of-works, frightened him. He was afraid of his + immaturity, of his inexperience. He could not carry out the + enterprise; he would reap only ignominy. His greatest desire + had been granted. He had expected, in the event, to be wildly + happy. But he was not happy.</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed.</p> + + <p>Lois, who had resumed the paper, read out:</p> + + <p>"In accordance with the conditions of the competition, each + of the above named will receive a honorarium of one hundred + guineas."</p> + + <p>She looked at him.</p> + + <p>"You'll get that town hall to do," she said positively. + "You're bound to get it. You'll see."</p> + + <p>Her incomprehensible but convincing faith passed + mysteriously into him. A holy dew relieved him. He began to + feel happy.</p> + + <p>Lois glanced again at the paper, which with arms + outstretched she held in front of her like a man, like the men + at Pickering's. Suddenly it fell rustling to the floor, and she + burst into tears.</p> + + <p>She murmured indistinctly: " +<!-- Page 210 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page205" name="page205">[pg 205]</a> + </span> + + The last thing she did was for my pleasure—sending the + car."</p> + + <p>George jumped up, animated by an inexpressible tenderness + for her. She had weakened. He moved towards her. He did not + consider what he was doing; he had naught to say; but his + instinctive arms were about to clasp her. He was unimaginably + disturbed. She straightened and stiffened in a second.</p> + + <p>"But of course you've not got it yet," she said harshly, + with apparent irrelevance.</p> + + <p>Séraphine entered bouncingly with the tea. Lois + regarded the tray, and remarked the absence of the + strainer.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Et la passoire</i> + + ?" she demanded, with implacable sternness.</p> + + <p>Séraphine gave a careless, apologetic gesture.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>VII</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was late in September, when most people had returned to + London after the holidays. John Orgreave mounted to the upper + floor of the house in Russell Square where George had his + office. Underneath George's name on the door had been newly + painted the word 'Inquiries,' and on another door, opposite, + the word 'Private.' John Orgreave knocked with exaggerated + noise at this second door and went into what was now George's + private room.</p> + + <p>"I suppose one ought to knock," he said in his hearty + voice.</p> + + <p>"Hallo, Mr. Orgreave!" George exclaimed, jumping up.</p> + + <p>"If the mountain doesn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must come + to the mountain," said John Orgreave.</p> + + <p>"Come in," said George.</p> + + <p>He noticed, and ignored, the touch of sarcasm in John + Orgreave's attitude. He had noticed a similar phenomenon in the + attitude of various people within the last four days, since + architectural circles and even the world in general had begun + to resound with the echoing news that the competition for the + northern town hall had been won by a youth not twenty-three + years of age. Mr. Enwright had been almost cross, asserting + that the victory was perhaps a fluke, as the design of another + competitor was in reality superior to George's. Mr. Enwright + had also said, in his crabbed way: "You'll soon cut me out"; + and, George protesting, had gone on: "Oh! Yes, you will. I've + been through this sort of thing before. I know what I'm talking + about. You're +<!-- Page 211 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page206" name="page206">[pg 206]</a> + </span> + + no different from the rest." Whereupon George, impatient and + genuinely annoyed, had retorted upon him quite curtly, and had + remembered what many persons had said about Mr. Enwright's + wrong-headed jealous sensitiveness—animadversions which + he, as a worshipper of Mr. Enwright, had been accustomed to + rebut. Further, Lucas himself had not erred by the extravagance + of his enthusiasm for George's earth-shaking success. For + example, Lucas had said: "Don't go and get above yourself, old + chap. They may decide not to build it after all. You never know + with these corporations." A remark extremely undeserved, for + George considered that the modesty and simplicity of his own + demeanour under the stress of an inordinate triumph were rather + notable. Still, he had his dignity to maintain against the + satiric, and his position was such that he could afford to + maintain it.</p> + + <p>Anyhow, he preferred the sardonic bearing of his + professional intimates to the sycophancy of certain + acquaintances and of eager snobs unknown to him. Among sundry + telegrams received was one composed regardless of cost and + signed 'Turnbull.' He could not discover who Turnbull might be + until John Orgreave had reminded him of the wigged, brown, + conversational gentleman whom he had met, on one occasion only, + at Adela's. In addition to telegrams he had had letters, some + of which contained requests for money (demanded even as a right + by the unlucky from the lucky), and an assortment of charity + circulars, money-lenders' circulars, and bucket-shop lures. His + mother's great sprawling letter had pleased him better than any + save one. The exception was his stepfather's. Edwin Clayhanger, + duly passing on to the next generation the benevolent Midland + gibe which he had inherited, wrote:</p> + + <p>"DEAR GEORGE,—It's better than a bat in the eye with a + burnt stick.—Yours affectionately, NUNKS"</p> + + <p>As a boy George had at one period called his stepfather + 'Nunks,' but he had not used the appellation for years. He was + touched now.</p> + + <p>The newspapers had been hot after him, and he knew not how + to defend himself. His photograph was implored. He was waylaid + by journalists shabby and by journalists spruce, and the + resulting interviews made him squirm. He became a man of mark + at Pickering's. Photographers entreated him to sit free of + charge. What irritated him in the whole vast affair was the + continual insistence upon his lack of years. +<!-- Page 212 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page207" name="page207">[pg 207]</a> + </span> + + Nobody seemed to be interested in his design for the town hall; + everybody had the air of regarding him as a youthful prodigy, a + performing animal. Personally he did not consider that he was + so very young. (Nevertheless he did consider that he was a + youthful prodigy. He could recall no architect in history who + had done what he had done at his age.) The town clerk who + travelled from the North to see him treated his age in a + different manner, the patronizing. He did not care for the town + clerk. However, the town clerk was atoned for by the chairman + of the new town hall sub-committee, a true human being named + Soulter, with a terrific accent and a taste for architecture, + pictures, and music. Mr. Soulter, though at least forty-five, + treated George, without any appearance of effort, as a coeval. + George immediately liked him, and the mere existence of Mr. + Soulter had the effect of dissipating nearly all George's + horrible qualms and apprehensions about his own competence to + face the overwhelming job of erection. Mr. Soulter was most + soothing in the matter of specifications and contractors.</p> + + <p>"So you've got into your new room," said John Orgreave.</p> + + <p>Never before had he mounted to see George either in the new + room or in the old room. The simple fact of the presence there + of one of the partners in the historic firm below compensated + for much teasing sarcasm and half-veiled jealousy. It was a + sign. It was a seal authenticating renown.</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"I only wanted to give you a message from Adela. The Ingram + young woman is staying with us——"</p> + + <p>"Lois?" The name shot out of him unbidden.</p> + + <p>"Yes. You're humbly supplicated to go to tea to-day. Four + o'clock. Thank God I've not forgotten it!"</p> + + <p>George arrived fifty-five minutes late at Bedford Park. + Throughout the journey thither he kept repeating: "She said I + should do it. And I've done it! I've done it! I've done it!" + The triumph was still so close behind him that he was + constantly realizing it afresh, and saying, wonder-struck: + "I've done it." And the miraculous phantasm of the town hall, + uplifted in solid stone, formed itself again and again in his + enchanted mind, against a background of tremendous new + ambitions rising endlessly one behind another like snowy + alps.</p> + + <p>"Is this what you call four o'clock?" twittered Adela, + between cajolery and protest, somewhat older and facially more + artificial, but eternally blonde; still holding her fair head + on one side and sinuously waving the palm.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 213 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page208" name="page208">[pg 208]</a> + </span> + + Sorry! Sorry! I was kept at the last moment by a journalist + johnny."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Of course!" said Adela, pooh-poohing with her lips. "Of + course we expect that story nowadays!"</p> + + <p>"Well, it was a chap from the + <i>Builder</i> + + , or I wouldn't have seen him. Can't trifle with a trade paper, + you know."</p> + + <p>He thought:</p> + + <p>"She's like the rest of them, as jealous as the devil."</p> + + <p>Then Lois came into the room, hatted and gloved, in + half-mourning. She was pale, and appreciably thinner; she + looked nervous, weak, and weary. As he shook hands with her he + felt very self-conscious, as though in winning the competition + and fulfilling her prophecy he had done something dubious for + which he ought to apologize. This was exceedingly strange, but + it was so. She had been ill after the death of Irene Wheeler. + Having left Paris for London on the day following the races, he + had written to her about nothing in particular, a letter which + meant everything but what it said—and had received an + answer from Laurencine, who announced that her sister was in + bed, and likely to be in bed; and that father and mother wished + to be remembered to him. Then he wrote to Laurencine. When the + result of the final competition was published he had written + again to Lois. It seemed to him that he was bound to do so, for + had she not willed and decided his victory? No reply; but there + had scarcely been time for a reply.</p> + + <p>"Did you get my letter?" he smiled.</p> + + <p>"This afternoon," she said gravely. "It followed me here. + Now I have to go to Irene's flat. I should have been gone in + another minute."</p> + + <p>"She + <i>will</i> + + go alone," Adela put in anxiously.</p> + + <p>"I shall be back for dinner," said Lois, and to the + stupefaction of George she moved towards the door.</p> + + <p>But just as she opened the door she turned her head and, + looking at George with a frown, murmured:</p> + + <p>"You can come with me if you like."</p> + + <p>Adela burst out:</p> + + <p>"He hasn't had any tea!"</p> + + <p>"I'm not urging him to come, my dear. Good-bye."</p> + + <p>Adela and George exchanged a glance, each signalling to the + other that perhaps this sick, strange girl ought to be + humoured. He abandoned the tea.... He was in the street with + Lois. He was in the train with her. Her ticket was in his + pocket. He had explained to her why he was +<!-- Page 214 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page209" name="page209">[pg 209]</a> + </span> + + late, and she had smiled, amiably but enigmatically. He + thought: "She's no right to go on like this. But what does it + matter?" She said nothing about the competition—not a + word of congratulation. Indeed she hardly spoke beyond telling + him that she had to choose some object at the flat. He was + aware of the principal terms of Irene's will, which indeed had + caused the last flutter of excitement before oblivion so + quickly descended upon the notoriety of the social star. + Irene's renown had survived her complexion by only a few short + weeks. The will was of a rather romantic nature. Nobody + familiar with the intimate circumstances would have been + surprised if Irene had divided her fortune between Lois and + Laurencine. The bulk of it, however, went back to Indianapolis. + The gross total fell far short of popular estimates. Lois and + Laurencine received five thousand pounds apiece, and in + addition they were requested to select each an object from + Irene's belongings—Lois out of the London flat, + Laurencine out of the Paris flat. Lois had come to London to + choose, and she was staying with Adela, the sole chaperon + available. Since the death of Irene, Mrs. Ingram had been + excessively strict in the matter of chaperons.</p> + + <p>They took a hansom at Victoria. Across the great square, + whose leaves were just yellowing, George saw the huge block of + flats, and in one story all the blinds were down. Lois marched + first into the lift, masterfully, as though she inhabited the + block. She asked no one's permission. Characteristically she + had an order from the solicitors, and the keys of the flat. She + opened the door without any trouble. They were inside, within + the pale-sheeted interior. Scarcely a thing had yet been moved, + for, with the formalities of the judicatures of France, + England, and the State of Indiana to be complied with, events + marched slowly under the sticky manipulation of three different + legal firms. Lois and George walked cautiously across the + dusty, dulled parquets into the vast drawing-room. George + doffed his hat.</p> + + <p>"I'd better draw the blinds up," he suggested.</p> + + <p>"No, no!" she sharply commanded. "I can see quite well. I + don't want any more light."</p> + + <p>There was the piano upon which Laurencine had played! The + embrasure of the window! The corner in which Irene had sat + spellbound by Jules Defourcambault! The portraits of Irene, at + least one of which would perpetuate her name! The glazed cases + full of her collections!... The chief +<!-- Page 215 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page210" name="page210">[pg 210]</a> + </span> + + pieces of furniture and all the chairs were draped in the pale, + ghostly sheeting.</p> + + <p>Suddenly Lois, rushing to the mantelpiece, cried:</p> + + <p>"This is what I shall take."</p> + + <p>It was a large photograph of Jules Defourcambault, bearing + the words: " + <i>À Miss Irene Wheeler. Hommages respectueux de</i> + + J.D.F."</p> + + <p>"You won't!" he exclaimed, incredulous, shocked. He thought: + "She is mad!"</p> + + <p>"Yes, I shall."</p> + + <p>There were hundreds of beautiful objects in the place, and + she chose a banal photograph of a despicable creature whom she + detested.</p> + + <p>"Why don't you take one of + <i>her</i> + + portraits? Or even a fan. What on earth do you want with a + thing like that?" His voice was changing.</p> + + <p>"I shall take it and keep it for ever. He was the cause of + it all. This photograph was everything to her once."</p> + + <p>George revolted utterly, and said with cold, harsh + displeasure:</p> + + <p>"You're simply being morbid. There's no sense in it."</p> + + <p>She dropped down into a chair, and the impress of her body + dragged the dust-sheet from its gilt arms, exposing them. She + put her face in her hands and sobbed.</p> + + <p>"You're awfully cruel!" she murmured thickly.</p> + + <p>The sobs continued, shaking her body. She was beautifully + dressed. Her shoes were adorable, and the semi-transparent hose + over her fine ankles. She made a most disturbing, an + unbearable, figure of compassion. She needed wisdom, + protection, guidance, strength. Every bit of her seemed to + appeal for these qualities. But at the same time she dismayed. + He moved nearer to her. Yes, she had grandeur. All the costly + and valuable objects in the drawing-room she had rejected in + favour of the satisfaction of a morbid and terrible whim. Who + could have foreseen it? He moved still nearer. He stood over + her. He seized her yielding wrists. He lifted her veil. Tears + were running down her cheeks from the yellow eyes. She looked + at him through her tears.</p> + + <p>"You're frightfully cruel," she feebly repeated.</p> + + <p>"And what if I am?" he said solemnly. Did she really think + him hard, had she always thought him hard—she, the hard + one? How strange! Yet no doubt he was hard.</p> + + <p>His paramount idea was:</p> + + <p>"She had faith in me." It was as if her faith had created +<!-- Page 216 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page211" name="page211">[pg 211]</a> + </span> + + the man he was. She was passionately ambitious; so was he.</p> + + <p>And when he kissed her wet mouth, and stroked with + incredible delicacy those streaming cheeks, he felt himself + full of foreboding. But he was proud and confident.</p> + + <p>He took her back to Bedford Park. She carried the + photograph, unwrapped; but he ventured no comment. She went + straight up to her room.</p> + + <p>" + <i>You</i> + + must tell Mrs. Orgreave," she said on the stairs.</p> + + <p>Adela made a strange remark:</p> + + <p>"Oh! But we always intended you to marry Lois!"</p> + +<!-- Page 217 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page212" name="page212">[pg 212]</a> + </span> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 218 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page213" name="page213">[pg 213]</a> + </span> + + <h2>PART II</h2> + + <h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + <h3>THE TRIUMPH</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George came into the conjugal bedroom. The hour was about + three o'clock in the afternoon. Lois lay on the sofa at the + foot of the twin beds. It was perhaps characteristic of her + that she sincerely preferred the sofa to her bed. Sometimes in + the night, when she could not sleep, she would get up and go + sighing to the sofa, and, with nothing but a slippery eiderdown + to cover her, sleep perfectly till George arose in the morning. + Quite contentedly conventional in most matters of mere social + deportment, she often resisted purely physical conventions. A + bed was the recognized machine for slumber; hence she would + instinctively choose another machine. Also, the sofa was nearer + to the ground. She liked to be near the ground. She had + welcomed with ardour the first beginnings of the new fashion + which now regularly permits ladies to sit on the hearth-rug + after a ceremonial dinner and prop their backs with cushions or + mantelpieces. Doubtless a trait of the 'cave-woman' that as a + girl she had called herself!</p> + + <p>She was now stretched on the sofa in a luxurious and + expensive ribboned muslin negligée, untidy, pale, haggard, + heavy, shapeless, the expectant mother intensely conscious of + her own body and determined to maintain all the privileges of + the exacting rôle which nature had for the third time + assigned to her. Little Laurencine, aged eight, and little + Lois, aged five, in their summer white, were fondling her, + tumbling about her, burying themselves in her; she reclined + careless, benignant, and acquiescent under their tiny assaults; + it was at moments as though the three were one being. When +<!-- Page 219 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page214" name="page214">[pg 214]</a> + </span> + + their father appeared in the doorway, she warned them in an + apparently awed tone that father was there, and that nursey was + waiting for them and that they must run off quietly. And she + kissed them with the enormous kiss of a giantess suddenly + rendered passionate by a vast uprush of elemental feeling. And + they ran off, smiling confidently at their father, giggling, + chattering about important affairs in their intolerable, + shrieking voices. George could never understand why Lois should + attempt, as she constantly did, to instil into them awe of + their father; his attitude to the children made it impossible + that she should succeed. But she kept on trying. The cave-woman + again! George would say to himself: "All women are + cave-women."</p> + + <p>"Have you come to pack?" she asked, with fatigued + fretfulness, showing no sign of surprise at his arrival.</p> + + <p>"Oh no!" he answered, and implied that in his over-charged + existence packing would have to be done when it could, if at + all. "I only came in for one second to see if I could root out + that straw hat I wore last year."</p> + + <p>"Do open the window," she implored grievously.</p> + + <p>"It is open."</p> + + <p>"Both sides?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Well, open it more."</p> + + <p>"It's wide open."</p> + + <p>"Both sides?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"It's so stuffy in this room," she complained, expelling + much breath.</p> + + <p>It was stuffy in the room. The room was too full of the + multitudinous belongings and furniture of wife and husband. It + was too small for its uses. The pair, unduly thrown together, + needed two rooms. But the house could not yield them two rooms, + though from the outside it had an air of spaciousness. The + space was employed in complying with custom, in imitating the + disposition of larger houses, and in persuading the tenant that + he was as good as his betters. There was a basement, because + the house belonged to the basement era, and because it is + simpler to burrow than to erect. On the ground floor were the + hall—narrow, and the dining-room—narrow. To have + placed the dining-room elsewhere would have been to double the + number of stairs between it and the kitchen; moreover, the + situation of the dining-room in all such correct houses is + immutably fixed by the code +<!-- Page 220 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page215" name="page215">[pg 215]</a> + </span> + + Thus the handiest room in the house was occupied during four + hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during the remaining + twenty. Behind the dining-room was a very small room appointed + by the code to be George's 'den.' It would never have been used + at all had not George considered it his duty to use it + occasionally, and had not Lois at intervals taken a fancy to it + because it was not hers.</p> + + <p>The whole of the first floor was occupied by the landing, + the well of the staircase, and the drawing-room, which last was + inevitably shaped in the resemblance of an L. The small back + portion of it over George's den was never utilized save by the + grand piano and rare pianists. Still, the code demanded that + the drawing-room should have this strange appendage, and that a + grand piano should reside in it modestly, apologetically, like + a shame that cannot be entirely concealed. Nearly every house + in Elm Park Road, and every house in scores of miles of other + correct streets in the West End, had a drawing-room shaped in + the semblance of an L, and a grand piano in the hinterland + thereof. The drawing-room, like the dining-room, was occupied + during about four hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during + the remaining twenty.</p> + + <p>The two main floors of the house being in such manner + accounted for, the family and its dependents principally lived + aloft on the second and third floors. Eight souls slept up + there nightly. A miracle of compression!</p> + + <p>George had had the house for ten years; he entered it as a + bridegroom. He had stayed in it for seven years because the + landlord would only confide it to him on lease, and at the end + of the seven years he lacked the initiative to leave it. An + ugly house, utterly without architectural merit! A strange + house for an architect to inhabit! George, however, had never + liked it. Before his marriage he had discovered a magnificent + house in Fitzroy Square, a domestic masterpiece of the Adams + period, exquisitely designed without and within, huge rooms and + many rooms, lovely ceilings, a forged-iron stair-rail out of + Paradise; a house appreciably nearer to the centre than the one + in Elm Park Road, and with a lower rental. George would have + taken the house, had not Lois pointed out to him its fatal + disadvantage, which had escaped him, namely, that people simply + did not live in Fitzroy Square. Instantly Lois entered Fitzroy + Square, George knew himself for a blind fool. Of course the + house was impossible. He was positively ashamed to show her the + house. She admitted that it was beautiful. So Elm +<!-- Page 221 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page216" name="page216">[pg 216]</a> + </span> + + Park Road was finally selected, Elm Park Road being a street + where people could, and in fact did, live. It was astounding + how Lois, with her small and fragmentary knowledge of London, + yet knew, precisely and infallibly, by instinct, by the sound + of the names of the thoroughfares, by magic diabolical or + celestial, what streets were inhabitable and what were not. And + something in George agreed with her.</p> + + <p>He now rummaged among hat-boxes beneath the beds, pulled one + out, and discovered a straw hat in it.</p> + + <p>"Will it do?" he questioned doubtfully.</p> + + <p>"Let me look at it."</p> + + <p>He approached her and gave her the hat, which she carefully + examined, frowning.</p> + + <p>"Put it on," she said.</p> + + <p>He put it on, and she gazed at him for what seemed to him an + unnecessarily long time. His thought was that she liked to hold + him under her gaze.</p> + + <p>"Well?" he exclaimed impatiently.</p> + + <p>"It's quite all right," she said. "What's the matter with + it? It makes you look about fourteen." He felt envy in her + voice. Then she added: "But surely you won't be able to wear + that thing to-morrow?"</p> + + <p>"Of course not. I only want it for this afternoon.... This + sun."</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she cried. "I do think it's a shame I can't go to the + Opening! It's just my luck."</p> + + <p>He considered that she arraigned her luck much too often; he + considered that on the whole her luck was decidedly good. But + he knew that she had to be humoured. It was her right to be + humoured.</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said judicially and rather shortly. "I'm sorry + too! But what are you going to do about it? If you can't go, + you can't. And you know it's absolutely out of the question." + As a fact he was glad that her condition made such an excursion + impossible for her. She would certainly have been rather a + ticklish handful for him at the Opening.</p> + + <p>"But I should so have + <i>enjoyed</i> + + it!" she insisted, with emphasis.</p> + + <p>There it was, the thirst for enjoyment, pleasure! The + supreme, unslakable thirst! She had always had it, and he had + always hardened himself against it—while often, + nevertheless, accepting with secret pleasure the satisfactions + of her thirst. Thus, for example, in the matter of dancing. She + +<!-- Page 222 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page217" name="page217">[pg 217]</a> + </span> + + had shared to the full in the extraordinary craze for dancing + which had held the West End for several years. Owing to her + initiative they had belonged to two dancing clubs whose members + met weekly in the saloons of the great hotels. The majority of + the members were acutely tedious to George, but Lois was quite + uncritical, save on the main point; she divided the members + into good dancers and bad dancers. George was a pretty good + dancer. He liked dancing. Membership of these clubs involved + expense, it interfered with his sleep, it made his early + mornings more like defeats than triumphs, it prevented him from + duly reading and sketching. But he liked dancing. While + resenting the compulsion to outrage his conscience, he enjoyed + the sin. What exasperated him was Lois's argument that that + kind of thing "did him good" professionally, and was indeed + essential to the career of a rising or risen young architect, + and that also it was good for his health and his mind. He + wished that she would not so unconvincingly pretend that + self-indulgence was not what it was. These pretences, however, + seemed to be a necessity of her nature. She reasoned similarly + about the dinners and theatre-parties which they gave and + attended. Next to dancing she adored dinners and + theatre-parties. She would sooner eat a bad dinner in company + anywhere than a good dinner quietly at home; she would far + sooner go to a bad play than to none at all; she was in fact + never bored in the theatre or in the music-hall. Never!</p> + + <p>Once, by misfortune—as George privately + deemed—he had got a small job (erection of a + dwelling-house at Hampstead) through a dinner. Lois had never + forgotten it, and she would adduce the trifle again and again + as evidence of the sanity of her ideas about social life. + George really did not care for designing houses; they were not + worth the trouble; he habitually thought in public edifices and + the palaces of kings, nobles, and plutocrats of taste. + Moreover, his commission on the house would not have kept his + own household in being for a month—and yet the owner, + while obviously proud to be the patron of the celebrated + prodigy George Cannon, had the air of doing George Cannon a + favour!</p> + + <p>And so her ambition, rather than his, had driven them both + ruthlessly on. Both were overpressed, but George considerably + more than Lois. Lois was never, in ordinary times, really + tired. Dinners, teas, even lunches, restaurants, theatres, + music-halls, other people's houses, clubs, dancing, changing + clothes, getting into autos and taxis and getting +<!-- Page 223 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page218" name="page218">[pg 218]</a> + </span> + + out of autos and taxis, looking at watches, writing down + engagements, going to bed with a sigh at the lateness of the + hour, waking up fatigued to the complexities of the new + day—she coped admirably with it all. She regarded it as + natural; she regarded it as inevitable and proper. She enjoyed + it. She wanted it, and that which she wanted she must have. Yet + her attitude to George was almost invariably one of deep + solicitude for him. She would look at him with eyes troubled + and anxious for his welfare. When they were driving to a dance + which he had no desire to attend, she would put her arm in his + and squeeze his arm and murmur: "Coco, I don't + <i>like</i> + + you working so hard." (Coco was her pet name for him, a + souvenir of Paris.)</p> + + <p>He acknowledged that, having chosen her rôle, she + played it well. She made him comfortable. She was a good + housekeeper, and a fair organizer generally. She knew how to be + well served. He thought that her manner to servants was often + inexcusable, but she "kept" her servants, and they would "do + anything" for her. Further, except that she could not shine in + conversation, she was a good hostess. She never made mistakes, + never became muddled, never forgot. Of course she had friends + to whom he was indifferent or perhaps slightly hostile, but she + was entitled to her friends, as he to his. And she was a good + mother. Stranger still, though she understood none of the arts + and had no logical taste, she possessed a gift of guessing or + of divination which, in all affairs relating to the home, was + the practical equivalent of genuine taste. George had first + noticed this faculty in her when she put a thousand pounds of + her money to a thousand pounds of his stepfather's and they + began to buy furniture. The house was beautifully furnished, + and she had done her share. And in the alterations, additions, + and replacements which for several years she had the habit of + springing upon him, she rarely offended him. Still, he knew + indubitably that she had not taste,—anyhow in his sense + of the term,—and would never, never acquire it. An + astonishing creature! He had not finished being astonished at + her. In some respects he had not even come to a decision about + her. For instance, he suspected that she had "no notion of + money," but he could not be sure. She did what she liked with + her own income, which was about two hundred a year; that is to + say, she clothed herself out of it. Her household accounts were + unknown to him; he had once essayed to comprehend them, but had + drawn back affrighted.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 224 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page219" name="page219">[pg 219]</a> + </span> + + Well," she said plaintively. "Now you're here, I think you + might sit a bit with me. It's most awfully lonely for me."</p> + + <p>"I can't possibly," he said, with calm. "I have to rush off + to the club to see Davids about that business."</p> + + <p>She ignored his inescapable duties! It was nothing to her + that he had a hundred affairs to arrange before his + night-journey to the north. She wanted him to sit with her. + Therefore she thought that he ought to sit with her, and she + would be conscious of a grievance if he did not. 'Lonely!' + Because the children were going out for an hour or so! Besides, + even if it was lonely, facts were facts, and destiny was + destiny and had to be borne.</p> + + <p>"What business?"</p> + + <p>"You know."</p> + + <p>"Oh! That!... Well, can't you go after tea?"</p> + + <p>Incurable!</p> + + <p>"Here, lass!" he said, with a laugh. "If I stop arguing here + I shall miss him."</p> + + <p>He bent down, and prepared his lips to kiss her. He smiled + superiorly, indulgently. He was the stronger. She defeated him + sometimes; she gravely defeated him in the general arrangement + and colour of their joint existence; but he was the stronger. + She had known it for over ten years. They had had two + tremendous, critical, highly dangerous battles. He had won them + both. Lois had wanted to be married in Paris. He had been ready + to agree until suddenly it occurred to him that French legal + formalities might necessitate an undue disclosure as to his + parentage and the bigamy of which his mother had been a victim. + He refused absolutely to be married in Paris. He said: "You're + English and I'm English, and the proper place for us to be + married is England." There were good counter-arguments, but he + would not have them. Curiously, at this very period, news came + from his stepfather of his father's death in America. He kept + it to himself. Again, on the night itself of their marriage, he + had said to her: " + <i>Now give me that revolver you've got</i> + + ." At her protesting refusal he had said: "My wife is not going + about with any revolver. Not if I know it!" He was playful but + determined. He startled her, for the altercation lasted two + hours. On the other hand he had never said a word about the + photograph of Jules Defourcambault, and had never seen it. + Somewhere, in some mysterious fastness, the mysterious woman + kept it.</p> + + <p>His lips were close to hers, and his eyes to her eyes. Most +<!-- Page 225 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page220" name="page220">[pg 220]</a> + </span> + + persons called her eyes golden, but to him they were just + yellow. They had an infinitesimal cast, to which nobody ever + referred. They were voluptuous eyes. He examined her face. She + was still young; but the fine impressive imprint of existence + was upon her features, and the insipid freshness had departed. + She blinked, acquiescent. Her eyes changed, melting. He could + almost see into her brain, and watch there the impulse of + repentance for an unreasonable caprice, and the intense resolve + to think in the future only of her husband's welfare. She was + like that.... She could be an angel.... He knew that he was + hard. He guessed that he might be inordinately hard He would + bear people down. Why had he not been touched by her helpless + condition? She was indeed touching as she lay. She wanted to + keep him near her and she could not. She wanted acutely to go + to the north, and she was imprisoned. She would have to pass + the night alone, and the next night alone. Danger and great + suffering lay in front of her. And she was she; she was + herself, with all her terrific instincts. She could not alter + herself. Did she not merit compassion? Still, + <i>he must go to his club</i> + + .</p> + + <p>He kissed her tenderly. She half lifted her head, and kissed + him exactly as she kissed his children, like a giantess, and as + though she was the ark of wisdom from everlasting, and he a + callow boy whose safety depended upon her sagacious, loving + direction.</p> + + <p>From the top of the flight of stairs leading from the ground + floor, George, waiting till it was over, witnessed the + departure of his family for the afternoon promenade. A + prodigious affair! The parlourmaid (a delightful creature who + was, unfortunately, soon to make an excellent match above her + station) amiably helped the nursemaid to get the perambulator + down the steps. The parlourmaid wore her immutable uniform, and + the nursemaid wore her immutable uniform. Various things had to + be packed into the perambulator, and then little Lois had to be + packed into it—not because she could not walk, but + because it was not desirable for her to arrive at the + playground tired. Nursey's sunshade was undiscoverable, and + little Laurencine's little sunshade had to be retrieved from + underneath little Lois in the depths of the perambulator. + Nursey's book had fallen on the steps. Then the tiny but + elaborate perambulator of Laurencine's doll had to go down the + steps, and the doll had to be therein ensconced under + Laurencine's own direction, and Laurencine's sunshade had to be + opened, and Laurencine had to prove to the maids +<!-- Page 226 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page221" name="page221">[pg 221]</a> + </span> + + that she could hold the sunshade in one hand and push the + doll's perambulator with the other. Finally, the procession of + human beings and vehicles moved, munitioned, provisioned, like + a caravan setting forth into the desert, the parlourmaid + amiably waving adieux.</p> + + <p>George thought: "I support all that. It all depends on me. I + have brought it all into existence." And his reflections + embraced Lois upstairs, and the two colleagues of the + parlourmaid in the kitchen, and the endless apparatus of the + house, and the people at his office and the apparatus there, + and the experiences that awaited him on the morrow, and all his + responsibilities, and all his apprehensions for the future. And + he was amazed and dismayed by the burden which almost + unwittingly he bore night and day. But he felt too that it was + rather fine. He felt that he was in the midst of life.</p> + + <p>As he was cranking his car, which he had left unattended at + the kerb, Mrs. Buckingham Smith's magnificent car driven by her + magnificent chauffeur, swept in silence up to the door and + sweetly stopped. George's car was a very little one, and he was + his own chauffeur, and had to walk home from the garage when he + had done with it. The contemplation of Buck Smith's career + showed George that there are degrees of success. Buck Smith + received a thousand pounds for a portrait (in the French manner + of painting)—and refused commissions at that. Buck Smith + had a kind of palace in Melbury Road. By the side of Buck + Smith. George was a struggling semi-failure. Mrs. Buck Smith, + the lady whom George had first glimpsed in the foyer of a + theatre, was a superb Jewess whom Buck had enticed from the + stage. George did not like her because she was apt, in ecstasy, + to froth at the mouth, and for other reasons; but she was one + of his wife's most intimate friends. Lois, usually taciturn, + would chatter with Adah for hours.</p> + + <p>"I thought I'd come and see Lois," said Mrs. Buck, + effulgently smiling, as George handed her out of the car. "How + is the dear thing? You just flying off?"</p> + + <p>"You'll do her all the good in the world," George replied. + "I can't stop. I have to leave town to-night, and I'm full + up."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes! The Opening! How perfectly splendid!" Tiny bubbles + showed between her glorious lips. "What a shame it is poor Lois + isn't able to go!"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George. "But look here! Don't you go and tell + her so. That's quite the wrong tack."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 227 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page222" name="page222">[pg 222]</a> + </span> + + I see! I see!" said Mrs. Buck, gazing at him as one who was + capable of subtle comprehensions. "By the way," she added, as + she turned to mount the steps, "I ran across Everard Lucas at + the Berkeley to-day. Lunching there. I said I was coming here. + He told me to tell you, if I saw you, that old Mr. Haim or Home + or some such name was dead. He said you'd be interested."</p> + + <p>"By Jove!" George ejaculated. "Is he? Haven't seen him for + years and years."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He got into his car and drove off at speed. Beneath his + off-hand words to Mrs. Buckingham Smith he was conscious of a + quickly growing, tender sympathy for Marguerite Haim. The + hardness in him was dissolved almost instantaneously. He saw + Marguerite, who had been adamantine in the difference which + separated them, as the image of pliancy, sweetness, altruism, + and devotion; and he saw her lips and the rapt glance of her + eyes as beautiful as in the past. What a soft, soothing, + assuaging contrast with the difficult Lois, so imperious and + egoistic! (An unforgettable phrase of Lois's had inhabited his + mind for over a decade: "Fancy quarrelling over a man!") He had + never met Marguerite since their separation, and for years he + had heard nothing whatever about her; he did not under-estimate + the ordeal of meeting her again. Yet he at once decided that he + must meet her again. He simply could not ignore her in her + bereavement and new loneliness. To write to her would be + absurd; it would be a cowardly evasion; moreover, he could not + frame a letter. He must prove to her and to himself that he had + a sense of decent kindliness which would rise above + conventional trifles when occasion demanded.</p> + + <p>At the top of Elm Park Gardens, instead of turning east + towards Piccadilly he turned west in the direction of the + Workhouse tower. And thus he exposed the unreality of the + grandiose pleas with which professional men impose on their + wives and on themselves. A few minutes earlier his appointment + at the club (not Pickering's, to which, however, he still + belonged, but a much greater institution, the Artists, in + Albemarle Street) had been an affair of extreme importance, + upon which might depend his future career, for did it not + concern negotiations for a London factory, which was to be + revolutionary in design, and to cost £150,000, and which, +<!-- Page 228 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page223" name="page223">[pg 223]</a> + </span> + + erected, would form a permanent advertisement of the genius of + George Cannon? Now he remembered that Sir Isaac Davids, the + patron of all the arts and the influencer of commissions, had + said that he would probably but not certainly be at the club + that afternoon, and he argued that in any event half an hour + sooner or later would not make or mar the business. Indeed, he + went further, and persuaded himself that between that moment + and dinner he had nothing to do except sign a few routine + letters at the office. Still, it was just as well that Lois + should remain in delusion as to his being seriously pressed for + time.</p> + + <p>As he curved, slackening and accelerating, with the perfect + assurance of long habit, through the swift, intricate, towering + motor traffic of Fulham Road, it was inevitable that he should + recall the days, eleven years ago, when through a sedate + traffic of trotting horses enlivened with a few motors and + motor-buses, he used to run down on his motor-cycle to visit + Marguerite. It was inevitable that he should think upon what + had happened to him in the meantime. His body felt, honestly, + no older. The shoulders had broadened, the moustache was + fiercer, there were semicircular furrows under the eyes; but he + was as slim and agile as ever, and did his morning exercises as + regularly as he took his bath. More, he was still, somehow, the + youthful prodigy who had won the biggest competition of modern + years while almost an infant. He was still known as such, + regarded as such, greeted as such, referred to as such at + intervals in the Press. His fame in his own world seemed not to + have deteriorated. But disappointment had slowly, + imperceptibly, eaten into him. He was far off the sublime + heights of Sir Hugh Corver, though he met Sir Hugh apparently + as an equal on the Council of the Royal Society of British + Architects. Work had not surged in upon him. He had not been + able to pick and choose among commissions. He had never won + another competition. Again and again his hopes had been + horribly defeated in these ghastly enterprises, of which two + were still pending. He was a man of one job. And a quarter of + his professional life had slipped behind him! His dreams were + changed. Formerly he had dreamed in architectural forms; now he + dreamed in percentages. His one job had been enormous and + lucrative, but he had lived on it for a decade, and it was + done. And outside it he had earned probably less than twelve + hundred pounds.</p> + + <p>And if the job had been enormous, his responsibilities +<!-- Page 229 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page224" name="page224">[pg 224]</a> + </span> + + were likewise enormous. Home expenses with an increasing + family; establishment expenses; a heavy insurance! Slavery to + habits! The common story, without the slightest originality in + it. The idea recurred continually: it was the fault of Lois, + of that embodied, implacable instinct which Lois was! And it + was the fault of circumstance, of the structure of society, of + existence itself. And it was his fault too. And the whole of + the blame would be his if disaster came. Imagine those kids + with the perambulator and the doll's perambulator—imagine + them in an earthquake! He could see no future beyond, perhaps, + eight months ahead. No, he could not! Of course his stepfather + was a sure resource. But he could not conceive himself + confessing failure to his stepfather or to anybody on earth. + Yet, if he did not very soon obtain more work, remunerative and + on a large scale ... if he did not ... However, he would obtain + more work. It was impossible that he should not obtain it. The + matter with Sir Isaac was as good as arranged. And the chances + of winning at any rate one of the two competitions were very + favourable.... He dismissed every apprehension. His health was + too good to tolerate apprehensions permanently. And he had a + superstitious faith in his wife's superstitious faith in him, + and in his luck. The dark mood quickly faded. It had been + induced, not by the spectacle of his wife and family and + household seen somehow from a new angle, but by the + recollection of the past. Though he often went through dark + moods, they were not moods of financial pessimism; they seemed + to be causeless, inexplicable, and indescribable—abysses + in which cerebration ceased.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>She was just closing the side gate leading to the studio + when he drove up. He recognized her face over the top of the + gate. At the first glance it seemed to be absolutely + unchanged—the same really beautiful lips, the same nose, + the same look in the eyes. Had a decade passed by her and left + no trace? He lost his nerve for an instant, and brought the car + to a standstill with less than his usual adroitness. She + hesitated.</p> + + <p>"I was coming to see you," he called out hastily, boyishly, + not in the least measuring his effects. He jumped from the car, + and said in a lower, more intimate tone: "I've only +<!-- Page 230 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page225" name="page225">[pg 225]</a> + </span> + + this minute heard about Mr. Haim. I'm awfully sorry. I thought + I'd come along at once."</p> + + <p>"How nice of you!" she replied, quite simply and naturally, + with a smile. "Do come in."</p> + + <p>The tension was eased.</p> + + <p>She pulled at the gate, which creaked. He then saw plainly + the whole of her figure. She was dressed in black, and wore + what the newspaper advertisement called a 'matron's coat.' The + decade had not passed by her and left no trace. She had been + appointed to a share in the mysterious purpose. Her bust, too, + was ampler; only her face, rather pale like the face of Lois, + was unaltered in its innocent contours. He felt that he was + blushing. He had no instinctive jealousy nor resentment; it did + not appear strange to him that this woman in the matron's coat + was the girl he had passionately kissed in that very house; and + indeed the woman was not the girl—the connexion between + the woman and the girl had snapped. Nevertheless, he was + extremely self-conscious; but not she. And in his astonishment + he wondered at the secretiveness of London. His house and hers + were not more than half a mile apart, and yet in eleven years + he had never set eyes on her house. Nearly always, on leaving + his house, he would go up Elm Park Gardens and turn to the + right. If he was not in the car he would never turn to the + left. Occasionally he had flown past the end of the Grove in + the car; not once, however, had he entered the Grove. He lived + in Chelsea and she lived in Chelsea, but not the same Chelsea; + his was not the Chelsea of the studios and the King's Road. + They had existed close together, side by side, for years and + years—and she had been hidden from him.</p> + + <p>As they walked towards the studio door she told him that + 'they' had buried her father a week ago and that 'they' were + living in the studio, and had already arranged to let the lower + part of the house. She had the air of assuming that he was + aware of the main happenings in her life, only a little belated + in the knowledge of her father's death. She was quite cheerful. + He pretended to himself to speculate as to the identity of her + husband. He would not ask: "And who is your husband?". All the + time he knew who her husband was: it could be no other than one + man. She opened the studio door with a latchkey. He was right. + At a table Mr. Prince was putting sheets of etching-paper to + soak in a porcelain bath.</p> + + <p>"Well! Well! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Prince warmly, not + flustered, not a bit embarrassed, and not too demonstrative. +<!-- Page 231 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page226" name="page226">[pg 226]</a> + </span> + + He came forward, delicately drying the tips of his fingers on a + rag, and shook hands. His hair was almost white, his thin, + benevolent face amazingly lined; his voice had a constant + little vibration. Yet George could not believe that he was an + old man.</p> + + <p>"He only heard to-day about father, and he's called at + once," said Marguerite. "Isn't it just like him?"</p> + + <p>The last phrase surprised and thrilled George. Did she mean + it? Her kind, calm, ingenuous face showed that obviously she + meant it.</p> + + <p>"It is," said Mr. Prince seriously. "Very good of you, old + man."</p> + + <p>After some talk about Mr. Haim, and about old times, and + about changes, during which Marguerite took off her matron's + coat and Mr. Prince gently hung it up for her, they all sat + down near to one another and near the unlighted stove. The + studio seemed to be precisely as of old, except that it was + very clean. Marguerite, in a high-backed wicker-chair, began + slowly to remove her hat, which she perched behind her on the + chair. Mr. Prince produced a tin of Gold Flake cigarettes.</p> + + <p>"And so you're living in the studio?" said George.</p> + + <p>"We have the two rooms at the top of the house of course," + answered Mr. Prince, glancing at the staircase. "I don't know + whether it's quite the wisest thing, with all those stairs; you + see how we're fixed"—he glanced at Marguerite—"but + we had a fine chance to let the house, and in these days it's + as well to be cautious."</p> + + <p>Marguerite smiled happily and patted her husband's hand.</p> + + <p>"Of course it's the wisest thing," she said.</p> + + <p>"Why! What's the matter with these days?" George demanded. + "How's the work?"</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said Mr. Prince, in a new tone. "I've one or two + things that might interest you."</p> + + <p>He displayed some prints, and chatted of his labours. He was + still etching; he would die etching. This was the etcher of + European renown. He referred to the Vienna acquisition as + though it was an affair of a few weeks ago. He had disposed of + an etching to Stockholm, and mentioned that he had exhibited at + the International Show in Rome. He said that his things were + attracting attention at a gallery in Bond Street. He displayed + catalogues and press-cuttings.</p> + + <p>"These are jolly fine," said George enthusiastically, as he + examined the prints on his knee.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 232 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page227" name="page227">[pg 227]</a> + </span> + + I'm glad you like them," said Mr. Prince, pleased. "I think + I've improved."</p> + + <p>But in spite of his European renown, Mr. Prince had remained + practically unknown. His name would not call forth the 'Oh + yes!' of recognition from the earnest frequenter of fashionable + exhibitions who takes pride in his familiarity with names. The + etchings of Prince were not subscribed for in advance. He could + not rank with the stars—Cameron, Muirhead Bone, Legros, + Brangwyn. Probably he could command not more than two or three + guineas for a print. He had never been the subject of a + profusely laudatory illustrated article in the + <i>Studio</i> + + . With his white hair he was what in the mart is esteemed a + failure. He knew it. Withal he had a notable self-respect and a + notable confidence. There was no timidity in him, even if his + cautiousness was excessive. He possessed sagacity and he had + used it. He knew where he was. He had something substantial up + his sleeve. There was no wistful appeal in his eye, as of a man + who hopes for the best and fears the worst. He could meet + dealers with a firm glance, for throughout life he had + subjugated his desires to his resources. His look was modest + but independent; and Marguerite had the same look.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" cried George. "I see you've got that here!" He + pointed to Celia Agg's portrait of herself as Bonnie Prince + Charlie.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said Marguerite. "She insisted on me taking it when + she gave up painting."</p> + + <p>"Gave up painting?"</p> + + <p>"Very good, isn't it?" said Mr. Prince gravely. "Pity she + ever did give up painting, I think," he added in a peculiar + tone.</p> + + <p>"Yes, it is," George agreed insincerely, for the painting + now seemed to him rather tenth-rate. "But what on earth did she + stop painting for?"</p> + + <p>Marguerite replied, with reserve:</p> + + <p>"Oh! Didn't you know? She's quite gone in for this + suffragette business. No one ever sees her now. Not even her + people."</p> + + <p>"Been in prison," said Mr. Prince, sardonically + disapproving, "I always said she'd end in that kind of thing, + didn't I, Margy?"</p> + + <p>"You did, dear," said Marguerite, with wifely eagerness.</p> + + <p>These two respected not only themselves but each other. The + ensuing conversation showed that Mr. Prince was somewhat + disgusted with the mundane movement, and that +<!-- Page 233 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page228" name="page228">[pg 228]</a> + </span> + + Marguerite was his disciple. They were more and more leaving + the world alone; their self-sufficiency was increasing with the + narrow regularity of their habits. They seldom went out; and + when they did, they came home the more deeply convinced that + all was not well with the world, and that they belonged to the + small remnant of the wise and the sane. George was in two minds + about them, or rather about Mr. Prince. He secretly + condescended to him, but on the other hand he envied him. The + man was benevolent; he spent his life in the creation of + beauty; and he was secure. Surely an ideal existence! Yes, + George wished that he could say as much for himself. + Marguerite, completely deprived of ambition, would never have + led any man into insecurity. He had realized already that + afternoon that there were different degrees of success; he now + realized that there were different kinds of success.</p> + + <p>"Well!" he rose suddenly. "I must be off. I'm very + busy."</p> + + <p>"I suppose you are," said Mr. Prince. Untrue to assert that + his glance was never wistful! It was ever so slightly wistful + then.</p> + + <p>George comprehended that Mr. Prince admired him and looked + up to him after all.</p> + + <p>"My town hall is being opened to-morrow."</p> + + <p>"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you."</p> + + <p>They knew a good deal about him—where he lived, the + statistics of his family, and so on. He picked up his hat.</p> + + <p>"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said + Marguerite, gazing straight into his eyes.</p> + + <p>"Rather!" said Mr. Prince.</p> + + <p>They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this + Bird-of-paradise. But they did not urge him to stay longer.</p> + + <p>As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a + half-finished book-cover design on a table.</p> + + <p>"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to + examine.</p> + + <p>Husband and wife, always more interested in their own + affairs than in other people's, responded willingly to his + curiosity. George praised, and his praise was greatly esteemed. + Mr. Prince talked about the changes in trade bindings, which + were all for the worse. The bright spot was that Marguerite's + price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings. This + improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to + them. To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after + vicissitudes, of four shillings in fourteen years should be +<!-- Page 234 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page229" name="page229">[pg 229]</a> + </span> + + capable of causing them so much joy. He and they lived in + absolutely different worlds.</p> + + <p>"This is the last I shall let her do for a long time," + observed Mr. Prince. "I shouldn't have let her do this one, but + the doctor, who's a friend of ours, said there wouldn't be any + harm, and of course it's always advisable to break a connexion + as little as possible. You never know...."</p> + + <p>George smiled, returning their flattery.</p> + + <p>"You aren't going to tell me that that matters to + <i>you</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince fixed George with his eye.</p> + + <p>"When the European War starts in earnest I think most of us + will need all we've been able to get together."</p> + + <p>"What European War?" asked George, with a touch of disdain. + "You don't mean to say that this Sarajevo business will lead to + a European War!"</p> + + <p>"No, I don't," said Mr. Prince very firmly. "Germany's + diplomatists are much too clever for that. They're clever + enough to find a better excuse. But they will find it, and + soon."</p> + + <p>George saw that Mr. Prince, having opened up a subject which + apparently was dear to him, had to be handled with discretion. + He guessed at once, from the certainty and the emotion of Mr. + Prince's phrases, that Mr. Prince must have talked a lot about + a European War. So he mildly replied:</p> + + <p>"Do you really think so?"</p> + + <p>"Do I think so? My dear fellow, you have only to look at the + facts. Austria undoubtedly annexed Bosnia at Germany's + instigation. Look at what led to Algeciras. Look at Agadir. + Look at the increase in the German army last July. And look at + the special levy. The thing's as clear as day." Mr. Prince now + seemed to be a little angry with George, who had moved into the + doorway.</p> + + <p>"I'll tell you what I think," said George, with the + assurance with which as a rule he announced his opinions. + "We're Germany's only serious rival. It's us she's up against. + She can only fight us on the sea. If she fought us now on the + sea she'd be wiped out. That's admitted. In ten years, if she + keeps on building, she might have a chance. But not now! Not + yet! And she knows it." George did not mention that he had + borrowed the whole weighty argument from his stepfather; but he + spoke with finality, and was rather startled when Mr. Prince + blew the whole weighty argument into the air with one scornful, + pitying exhalation.</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince said: " +<!-- Page 235 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page230" name="page230">[pg 230]</a> + </span> + + Nothing in it! Nothing in it! It's our alliances that will be + the ruin of us. We shall be dragged into war. If Germany + chooses to fight on land everybody will have to fight on land. + When she gets to Paris, what are we going to do about it? We + shall be dragged into war. It's the damnable alliances that Sir + Edward Grey has let us in for." Mr. Prince fixed George afresh. + "That man ought to be shot. What do we want with alliances?... + Have you heard Lord Roberts?"</p> + + <p>George admitted weakly, and as if ashamed, that he had + not.</p> + + <p>"Well, you should."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes," Marguerite ingenuously put in. "Alfred's been very + strong on the European War ever since he heard Lord Roberts + speak at Chelsea Town Hall."</p> + + <p>George then understood the situation. Mr. Prince, through + the hazard of a visit to Chelsea Town Hall, had become obsessed + by a single idea, an idea which his natural apprehensions had + well nourished. A common phenomenon! George had met before the + man obsessed by one idea, with his crude reasoning, his + impatience, and his flashing eye. As for himself he did not + pretend to be an expert in politics; he had no time for + politics; but he was interested in them, and held strong views + about them; and among his strongest views was the view that the + crudity of the average imperialist was noxious, and a source of + real danger. 'That man ought to be shot.' Imagine such a + remark! He felt that he must soothe Mr. Prince as he would + soothe a child. And he did so, with all the tact acquired at + municipal committee meetings in the north.</p> + + <p>His, last impression, on departure, was that Mr. Prince was + an excellent and most lovable fellow, despite his obsession. + "Glad to see you at any time," said Mr. Prince, with genuine + cordiality, critically and somewhat inimically assessing the + car, which he referred to as 'she.' Marguerite had remained in + the studio. She was wonderful. She admired her husband too + simply, and she was too content, but she had marvellous + qualities of naturalness, common sense in demeanour, realism, + and placidity. Thanks to her remarkable instinct for taking + things for granted, the interview had been totally immune from + constraint. It was difficult, and she had made it seem easy. No + fuss, no false sentiment! And she looked very nice, very + interesting, quite attractive, in her mourning and in her + expectancy. A fine couple. Unassuming of course, narrow, + opinionated—(he surmised that the last days of the +<!-- Page 236 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page231" name="page231">[pg 231]</a> + </span> + + late Mr. Haim had been disciplined)—but no fools either, + and fundamentally decent. While condescending to them, he + somehow envied them. But he knew what the opinion of Lois about + them would be!</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='IV'> + </a> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>After a period of shallow sleep he woke up in the morning + factitiously refreshed as the train was rumbling slowly over + the high-level bridge. The sun blinked full in his eyes when he + looked out through the trellis-work of the bridge. Far below, + the river was tinged with the pale blue of the sky. Big ships + lay in the river as if they had never moved and never could + move; a steamer in process of painting, with her sides lifted + above the water, gleamed in irregular patches of brilliant + scarlet. A lively tug passed down-stream, proud of her early + rising; and, smaller even than the tug, a smack, running + close-hauled, bowed to the puffs of the light breeze. Farther + away the lofty chimneys sent their scarves of smoke into the + air, and the vast skeletons of incipient vessels could be + descried through webs of staging. The translucent freshness of + the calm scene was miraculous; it divinely intoxicated the + soul, and left no squalor and no ugliness anywhere.</p> + + <p>Then, as the line curved, came the view of the city beneath + its delicate canopy of mist. The city was built on escarpments, + on ridges, on hills, and sagged here and there into great + hollows. The serrated silhouette of it wrote romance upon the + sky, and the contours of the naked earth beyond lost themselves + grandly in the mystery of the north. The jutting custom-house + was a fine piece of architecture. From the eighteen-forties it + challenged grimly the modern architect. On his hasty first + visit to the city George had noticed little save that + custom-house. He had seen a slatternly provincial town, large + and picturesque certainly, but with small sense of form or + dignity. He had decided that his town hall would stand quite + unique in the town. But soon the city had imposed itself upon + him and taught him the rudiments of humility. It contained an + immense quantity of interesting architecture of various + periods, which could not be appreciated at a glance. It was a + hoary place. It went back to the Romans and further. Its + fragmentary walls had survived through seven centuries, its + cathedral through six, its chief churches through five. It had + the most +<!-- Page 237 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page232" name="page232">[pg 232]</a> + </span> + + perfect Norman keep within two hundred miles. It had ancient + halls, mansions, towers, markets, and jail. And to these the + Victorian-Edwardian age had added museums, law courts, + theatres; such astonishing modernities as swimming-baths, + power-houses, joint-stock banks, lending libraries, and art + schools; and whole monumental streets and squares from the + designs of a native architect without whose respectable name no + history of British architecture could be called complete. + George's town hall was the largest building in the city; but it + did not dominate the city nor dwarf it; the city easily + digested it. Arriving in the city by train the traveller, if he + knew where to look, could just distinguish a bit of the town + hall tower, amid masses of granite and brick: which glimpse + symbolized the relation between the city and the town hall and + had its due effect on the Midland conceit of George.</p> + + <p>But what impressed George more than the stout, physical + aspects of the city was the sense of its huge, adventurous, + corporate life, continuous from century to century. It had + known terrible battles, obstinate sieges, famines, cholera, a + general conflagration, and, in the twentieth century, strikes + that possibly were worse than pestilence. It had fiercely + survived them all. It was a city passionate and highly + vitalized. George had soon begun to be familiar with its + organic existence from the inside. The amazing delays in the + construction of the town hall were characteristic of the city, + originating as they did not from sloth or indecision but from + the obduracy of the human will. At the start a sensational + municipal election had put the whole project on the shelf for + two years, and George had received a compensatory one per cent + on the estimated cost according to contract, and had abandoned + his hope. But the pertinacity of Mr. Soulter, first Councillor, + then Alderman, then Mayor, the true father of the town hall, + had been victorious in the end. Next there had been an infinity + of trouble with owners of adjacent properties and with the + foundations. Next the local contractor, who had got the work + through a ruthless and ingenious conspiracy of associates on + the Council, had gone bankrupt. Next came the gigantic building + strike, in which conflicting volitions fought each other for + many months to the devastation of an entire group of trades. + Finally was the inflexible resolution of Mr. Soulter that the + town hall should not be opened and used until it was finished + in every part and every detail of furniture and decoration.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 238 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page233" name="page233">[pg 233]</a> + </span> + + George, by his frequent sojourns in the city, and his official + connexion with the authorities, had several opportunities to + observe the cabals, the chicane, and the personal animosities + and friendships which functioned in secret at the very heart of + the city's life. He knew the idiosyncrasies of councillors and + aldermen in committee; he had learnt more about mankind in the + committee-rooms of the old town hall than he could have learnt + in ten thousand London clubs. He could divide the city council + infallibly into wire-pullers, axe-grinders, vain nincompoops, + honest mediocrities, and the handful who combined honesty with + sagacity and sagacity with strength. At beefy luncheon-tables, + and in gorgeous, stuffy bars tapestried with Lincrusta-Walton, + he had listened to the innumerable tales of the town, in which + greed, crookedness, ambition, rectitude, hatred, and sexual + love were extraordinarily mixed—the last being by far the + smallest ingredient. He liked the town; he revelled in it. It + seemed to him splendid in its ineradicable, ever-changing, + changeless humanity. And as the train bored its way through the + granite bowels of the city, he thought pleasurably upon all + these matters. And with them in his mind there gradually + mingled the images of Lois and Marguerite. He cared not what + their virtues were or what their faults were. He enjoyed + reflecting upon them, picturing them with their contrasted + attributes, following them into the future as they developed + blindly under the unperceived sway of the paramount instincts + which had impelled and would always impel them towards their + ultimate destiny. He thought upon himself, and about himself he + was very sturdily cheerful, because he had had a most + satisfactory interview with Sir Isaac on the previous + afternoon.</p> + + <p>A few minutes later he walked behind a portmanteau-bearing + night-porter into the wide-corridored, sleeping hotel, whose + dust glittered in the straight shafts of early sunlight. He + stopped at the big slate under the staircase and wrote in chalk + opposite the number 187: "Not to be called till 12 o'clock, + under pain of death." And the porter, a friend of some years' + standing, laughed. On the second floor that same porter dropped + the baggage on the linoleum and rattled the key in the lock + with a high disregard of sleepers. In the bedroom the porter + undid the straps of the portmanteau, and then:</p> + + <p>"Anything else, sir?"</p> + + <p>"That's all, John."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 239 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page234" name="page234">[pg 234]</a> + </span> + + And as he turned to leave, John stopped and remarked in a tone + of concern:</p> + + <p>"Sorry to say Alderman Soulter's ill in bed, sir. Won't be + able to come to the Opening. It's him as'll be madder than + anybody, ill or not."</p> + + <p>George was shocked, and almost frightened. In his opinion + the true intelligence of the city was embodied in Mr. Soulter. + Mr. Soulter had been a father to him, had understood his aims + and fought for them again and again. Without Mr. Soulter he + felt defenceless before the ordeal of the Opening, and he + wished that he might fly back to London instantly. Nevertheless + the contact of the cool, clean sheets was exquisite, and he + went to sleep at once, just as he was realizing the extremity + of his fatigue.</p> + + <p>He did not have his sleep out. Despite the menace of death, + a courageous creature heavily knocked at his door at ten + o'clock and entered. It was a page-boy with a telegram. George + opened the envelope resentfully.</p> + + <p>"No answer."</p> + + <p>The telegram read:</p> + + <p>"Am told we have got it.—PONTING"</p> + + <p>Ponting was George's assistant. The news referred to a + competition for an enormous barracks in India—one of the + two competitions pending. It had come sooner than expected. Was + it true? George was aware that Ponting had useful + acquaintanceship with a clerk in the India Office.</p> + + <p>He thought, trying not to believe:</p> + + <p>"Of course Ponting will swallow anything."</p> + + <p>But he made no attempt to sleep again. He was too + elated.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='V'> + </a> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Through a strange circumstance George arrived late for the + Opening lunch in the lower hall, but he was late in grave + company. He had been wandering aimlessly and quite alone about + the great interiors of the town hall when he caught sight of + Mr. Phirrips, the contractor, with the bishop and the most + famous sporting peer of the north, a man who for some mystical + reason was idolized by the masses of the city. Unfortunately + Mr. Phirrips also caught sight of George. "Bishop, here is Mr. + Cannon, our architect. He will be able to explain perhaps + better—" And in an instant Mr. Phirrips had +<!-- Page 240 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page235" name="page235">[pg 235]</a> + </span> + + executed one of those feats of prestidigitation for which he + was renowned in contracting circles, left George with the + bishop, and gone off with his highly prized quarry, the + sporting peer. George, despite much worldliness, had never + before had speech with a bishop. However, the bishop played his + part in a soothingly conventional way, manipulated his apron + and his calves with senile dignity, stood still and gazed + ardently at ceilings and vistas, and said at intervals, + explosively and hoarsely: "Ha! Very, interesting! Very + interesting! Very fine! Very fine! Noble!" He also put + intelligent questions to the youthful architect, such as: "How + many bricks have been used in this building?" He was very + leisurely, as though the whole of eternity was his.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid we may be late for the luncheon," George + ventured.</p> + + <p>The bishop looked at him blandly, leaning forward, and + replied, after holding his mouth open for a moment:</p> + + <p>"They will not begin without us. I say grace." His antique + eye twinkled.</p> + + <p>After this George liked him, and understood that he was + really a bishop.</p> + + <p>In the immense hubbub of the lower hall the bishop was + seized upon by officials, and conducted to a chair a few places + to the right of His Worship the Mayor. Though there was + considerable disorder and confusion (doubtless owing to the + absence of Alderman Soulter, who had held all the strings in + his hand) everybody agreed that the luncheon scene in the lower + hall was magnificent. The Mayor, in his high chair and in his + heavy chain and glittering robe, ruled in the centre of the + principal table, from which lesser tables ran at right angles. + The Aldermen and Councillors, also chained and robed, well + sustained the brilliance of the Mayor, and the ceremonial + officials of the city surpassed both Mayor and Council in + grandeur. Sundry peers and M.P.'s and illustrious capitalists + enhanced the array of renown, and the bishop was rivalled by + priestly dignitaries scarcely less grandiose than himself. And + then there were the women. The women had been let in. During + ten years of familiarity with the city's life George had hardly + spoken to a woman, except Mr. Soulter's Scotch half-sister. The + men lived a life of their own, which often extended to the + evenings, and very many of them when mentioning women employed + a peculiar tone. But now the women were disclosed in bulk, and + the display +<!-- Page 241 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page236" name="page236">[pg 236]</a> + </span> + + startled George. He suddenly saw all the city fathers and their + sons in a new light.</p> + + <p>The bishop had his appointed chair, with a fine feminine hat + on either side of him, but George could not find that any + particular chair had been appointed to himself. Eventually he + saw an empty chair in the middle of a row of men at the + right-hand transverse table, and he took it. He had expected, + as the sole artistic creator of the town hall whose completion + the gathering celebrated, to be the object of a great deal of + curiosity at the luncheon. But in this expectation he was + deceived. If any curiosity concerning him existed, it was + admirably concealed. The authorities, however, had not entirely + forgotten him, for the Town Clerk that morning had told him + that he must reply to the toast of his health. He had protested + against the shortness of the notice, whereupon the Town Clerk + had said casually that a few words would + suffice—anything, in fact, and had hastened off. George + was now getting nervous. He was afraid of hearing his own voice + in that long, low interior which he had made. He had no desire + to eat. He felt tired. Still, his case was less acute than it + would have been had the august personage originally hoped for + attended the luncheon. The august personage had not attended on + account of an objection, apropos of an extreme passage in an + election campaign speech, to the occupant of the mayoral chair + (who had thus failed to be transformed into a Lord Mayor). The + whole city had then, though the Mayor was not over-popular, + rallied to its representative, and the Council had determined + that the inauguration should be a purely municipal affair, a + family party, proving to the august and to the world that the + city was self-sufficing. The episode was characteristic.</p> + + <p>George heard a concert of laughter, which echoed across the + room. At the end of the main table Mr. Phirrips had become a + centre of gaiety. Mr. Phirrips, whom George and the + clerk-of-the-works had had severe and constant difficulty in + keeping reasonably near the narrow path of rectitude, was a + merry, sharp, smart, middle-aged man with a skin that always + looked as if he had just made use of an irritant soap. He was + one of the largest contractors in England, and his name on the + hoarding of any building in course of erection seemed to give + distinction to that building. He was very rich, and popular in + municipal circles, and especially with certain councillors, + including a labour councillor. George +<!-- Page 242 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page237" name="page237">[pg 237]</a> + </span> + + wondered whether Mr. Phirrips would make a speech. No + toast-list was visible in George's vicinity.</p> + + <p>To George the meal seemed to pass with astounding celerity. + The old bishop said grace in six words. The Toast-master bawled + for silence. The health of all classes of society who could + rely upon good doctors was proposed and heartily + drunk—princes, prelates, legislators, warriors, + judges—but the catalogue was cut short before any + eccentric person could propose the health of the one-roomed + poor, of whom the city was excessively prolific. And then the + Mayor addressed himself to the great business of the town hall. + George listened with throat dry; by way of precaution he had + drunk nothing during the meal; and at each toast he had merely + raised the glass to his lips and infinitesimally sipped; the + coffee was bad and cold and left a taste in his mouth; but + everything that he had eaten left a taste in his mouth. The + Mayor began: "My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,—During the + building of this—er—er— + <i>structure</i> + + ...." All his speech was in that manner and that key. + Nevertheless he was an able and strong individual, and as an + old trade union leader could be fiercely eloquent with + working-men. He mentioned Alderman Soulter, and there was a + tremendous cheer. He did not mention Alderman Soulter again; a + feud burned between these two. After Alderman Soulter he + mentioned finance. He said that that was not the time to refer + to finance, and then spoke of nothing else but finance + throughout the remainder of his speech, until he came to the + peroration—"success and prosperity to our new town hall, + the grandest civic monument which any city has erected to + itself in this country within living memory, aye, and beyond." + The frantic applause atoned for the lack of attention and the + semi-audible chattering which had marred the latter part of the + interminable and sagacious harangue. George thought: "Pardon + me! The city has not erected this civic monument. I have + erected it." And he thought upon all the labour he had put into + it, and all the beauty and magnificence which he had evolved. + Alderman Soulter should have replied on behalf of the town hall + committee, and the Alderman who took his place apologized for + his inability to fill the role, and said little.</p> + + <p>Then the Toast-master bawled incomprehensibly for the + twentieth time, and a councillor arose and in timid tones + said:</p> + + <p>"I rise to propose the toast of the architect and + contractor."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 243 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page238" name="page238">[pg 238]</a> + </span> + + George was so astounded that he caught scarcely anything of the + speech. It was incredible to him that he, the creative artist, + who was solely responsible for the architecture and decoration + of the monument, in whose unique mind it had existed long + before the second brick had been placed upon the first, should + be bracketed in a toast with the tradesman and middleman who + had merely supervised the execution of his scheme according to + rules of thumb. He flushed. He wanted to walk out. But nobody + else appeared to be disturbed. George, who had never before + attended an inauguration, was simply not aware that the toast + 'architect and contractor' was the classic British toast, + invariably drunk on such occasions, and never criticised. He + thought: "What a country!" and remembered hundreds of Mr. + Enwright's remarks.... Phrases of the orator wandered into his + ear. "The competition system.... We went to Sir Hugh Corver, + the head of the architectural profession [loud applause] and + Sir Hugh Corver assured us that the design of Mr. George Cannon + was the best. [Hear, hear! Hear, hear!]... Mr. Phirrip, head of + the famous firm of Phirrips Limited [loud applause] ... + fortunate, after our misfortune with the original contractor to + obtain such a leading light.... Cannot sufficiently thank these + two—er + <i>officials</i> + + for the intellect, energy, and patience they have put into + their work."</p> + + <p>As the speech was concluding, a tactless man sitting next to + George, with whom he had progressed very slowly in acquaintance + during the lunch, leaned towards him and murmured in a + confidential tone:</p> + + <p>"Did I tell you both naval yards up here have just had + orders to work day and night? Yes. Fact."</p> + + <p>George's mind ran back to Mr. Prince, and Mr. Prince's + prophecy of war. Was there something in it after all? The + thought passed in an instant, but the last vestiges of his + equanimity had gone. Hearing his name he jumped up in a mist + inhabited by inimical phantoms, and, amid feeble acclamations + here and there, said he knew not what in a voice now absurdly + loud and now absurdly soft, and sat down, amid more feeble + acclamations, feeling an angry fool. It was the most hideous + experience. He lit a cigarette, his first that day.</p> + + <p>When Mr. Phirrips rose, the warm clapping was expectant of + good things.</p> + + <p>"When I was a little boy I remember my father telling +<!-- Page 244 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page239" name="page239">[pg 239]</a> + </span> + + me that this town hall had been started. I never expected to + live to see it finished—"</p> + + <p>Delighted guffaws, uproarious laughter, explosions of mirth, + interrupted this witty reference to the delays in construction. + The speaker smiled at ease. His eyes glinted. He knew his + audience, held it consummately, and went on.</p> + + <p>In the afternoon there was a conversazione, or reception, + for the lunchers and also for the outer fringe of the city's + solid respectability. The whole of the town hall from basement + to roof was open to view, and citizens of all ages wandered in + it everywhere, admiring it, quizzing it, and feeling proudly + that it was theirs. George too wandered about, feeling that it + was his. He was slowly recovering from the humiliation of the + lunch. Much of the building pleased him greatly; at the + excellence of some effects and details he marvelled; the entry + into the large hall from the grand staircase was dramatic, just + as he had had intended it should be; the organ was being + played, and word went round that the acoustic (or acoostic) + properties of the auditorium were perfect, and unrivalled by + any auditorium in the kingdom. On the other hand, the crudity + of certain other effects and details irritated the creator, + helping him to perceive how much he had learnt in ten years; in + ten years, for example, his ideas about mouldings had been + quite transformed. What chiefly satisfied him was the + demonstration, everywhere, that he had mastered his deep + natural impatience of minutiae —that instinct which often + so violently resented the exacting irksomeness of trifles in + the realization of a splendid idea. At intervals he met an + acquaintance and talked, but nobody at all appeared to + comprehend that he alone was the creator of the mighty pile, + and that all the individuals present might be divided + artistically into two classes—himself in one class, the + entire remainder in the other. And nobody appeared to be + inconvenienced by the sense of the height of his achievement or + of the splendour of his triumph that day. It is true that the + north hates to seem impressed, and will descend to any + duplicity in order not to seem impressed.</p> + + <p>The Town Clerk's clerk came importantly up to him and + asked:</p> + + <p>"How many reserved seats would you like for the + concert?"</p> + + <p>A grand ballad concert, at which the most sentimental of + contraltos, helped by other first-class throats, was to + minister wholesale to the insatiable secret sentimentality of + the north, had been arranged for the evening.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 245 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page240" name="page240">[pg 240]</a> + </span> + + One will be enough," said George.</p> + + <p>"Are you alone?" asked the Town Clerk's clerk.</p> + + <p>George took the ticket. None of the city fathers or their + fashionable sons had even invited him to dinner. He went forth + and had tea alone, while reading in an evening paper about the + Austro-Serbian situation, in the tea-rooms attached to a + cinema-palace. The gorgeous rooms, throbbing to two-steps and + fox-trots, were crammed with customers; but the waitresses + behaved competently. Thence he drove out in a taxi to the + residence of Alderman Soulter. He could see neither the + Alderman nor Miss Soulter; he learnt that the condition of the + patient was reassuring, and that the patient had a very good + constitution. Back at the hotel, he had to wait for dinner. In + due course he ate the customary desolating table-d'hote dinner + which is served simultaneously in the vast, odorous + dining-rooms, all furnished alike, of scores and scores of + grand hotels throughout the provinces. Having filled his + cigar-case, he set out once more into the beautiful summer + evening. In broad Side Gate were massed the chief resorts of + amusement. The façade of the Empire music-hall glowed with + great rubies and emeralds and amethysts and topazes in the + fading light. Its lure was more powerful than the lure of the + ballad concert. Ignoring his quasi-official duty to the + greatest of sentimental contraltos, he pushed into the splendid + foyer of the Empire. One solitary stall, half a crown, was left + for the second house; he bought it, eager in transgression; he + felt that the ballad concert would have sent him mad.</p> + + <p>The auditorium of the Empire was far larger than the + auditorium of the town hall, and it was covered with gold. The + curving rows of plush-covered easy chairs extended backwards + until faces became indistinguishable points in the smoke-misted + gloom. Every seat was occupied; the ballad concert had made no + impression upon the music-hall. The same stars that he could + see in London appeared on the gigantic stage in the same songs + and monologues; and as in London the indispensable revue was + performed, but with a grosser and more direct licentiousness + than the West End would have permitted. And all proceeded with + inexorable exactitude according to time-table. And in scores + and scores of similar Empires, Hippodromes, Alhambras, and + Pavilions throughout the provinces, similar entertainments were + proceeding with the same exactitude—another example of + the huge standardization of life. George laughed with the best +<!-- Page 246 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page241" name="page241">[pg 241]</a> + </span> + + at the inventive drollery of the knock-about + comedians—Britain's sole genuine contribution to the art + of the modern stage. But there were items in the Empire + programme that were as awful in their tedium as anything at the + ballad concert could be—moments when George could not + bear to look over the footlights. And these items were + applauded in ecstasy by the enchanted audience. He thought of + the stupidity, the insensibility, the sheer ignorance of the + exalted lunchers; and he compared them with these qualities in + the Empire audience, and asked himself sardonically whether all + artists had lived in vain. But the atmosphere of the Empire was + comfortable, reassuring, inspiring. The men had their pipes, + cigarettes, and women; the women had the men, the luxury, the + glitter, the publicity. They had attained, they were happy. The + frightful curse of the provinces, ennui, had been conjured away + by the beneficent and sublime institution invented, organized, + and controlled by three great trusts.</p> + + <p>George stayed till the end of the show. The emptying of the + theatre was like a battle, like the flight of millions from a + conflagration. All humanity seemed to be crowded into the + corridors and staircases. Jostled and disordered, he emerged + into the broad street, along which huge, lighted trams slowly + thundered. He walked a little, starting a fresh cigar. The + multitude had resumed its calm. A few noisy men laughed and + swore obscene oaths; and girls, either in couples or with men, + trudged, demure and unshocked, past the roysterers, as though + they had neither ears to hear nor eyes to see. In a few minutes + the processions were dissipated, dissolved into the vastness of + the city, and the pavements nearly deserted. George strolled on + towards the Square. The town hall stood up against the velvet + pallor of the starry summer night, massive, lovely, supreme, + deserted. He had conceived it in an office in Russell Square + when he was a boy. And there it was, the mightiest monument of + the city which had endured through centuries of astounding + corporate adventure. He was overwhelmed, and he was + inexpressibly triumphant. Throughout the day he had had no + recognition; and as regards the future, few, while ignorantly + admiring the monument, would give a thought to the artist. + Books were eternally signed, and pictures, and sculpture. But + the architect was forgotten. What did it matter? If the + creators of Gothic cathedrals had to accept oblivion, he might. + The tower should be his signature. And no artist could imprint + his influence so powerfully and so mysteriously upon the un +<!-- Page 247 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page242" name="page242">[pg 242]</a> + </span> + + conscious city as he was doing. And the planet was whirling the + whole city round like an atom in the icy spaces between the + stars. And perhaps Lois was lying expectant, discontented, upon + the sofa, thinking rebelliously. He was filled with the + realization of universality.</p> + + <p>At the hotel another telegram awaited him.</p> + + <p>"Good old Ponting!" he exclaimed, after reading it. The + message ran:</p> + + <p>"We have won it.—PONTING"</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"Why 'we,' Ponting? You didn't win it. I won it."</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"Sir Hugh Corver is not going to be the head of the + architectural profession. I am." He felt the assurance of that + in his bones.</p> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 248 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page243" name="page243">[pg 243]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + + <h3>THE ROLL-CALL</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The telephone rang in the principal's room of George's + office in Museum Street. He raised his head from the + drawing-board with the false gesture of fatigued impatience + which, as a business man, he had long since acquired, and took + the instrument. As a fact he was not really busy; he was only + pretending to be busy; and he rather enjoyed the summons of the + telephone, with its eternal promise of some romantic new turn + of existence. Nevertheless, though he was quite alone, he had + to affect that the telephone was his bane.</p> + + <p>"Can Sir Isaac Davids speak to you, sir, from the Artists + Club?"</p> + + <p>"Put him on."</p> + + <p>Immediately came the thick, rich voice of Sir Isaac, with + its implications of cynicism and triumphant + disdain—attenuated and weakened in the telephone, + suggesting an object seen through the wrong end of a + telescope.</p> + + <p>"Is that you, Cannon?"</p> + + <p>"It is," said George shortly. Without yet knowing it, he had + already begun to hate Sir Isaac. His criticism of Sir Isaac was + that the man was too damnably sure of himself. And not all Sir + Isaac's obvious power, and influence, and vast potential + usefulness to a young architect, could prevent George from + occasionally, as he put it, 'standing up to the fellow.'</p> + + <p>"Well, you'd better come along here, if you can. I want to + see you," said the unruffled voice of Sir Isaac.</p> + + <p>"Now?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"All right."</p> + + <p>As George replaced the instrument, he murmured:</p> + + <p>"I know what that means. It's all off." And after a moment: + "I knew jolly well it would be."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 249 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page244" name="page244">[pg 244]</a> + </span> + + He glanced round the very orderly room, to which, by judicious + furnishing, he had given a severe distinction at no great cost. + On the walls were a few interesting things, including a couple + of his own perspectives. A neo-impressionist oil-sketch over + the mantelpiece, with blue trees and red fields and a girl + whose face was a featureless blob, imperiously monopolized the + attention of the beholder, warning him, whoever he might be, + that the inescapable revolutionary future was now at hand. The + room and everything in it, that entity upon which George had + spent so much trouble, and of which he had been so proud, + seemed futile, pointless, utterly unprofitable.</p> + + <p>The winning of the Indian limited competition, coupled with + the firm rumour that Sir Isaac Davids had singled him out for + patronage, had brilliantly renewed George's reputation and the + jealousy which proved its reality. The professional journals + had been full of him, and everybody assured everybody that his + ultimate, complete permanent success had never been in doubt. + The fact that the barracks would be the largest barracks in + India indicated to the superstitious, and to George himself, + that destiny intended him always to break records. After the + largest town hall, the largest barracks; and it was said that + Sir Isaac's factory was to be the largest factory! But the + outbreak of war had overthrown all reputations, save the + military and the political. Every value was changed according + to a fresh standard, as in a shipwreck. For a week George had + felt an actual physical weight in the stomach. This weight was + his own selfish woe, but it was also the woe of the entire + friendly world. Every architect knew and said that the + profession of architecture would be ruined for years. Then the + India Office woke George up. The attitude of the India Office + was overbearing. It implied that it had been marvellously + original and virtuous in submitting the affair of its barracks + to even a limited competition, when it might just as easily + have awarded the job to any architect whom it happened to know, + or whom its wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know, or whose + wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know the India + Office—and further, that George ought therefore to be + deeply grateful. It said that in view of the war the barracks + must be erected with the utmost possible, or rather with quite + impossible, dispatch, and that George would probably have to go + to India at once. Simultaneously it daily modified George's + accepted plans for the structure, exactly as though it was a + professional architect +<!-- Page 250 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page245" name="page245">[pg 245]</a> + </span> + + and George an amateur, and it involved him in a seemly but + intense altercation between itself and the subordinate + bureaucracy of a Presidency. It kept George employed. In due + course people discovered that business must proceed as usual, + and even the architectural profession, despite its traditional + pessimism, had hopes of municipalities and other bodies which + were to inaugurate public works in order to diminish + unemployment.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless George had extreme difficulty in applying + himself efficiently to urgent tasks. He kept thinking: "It's + come! It's come!" He could not get over the fact that it had + come—the European War which had obsessed men's minds for + so many years past. He saved the face of his own theory as to + the immediate impossibility of a great war, by positively + asserting that Germany would never have fought had she foreseen + that Britain would fight. He prophesied (to himself) Germany's + victory, German domination of Europe, and, as the grand central + phenomenon, mysterious ruin for George Edwin Cannon. But the + next instant he would be convinced that Germany would be + smashed, and quickly. Germany, he reckoned superiorly, in + 'taking on England' had 'bitten off more than she could + chew.'</p> + + <p>He knew almost naught of the progress of the fighting. He + had obtained an expensive map of Western Europe and some + flagged pins, and had hung the map up in his hall and had stuck + the pins into it with exactitude. He had moved the pins daily, + until little Laurencine one morning, aloft on a chair, decided + to change all the positions of the opposing armies. Laurencine + established German army corps in Marseilles, the Knockmillydown + Mountains, and Torquay, while sending the French to Elsinore + and Aberdeen. There was trouble in the house. Laurencine + suffered, and was given to understand that war was a serious + matter. Still, George soon afterwards had ceased to manipulate + the pins; they seemed to be incapable of arousing his + imagination; he could not be bothered with them; he could not + make the effort necessary to acquire a scientific conception of + the western campaign—not to mention the eastern, as to + which his ignorance was nearly perfect.</p> + + <p>Yet he read much about the war. Some of the recounted + episodes deeply and ineffaceably impressed him. For example, an + American newspaper correspondent had written a dramatic + description of the German army marching, marching steadily + along a great Belgian high road—a proces +<!-- Page 251 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page246" name="page246">[pg 246]</a> + </span> + + sion without beginning and without end—and of the + procession being halted for his benefit, and of a German + officer therein who struck a soldier several times in the face + angrily with his cane, while the man stood stiffly at + attention. George had an ardent desire to spend a few minutes + alone with that officer; he could not get the soldier's bruised + cheek out of his memory.</p> + + <p>Again, he was moved and even dismayed by the recitals of the + entry of the German army into Brussels and of its breaking into + the goose-step as it reached the Grande Place, though he + regarded the goose-step as too ridiculous and contemptible for + words. Then the French defence of Dinant, and the Belgian + defence of Liége, failure as it was, and the obstinate + resistance at Namur, inspired him; and the engagements between + Belgians and Uhlans, in which the clumsy Uhlans were always + scattered, destroyed for him the dread significance of the term + 'Uhlan.'</p> + + <p>He simply did not comprehend that all these events were + negligible trifles, that no American correspondent had seen the + hundredth part of the enemy forces, that the troops which + marched through Brussels were a tiny, theatrical side-show, a + circus, that the attack on Liége had been mismanaged, that + the great battle at Dinant was a mere skirmish in the new scale + of war, and the engagements with Uhlans mere scuffles, and that + behind the screen of these infinitesimal phenomena + <i>the German army</i> + + , unimagined in its hugeness, horror, and might, was creeping + like a fatal and monstrous caterpillar surely towards + France.</p> + + <p>A similar screen hid from him the realities of England. He + saw bunting and recruits, and the crowds outside consulates. + But he had no idea of the ceaseless flight of innumerable + crammed trains day and night southwards, of the gathering + together of Atlantic liners and excursion steamers from all the + coasts into an unprecedented Armada, of the sighting of the + vanguard of that Armada by an incredulous Boulogne, of the + landing of British regiments and guns and aeroplanes in the + midst of a Boulogne wonderstruck and delirious, and of the + thrill which thereupon ecstatically shivered through France. He + knew only that 'the Expeditionary Force had landed in + safety.'</p> + + <p>He could not believe that a British Army could face + successfully the legendary Prussians with their Great General + Staff, and yet he had a mystic and entirely illogical belief in + the invincibility of the British Army. He had read somewhere + that the German forces amounted in all to the equiva +<!-- Page 252 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page247" name="page247">[pg 247]</a> + </span> + + lent of over three hundred divisions; he had been reliably told + that the British forces in France amounted to three divisions + and some cavalry. It was most absurd; but his mysticism + survived the absurdity, so richly was it nourished by news from + the strange, inartistic colonies, where architecture was not + understood. Revelation came to George that the British Empire, + which he had always suspected to be an invention of those + intolerable persons the Imperialists, was after all something + more than a crude pink smear across the map of the world.</p> + + <p>Withal he was acutely dejected as he left his office to go + to the club.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='II'> + </a> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Sir Isaac was sitting quite alone in the large smoking-room + of the Artists in Albemarle Street—a beautiful apartment + terribly disfigured by its pictures, which had been procured + from fashionable members in the fashionable taste of twenty + years earlier, and were crying aloud for some one brave enough + to put them out of their misery. No interpretation of the word + 'artist' could by any ingenuity be stretched to include Sir + Isaac. Nevertheless he belonged to the club, and so did a + number of other men in like case. The difference between Sir + Isaac and the rest was that Sir Isaac did actually buy + pictures, though seldom from fashionable painters.</p> + + <p>He was a personage of about forty-five years, with a rather + prominent belly, but not otherwise stout; a dark man; plenty of + stiff black hair (except for one small central bald patch); a + rank moustache, and a clean-shaven chin apparently woaded in + the manner of the ancient Britons; elegantly and yet severely + dressed—braided morning-coat, striped trousers, small, + skin-fitting boots, a black flowered-silk necktie. As soon as + you drew near him you became aware of his respiratory + processes; you were bound to notice continually that without + ceasing he carried on the elemental business of existence. Hair + sprouted from his nose, and the nose was enormous; it led at a + pronounced slope to his high forehead, which went on upwards at + exactly the same angle and was lost in his hair. If the chin + had weakly receded, as it often does in this type, Sir Isaac + would have had a face like a spear-head, like a ram of which + the sharp point was the top of his nose; but Sir Isaac's chin + was square, and the wall of it perpendicular.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 253 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page248" name="page248">[pg 248]</a> + </span> + + His expression was usually inquisitive, dissatisfied, and + disdainful—the effect being produced by a slight lifting + of the back of the nostrils and a slight tipping forward of the + whole head. His tone, however, often by its bluff good-humour, + contradicted the expression. He had in an extreme degree the + appearance of a Jew, and he had the names of a Jew; and most + people said he was a Jew. But he himself seriously denied it. + He asserted that he came of a Welsh Nonconformist family, + addicted to christening its infants out of the Bible, and could + prove his descent for generations—not that he minded + being taken for a Jew (he would add), was indeed rather + flattered thereby, but he simply was not a Jew. At any rate he + was Welsh. A journalist had described him in a phrase: "All the + time he's talking to you in English you feel he's thinking + something different in Welsh." He was an exceedingly rich + industrial, and had made his money by organization; he seemed + always to have leisure.</p> + + <p>"Here," he curtly advised George, producing a magnificent + Partaga, similar to the one he was himself smoking, "you'd + better have this."</p> + + <p>He cut the cigar carefully with a club tool, and pushed the + match-stand across the table with a brusque gesture. George + would not thank him for the cigar.</p> + + <p>"You're on that Indian barracks, aren't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes. They're in a Hades of a hurry."</p> + + <p>"Well, my factory is in much more of a hurry."</p> + + <p>George was startled. He had heard nothing of the factory for + a month, and had assumed that the war had scotched the + enterprise.</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"Then the war won't stop you?"</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac shook his head slowly, with an arrogant smile. It + then occurred to George that this man differed strangely from + all other men—because the sinister spell of the war had + been powerless over him alone. All other men bore the war in + their faces and in their gestures, but this man did not.</p> + + <p>"I'm going to make munitions now—explosives. I'm going + to have the biggest explosives factory in the world. However, + the modifications in the general plan won't be serious. I want + to talk to you about that."</p> + + <p>"Have you got contracts, then, already?"</p> + + <p>"No. Both the War Office and the Admiralty have told me they + have all the explosives they want," he sneered. "But I've made + a few inquiries, and I think that by the +<!-- Page 254 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page249" name="page249">[pg 249]</a> + </span> + + time my factory's up they'll be wanting more explosives than + they can get. In fact I wish I could build half a dozen + factories. Dare say I shall."</p> + + <p>"Then you think we're in for a long war?"</p> + + <p>"Not specially that. If it's a long war you English will + win. If it's a short war the Germans will win, and it will be + the end of France as a great power. That's all."</p> + + <p>"Won't it be the end of your factory too?"</p> + + <p>"Noh!" exclaimed Sir Isaac, with careless compassion in his + deep, viscid voice. "If it's a short war, there'll be another + war. You English will never leave it alone. So that whatever + happens, if I take up explosives, I can't go wrong. It's + velvet."</p> + + <p>"It seems to me we shall bust up the whole world if we + aren't careful, soon."</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac smiled more compassion.</p> + + <p>"Not at all," he said easily. "Not at all. Things are always + arranged in the end—more or less satisfactorily, of + course. It's up to the individual to look out for himself."</p> + + <p>George said:</p> + + <p>"I was thinking of going into the Army."</p> + + <p>The statement was not strictly untrue, but he had never + formulated it, and he had never thought consecutively of such a + project, which did indeed appear too wild and unpractical for + serious consideration.</p> + + <p>"This recruiting's been upsetting you."</p> + + <p>George's vague patriotism seemed to curdle at these + half-dozen scornful words.</p> + + <p>"Do you think I oughtn't to go into the Army, Sir + Isaac?"</p> + + <p>"My dear boy, any——can go into the Army. And if + you go into the Army you'll lose your special qualities. I see + you as the best factory designer we have, architecturally. + You've only just started, but you have it in you. And your + barracks is pretty good. Of course, if you choose to indulge in + sentimentality you can deprive the country of an architect in a + million and make it a present of a mediocre soldier—for + you haven't got the mind of a soldier. But if you do that, mark + my words—you'll only do it to satisfy the egotism that + you call your heart, you'll only do it in order to feel + comfortable; just as a woman gives a penny to a beggar and + thinks it's charity when it's nothing of the sort. There are + fellows that go and enlist because they hear a band play."</p> + + <p>"Yes," George concurred. He hated to feel himself confronted + by a mind more realistic than his own, but he was +<!-- Page 255 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page250" name="page250">[pg 250]</a> + </span> + + realistic enough to admit the fact. What Sir Isaac said was + unanswerable, and it appealed very strongly to George. He cast + away his sentimentality, ashamed of it. And at the same time he + felt greatly relieved in other ways.</p> + + <p>"You'd better put this Indian barracks on one side as much + as you can, or employ some one to help you. I shall want all + your energies."</p> + + <p>"But I shall probably have to go to India. The thing's very + urgent."</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac scorned him in a profound gaze. The smoke from + their two magnificent cigars mingled in a canopy above + them.</p> + + <p>"Not it!" said Sir Isaac. "What's more, it's not wanted at + all. They think it is, because they're absolutely incapable of + thought. They know the word 'war' and they know the word + 'barracks.' They put them together and imagine it's logic. They + say: 'We were going to build a barracks, and now we're at war. + Therefore we must hurry up with the barracks.' That's how they + reason, and the official mind will never get beyond it. + <i>Why</i> + + do they want the barracks? If they want the barracks, what's + the meaning of what they call 'the response of the Indian + Empire'? Are they going to send troops to India or take them + away from India? They're going to take them away, of course. + Mutiny of India's silent millions? Rubbish! Not because a + mutiny would contradict the far-famed 'response of the Indian + Empire,' but because India's silent millions haven't got a + rifle amongst them. You needn't tell me they've given you forty + reasons for getting on with that barracks. I know their + reasons. All of 'em put together only mean that in a dull, dim + Oxford-and-Cambridge way they see a connexion between the word + 'war' and the word 'barracks.'"</p> + + <p>George laughed, and then, after a few seconds, Sir Isaac + gave a short, rough laugh.</p> + + <p>"But if they insist on me going to India—" George + began, and paused.</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac grew meditative.</p> + + <p>"I say, speaking of voyages," he murmured in a tone almost + dreamy. "If you have any loose money, put it into ships, and + keep it there. You'll double it, you'll treble it.... Any + ships. No matter what ships."</p> + + <p>"Well, I haven't got any loose money," said George curtly. + "And what I want to know is, if they insist on me going to + India, what am I to do?"</p> + + <p>"Tell them you can't go. Tell 'em your professional +<!-- Page 256 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page251" name="page251">[pg 251]</a> + </span> + + engagements won't permit it. They'll lick your boots, and ask + humbly if you can suggest any suitable person to represent you. + I shall want all your energies, and my factory will be worth + more to this country in the war than all the barracks under + heaven. Now just bend your eye to these."</p> + + <p>He took some papers from his tail-pocket. The discussion + grew technical.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='III'> + </a> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George sailed down Piccadilly westwards on the top of a + motor-bus. The August afternoon was superb. Piccadilly showed + more than its usual splendour of traffic, for the class to whom + the sacred word 'England' signified personal dominion and a + vast apparatus of personal luxury either had not gone away for + its holiday or had returned therefrom in a hurry. The newspaper + placards spoke of great feats of arms by the Allies. Through + the leafage of Hyde Park could be seen uncountable smart troops + manoeuvring in bodies. On the top of the motor-bus a student of + war was explaining to an ignorant friend that the active + adhesion of Japan, just announced, meant the beginning of the + end for Germany. From Japan he went to Namur, seeing that Namur + was the 'chief bastion' of the defensive line, and that hence + the Germans would not be 'allowed' to take it. Almost every + motor-bus carried a fine specimen of this type of philosopher, + to whom the whole travelling company listened while pretending + not to listen. George despised him for his manner, but agreed + with some of his reasoning.</p> + + <p>George was thinking chiefly about Sir Isaac. Impressive + person, Sir Isaac, even if hateful! It was remarkable how the + fellow seemed always to have leisure. Organization, of course! + Indubitably the fellow's arguments could not be gainsaid. The + firing-line was not the only or even the most important part of + the national war machine. To suppose otherwise was to share the + crude errors of the childlike populace and its Press. Men were + useless without guns, guns without shot, shot without + explosives; and explosives could not be produced without a + factory. The populace would never understand the close + interdependence of various activities; it would never see + beyond the recruiting station; it was meet only for pity. Sir + Isaac had uttered a very wise saying: "Things are always + arranged in the end ... It's up to the individual to look out + for himself." Sir Isaac was +<!-- Page 257 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page252" name="page252">[pg 252]</a> + </span> + + freed from the thrall of mob-sentimentality. He was a + super-man. And he was converting George into a super-man. + George might have gone back to the office, but he was going + home instead, because he could think creatively just as well + outside the office as inside—so why should he accept the + convention of the ordinary professional man. (Sir Isaac + assuredly did not.) He had telephoned to the office. A single + consideration appealed to him: How could he now best serve his + country? Beyond question he could now serve his country best as + an architect. If his duty marched with his advantage, what + matter? It was up to the individual to look out for himself. + And he, George, with already an immense reputation, would + steadily enhance his reputation, which in the end would surpass + all others in the profession. The war could not really touch + him—no more than it could touch Sir Isaac; by good + fortune, and by virtue of the impartiality of his intelligence, + he was above the war.... Yes, Sir Isaac, disliked and + unwillingly but deeply respected, had cleared his ideas for + him.</p> + + <p>In Elm Park Gardens he met the white-clad son of a Tory M.P. + who lived in that dignified street.</p> + + <p>"The very man! Come and make a fourth, will you, Cannon?" + asked the youth, dandiacal in flannels, persuasively and + flatteringly.</p> + + <p>George demanded with firmness:</p> + + <p>"Who are the other two?"</p> + + <p>"Miss Horton and Gladys What's-her-name."</p> + + <p>Why shouldn't he play at tennis? It was necessary to keep + fit.</p> + + <p>"All right. But not for long, you know."</p> + + <p>"That's all right. Hurry up and get into your things."</p> + + <p>"Ten minutes."</p> + + <p>And in little more than ten minutes he was swinging a racket + on the private sward that separates Elm Park Gardens East from + Elm Park Gardens West, and is common to the residents of both. + He had not encountered Lois at home, and had not thought it + necessary to seek her out. He and she were often invited to + play tennis in Elm Park Gardens.</p> + + <p>The grass was beautifully kept. At a little distance two + gardeners were at work, and a revolving sprinkler whirled + sprays of glinting water in a wide circle. The back windows of + the two streets disclosed not the slightest untidiness nor + deshabille; rising irregularly in tier over tier to the high + roof-line, they were all open, and all neatly curtained, and +<!-- Page 258 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page253" name="page253">[pg 253]</a> + </span> + + many of them had gorgeous sun-blinds. The sound of one or two + pianos emerged faintly on the warm, still afternoon. Miss + Horton and the slim Gladys were dressed in white, with short + skirts, at once elegant and athletic. Miss Horton, very tall + and strong, with clear eyes, and a complexion damaged by undue + exposure to healthy fresh air, was a fine player of many years' + experience, now at the decline of her powers. She played + seriously, every stroke conscientious and calculated, and she + gave polite, good-humoured hints to the youth, her partner. + George and Gladys were together. Gladys, eighteen, was a + delightful girl, the raw material of a very sound player; she + held herself well, and knew by instinct what style was. A white + belt defined her waist in the most enchanting fashion. George + appreciated her, as a specimen of the newest generation of + English girls. There were thousands of them in London alone, an + endless supply, with none of the namby-pambiness and the + sloppiness and the blowziness of their forerunners. Walking in + Piccadilly or Bond Street or the Park, you might nowadays fancy + yourself in Paris ... Why indeed should he not be playing + tennis at that hour? The month was August. The apparatus of + pleasure was there. Used or unused, it would still be there. It + could not be destroyed simply because the times were grave. And + there was his health; he would work better after the exercise. + What purpose could there be in mournful inactivity? Yet + continuously, as he ran about the court, and smiled at Gladys, + and called out the score, and exclaimed upon his failures in + precision, the strange, physical weight oppressed his stomach. + He supposed that nearly everybody carried that physical weight. + But did Sir Isaac? Did the delicious Gladys? The youth on the + other side of the net was in the highest spirits because in a + few days he would be entering Sandhurst.</p> + + <p>A butler appeared from the French window of the ground floor + of the M.P.'s house, walked down the curving path screened by a + pergola, and came near the court with a small white paper in + his solemn hand. At a suitable moment he gave the paper to the + young master, who glanced at it and stuffed it into his pocket; + the butler departed. A few minutes later the players changed + courts. While the girls chatted apart, the youth leaped over + the net, and, drawing the paper from his pocket, showed it + furtively to George. It bore the words:</p> + + <p>"Namur has fallen."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 259 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page254" name="page254">[pg 254]</a> + </span> + + The M.P.'s household received special news by telephone from a + friend at the War Office.</p> + + <p>The youth raised his eyebrows, and with a side-glance seemed + to say that there could be no object in telling the women + immediately. The next instant the game was resumed with full + ardour.</p> + + <p>George missed his strokes. Like thousands of other people, + untaught by the episode of Liége, he had counted upon + Namur. Namur, the bastion, the shoulder of the newly forming + line, if not impregnable, was expected to hold out for many + days. And it had tumbled like a tin church, and with it the + brave edifice of his confidence. He saw the Germans inevitably + in Paris, blowing up Paris quarter by quarter, arrondissement + by arrondissement, imposing peace, dictating peace, forcing + upon Europe unspeakable humiliations. He saw Great Britain + compelled to bow; and he saw worse than that. And the German + officer, having struck across the face with his cane the + soldier standing at attention, would go back to Germany in + triumph more arrogant than ever, to ogle adoring virgins and + push cowed and fatuous citizens off the pavement into the + gutter. The solid houses of Elm Park Gardens, with their rich + sun-blinds, the perfect sward, the white-frocked girls, the + respectful gardeners, the red motor-buses flitting past behind + the screen of bushes in the distance, even the butler in his + majestic and invulnerable self-conceit—the whole + systematized scene of correctness and tradition trembled as if + perceived through the quivering of hot air. Gladys, reliant on + the male and feeling that the male could no longer be relied + on, went 'off her game,' with apologies; the experience of Miss + Horton asserted itself, and the hard-fought set was lost by + George and his partner. He reminded the company that he had + only come for a short time, and left in a mood of bitter + blackness.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>In front of his own house George saw a tradesman's + coupé of the superior, discreet sort, with a smart horse + (the same being more 'distinctive' than motor-traction), a + driver liveried in black, and the initials of the firm in a + restrained monogram on the doors. He thought: "She's blueing + money again. Of course it's her own, but—" He was + extremely sardonic. In the drawing-room he found not only +<!-- Page 260 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page255" name="page255">[pg 255]</a> + </span> + + Lois but Laurencine and an attentive, respectful, bright-faced + figure rather stylishly dressed in black. This last was + fastening a tea-gown on the back of pale Lois, who stood up + with a fatigued, brave air. Laurencine sat critically observant + on the end of a sofa. The furniture of the room was heaped with + tea-gowns, and other garments not very dissimilar, producing a + rich and exciting effect. All three women quickened to George's + entry.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George!" said Lois querulously. "Are you going to play + tennis? I wish I could! I'm so glad you came in; we'd no idea + you were in the house, had we, Laurencine? Laurencine's giving + me a tea-gown. Which of them do you prefer? It's no good me + having one you don't like."</p> + + <p>He had been unjust to her, then.</p> + + <p>"It's really her birthday present," said Laurencine, "only a + bit late. Oh! Dear! Darling, do sit down, you're standing too + long."</p> + + <p>Both Laurencine and the young woman in black regarded Lois + with soft compassion, and she sat down. Laurencine too was a + mother. But she had retained her girlhood. She was a splendid, + powerful, erect creature, handsome, with a frank, benevolent, + sane face, at the height of her physical perfection. George had + a great fondness for her. Years earlier he had wondered how it + was that he had not fallen in love with her instead of with + Lois. But he knew the reason now. She lacked force of + individuality. She was an adorer by instinct. She adored Lois; + Lois could do no wrong. More strange, she adored her husband. + Ingenuous simpleton! Yet wise! Another thing was that her mind + was too pure. Instead of understanding, it rejected. It was a + mind absolutely impregnable to certain phenomena. And this girl + still enjoyed musical comedies and their successors in vogue, + the revues!</p> + + <p>"The Germans have taken Namur," George announced.</p> + + <p>The news impressed. Even the young woman in black permitted + herself by a facial gesture to show that she was interested in + the war as well as in tea-gowns, and apart from its effect on + tea-gowns.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Dear!" murmured Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"Is it serious?" Lois demanded.</p> + + <p>"You bet it is!" George replied.</p> + + <p>"But what's Sir John French doing, then? I say, Laurencine, + I think I shall have that pale blue one, after all, +<!-- Page 261 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page256" name="page256">[pg 256]</a> + </span> + + if you don't mind." The black young woman went across to the + piano and brought the pale blue one. "George, don't you think + so?"</p> + + <p>The gown was deferentially held out for his inspection.</p> + + <p>"Well, I can't judge if I don't see it on, can I?" he said, + yielding superciliously to their mood. Women were incurable. + Namur had fallen, but the room was full of finery, and the + finery claimed attention. And if Paris had fallen, it would + have been the same. So he told himself. Nevertheless the + spectacle of the heaped finery and its absorbed priestess was + very agreeable. Lois rose. Laurencine and the priestess helped + her to remove the white gown she wore, and to put on the blue + one. The presence of the male somewhat disturbed the priestess, + but the male had signified a wish and the wish was flattering + and had to be fulfilled. George, cynically, enjoyed her + constraint. He might at least have looked out of the window, + but he would not.</p> + + <p>"Yes, that's fine," he decided carelessly, when the + operation was done. He did not care a pin which tea-gown Lois + had.</p> + + <p>"I knew you'd like it better," said Lois eagerly. The other + two, in words or by demeanour, applauded his august choice.</p> + + <p>The affair was over. The priestess began to collect her + scattered stock into a light trunk. Behind her back, Lois took + hold of Laurencine and kissed her fondly. Laurencine smiled, + and persuaded Lois into a chair.</p> + + <p>"You will of course keep that on, madam?" the priestess + suggested.</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, darling, you must rest, really!" said Laurencine + earnestly.</p> + + <p>"Thank you, madam."</p> + + <p>In three minutes the priestess, bearing easily the trunk by + a strap, had gone, bowing. Lois's old tea-gown, flung across + the head of the sofa, alone remained to brighten the + furniture.</p> + + <p>The drawing-room door opened again immediately, and a + military officer entered. Laurencine sprang up with a little + girlish scream and ran to him.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Dearest! Have you got them already? You never told me + you would have! How lovely you look!"</p> + + <p>Blushing with pleasure and pride, she kissed him. It was + Everard Lucas. Laurencine had come to Elm Park Road that + afternoon with the first news that Everard, through a major + known to his late mother, had been offered a com +<!-- Page 262 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page257" name="page257">[pg 257]</a> + </span> + + mission in a Territorial line regiment. George, who saw Lucas + but seldom, had not the slightest idea of this enormous family + event, and he was astounded; he had not been so taken back by + anything perhaps for years. Lucas was rounder and his face + somewhat coarser than in the past; but the uniform had created + a new Lucas. It was beautifully made and he wore it well; it + suited him; he had the fine military air of a regular; he + showed no awkwardness, only a simple vanity.</p> + + <p>"Don't you feel as if you must kiss him, Lois darling?" said + Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"Oh! I certainly must!" Lois cried, forgetting her woes in + the new tea-gown and in the sudden ecstasy produced by the + advent of an officer into the family.</p> + + <p>Lucas bent down and kissed his sister-in-law, while + Laurencine beheld the act with delight.</p> + + <p>"The children must see you before you go," said Lois.</p> + + <p>"Madam, they shall see their uncle," Lucas answered. At any + rate his agreeable voice had not coarsened. He turned to + George: "What d'you think of it, George?"</p> + + <p>"My boy, I'm proud of you," said George. In his + tennis-flannels he felt like one who has arrived at an evening + party in morning-dress. And indeed he was proud of Lucas. + Something profound and ingenuous in him rose into his eyes and + caused them to shine.</p> + + <p>Lucas related his adventures with the tailor and other + purveyors, and explained that he had to 'join his regiment' the + next day, but would be able to remain in London for the + present. George questioned him about his business affairs.</p> + + <p>"No difficulty about that whatever!" said Lucas lightly. + "The old firm will carry on as usual; Enwright and Orgreave + will have to manage it between them; and of course they + wouldn't dream of trying to cut off the spondulicks. Not that I + should let that stop me if they did."</p> + + <p>"Yes, it's all very well for + <i>you</i> + + to talk like that!" said Lois, with a swift change of tone. + "You've got partners to do your work for you, and you've got + money.... Have you written to mother, Laurencine?"</p> + + <p>George objected to his wife making excuses. His gaze + faltered.</p> + + <p>"Of course, darling!" Laurencine answered eagerly, agreeing + with her sister's differentiation between George and Everard. + "No, not yet. But I'm going to to-night. Everard, we ought to + be off."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 263 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page258" name="page258">[pg 258]</a> + </span> + + I've got a taxi outside," said Lucas.</p> + + <p>"A taxi?" she repeated in a disappointed tone. And then, as + an afterthought: "Well, I have to call at Debenham's."</p> + + <p>The fact was that Laurencine wanted to be seen walking with + her military officer in some well-frequented thoroughfare. They + lived at Hampstead.</p> + + <p>Lois rang the bell.</p> + + <p>"Ask nurse to bring the children down, please—at + once," she told the parlourmaid.</p> + + <p>"So this is the new tea-gown, if I mistake not!" observed + Lucas in the pause. " + <i>Très chic</i> + + ! I suppose Laurencine's told you all about the chauffeur being + run off with against his will by a passionate virgin. + <i>I</i> + + couldn't start the car this morning myself."</p> + + <p>"You never could start a car by yourself, my boy," said + George. "What's this about the passionate virgin?"</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George woke up in the middle of the night. Lois slept + calmly; he could just hear her soft breathing. He thought of + all the occupied bedrooms, of the health of children, the + incalculable quality in wives, the touchy stupidity of nurses + and servants. The mere human weight of the household oppressed + him terribly. And he thought of the adamant of landlords, the + shifty rapacity of tradesmen, the incompetence of clerks, the + mere pompous foolishness of Government departments, the + arrogance of Jew patrons, and the terrifying complexity of + problems of architecture on a large scale. He was the Atlas + supporting a vast world a thousand times more complex than any + problem of architecture. He wondered how he did it. But he did + do it, alone; and he kept on doing it. Let him shirk the + burden, and not a world but an entire universe would crumble. + If he told Lois that he was going to leave her, she would + collapse; she would do dreadful things. He was indispensable + not only at home but professionally. All was upon his shoulders + and upon nobody else's. He was bound, he was a prisoner, he had + no choice, he was performing his highest duty, he was + fulfilling the widest usefulness of which he was capable ... + Besides, supposing he did go insane and shirk the burden, they + would all say that he had been influenced by Lucas's +<!-- Page 264 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page259" name="page259">[pg 259]</a> + </span> + + uniform—the mere sight of the uniform!—like a girl! + He could not stand that, because it would be true. Not that he + would ever admit its truth! He recalled Lucas's tact in + refraining from any suggestion, even a jocular suggestion, that + he, George, ought also to be in uniform. Lucas was always + tactful. Be damned to his tact! And the too eager excuses made + by Lois in his behalf also grated on his susceptibility. He had + no need of excuses. The woman was taciturn by nature, and yet + she was constantly saying too much! And did any of the three of + them—Lois, Laurencine, and Lucas—really appreciate + the war? They did not. They could not envisage it. Lucas was + wearing uniform solely in obedience to an instinct.</p> + + <p>At this point the cycle of his reflections was completed, + and began again. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms.... + Thus, in the dark, warm night the contents of his mind revolved + endlessly, with extreme tedium and extreme distress, and each + moment his mood became more morbid.</p> + + <p>An occasional sound of traffic penetrated into the + room,—strangely mournful, a reminder of the immense and + ineffable melancholy of a city which could not wholly lose + itself in sleep. The window lightened. He could descry his + wife's portable clock on the night-table. A quarter to four. + Turning over savagely in bed, he muttered: "My night's done + for. And nearly five hours to breakfast. Good God!" The cycle + resumed, and was enlarged.</p> + + <p>At intervals he imagined that he dozed; he did doze, if it + is possible while you are dozing to know that you doze. His + personality separated into two personalities, if not more. He + was on a vast plain, and yet he was not there, and the + essential point of the scene was that he was not there. + Thousands and tens of thousands of men stood on this plain, + which had no visible boundaries. A roll-call was proceeding. A + resounding and mysterious voice called out names, and at each + name a man stepped briskly from the crowds and saluted and + walked away. But there was no visible person to receive the + salute; the voice was bodiless. George became increasingly + apprehensive; he feared a disaster, yet he could not believe + that it would occur. It did occur. Before it arrived he knew + that it was arriving. The voice cried solemnly:</p> + + <p>"George Edwin Cannon."</p> + + <p>An awful stillness and silence followed, enveloping the + entire infinite plain. George trembled. He was there, but +<!-- Page 265 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page260" name="page260">[pg 260]</a> + </span> + + he was not there. Men looked at each other, raising their + eyebrows. The voice did not deign to repeat the call. After a + suitable pause, the voice cried solemnly:</p> + + <p>"Everard Lucas."</p> + + <p>And Lucas in his new uniform stepped gravely forward and + saluted and walked away.</p> + + <p>"Was I asleep or awake?" George asked himself. He could not + decide. At any rate the scene impressed him. The bigness of the + plain, the summons, the silence, the utter absence of an + expression of reproof or regret—of any comment + whatever.</p> + + <p>At five o'clock he arose, and sat down in his dressing-gown + at Lois's very untidy and very small writing-desk, and wrote a + letter on her notepaper. The early morning was lovely; it was + celestial.</p> + + <p>"DEAR DAVIDS," the letter began.—That would annoy the + fellow, who liked the address respectful.—"Dear Davids, I + have decided to join the Army, and therefore cannot proceed + further with your commission. However, the general idea is + complete. I advise you to get it carried out by Lucas & + Enwright. Enwright is the best architect in England. You may + take this from me. I'm his disciple. You might ring me up at + the office this afternoon.—Yours faithfully, GEORGE + CANNON"</p> + + <p>"P.S.—Assuming you go to Lucas & Enwright, I can + either make some arrangement with them as to sharing fees + myself, or you can pay me an agreed sum for the work I've done, + and start afresh elsewhere. I shall want all the money I can + get hold of."</p> + + <p>Yes, Sir Isaac would be very angry. George smiled. He was + not triumphant, but he was calm. In the full sanity of the + morning, every reason against his going into the Army had + vanished. The material objection was ridiculous—with + Edwin Clayhanger at the back of him! Moreover, some money would + be coming in. The professional objection was equally + ridiculous. The design for the Indian barracks existed + complete; and middle-aged mediocrity could carry it out in a + fashion, and Lucas & Enwright could carry it out better + than he could carry it out himself. As for Davids, he had + written. There was nothing else of importance in his office. + The other competition had not been won. If people said that he + had been influenced by Lucas's uniform, +<!-- Page 266 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page261" name="page261">[pg 261]</a> + </span> + + well, they must say it. They would not say it for more than a + few days. After a few days the one interesting fact would be + that he had joined. By such simple and curt arguments did he + annihilate the once overwhelming reasons against his joining + the Army.</p> + + <p>But he did not trouble to marshal the reasons in favour of + his joining the Army. He had only one reason: he must! He quite + ignored the larger aspects of the war—the future of + civilization, freedom versus slavery, right versus wrong, even + the responsibilities of citizenship and the implications of + patriotism. His decision was the product, not of argument, but + of feeling. However, he did not feel a bit virtuous. He had to + join the Army, and 'that was all there was to it.' A beastly + nuisance, this world-war! It was interfering with his private + affairs; it might put an end to his private affairs altogether; + he hated soldiering; he looked inimically at the military + caste. An unspeakable nuisance. But there the war was, and he + was going to answer to his name. He simply could not tolerate + the dreadful silence and stillness on the plain after his name + had been called. "Pooh! Sheer sentimentality!" he said to + himself, thinking of the vision—half-dream, half-fancy. + "Rotten sentimentality!"</p> + + <p>He asked:</p> + + <p>"Damn it! Am I an Englishman or am I not?"</p> + + <p>Like most Englishmen, he was much more an Englishman than he + ever suspected.</p> + + <p>"What on earth are you doing, George?"</p> + + <p>At the voice of his wife he gave a nervous jump, and then + instantly controlled himself and looked round. Her voice was + soft, liquid, weak with slumber. But, lying calmly on one side, + her head half buried in the pillow, and the bedclothes pushed + back from her shoulders, she was wideawake and gazed at him + steadily.</p> + + <p>"I'm just writing a letter," he answered gruffly.</p> + + <p>"Now? What letter?"</p> + + <p>"Here! You shall read it." He walked straight across the + room in his gay pyjamas only partly hidden by the splendid + dressing-gown, and handed her the letter. Moving nothing but + her hand, she took the letter and held it in front of her eyes. + He sat down between the beds, on the edge of his own bed, + facing her.</p> + + <p>"Whatever is it?"</p> + + <p>"Read it. You've got it," he said, with impatience. He was + trembling, aware that the crisis had suddenly leapt at him.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 267 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page262" name="page262">[pg 262]</a> + </span> + + Oh!"</p> + + <p>She had read the opening phrase; she had received the first + shock. But the tone of her exclamation gave no clue at all to + her attitude. It might mean anything—anything. She shut + her eyes; then glanced at him, terror-struck, appealing, + wistful, implacable.</p> + + <p>"Not at once?"</p> + + <p>"Yes, at once."</p> + + <p>"But surely you'll at least wait until after October."</p> + + <p>He shook his head.</p> + + <p>"But why can't you?"</p> + + <p>"I can't."</p> + + <p>"But there's no object—"</p> + + <p>"I've got to do it."</p> + + <p>"You're horribly cruel."</p> + + <p>"Well, that's me!" He was sullen, and as hard as a + diamond.</p> + + <p>"George, I shall never be able to stand it. It's too much to + expect. It'll kill me."</p> + + <p>"Not it! What's the use of talking like that? If I'd been in + the Territorials before the war, like lots of chaps, I should + have been gone long ago, and you'd have stood it all right. + Don't you understand we're at war? Do you imagine the war can + wait for things like babies?"</p> + + <p>She cried:</p> + + <p>"It's no good your going on in that strain. You can't leave + me alone with all this house on my shoulders, and so that's + flat."</p> + + <p>"Who wants to leave you all alone in the house? You can go + and stay at Ladderedge, children and nurse and all." This + scheme presented itself to him as he spoke.</p> + + <p>"Of course I can't! We can't go and plant ourselves on + people like that. Besides—"</p> + + <p>"Can't you? You'll see!"</p> + + <p>He caught her eye. Why was he being so brutal to her? What + conceivable purpose was served by this harshness? He perceived + that his nerves were overstrung. And in a swift rush of insight + he saw the whole situation from her point of view. She was + exhausted by gestation; she lived in a world distorted. Could + she help her temperament? She was in the gravest need of his + support; and he was an ass, a blundering fool. His severity + melted within him, and secretly he became tender as only a man + can be.</p> + + <p>"You silly girl!" he said, slightly modifying his voice, + taking care not to disclose all at once the change in his + mood.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 268 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page263" name="page263">[pg 263]</a> + </span> + + You silly girl! Can't you see they'll be so proud to have you + they won't be able to contain themselves? They'll turn the + whole place upside-down for you. I know them. They'll pretend + it's nothing, but mother won't sleep at night for thinking how + to arrange things for the best, and as for my cuckoo of an + uncle, if you notice something funny about your feet, it'll be + the esteemed alderman licking your boots. You'll have the time + of your life. In fact they'll ruin your character for you. + There'll be no holding you afterwards."</p> + + <p>She did not smile, but her eyes smiled. He had got the + better of her. He had been cleverer than she was. She was + beaten.</p> + + <p>"But we shall have no money."</p> + + <p>"Read the letter, child. I'm not a fool."</p> + + <p>"I know you're not a fool. No one knows that better than + me."</p> + + <p>He went on:</p> + + <p>"And what's uncle's money for, if it comes to that?"</p> + + <p>"But we can't spunge on them like that!"</p> + + <p>"Spunge be dashed! What's money for? It's no good till it's + spent. If he can't spend it on us, who can he spend it on? He + always makes out he's fiendishly hard, but he's the most + generous idiot ever born."</p> + + <p>"Yes, you're awfully like him."</p> + + <p>"I'm not."</p> + + <p>He was suddenly alive to the marvellous charm of the + intimacy of the scene with his wife, in the early summer dawn, + in the silent, enchanted house of sleepers, in the disorder of + the heaped bedroom. They were alone together, shameless in + front of one another, and nobody knew or saw, or could ever + know or see. Their relations were unique, the resultant of long + custom, of friction, of misunderstanding, of affection, of + incomprehensible instincts, of destiny itself. He thought: "I + have lived for this sensation, and it is worth living for."</p> + + <p>Without the slightest movement, she invited him with her + strange eyes, and as she did so she was as mysterious as ever + she had been. He bent down responsively. She put her hot, + clammy hands on his shoulders, and kept his head at a little + distance and looked through his eyes into his soul. The letter + had dropped to the floor.</p> + + <p>"I knew you would!" she murmured, and then snatched him to + her, and kissed him, and kept her mouth on his.</p> + + <p>"You didn't," he said, as soon as she loosed him. "I didn't + know myself."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 269 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page264" name="page264">[pg 264]</a> + </span> + + But he privately admitted that perhaps she did know. She had + every fault, but she was intelligent. Constantly he was faced + with that fact. She did not understand the significance of the + war; she lacked imagination; but her understanding was + sometimes terrible. She was devious; but she had a religion. He + was her religion. She would cast the god underfoot—and + then in a passion of repentance restore it ardently to the + sacred niche.</p> + + <p>She said:</p> + + <p>"I couldn't have borne it if Everard had gone and you + hadn't. But of course you meant to go all the time."</p> + + <p>That was how she saved his amour-propre.</p> + + <p>"I always knew you were a genius—"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Chuck it, kid!"</p> + + <p>"But you're more, somehow. This business—"</p> + + <p>"You don't mean joining the Army?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"What rot! There's nothing in it. Fellows are doing it + everywhere."</p> + + <p>She smiled superiorly, and then inquired:</p> + + <p>"How do you join? What are you going to do? Shall you ask + Everard?"</p> + + <p>"Well—" he hesitated. He had no desire to consult + Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Why don't you see Colonel Rannion?" she Suggested.</p> + + <p>"Jove! That's a scheme. Never thought of him!"</p> + + <p>Her satisfaction at the answer was childlike, and he was + filled with delight that it should be so. They launched + themselves into an interminable discussion about every possible + arrangement of everything. But in a pause of it he destroyed + its tremendous importance by remarking casually:</p> + + <p>"No hurry, of course. I bet you I shall be kept knocking + about here for months."</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_III'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 270 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page265" name="page265">[pg 265]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + + <h3>IN THE MACHINE</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Colonel Rannion was brother of the wife of the man for whom + George had built the house at Hampstead. George had met him + several times at the dinners and other reunions to which a + sympathetic architect is often invited in the dwelling that he + has created. Colonel Rannion had greatly liked his sister's + house, had accordingly shown much esteem for George, and had + even spoken of ordering a house for himself.</p> + + <p>Just as breakfast was being served, George had the idea of + ringing up the Hampstead people for the Colonel's address, + which he obtained at once. The Colonel was staying at the + Berkeley Hotel. The next moment he got the Berkeley, and the + Colonel in person. The Colonel remembered him instantly. George + said he wanted to see him. What about? Well, a commission. The + Colonel said he had to leave the hotel in twenty-five minutes. + "I can be with you in less than a quarter of an hour," said + George—or rather, not George, but some subconscious + instinct within him, acting independently of him. The children, + with nurse, were in the dining-room, waiting to breakfast with + father. They were washed, they were dressed; the dining-room + had been cleaned; the pleasant smell of breakfast-cooking + wandered through the rooms; since the early talk between George + and Lois in the silent, sleeping house the house had gradually + come to life; it was now in full being—even to the girl + scrubbing the front steps—except that Lois was asleep. + Exhausted after the strange and crucial scene, she had dozed + off, and had never moved throughout George's dressing.</p> + + <p>Now he rushed into the dining-room—"I have to go, + nurse. Fardy can't have his breakfast with you!"—and +<!-- Page 271 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page266" name="page266">[pg 266]</a> + </span> + + rushed out. A minute previously he had felt a serious need of + food after the long, sleepless morning. The need vanished. He + scurried up Elm Park Gardens like a boy in the warm, fresh air, + and stopped a taxi. He was extremely excited. None but Lois + knew the great secret. He had kept it to himself. He might have + burst into the kitchen—for he was very apt to be + informal—and said: "Well, cook, I'm going into the Army!" + What a household sensation the news would cause, and what an + office sensation! His action would affect the lives of all + manner of people. And the house, at present alive and organic, + would soon be dead. He was afraid. What he was doing was + tremendous. Was it madness? He had a feeling of unreality.</p> + + <p>At the entrance to the Berkeley Hotel lay a large + automobile, with a spurred and highly polished military + chauffeur. At the door of Colonel Rannion's room was stationed + a spurred and highly polished, erect orderly—formidable + contrast to the flaccid waiters who slouched palely in the + corridors. The orderly went into the room and saluted with a + click. George followed, as into a dentist's surgery. It was a + small, elegant, private sitting-room resembling a boudoir. In + the midst of delicately tinted cushions and flower-vases stood + Colonel Rannion, grey-haired, blue-eyed, very straight, very + tall, very slim—the slimness accentuated by a + close-fitted uniform which began with red tabs and ended in + light leggings and gleaming spurs. He conformed absolutely to + the traditional physical type of soldier, and the sight of him + gave pleasure.</p> + + <p>"Good morning. Cannon. Glad to see you." He seemed to put a + secret meaning into the last words.</p> + + <p>He shook hands as he spoke, firmly, decisively, + efficiently.</p> + + <p>"I hope I'm not troubling you too much," George began.</p> + + <p>"Troubling me! Sit down. You want a commission. The Army + wants to give commissions to men like you. I think you would + make a good officer."</p> + + <p>"Of course I'm absolutely ignorant of the Army. + Absolutely."</p> + + <p>"Yes. What a pity that is! If you'd only been a pre-war + Territorial you might have done three weeks' urgent work for + your country by this time." The remark was a polite + reproof.</p> + + <p>"I might," admitted George, to whom the notion of working + for his country had never before occurred.</p> + + <p>"Do you think you'd like the Artillery?" Colonel Rannion + questioned sharply. His tone was increasing in sharpness.</p> + + <p>With an equal sharpness George answered unhesitatingly: " +<!-- Page 272 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page267" name="page267">[pg 267]</a> + </span> + + Yes, I should."</p> + + <p>"Can you ride?"</p> + + <p>"I can + <i>ride</i> + + . In holidays and so on I get on my mother's horses."</p> + + <p>"Have you hunted?"</p> + + <p>"Never."</p> + + <p>"H'm!... Well, I know my friend Colonel Hullocher, who + commands the Second Brigade of—er—my Division, is + short of an officer. Would you care for that?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly."</p> + + <p>Without saying anything else Colonel Rannion took up the + telephone. In less than half a minute George heard him saying: + "Colonel Hullocher.... Ask him to be good enough to come to the + telephone at once.... That you, Hullocher?"</p> + + <p>George actually trembled. He no longer felt that heavy + weight on his stomach, but he felt 'all gone.' He saw himself + lying wounded near a huge gun on a battlefield.</p> + + <p>Colonel Rannion was continuing into the telephone:</p> + + <p>"I can recommend a friend of mine to you for a commission. + George Cannon—C-a-n-n-o-n—the architect. I don't + know whether you know of him.... Oh! About thirty.... No, but I + think he'd suit you.... Who recommends him? + <i>I</i> + + do.... Like to see him, I suppose, first?... No, no necessity + to see him. I'll tell him.... Yes, I shall see you in the + course of the day." The conversation then apparently deviated + to other subjects, and drew to a close.... "Good-bye. + Thanks.... Oh! I say. Shall he get his kit?... Cannon.... Yes, + he'd better. Yes, that's understood of course. Good-bye."</p> + + <p>"That will be quite all right," said Colonel Rannion to + George. "Colonel Hullocher thinks you may as well see to your + kit at once, provided of course you pass the doctor and you are + ready to work for nothing until your commission comes + along."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Naturally!" George agreed, in a dream. He was saying to + himself, frightened, astounded, staggered, and yet uplifted: " + <i>Get my kit! Get my kit!</i> + + But it's scarcely a minute since I decided to go into the + Army."</p> + + <p>"I may get your commission ante-dated. I haven't all the + papers here, but give me an address where I can find you at + once, and you shall have them this afternoon. I'll get the + Colonel to send them to the Territorial Association to-morrow, + and probably in about a month you'll be in the +<!-- Page 273 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page268" name="page268">[pg 268]</a> + </span> + + <i>Gazette</i> + + . I don't know when Colonel Hullocher will want you to report + for duty, but I shall see him to-day. You'll get a telegram + when you're needed. Now I must go. Which way are you + going?"</p> + + <p>"I'm going home for my breakfast," said George, writing down + his two addresses.</p> + + <p>Colonel Rannion said:</p> + + <p>"I'm off to Wimbledon. I can drop you in Fulham Road if you + like."</p> + + <p>In the automobile George received a few useful hints, but + owing to the speed of the vehicle the time was far too short + for any extensive instruction. The car drew up. For an instant + Colonel Rannion became freely cordial. "He must rather have + cottoned to me, or he wouldn't have done what he has," thought + George, proud to be seen in converse with a staff-officer, + waving a hand in adieu. And he thought: "Perhaps next time I + see him I shall be saluting him!"</p> + + <p>The children and nurse were still at breakfast. Nothing had + changed in the house during his absence. But the whole house + was changed. It was a house unconvincing, incredible, which + might vanish at any moment. He himself was incredible. What had + happened was incredible. The screeching voices of the children + were not real voices, and the children were apparitions. The + newspaper was illegible. Its messages for the most part had no + meaning, and such as bore a meaning seemed to be utterly + unimportant. The first reality, for George was food. He + discovered that he could not eat the food—could not + swallow; the nausea was acute. He drank a little coffee, and + then went upstairs to see his wife. Outside the bedroom door he + stood hesitant. A desolating sadness of disappointment suddenly + surged over him. He had destroyed his ambitions, he had + transformed all his life, by a single unreflecting and + irretrievable impulse. What he had done was terrific, and yet + he had done it as though it were naught ... The mood passed as + suddenly as it had come, and left him matter-of-fact, grim, as + it were swimming strongly on and with the mighty current which + had caught him. He went into the bedroom on the current. Lois + was awake.</p> + + <p>"I've seen Colonel Rannion."</p> + + <p>"You haven't, George!"</p> + + <p>"Yes, I have. I've just come back."</p> + + <p>"Well?"</p> + + <p>He replied with his damnable affected casualness: " +<!-- Page 274 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page269" name="page269">[pg 269]</a> + </span> + + I'm in the Army. Royal Field Artillery. And so that's + that."</p> + + <p>"But where's your uniform?"</p> + + <p>"I knew you'd say that. I'm in mufti, you see."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='II'> + </a> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He promptly received his papers and returned them. His + medical examination was quite satisfactory. Then there was no + further sign from the Army. The Army might have completely + forgotten him; his enrolment in the Army might have been an + illusion. Every day and every hour he expected a telegram of + command. It was in anticipation of the telegram, curt and + inexorable, that he kept harrying his tradesmen. To be caught + unprepared by the telegram would be a disaster. But the + tradesmen had lessons to teach him, and by the time the kit was + approximately completed he had learnt the lessons. Whether the + transaction concerned his tunic, breeches, spurs, leggings, + cane, sword, socks, shirts, cap, camp field-kit, or any of the + numerous other articles without which an officer might not + respectably enter the British Army, the chief lesson was the + same, namely, that the tradesmen were bearing the brunt of the + war. Those who had enrolled and made spectacular sacrifices of + homes and careers and limbs and lives were enjoying a glorious + game amid the laudations of an ecstatic populace, but the real + work was being done in the shops and in the workrooms. The mere + aspect of tradesmen was enough to restore the lost modesty of + officers. Useless to argue with the tradesmen, to expostulate, + to vituperate. The facts were in their favour; the sublime law + of supply and demand was in their favour. If the suddenly + unloosed military ardour had not been kept down it might have + submerged the Island. The tradesmen kept it down, and the + Island was saved by them from militarization. Majors and + colonels and even generals had to flatter and cajole tradesmen. + As for lieutenants, they cringed. And all officers were obliged + to be grateful for the opportunity to acquire goods at prices + fifty per cent higher than would have been charged to + civilians. Within a few days George, who had need of every + obtainable sovereign for family purposes, had disbursed some + forty pounds out of his own pocket in order to exercise the + privilege of defending, at the risk of ruin and death, the + ideals of his country.</p> + + <p>At the end of the week what, as a civilian, he would have +<!-- Page 275 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page270" name="page270">[pg 270]</a> + </span> + + described as his first 'suit' had not been delivered, and he + spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday in most uncomfortable + apprehension of the telegraph-boy and in studying an artillery + manual now known to hundreds of thousands as 'F.A.T.' On the + Monday morning he collected such portions of his kit as had to + be worn with the 'suit' (leggings, boots, spurs, cap, shirt, + collar, etc.), and took them in a taxi to the tailor's, + intending to change there and emerge a soldier. The clothes + were not ready, but the tailor, intimidated by real violence, + promised them for three o'clock. At three o'clock they were + still not ready, for buttons had to be altered on the breeches; + another hour was needed.</p> + + <p>George went to call at Lucas & Enwright's. That office + seemed to function as usual, for Everard Lucas alone had left + it for the profession of arms. The factotum in the cubicle was + a young man of the finest military age, and there were two + other good ones in the clerks' room, including a clerk just + transferred from George's own office. And George thought of his + own office, already shut up, and his glance was sardonic. Mr. + Enwright sat alone in the principals' room, John Orgreave being + abroad in London in pursuit of George's two landlords—the + landlord of his house and the landlord of his + office—neither of whom had yet been brought to see that + George's caprice for a military career entitled him in the + slightest degree to slip out of contracts remunerative to the + sacred caste of landlords. Lucas & Enwright had behaved + handsomely to George, having taken everything over, assumed all + responsibilities, and allotted to George more than a fair share + of percentages. And John Orgreave, who in his rough provincial + way was an admirable negotiator, had voluntarily busied himself + with the affair of the resilition of George's leases.</p> + + <p>"Not gone, then?" Mr. Enwright greeted him. "Well, you'd + better be going, or I shan't get my chance of being + Vice-President."</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?"</p> + + <p>"Orgreave was at a committee at the Institute this morning. + It seems you might have been the next Vice, in spite of your + tender years, if you'd stayed. You're becoming the rage, you + know."</p> + + <p>"Am I?" said George, startled.</p> + + <p>He hungered for further details of this great and highly + disturbing matter, but Enwright, jealous by nature and + excusably jealous by reason of the fact that despite his +<!-- Page 276 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page271" name="page271">[pg 271]</a> + </span> + + immense artistic reputation he had never succeeded in being + even Vice-President of the Institute, would say no more. Indeed + he took a malicious pleasure in saying no more.</p> + + <p>The ageing man, more hypochondriacal, thinner, and more + wrinkled than ever, was full to the brim of one + subject—India. Somebody at the India Office had flattered + him by showing a knowledge of his work. The India Office had + very graciously agreed to the transfer of the barracks + enterprise to Lucas & Enwright, and now Mr. Enwright was + for going to India himself. He had never been there. Indian + scenery, Indian manners, Indian architecture boiled in his + brain. The menace of German raiders would not prevent him from + going to India. He had already revisited the photographs of + Indian buildings at South Kensington Museum. Moreover, he had + persuaded himself that the erection of the barracks formed an + urgent and vital part of British war activity.</p> + + <p>At the same time he was convinced that the war would soon + end, and in favour of Germany. He assumed, as being beyond + doubt, that a German army would occupy Paris, and when George, + with a wave of the hand, pushed the enemy back and magically + rendered Paris impregnable, he nearly lost his temper. This + embittered Englishman would not hear a word against the + miraculous efficiency of the Germans, whom he admired as much + as he hated them. The German military reputation could not have + been safer in Potsdam than it was in Russell Square. George, + impatient of his master and inspirer, rose to depart, whereupon + Mr. Enwright began to talk at large about the terrible + derangement of his daily life caused by the sudden + disappearance of his favourite barber, deemed now to have been + a spy. "But the only barber who ever really understood my + chin," said Mr. Enwright. George went, shaking hands + perfunctorily. Mr. Enwright was too preoccupied to wish him + luck.</p> + + <p>The clothes were ready at the tailor's, and they passed the + tests. George stood up disguised as a second-lieutenant in the + R.F.A., booted, spurred, gloved, nicely managing a cane. He + examined himself in the great mirror and was well pleased with + his military appearance. In particular, his dark moustache + fitted the role excellently.</p> + + <p>"Now you'll send the overcoat and all my civilian things + down this afternoon, without fail," he said. "I'll let you have + an address for the other suit."</p> + + <p>And he walked manfully out of the shop. Before he could find + himself, a superb serjeant-major strode up, saluted +<!-- Page 277 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page272" name="page272">[pg 272]</a> + </span> + + in the highest and strictest perfection, and passed. The + encounter was unfortunate. George, taken aback, muddled his + share of the rite. Further, the self-consciousness of the + potential Vice-President of the Royal Institute of British + Architects was so extreme in uniform that it could scarcely + have been more extreme had he been thrust by destiny into + Oxford Street naked. He returned to the shop and said:</p> + + <p>"I think I'll take everything home myself, to make sure. You + might get me a taxi."</p> + + <p>He crept into his own house furtively with his parcels, like + a criminal, though he well knew that the servants would be + ready to worship him as a new god. The children were evidently + out. Lois was not in the drawing-room. He ran to the bedroom. + She lay on the sofa.</p> + + <p>"Here I am!" he announced, posing bravely for her + inspection.</p> + + <p>She did not move for a few seconds. Her eyes were hard-set. + Then she gave a tremendous shattering sob, and burst into wild + tears. George stooped to pick up a telegram which was lying on + the floor. It read:</p> + + <p>"You are to report to Adjutant Headquarters Second First + West Midland R.F.A. Wimbledon to-morrow Tuesday before + noon."</p> + + <p>The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name + upon various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at + last the order had gone forth.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='III'> + </a> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken + ill. George telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had + seen the patient the doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as + soon as the doctor had telephoned for the nurse George + telephoned for Laurencine. What with George's uniform and + approaching departure, and the premature seizure of Lois, the + household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state of + intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the + children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants + were noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. + The breakfast had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with + a detailed description of the retreat from Mons, were not + glanced at. George was expecting a letter from his mother + concerning the arrangements for +<!-- Page 278 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page273" name="page273">[pg 273]</a> + </span> + + the visit of Lois and the children to Ladderedge, already + decided upon, and no letter had come.</p> + + <p>At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. + Having inspected his luggage in the hall, he went to the + telephone again and ascertained that Laurencine had actually + started from home. Almost at the same moment a taxi stopped in + front of the house. "She's been jolly quick," thought George, + meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw that + his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush + out to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the + perfect reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and + warmed him. They had not written again; they had just come + themselves.</p> + + <p>He affectionately and critically watched them as they got + out of the taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, + with grey hair and beard, was passing from middle-age into the + shadow of the sixties. He dressed well, but the flat crown of + his felt hat, and the artificial, exaggerated squareness of the + broad shoulders, gave him a provincial appearance. His gesture + as he paid the driver was absolutely characteristic—a + mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the impressive and the + timid. He had descended from the vehicle with precautions, but + Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was about as + old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful; + she did not understand and never had understood how to dress + herself. But she had kept her figure; she was as slim as a + girl, and as restless.</p> + + <p>George ran to the door, which the feverish parlourmaid had + neglected to shut. His mother, mounting the steps, was struck + full in the face by the apparition of her son in uniform. The + Alderman, behind her, cried mockingly to cover his emotion: + "Hal<i>lo!</i> Hal<i>lo!</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>"When did you come up?" asked George quietly, taking his + mother's hand and kissing her. She slid past him into the + house. Her eyes were moist.</p> + + <p>"Last night," the Alderman answered. "Last train. Your + mother's idea. All of a sudden. Thought you might be + leaving."</p> + + <p>"Well, I am," said George. "I have to report at Headquarters + at Wimbledon by twelve o'clock. It's rather a good thing you've + come. Lois is ill. Oh! Here's + <i>my</i> + + taxi." The parlourmaid had driven up.</p> + + <p>"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayhanger.</p> + + <p>"Yes. I've sent for the doctor, and he's sent for the nurse. + I'm expecting the nurse every minute."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 279 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page274" name="page274">[pg 274]</a> + </span> + + You don't mean to say—" Mrs. Clayhanger began.</p> + + <p>George nodded.</p> + + <p>"She + <i>must</i> + + have had a shock. I knew what it would be for her. It's all + very well, but—" Mrs. Clayhanger again left a sentence + unfinished.</p> + + <p>"I've sent for Laurencine too," said George. "She also may + be here any minute."</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said the old lady tartly. "I can stay as long as you + like, you know. Lois and I get on splendidly."</p> + + <p>It was true. They had had one enormous quarrel, which had + mysteriously ended by both of them denying superiorly to all + males that any quarrel had ever occurred.</p> + + <p>"Well, come into the dining-room."</p> + + <p>"I think I'll go up and see Lois at once," said Mrs. + Clayhanger.</p> + + <p>"The doctor's there."</p> + + <p>"What if he is?"</p> + + <p>The Alderman put in:</p> + + <p>"Now look here, missis. Don't startle her."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went + upstairs.</p> + + <p>"This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with + his stick to the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall + floor.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it + all in the taxi, May. Come along in, uncle."</p> + + <p>"Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me."</p> + + <p>"Where are you staying?"</p> + + <p>"Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!"</p> + + <p>They were now within the dining-room.</p> + + <p>"Yes." In the presence and under the influence of his people + George at once ceased to be an expansive Londoner, and reverted + to the character of the Five Towns.</p> + + <p>"I suppose she'll be all + <i>right</i> + + ?"</p> + + <p>"Doctor seems to think so."</p> + + <p>"Yes. They generally are." The Alderman sighed pleasantly + and dropped rather heavily into a chair.</p> + + <p>"Have a cigarette?"</p> + + <p>"No!" The Alderman refused regretfully. "I've got a new rule + now. I don't smoke till after dinner."</p> + + <p>There was a pause.</p> + + <p>"I'm glad we came."</p> + + <p>"So'm I."</p> + + <p>"You needn't worry about anything. Your mother and I will + see to everything. I'll go up and have a talk with Johnnie + about the leases."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 280 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page275" name="page275">[pg 275]</a> + </span> + + Thanks."</p> + + <p>"What about money?"</p> + + <p>"I'll write you. No hurry."</p> + + <p>"What sort of a woman is Laurencine? I've scarcely set eyes + on her."</p> + + <p>"She's fine."</p> + + <p>"She is?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Will she hit it off with your mother?"</p> + + <p>"Trust her."</p> + + <p>"Well, then, I think I'll have one o' them cigarettes."</p> + + <p>They smoked in taciturnity, nervous but relieved. They had + said what they had to say to each other. After a time George + remarked:</p> + + <p>"I heard last night there was a chance of me being + Vice-President of the Institute this year if I hadn't gone into + the Army."</p> + + <p>Mr. Clayhanger raised his eyebrows.</p> + + <p>"That'll keep all right for later."</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Clayhanger hurried into the dining-room. She had + removed her hat and gloves.</p> + + <p>"Lois wants to see you."</p> + + <p>"I was just coming up. I've got to go now." He glanced at + his watch.</p> + + <p>"Go where?" It was like Mrs. Clayhanger to ask a question to + which she knew the answer. Her ardent eyes, set a little too + close together in the thin, lined, nervous face, burned upon + him challengingly.</p> + + <p>"I told you! I have to report at Headquarters before + noon."</p> + + <p>"But you don't mean to say you're going to leave your wife + like this! She's very ill."</p> + + <p>"I'm bound to leave her."</p> + + <p>"But you can't leave her."</p> + + <p>The Alderman said:</p> + + <p>"The boy's quite right. If he's got to report he's got to + report."</p> + + <p>"And supposing she was dying?"</p> + + <p>"Now, missis, we needn't suppose that. She isn't."</p> + + <p>"It would be just the same if she was," Mrs. Clayhanger + retorted bitterly. "I don't know what men are coming to. But I + know this—all husbands are selfish. They probably don't + know it, but they are."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 281 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page276" name="page276">[pg 276]</a> + </span> + + She wept angrily.</p> + + <p>"Don't you understand I'm in the machine now, mater?" said + George resentfully as he left the room.</p> + + <p>In the bedroom Lois lay on her back, pale, perspiring, + moaning. He kissed her, glanced at the doctor for instructions, + and departed. Lois was not in a condition to talk, and the + doctor wished her not to speak. Then George went to the kitchen + and took leave of the children, and incidentally of the + servants. The nurse was arriving as he re-entered the + dining-room; he had seized his cap in the hall and put it + on.</p> + + <p>"Better give me an address," said the Alderman.</p> + + <p>"You might wire during the day," George said, scribbling on + a loose leaf from his pocket-book, which he had to search for + in unfamiliar pockets.</p> + + <p>"The idea had occurred to me," the Alderman smiled.</p> + + <p>"Au revoir, mater."</p> + + <p>"But you've got plenty of time!" she protested.</p> + + <p>"I know," said he. "I'm not going to be late. I haven't the + slightest notion where Headquarters are, and supposing the taxi + had a break-down!"</p> + + <p>He divined from the way in which she kissed him good-bye + that she was excessively proud of him.</p> + + <p>"Mater," he said, "I see you're still a girl."</p> + + <p>As he was leaving, Mr. Clayhanger halted him.</p> + + <p>"You said something in your last letter about storing the + furniture, didn't you? Have ye made any inquiries?"</p> + + <p>"No. But I've told Orgreave. You might look into that, + because—well, you'll see."</p> + + <p>From the hall he glanced into the dining-room and up the + stairs. The furniture that filled the house had been new ten + years earlier; it had been anybody's furniture. The passage of + ten years, marvellously swift, had given character to the + furniture, charged it with associations, scarred it with the + history of a family—his family, individualized it, + humanized it. It was no longer anybody's furniture. With a pang + he pictured it numbered and crowded into a warehouse, forlorn, + thick with dust, tragic, exiled from men and women.</p> + + <p>He drove off, waving. His stepfather waved from the door, + his mother waved from the dining-room; the cook had taken the + children into the drawing-room, where they shook their short, + chubby arms at him, smiling. On the second floor the back of + the large rectangular mirror on the dressing-table presented a + flat and wooden negative to his anxious curiosity.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 282 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page277" name="page277">[pg 277]</a> + </span> + + In the neighbourhood of Wimbledon the taxi-driver ascertained + his destination at the first inquiry from a strolling soldier. + It was the Blue Lion public-house. The taxi skirted the Common, + parts of which were covered with horse-lines and tents. Farther + on, in vague suburban streets, the taxi stopped at a corner + building with a blatant, curved gilt sign and a very big lamp. + A sentry did something with his rifle as George got out, and + another soldier obligingly took the luggage. A clumsy painted + board stuck on a pole at the entrance to a side-passage + indicated that George had indeed arrived at his Headquarters. + He was directed to a small, frowzy apartment, which apparently + had once been the land-lord's sitting-room. Two officers, + Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant, both with ribbons, were + seated close together at a littered deal table, behind a + telephone whose cord, instead of descending modestly to the + floor, went up in sight of all men to the ceiling. In a corner + a soldier, the Colonel's confidential clerk, was writing at + another table. Everything was dirty and untidy. Neither of the + officers looked at George. The Adjutant was excitedly reading + to the Colonel and the Colonel was excitedly listening and + muttering. The clerk too was in a state of excitement. George + advanced towards the table, and saluted and stood at attention. + The Adjutant continued to read and the Colonel to murmur, but + the Adjutant did manage to give a momentary surreptitious + glance at George. After some time the Colonel, who was a short, + stout, bald, restless man, interrupted the reading, and, still + without having looked at George, growled impatiently to the + Adjutant:</p> + + <p>"Who's this fellow?"</p> + + <p>The Adjutant replied smoothly:</p> + + <p>"Mr. Cannon, sir."</p> + + <p>The Colonel said:</p> + + <p>"He's got a devilish odd way of saluting. I must go now." + And jumped up and went cyclonically as far as the door. At the + door he paused and looked George full in the face, glaring.</p> + + <p>"You came to me with a special recommendation?" he demanded + loudly.</p> + + <p>"Colonel Rannion kindly recommended me, sir."</p> + + <p>"General Rannion, sir. Haven't you seen this morning's + <i>Times</i> + + ? You should read your Gazette."</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>"You're the celebrated architect?"</p> + + <p>"I'm an architect, sir."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 283 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page278" name="page278">[pg 278]</a> + </span> + + I wish you would condescend to answer, yes or no, sir. That's + the second time. I say—you're the celebrated + architect?"</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>"Well, remember this. When you come into the Army what you + were before you came into the Army has not the slightest + importance."</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>Colonel Hullocher glared in silence for a moment, and was + gone. The clerk slipped out after him.</p> + + <p>The Adjutant rose:</p> + + <p>"Now, Cannon, we're all very busy."</p> + + <p>And shook hands.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='IV'> + </a> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The same afternoon, indeed within about two hours of his + entrance into the Army, George found himself driving back from + Wimbledon to London in a motor-bus.</p> + + <p>Colonel Hullocher had vanished out of his world, and he had + been sent to another and still more frowzy public-house which + was the Headquarters of No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade. He + was allotted to No. 2 Battery, subject to the approval of Major + Craim, the commanding officer. Major Craim was young and fair + and benevolent, and at once approvingly welcomed George, who + thereupon became the junior subaltern of the Battery. The other + half-dozen officers, to whom he was introduced one by one as + they came in, seemed amiable and very well-mannered, if unduly + excited. When, immediately before lunch, the Major was called + away to lunch with Colonel Hullocher, the excitement of the + mess seemed to boil over. The enormous fact was that the whole + Division—yeomanry, infantry, and artillery—had been + ordered to trek southward the next morning. The Division was + not ready to trek; in particular the Second Brigade of its + artillery, and quite specially Battery No. 2 of the Second + Brigade, was not ready to trek. Nevertheless it would trek. It + might even trek to France. Southward was Franceward, and there + were those who joyously believed that this First Line + Territorial Division was destined to lead the Territorial Army + in France.</p> + + <p>All the officers had a schoolboyish demeanour; all of them + called one another by diminutives ending in 'y'; all of them + were pretty young. But George soon divided them into two + distinct groups—those who worried about the smooth +<!-- Page 284 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page279" name="page279">[pg 279]</a> + </span> + + working of the great trek, and those who did not. Among the + former was Captain Resmith, the second in command, a dark man + with a positive, strong voice, somewhat similar to George in + appearance. Captain Resmith took George very seriously, and + promised to initiate him personally into as many technical + mysteries as could be compressed into one afternoon. Then a + Major Tumulty, middle-aged and pale, came hurriedly into the + stuffy room and said without any prologue:</p> + + <p>"Now I must have one of you chaps this afternoon. Otherwise + I promise you you won't get all the things you want."</p> + + <p>Silence fell on the mess.</p> + + <p>"The C.O. isn't here, sir," said Captain Resmith.</p> + + <p>"I can't help that. I'm not going alone."</p> + + <p>"Cannon, you'd better go with Major Tumulty. Major, this is + Mr. Cannon, our latest addition."</p> + + <p>George only knew about Major Tumulty that he was Major + Tumulty and that he did not belong to No. 2 Battery. So far as + George was concerned he was a major in the air. After drinking + a glass of port with the mess, Major Tumulty suddenly + remembered that he was in a hurry, and took George off and put + him into a scarlet London-General motor-bus that was throbbing + at the door of the public-house, with an ordinary civilian + driver at the steering-wheel and a soldier on the step. George + felt like a parcel; he had no choice of movement, no + responsibility, no knowledge. The mentality of a parcel was not + disagreeable to him. But at times, vaguely uneasy, he would + start out of it, and ask himself: "What is wrong?" And then the + vision of a distant, half-forgotten street called Elm Park Road + would rise in his mind and he would remember: "My wife is very + ill, and everything is upset at home."</p> + + <p>The motor-bus travelled a few yards and stopped; and out of + yet another office a soldier carried, staggering, a heavy bag + with a brass lock, and dropped it on the floor of the bus + between the Major and George; and the bus, after a good + imitation by the soldier-conductor of a professional double + ting on the bell, went away afresh.</p> + + <p>"That's money," said the Major, in his mild, veiled voice, + pointing to the bag.</p> + + <p>Little by little George learnt that the Major had 'won' the + bus 'out of' the War Office, and had been using it daily for + several days for the purpose of buying and collecting urgent + stores and equipment. The bus had become celebrated within the + Division in an astoundingly short time, +<!-- Page 285 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page280" name="page280">[pg 280]</a> + </span> + + and on this, the last day preceding the trek, the various units + had burdened the good-natured Major with a multitude of + commissions.</p> + + <p>"I try to keep accounts," said the Major. "But I know I've + made a loss every day. I've been in the T.F. ever since there + was one, and it has always cost me money. Now, I shall put you + in charge of this little book."</p> + + <p>The little book was a penny account-book, with pages + lettered in pencil A, B, C, D, etc., and items scribbled on + each page.</p> + + <p>"The letters show the batteries," the Major explained. "I've + got a key to the batteries somewhere in my pocket. And here's + what I call my grand list." He produced a roll of foolscap. "I + like everything orderly. It saves so much trouble, doesn't it? + I mean in the end. Now, as I buy things I shall strike them off + here, and I want you to strike them off in your book and put + down the price from the bill. I always insist on a receipted + bill. It saves so much trouble in the end. I meant to bring a + file or a clip for the bills, but I forgot. You understand, + don't you?"</p> + + <p>George answered solemnly and sharply:</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>The Major weakly cried:</p> + + <p>"Hall!"</p> + + <p>"Yessir!" The soldier-conductor came to attention.</p> + + <p>"Did you tell him to go to Harrods first?"</p> + + <p>"Yessir!"</p> + + <p>"I think we might go and sit on the top," said the Major. + "It's a nice afternoon."</p> + + <p>So the two officers went and sat on the top of the + motor-bus. The Major gossiped with soothing tranquillity. He + said that he was a pianoforte manufacturer; his father, from + whom he had inherited, had traded under a German name because + people preferred German pianos to English; he now regretted + this piece of astuteness on the part of his father; he was + trying to sell his business—he had had enough of it.</p> + + <p>"Hi! You!" he called, standing up quite unexpectedly and + leaning over the front of the bus to hail the driver. "Hi! + You!" But the driver did not hear, and the bus drove forward + like fate. The Major, who had hitherto seemed to be exempt from + the general perturbation of Wimbledon troops, suddenly showed + excitement. "We must stop this bus somehow! Why the devil + doesn't he stop? I've forgotten the rope-shop."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 286 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page281" name="page281">[pg 281]</a> + </span> + + I'll stop it, sir," said George, maintaining an admirable + presence of mind in the crisis, and he rose and pushed down the + knob of the signal-rod at the back of the bus. The bus did + actually stop.</p> + + <p>"Ah!" murmured the Major, calmed.</p> + + <p>The soldier raced upstairs.</p> + + <p>"Hall!"</p> + + <p>"Yessir."</p> + + <p>"Do you know a rope and string shop near the Granville + Theatre of Varieties at Walham Green?"</p> + + <p>"No, sir."</p> + + <p>"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville."</p> + + <p>"Yessir."</p> + + <p>The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw + the first contents-bill of the afternoon papers.</p> + + <p>"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked.</p> + + <p>"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons + business is serious."</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. + When the rope had been purchased and new silver brought forth + from the bag, and the receipt made out, and the item struck off + and the amount entered, and the bus had started again, George + perceived that he would soon be passing the end of Elm Park + Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect the bus into Elm + Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He dared not. + The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless + unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its + forehead, rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham + Road, pursued by the disappointed glances of gesturing + wayfarers who wanted it to take them to Liverpool Street.</p> + + <p>After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major + stopped his bus at a Tube station in the north of London.</p> + + <p>"I mustn't forget my pens," said he. "I have to spend + three-quarters of my time mewed up in the office, and I don't + grumble; but I'm very particular about nibs, and if I don't + have my own I cannot work. It's useless to expect it."</p> + + <p>Then to the soldier:</p> + + <p>"Hall! You go down to Partridge & Cooper's, at the + corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, and buy a sixpenny + box of their 'No. 6 Velvet' pen-nibs. You understand: 'No. 6 + Velvet.'"</p> + + <p>"Yessir. With the bus, sir?"</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 287 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page282" name="page282">[pg 282]</a> + </span> + + With the bus. Here's sixpence." He took a coin out of the bag, + locked it, and gave the key to George. "And keep an eye on this + bag, my boy. You will then come back and wait for us—let + me see—outside Piccadilly Tube Station in Jermyn + Street."</p> + + <p>"Yessir."</p> + + <p>The Major and George entered the North London station and + proceeded to the lift.</p> + + <p>"Tickets!" demanded the lift-man.</p> + + <p>The Major halted and gazed at him.</p> + + <p>"On service!" said the Major, with resentment and disdain. + "A fortnight ago you civilians were raising your hats to us. + Now you ask us for tickets! Haven't you grasped yet that + there's a war on? Don't you think you'd look better in khaki?" + He showed excitement, as at every personal encounter.</p> + + <p>The lift-man bowed his head, inarticulately muttering, and + the officers passed into the lift, having created a certain + amount of interest among the other passengers. The Major was + tranquillized in a moment. They came to the surface again at + Piccadilly Circus, where at the lift a similar scene + occurred.</p> + + <p>"Do you know anything about pyjamas?" said the Major.</p> + + <p>"Well, sir—"</p> + + <p>"I never wear them myself. I'm rather old-fashioned. But I + have to buy three pairs—suits for Colonel + Hullocher—at Swan & Edgar's. Oh! Bother it! Have you + any money? I forgot to take some out of the bag."</p> + + <p>The Major purchased the pyjamas with George's money, and his + attitude towards the shopman during the transaction was + defiant, indicating to the shopman that, though personally he, + the Major, never wore pyjamas, he was an expert in pyjamas and + not to be gulled. George took the resulting parcel and the + receipted bill, and they walked across to Jermyn Street, where + surely the bus, with the sixpenny box of pens, was waiting for + them. It was perfectly magical. As the vehicle swung with them + into the Circus the Major exclaimed:</p> + + <p>"We're getting on very well. What do you say to some + tea?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + + <p>The bus, having stopped by order at the second tea-house on + the left in Piccadilly, was immediately assaulted, without + success, by several would-be passengers. A policeman, out +<!-- Page 288 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page283" name="page283">[pg 283]</a> + </span> + + raged by the spectacle of a bus stationary at a spot where + buses are absolutely forbidden to be stationary, hurried + forward in fury. But the Major, instantly excited, was ready + for him.</p> + + <p>"This motor-bus is a military vehicle on service, and I'll + thank you to mind your own business. If you've any complaints + to make, you'd better make them to Lord Kitchener."</p> + + <p>The policeman touched his hat.</p> + + <p>"They have music here," said the Major mildly, entering the + tea-house. "I always like music. Makes things so much jollier, + doesn't it?"</p> + + <p>During tea the Major inquired about George's individual + circumstances, and George said that he was an architect.</p> + + <p>"Student of bricks and mortar, eh?" said the Major + benevolently. "How long have you been in the Army?"</p> + + <p>"Rather less than half a day, sir."</p> + + <p>The Major, raising his eyebrows, was very interested and + kind. Perceiving that he had virgin material under his hands, + he began to shape the material, and talked much about the + niceties of the etiquette of saluting. George listened, yet at + intervals his attention would wander, and he would be in Elm + Park Road. But the illusion of home was very faint. His wife + and family seemed to be slipping away from him. "How is it," he + thought, "that I am not more upset about Lois than I am?" The + various professional and family matters which in his haste he + had left unsettled were diminishing hourly in their apparent + importance. He came back to the tea-house with a start, hearing + the Major praise his business capacity as displayed during the + afternoon. The friendly aspect of the thin, pallid face + inspired him with a sort of emotional audacity, and in ten + words he suddenly informed the Major of his domestic + situation.</p> + + <p>"H'm!" said the Major. "I'm a bachelor myself."</p> + + <p>There was a pause.</p> + + <p>"I'll give you a tip," said the Major, resuming the + interrupted topic. "War is a business. The more business + capacity you have, the more likely you are to succeed. I'm a + business man myself."</p> + + <p>On leaving the tea-house they discovered the military + vehicle surrounded by an enchanted multitude who were staring + through its windows at the merchandise—blankets, pans, + kettles, saddles, ropes, parcels, stoves, baskets, and box of + nibs—within, while the policeman strove in vain to keep + both the road and the pavement clear. George preceded the +<!-- Page 289 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page284" name="page284">[pg 284]</a> + </span> + + Major, pushing aside with haughty military impatience the + civilians so reluctant to move. He felt as though he had been + in the Army for years. No longer did his uniform cause him the + slightest self-consciousness.</p> + + <p>At Wimbledon in the dusk the bus was met by several military + wagons each from a different unit, and each anxious to obtain + goods. This piece of organization rather impressed George.</p> + + <p>"Well, my boy," said the Major, "you'd better go and report + yourself. You've been a great help to me."</p> + + <p>George saluted according to the Major's own doctrine, and + departed. At Battery Headquarters he met Captain Resmith.</p> + + <p>"How did you get on with Auntie?" asked Resmith in his loud, + firm voice.</p> + + <p>George winked.</p> + + <p>Resmith gave a scarcely perceptible smile.</p> + + <p>"Look here," he said. "I'm just going round the horse-lines. + If you'll come with me I'll show you a thing or two, and we can + choose a mount for you. Then after dinner if you like I'll take + you through the orders for to-morrow. By the way, there's a + telegram for you."</p> + + <p>The telegram read:</p> + + <p>"Girl. Everything fairly satisfactory. Don't worry too much. + Laurencine sleeps here.—NUNKS"</p> + + <p>The telegram was entirely characteristic of his + stepfather—curt, exact, realistic, kind.</p> + + <p>He thought:</p> + + <p>"Three girls, by Jove!"</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The early sun, carrying into autumn the tradition of a + magnificent summer, shone on the artillery camps. The four guns + of the No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade were ranged side by + side in the vast vague space in front of the officers' + hutments. Each gun had six horses in three pairs, and a rider + for each pair. On the guns and the gun-teams everything + glittered that could glitter—leather, metal, coats of + horses, faces of men. Captain Resmith rode round, examining + harness and equipment with a microscope that he called his eye. + George rode round after him. Sometimes Captain Resmith spoke to + a N.C.O., sometimes even to a man, but for the most part the + men stared straight in front of them +<!-- Page 290 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page285" name="page285">[pg 285]</a> + </span> + + into eternity. Major Craim trotted up. Captain Resmith + approached the Major and saluted, saying in his best military + voice:</p> + + <p>"The Battery is all correct and ready to move off, sir."</p> + + <p>The Major in his drawing-room voice replied:</p> + + <p>"Thank you, Captain Resmith."</p> + + <p>Silence reigned in No. 2 Battery, except for the faint + jingling restlessness of the horses.</p> + + <p>Then Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant pranced into sight. + The Adjutant saluted the Major and made an inquiry. The Major + saluted, and all three chatted a little.</p> + + <p>George, who had accompanied Captain Resmith into the + background, murmured to him, as cautiously as a convict talking + at exercise:</p> + + <p>"He's got his knife into me."</p> + + <p>"Who?"</p> + + <p>"The Colonel."</p> + + <p>"Don't you know why?"</p> + + <p>"No. I was specially recommended to him."</p> + + <p>"Well, that's one reason, isn't it? But there was a + difficulty between him and the Major as to when you should + come. The old man got the better of him—always does. But + he's a good officer."</p> + + <p>"Who?"</p> + + <p>"Hullocher. Shut up."</p> + + <p>These two had reached familiarity with the swiftness + characteristic of martial life.</p> + + <p>During the brief colloquy Resmith had sat very upright on + his horse, the chin slightly lifted, the head quite still, even + the lips scarcely moving to articulate. Colonel Hullocher + seemed now to be approaching. It was a false alarm. The Colonel + and his Adjutant pranced off. After a long time, and at a + considerable distance, could just be heard the voice of the + Colonel ordering the Brigade to move. But No. 2 Battery did not + stir for another long period. Suddenly, amid a devolution of + orders, No. 2 Battery moved. The Major, attended by his + trumpeter, and followed by the Battery staff of range-takers, + director-men, telephonists, and the serjeant-major, inaugurated + a sinuous procession into the uneven, rutted track leading to + the side-road. Then the guns one by one wheeled to the right, + the horses' hoofs stamping into the damp ground as they turned, + and became part of the procession. Then the quartermaster and + other N.C.O.'s and men joined; and last were Captain Resmith, + attended +<!-- Page 291 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page286" name="page286">[pg 286]</a> + </span> + + by + <i>his</i> + + trumpeter, and George. Resmith looked over his shoulder at the + Third Battery which surged behind. There were nearly two + hundred men and over a hundred and fifty horses and many + vehicles in the Battery. The Major was far out of sight, and + the tail of the column was equally out of sight in the rear, + for the total length of Major Craim's cavalcade exceeded a + mile; and of the Brigade three miles, and two other similar + Brigades somewhere in the region of Wimbledon were + participating in the grand Divisional trek.</p> + + <p>Captain Resmith cantered ahead to a bend in the track, and + anxiously watched a gun-team take the sharp curve, which was + also a sharp slope. The impression of superb, dangerous + physical power was tremendous. The distended nostrils of + horses, the gliding of their muscles under the glossy skin, the + muffled thud of their hoofs in the loose soil, the grimacing of + the men as they used spur and thong, the fierce straining of + straps and chains, the creaking, the grinding, and finally the + swaying of the 90-millimetre gun, coddled and polished, as it + swung helplessly forward, stern first, and its long nose + describing an arc in the air behind—these things + marvellously quickened the blood.</p> + + <p>"Good men!" said Captain Resmith, enthusiastic. "It's great, + isn't it? You know, there's nothing so fine as a + battery—nothing in the whole world."</p> + + <p>George heartily agreed with him.</p> + + <p>"This is the best Battery in the Division," said Resmith + religiously.</p> + + <p>And George was religiously convinced that it was.</p> + + <p>He was astoundingly happy. He thought, amazed, that he had + never been so happy, or at any rate so uplifted, in all his + life. He simply could not comprehend his state of bliss, which + had begun that morning at 6.30 when the grey-headed, + simple-minded servant allotted to him had wakened him, + according to instructions, with a mug of tea. Perhaps it was + the far, thin sound of bugles that produced the rapturous + effect, or the fresh air blowing in through the broken pane of + the hut, or the slanting sunlight, or the feeling that he had + no responsibility and nothing to do but blindly obey + orders.</p> + + <p>He had gone to sleep as depressed as he was tired. A sense + of futility had got the better of him. The excursion of the + afternoon had certainly been ridiculous in a high degree. He + had hoped for a more useful evening. Captain Resmith had indeed + taken him to the horse-lines, and he had tried a mount which + was very suitable, and Captain Resmith had +<!-- Page 292 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page287" name="page287">[pg 287]</a> + </span> + + said that he possessed a naturally good seat and hands, and had + given him a few sagacious tips. It was plain to him that + Resmith had the Major's orders to take him in tutelage and make + an officer of him. But the satisfactoriness of the evening had + suddenly ceased. Scarcely had Resmith begun to expound the + orders, and George to read the thrilling words, 'Second + Lieutenant G.E. Cannon to ride with Captain Resmith,' when the + mess had impulsively decided to celebrate the last night in + camp by a dinner at the hotel near the station, and George, fit + for nothing more important, had been detailed to run off and + arrange for the rich repast. The bulk of the mess was late to + arrive, and George spent the time in writing a descriptive and + falsely gay letter on slips of yellow Army paper to Lois. The + dinner, with its facile laughter and equally facile cynicism, + had bored him; for he had joined the Army in order to save an + Empire and a world from being enslaved. He had lain down in his + truckle-bed and listened to the last echoing sounds in the + too-resonant corridor of the hutments, and thought of the + wisdom of Sir Isaac Davids, and of the peril to his wife, and + of the peril to the earth, and of his own irremediable bondage + to the military machine. He, with all his consciousness of + power, had been put to school again; deprived of the right to + answer back, to argue, even to think. If one set in authority + said that black was white, his most sacred duty was to concur + and believe. And there was no escape....</p> + + <p>And then, no sooner had he gone to sleep than it was bright + day, and the faint, clear call of bugles had pierced the clouds + of his depression and they had vanished! Every moment of the + early morning had been exquisite. Although he had not been + across a horse for months, he rode comfortably, and the animal + was reliable. Resmith in fact had had to warn him against + fatiguing himself. But he knew that he was incapable of + fatigue. The day's trek was naught—fifteen miles or + less—to Epsom Downs, at a walk!... Lois? He had expected + a letter from 'Nunks' or his mother, but there was no letter, + and no news was good news, at any rate with 'Nunks' in charge + of communications. Lois could not fail to be all right. He + recalled the wise generalization of 'Nunks' on that point ... + Breakfast was a paradisiacal meal. He had never 'fancied' a + meal so much. And Resmith had greatly enheartened him by saying + sternly: "You've got exactly the right tone with the men. Don't + you go trying to alter it." The general excitement was +<!-- Page 293 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page288" name="page288">[pg 288]</a> + </span> + + intense, and the solemn synchronizing of watches increased it + further. An orderly brought a newspaper, and nobody would do + more than disdainfully glance at it. The usual daily stuff + about the war!... Whereas Epsom Downs glittered in the + imagination like a Canaan. And it lay southward. Probably they + were not going to France, but probably they would have the + honour of defending the coast against invasion. George desired + to master gunnery instantly, and Resmith soothed him with the + assurance that he would soon be sent away on a gunnery course, + which would give him beans. And in the meantime George might + whet his teeth on the detailed arrangements for feeding and + camping the Battery on Epsom Downs. This organization gave + George pause, especially when he remembered that the Battery + was a very trifling item in the Division, and when Resmith + casually informed him that a Division on the trek occupied + fifteen miles of road. He began to perceive the difference + between the Army and a circus, and to figure the Staff as + something other than a club of haughty, aristocratic idlers in + red hats. And when the Battery was fairly under way in the + side-road, with another Battery in front and another Battery + behind, and more Artillery Brigades and uncounted Infantry + Brigades and a screen of Yeomanry all invisibly marching over + the map in the direction of Epsom, and bound to reach a certain + lettered square on the map at a certain minute—when this + dynamic situation presented itself to the tentacles of his + grasping mind, he really did feel that there could be no game + equal to war.</p> + + <p>The Battery 'rode easy,' the men were smoking, talking, and + singing in snatches, when suddenly all sounds were silenced. + Captain Resmith, who had been summoned to the Major, reined in + his horse, and George did likewise, and the Battery passed by + them on the left. The Major's voice was heard:</p> + + <p>"No. 2 Battery. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>George asked:</p> + + <p>"What's this?"</p> + + <p>"C.R.A.'s ahead," murmured Resmith.</p> + + <p>Then another officer cried:</p> + + <p>"Right section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>And then an N.C.O. bawled:</p> + + <p>"A sub-section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Then only did George, from the rear, see the drivers, with a + simultaneous gesture, twist their heads very sharply to +<!-- Page 294 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page289" name="page289">[pg 289]</a> + </span> + + the right, raise their whips, and fling the thongs over the + withers of the hand-horses, while the section-officer + saluted.</p> + + <p>Another N.C.O. bawled:</p> + + <p>"B sub-section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>And the same action followed.</p> + + <p>Then another officer cried:</p> + + <p>"Left section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>So the rite proceeded.</p> + + <p>Resmith and George had now gone back to their proper places. + George could see the drivers of the last gun gathering up the + whip thongs into their hands preparatory to the salute. C + sub-section received the command.</p> + + <p>And then, not many yards ahead, the voice of an N.C.O.:</p> + + <p>"D sub-section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Heads turned; whips were raised and flung outwards; horses + swerved slightly.</p> + + <p>"Get ready," muttered Resmith to George.</p> + + <p>The figure of the C.R.A., Brigadier-General Rannion, + motionless on a charger, came into view. George's heart was + beating high. Resmith and he saluted. The General gazed hard at + him and never moved. They passed ahead.</p> + + <p>The officer commanding the Third Battery had already + called:</p> + + <p>"Battery. + <i>Eyes—right."</i> + </p> + + <p>The marvellous ceremonial slipped rearwards. George was + aware of tears in his eyes. He was aware of the sentiment of + worship. He felt that he would have done anything, accomplished + any deed, died, at the bidding of the motionless figure on the + charger. It was most curious.</p> + + <p>There was a terrific crash of wood far behind. Resmith + chuckled.</p> + + <p>"One of those G.S. wagons has knocked down the Automobile + Club 'Cross-Roads' sign," he said. "Good thing it wasn't a + lamp-post! You see, with their eyes right, they can't look + where they're going, and the whip touches up the horses, and + before you can say knife they're into something. Jolly glad + it's only the Am. Col. Jones will hear of this." He chuckled + again. Jones was the Captain commanding the Ammunition + Column.</p> + + <p>The order ran down the line:</p> + + <p>"Eyes— + <i>front</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Soon afterwards they came to some policemen, and two girls + in very gay frocks with bicycles, and the cross-roads. The + Battery swung into the great high road whose sign-post +<!-- Page 295 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page290" name="page290">[pg 290]</a> + </span> + + said, 'To Ewell and Epsom.' Another unit had been halted to let + the Artillery pass into its definitive place in the vast trek. + It was about this time that George began to notice the dust. + Rain had fallen before dawn and made the roads perfect; but now + either all the moisture had evaporated in the blazing sun, or + the Battery had reached a zone where rain had not fallen. At + first the dust rose only in a shallow sea to the height of + fetlocks; but gradually it ascended and made clouds, and + deposited a layer on the face and on the tongue and in the + throat. And the surface itself of the road, exasperated by + innumerable hoofs and wheels, seemed to be in a kind of + crawling fermentation. The smell of humanity and horses was + strong. The men were less inclined to sing.</p> + + <p>"Left!" yelled a voice.</p> + + <p>And another:</p> + + <p>" + <i>Left</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>And still another, very close on the second one:</p> + + <p>"LEFT!"</p> + + <p>"Keep your distances there!" Resmith shouted violently.</p> + + <p>A horn sounded, and the next moment a motor-car, apparently + full of red-hats, rushed past the Battery, overtaking it, in a + blinding storm of dust. It was gone, like a ghost.</p> + + <p>"That's the Almighty himself," Resmith explained, with + unconscious awe and devotion in his powerful voice. "Gramstone, + Major-General."</p> + + <p>George, profoundly impressed (he knew not why), noticed in + his brain a tiny embryo of a thought that it might be agreeable + to ride in a car.</p> + + <p>A hand went up, and the Battery stopped. It was the first + halt.</p> + + <p>"Look at your watch," said Resmith, smiling.</p> + + <p>"Ten to, exactly."</p> + + <p>"That's right. We have ten minutes in each hour."</p> + + <p>All dismounted, examined horses for galls, and looked at + their shoes, took pulls at water-bottles, lit cigarettes, + expectorated, coughed, flicked at flies with handkerchiefs. The two chromatic girls cycled past slowly, laughing. A stretcher-party also went past, and shortly afterwards returned with the stretcher laden.</p> + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='VI'> + </a> + + <h4>VI</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was after the long halt at midday that the weather + changed. The horses, martyrized by insects, had been + elaborately watered and fed with immense labour; officers and +<!-- Page 296 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page291" name="page291">[pg 291]</a> + </span> + + men had eaten rations and dust from their haversacks, and for + the most part emptied their water-bottles; and the march had + been resumed in a temper captious and somewhat exacerbated.</p> + + <p>"Get your horse away; he's kicking mine!" said Captain + Resmith impatiently to George, reflecting the general mood. And + George, who was beginning to experience fatigue in the region + of the knees, visited on his horse the resentment he felt at + Resmith's tone.</p> + + <p>At precisely that moment some drops of rain fell. Nobody + could believe at first that the drops were raindrops for the + whole landscape was quivering in hot sunshine. However, an + examination of the firmament showed a cloud perpendicularly + overhead; the drops multiplied; the cloud slowly obscured the + sun. An almost audible sigh of relief passed down the line. + Everybody was freshened and elated. Some men with an instinct + for the apposite started to sing:</p> + + <p>"Shall we gather at the river?"</p> + + <p>And nearly the whole Battery joined in the tune. The rain + persevered, thickening. The sun accepted defeat. The sky lost + all its blue. Orders were given as to clothing. George had the + sensation that something was lacking to him, and found that it + was an umbrella. On the outskirts of Ewell the Battery was + splashing through puddles of water; the coats of horses and of + men had darkened; guns, poles, and caps carried chaplets of + raindrops; and all those stern riders, so proud and scornful, + with chins hidden in high, upturned collars, and long garments + disposed majestically over their legs and the flanks of the + horses, nevertheless knew in secret that the conquering rain + had got down the backs of their necks, and into their boots and + into their very knees but they were still nobly maintaining the + illusion of impermeability against it. The Battery, riding + now stiffly 'eyes front,' was halted unexpectedly in Ewell, + filling the whole of the village, to the village's extreme + content. Many minutes elapsed. Rumour floated down that + something, was wrong in front. Captain Resmith had much + inspectorial cantering to do, and George faithfully followed + him for some time. At one end of the village a woman was + selling fruit and ginger-beer to the soldiers at siege prices; + at the other, men and women out of the little gardened houses + were eagerly distributing hot tea and hot coffee free of + charge. The two girls from the crossroads entered the village, + pushing their bicycles, one of which +<!-- Page 297 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page292" name="page292">[pg 292]</a> + </span> + + had apparently lost a pedal. They wore mackintoshes, and were + still laughing.</p> + + <p>At length George said:</p> + + <p>"If you don't mind I'll stick where I am for a bit."</p> + + <p>"Tired, eh?" Resmith asked callously.</p> + + <p>"Well! I shall be if I keep on."</p> + + <p>"Dismount, my canny boy. Didn't I tell you what would happen + to you? At your age—"</p> + + <p>"Why! How old d'you think I am?"</p> + + <p>"Well, my canny boy, you'll never see thirty again, I + suppose."</p> + + <p>"No, I shan't. Nor you either."</p> + + <p>Captain Resmith said:</p> + + <p>"I'm twenty-four."</p> + + <p>George was thunder-struck. The fellow was a boy, and George + had been treating him as an equal! But then the fellow was also + George's superior officer, and immeasurably his superior in + physique. Do what he would, harden himself as he might, George + at thirty-three could never hope to rival the sinews of the boy + of twenty-four, who incidentally could instruct him on every + conceivable military subject. George, standing by his sodden + horse, felt humiliated and annoyed as Resmith cantered off to + speak to the officer commanding the Ammunition Column. But on + the trek there was no outlet for such a sentiment as annoyance. + He was Resmith's junior and Resmith's inferior, and must + behave, and expect to be behaved to, as such.</p> + + <p>"Never mind!" he said to himself. His determination to learn + the art and craft of war was almost savage in ferocity.</p> + + <p>When the Battery at length departed from Ewell the rain had + completed its victory but at the same time had lost much of its + prestige. The riders, abandoning illusion, admitting frankly + that they were wet to the skin, knowing that all their clothing + was soaked, and satisfied that they could not be wetter than + they were if the bottom fell out of the sky, simply derided the + rain and plodded forward. Groups of them even disdained the + weather in lusty song. But not George. George was exhausted. He + was ready to fall off his horse. The sensation of fatigue about + the knees and in the small of his back was absolute torture. + Resmith told him to ride without stirrups and dangle his legs. + The relief was real, but only temporary. And the Battery moved + on at the horribly monotonous, tiring walk. Epsom was + incredibly distant. George gave up hope of Epsom; and he was + right to do so, +<!-- Page 298 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page293" name="page293">[pg 293]</a> + </span> + + for Epsom never came. The Battery had taken a secondary road to + the left which climbed slowly to the Downs. At the top of this + road, under the railway bridge, just before fields ceased to be + enclosed, stood the two girls. Their bicycles leaned against + the brick wall. They had taken off their mackintoshes, and it + was plain from their clinging coloured garments that they too + were utterly drenched. They laughed no more. Over the open + Downs the wind was sweeping the rain in front of it; and the + wind was the night wind, for the sky had begun to darken into + dusk. The Battery debouched into a main road which seemed full + of promise, but left it again within a couple of hundred yards, + and was once more on the menacing, high, naked Downs, with a + wide and desolate view of unfeatured plains to the north. The + bugles sounded sharply in the wet air, and the Battery, now + apparently alone in the world, came to a halt. George dropped + off his horse. A multiplicity of orders followed. Amorphous + confusion was produced out of a straight line. This was the + bivouacking ground. And there was nothing—nothing but the + track by which they had arrived, and the Downs, and a distant + blur to the west in the shape of the Epsom Grand Stand, and the + heavy, ceaseless rain, and the threat of the fast-descending + night. According to the theory of the Divisional Staff a dump + furnished by the Army Service Corps ought to have existed at a + spot corresponding to the final letter in the words 'Burgh + Heath' on the map, but the information quickly became general + that no such dump did in practice exist. To George the + situation was merely incredible. He knew that for himself there + was only one reasonable course of conduct. He ought to have a + boiling bath, go to bed with his dressing-gown over his + pyjamas, and take a full basin of hot bread-and-milk + adulterated by the addition of brandy—and sleep. Horses + and men surged perilously around him. The anarchical disorder, + however, must have been less acute than he imagined, for a + soldier appeared and took away his horse; he let the reins slip + from his dazed hand. The track had been transformed into a + morass of viscous mud.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='VII'> + </a> + + <h4>VII</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was night. The heavy rain drove out of the dark void from + every direction at once, and baptized the chilled faces of men + as though it had been discharged from the hundred-holed rose of + a full watering-can. The right and the left sections of +<!-- Page 299 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page294" name="page294">[pg 294]</a> + </span> + + the Battery were disposed on either side of the track. Fires + were burning. Horse-lines had been laid down, and by the light + of flickering flames the dim forms of tethered animals could be + seen with their noses to the ground pessimistically pretending + to munch what green turf had survived in the mud. Lanterns + moved mysteriously to and fro. In the distance to the west more + illuminations showed that another unit had camped along the + track. The quartermaster of No. 2, had produced meagre tinned + meats and biscuits from his emergency stores, and had made a + certain quantity of tea in dixies; he had even found a + half-feed of oats for the horses; so that both horses and men + were somewhat appeased. But the officers had had nothing, and + the Army Service Corps detachment was still undiscoverable.</p> + + <p>George sat on an empty box at the edge of the track, + submissive to the rain. Resmith had sent him to overlook men + cutting straight branches in a wood on Park Downs, and then he + had overlooked them as, with the said branches and with + waterproofs laced together in pairs, they had erected sleeping + shelters for the officers under the imperfect shelter of the + sole tree within the precincts of the camp. From these purely + ornamental occupations he had returned in a condition + approximating to collapse, without desire and without hope. The + invincible cheerfulness of unseen men chanting music-hall songs + in the drenched night made no impression on him, nor the + terrible staccato curtness of a N.C.O. mounting guard. Volition + had gone out of him; his heart was as empty as his stomach.</p> + + <p>Then a group of officers approached, with a mounted officer + in the middle of them, and a lantern swinging. The group was + not proceeding in any particular direction, but following the + restless motions of the uneasy horse. George, suddenly + startled, recognized the voice of the rider; it was Colonel + Hullocher's voice. The Brigade-Commander had come in person to + investigate the melancholy inexcusable case of No. 2 Battery, + and he was cursing all men and all things, and especially the + Divisional Staff. It appeared that the Staff was responsible + for the hitch of organization. During the day the Staff had + altered its arrangements for No. 2 Battery of the Second + Brigade, and had sent an incomplete message to the Army Service + Corps Headquarters. The A.S.C. had waited in vain for the + completion of the message, and had then, at dark, dispatched a + convoy with provender for No. 2 with instructions to find No. + 2. This convoy had +<!-- Page 300 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page295" name="page295">[pg 295]</a> + </span> + + not merely not found No. 2—it had lost itself, vanished + in the dark universe of rain. But let not No. 2 imagine that + No. 2 was blameless! No. 2 ought to have found the convoy. By + some means, human or divine, by the exercise of second sight or + the vision of cats or the scent of hounds, it ought to have + found the convoy, and there was no excuse for it not having + done so. Such was the expressed opinion of Colonel Hullocher, + and a recital by Major Craim of the measures taken by him did + nothing to shake that opinion.</p> + + <p>"How exactly do you stand now?" the Colonel fiercely + demanded.</p> + + <p>"The men and the horses will manage fairly well with what + they've had, sir," said the Major; and he incautiously added: + "But my officers haven't had anything at all."</p> + + <p>The Colonel seized the opening with fury.</p> + + <p>"What the devil do I care for your officers? It's your + horses and your men that I'm thinking about. It's to-morrow + morning that I'm thinking about. I—"</p> + + <p>The horse, revolving, cut short his harangue.</p> + + <p>"Keep that d—d lantern out of his eyes!" cried the + Colonel.</p> + + <p>George jumped up, and as he did so the water swished in his + boots, and a stream poured off his cap. The horse was being + fatally attracted towards him. The beam of the lantern fell on + him, illuminating before his face the long slants of rain.</p> + + <p>"Ha! Who's this?" the Colonel demanded, steadying the + horse.</p> + + <p>George smartly saluted, forgetting his fatigue.</p> + + <p>"You, is it? And what are + <i>you</i> + + supposed to be doing? Look here—" Colonel Hullocher + stopped in full career of invective, remembering military + etiquette. "Major, I suggest you send Mr. Cannon with some men + to find the convoy." The Major having eagerly concurred, the + Colonel went on: "Take a few men and search every road and + track between here and Kingswood Station—systematically. + Kingswood's the rail-head, and somewhere between here and there + that convoy is bound to be. Systematically, mind! It's not a + technical job. All that's wanted is common sense and + thoroughness."</p> + + <p>The Colonel's gaze was ruthlessly challenging. George met it + stiffly. He knew that the roads, if not the tracks, had already + been searched. He knew that he was being victimized by a chance + impulse of the Colonel's. But he ignored all that. He was + coldly angry and resentful. Utterly for +<!-- Page 301 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page296" name="page296">[pg 296]</a> + </span> + + getting his fatigue, he inimically surveyed the Colonel's + squat, shining figure in the cavalry coat, a pyramid of which + the apex was a round head surmounted by a dripping cap.</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir," he snapped.</p> + + <p>By rights the tyrant ought to have rolled off his horse + dead. But Colonel Hullocher was not thus vulnerable. He could + give glance for glance with perhaps any human being on earth, + and indeed thought little more of subalterns than of + rabbits.</p> + + <p>He finished, after a pause:</p> + + <p>"You will be good enough, Major, to let this officer report + to me personally when he has found the convoy."</p> + + <p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + + <p>The horse bounded away, scattering the group.</p> + + <p>Rather less than half an hour later George had five men + (including his own servant and Resmith's) and six lanterns + round a cask, on the top of which was his map. There were six + possible variations of route to Kingswood Station, and he + explained them all, allotting one to each man and keeping one + for himself. He could detect the men exchanging looks, but what + the looks signified he could not tell. He gave instructions + that everybody should go forward until either discovering the + convoy or reaching Kingswood. He said with a positive air of + conviction that by this means the convoy could not fail to be + discovered. The men received the statement with strict + agnosticism; they could not see things with the eye of faith, + fortified though they were with tea and tinned meats. An + offered reward of ten shillings to the man who should hit on + the convoy did not appreciably inspirit them. George himself + was of course not a bit convinced by his own argument, and had + not the slightest expectation that the convoy would be found. + The map, which the breeze lifted and upon which the rain + drummed, seemed to be entirely unconnected with the actual + facts of the earth's surface. The party mounted tired, + unwilling horses and filed off. Some soldiers in the darkness, + watching the string of lanterns, gave a half-ironical 'Hurrah.' + One by one, as the tracks bifurcated, George dispatched his + men, with renewed insistent advice, and at last he and his + horse were alone on the Downs.</p> + + <p>His clothes were exceedingly heavy with all the moisture + they had imbibed. Repose had mitigated his fatigue, but every + slow, slouching step of the horse intensified it + again—and at a tremendous rate. Still, he did not care, + having mastered the great truth that he would either fall off + the horse in exhaustion or arrive at Kingswood—and which + of the +<!-- Page 302 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page297" name="page297">[pg 297]</a> + </span> + + alternatives happened did not appear to him to matter + seriously. The whole affair was fantastic; it was unreal, in + addition to being silly. But, real or unreal, he would finish + it. If he was a phantom and Kingswood a mirage, the phantom + would reach the mirage or sink senseless into astral mud. He + had Colonel Hullocher in mind, and, quite illogically, he + envisaged the Colonel as a reality. Often he had heard of the + ways of the Army, and had scarcely credited the tales told and + printed. Well, he now credited them. Was it conceivable that + that madman of a Colonel had packed him, George, off on such a + wild and idiotic errand in the middle of the night, merely out + of caprice? Were such doings—</p> + + <p>He faintly heard voices through the rain, and the horse + started at this sign of life from the black, unknown world + beyond the circle of lantern-light. George was both frightened + and puzzled. He thought of ghosts and haunted moors. Then he + noticed a penumbra round about the form of what might be a + small hillock to the left of the track. He quitted the track, + and cautiously edged his horse forward, having commendably + obscured the lantern beneath his overcoat. The farther side of + the hillock had been tunnelled to a depth of perhaps three + feet; a lantern suspended somehow in the roof showed the spade + which had done the work; it also showed, within the cavity, the + two girls who had accompanied the Brigade from Wimbledon, + together with two soldiers. The soldiers were rankers, but one + of the girls talked with perfect correctness in a very refined + voice; the other was silently eating. Both were obviously tired + to the limit of endurance, and very dirty and draggled. The gay + colours of their smart frocks had, however, survived the + hardships of the day. George was absolutely amazed by the + spectacle. The vagaries of autocratic Colonels were nothing + when compared to this extravagance of human nature, this + glimpse of the subterranean life of regiments, this triumphant + and forlorn love-folly in the midst of the inclement, pitiless + night. And he was touched, too. The glimmer of the lantern on + the green and yellow of the short skirts half disclosed under + the mackintoshes was at once pathetic and exciting. The girl + who had been eating gave a terrible scream; she had caught + sight of the figure on horseback. The horse shied violently and + stood still. George persuaded him back into the track and rode + on, guessing that already he had become a genuine phantom for + the self-absorbed group awakened out of its ecstasy by the + mysterious vision of a nightrider.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 303 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page298" name="page298">[pg 298]</a> + </span> + + Half a mile farther on he saw the red end of a cigarette + swimming on the sea of darkness; his lantern had expired, and + he had not yet tried to relight it.</p> + + <p>"Hi there!" he cried. "Who are you?"</p> + + <p>The cigarette approached him, in a wavy movement, and a + man's figure was vaguely discerned.</p> + + <p>"A.S.C. convoy, sir."</p> + + <p>"Where are you supposed to be going to?"</p> + + <p>"No. 2 Battery, Second Brigade, sir. Can't find it, sir. And + we've got off the road. The G.S. wagon fell into a hole and + broke an axle, sir."</p> + + <p>"And what do you think you're doing?"</p> + + <p>"Waiting for daylight, sir."</p> + + <p>The man's youthful voice was quite cheerful.</p> + + <p>"D'you know what time it is?"</p> + + <p>"No, sir."</p> + + <p>"How many other vehicles have you got?"</p> + + <p>"Three altogether, sir. Six horses."</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm from No. 2 Battery, and I'm looking for you. + You've unharnessed, I suppose."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, sir, and fed."</p> + + <p>"Well, you'd better harness up your other two carts like + lightning and come along with me. Show me the way. We'll see + about the G.S. wagon later on."</p> + + <p>"It's about a hundred yards from here, sir."</p> + + <p>For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue. + Exultation, though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every + part of his body. Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, + he rode comfortably on hard packages till within sight of the + Battery camp, when he took saddle again and went off alone to + find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand Stand, where Colonel + Hullocher and other grandees had billeted themselves. The + Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite ready + to eat George.</p> + + <p>"Ah! You, is it? Found that convoy?"</p> + + <p>George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was + conceivable:</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>"Brought it back?"</p> + + <p>"Part of it, sir."</p> + + <p>He explained the circumstances.</p> + + <p>The Colonel coughed, and said:</p> + + <p>"Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?"</p> + + <p>George reflected for an instant. The Colonel seemingly +<!-- Page 304 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page299" name="page299">[pg 299]</a> + </span> + + had a core of decency, but George said in his heart: "I've not + done with you yet, my fat friend." And aloud, grimly.</p> + + <p>"Thank you very much, sir. But I shall ask you to excuse + me."</p> + + <p>Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by + this unparalleled response.</p> + + <p>The Colonel barked:</p> + + <p>"Why? Teetotaller?"</p> + + <p>"No, sir. But I've eaten nothing since lunch, and a glass of + whisky might make me drunk."</p> + + <p>Colonel Hullocher might have offered George some food to + accompany the whisky, but he did not. He had already done a + marvel; a miracle was not to be expected. He looked at George + and George looked at him.</p> + + <p>"No doubt you're right. Good night."</p> + + <p>"Good night, sir." George saluted and marched off.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='VIII'> + </a> + + <h4>VIII</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He prepared to turn in. The process was the simplest in the + world. He had only to wrap a pair of blankets round his soaked + clothes, and, holding them in place with one hand, creep under + the shelter. There were four shelters. The Major had a small + one, nearest the trunk of the tree, and the others were double + shelters, to hold two officers apiece. He glanced about. The + invisible camp was silent and still, save for a couple of + lieutenants who were walking to and fro like young ducks in the + heavy rain. Faint fires here and there in the distance showed + how the troops were spread over the Downs. Heaven and earth + were equally mysterious and inscrutable. He inserted himself + cautiously into the aperture of the shelter, where Resmith + already lay asleep, and, having pushed back his cap, arranged + his right arm for a pillow. The clammy ground had been covered + with dry horse-litter. As soon as he was settled the noise of + the rain ceaselessly pattering on the waterproof became + important. He could feel the chill of the wind on his feet, + which, with Resmith's, projected beyond the shelter. The + conditions were certainly astounding. Yet, despite extreme + fatigue, he was not depressed. On the contrary he was well + satisfied. He had accomplished something. He had been + challenged, and had accepted the challenge, and had won. The + demeanour of the mess when he got back to the camp clearly + indicated that he had acquired prestige. He was the man who had + +<!-- Page 305 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page300" name="page300">[pg 300]</a> + </span> + + organized an exhaustive search for the convoy and had found the + convoy in the pitchy blackness. He was the man who had saved + the unit from an undeserved shame. The mess had greeted him + with warm food. Perhaps he had been lucky—the hazard of a + lighted cigarette in the darkness! Yes, but luck was in + everything. The credit was his, and men duly gave it to him, + and he took it. He thought almost kindly of Colonel Hullocher, + against whom he had measured himself. The result of the match + was a draw, but he had provided the efficient bully with matter + for reflection. After all, Hullocher was right. When you were + moving a Division, jobs had to be done, possible or impossible; + human beings had to be driven; the supernatural had to be + achieved. And it had been! That which in the morning existed at + Wimbledon now existed on the Downs. There it lay, safe and + chiefly asleep, in defiance of the weather and of accidents and + miscarriage! And the next day it would go on.</p> + + <p>The vast ambitions of the civilian had sunk away. He + thought, exalted as though by a wonderful discovery:</p> + + <p>" + <i>There is something in this Army business</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>He ardently desired to pursue it further. He ardently + desired sleep and renewal so that he might rise afresh and + pursue it further. What he had done and been through was + naught, less than naught. To worry about physical discomforts + was babyish. Inviting vistas of knowledge, technical + attainment, experience, and endurance stretched before him, + illuminating the night. His mind dwelt on France, on Mons, on + the idea of terror and cataclysm. And it had room too for his + wife and children. He had had no news of them for over + twenty-four hours; and he had broken his resolve to write to + Lois every day; he had been compelled to break it. But in the + morning, somehow, he would send a telegram and he would get + one.</p> + + <p>"If it's true the French Government has left + Paris—"</p> + + <p>The nocturnal young ducks were passing the shelter.</p> + + <p>"And who says it's true? Who told you, I should like to + know?"</p> + + <p>"The Major has heard it."</p> + + <p>"Rats! I lay you a fiver the Allies are in Berlin before + Christmas."</p> + + <hr class="full" /> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12654 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14a5801 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12654 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12654) diff --git a/old/12654-8.txt b/old/12654-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ab82a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12654-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13968 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Roll-Call, by Arnold Bennett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Roll-Call + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: June 19, 2004 [EBook #12654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROLL-CALL *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + + +BY + + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +THIRD EDITION + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +NOVELS + +A Man from the North +Anna of the Five Towns +Leonora +A Great Man +Sacred and Profane Love +Whom God hath Joined +Buried Alive +The Old Wives' Tale +The Glimpse +Helen with the High Hand +Clayhanger +Hilda Lessways +These Twain +The Card +The Regent +The Price of Love +The Lion's Share +The Pretty Lady + +FANTASIAS + +The Ghost +The Grand Babylon Hotel +The Gates of Wrath +Teresa of Watling Street +The Loot of Cities +The City of Pleasure + +SHORT STORIES + +Tales of the Five Towns +The Grim Smile of the Five Towns +The Matador of the Five Towns + +BELLES-LETTRES + +Journalism for Women +Fame and Fiction +How to become an Author +The Truth about an Author +How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day +Mental Efficiency +The Human Machine +Literary Taste +Those United States +Paris Nights +Friendship and Happiness +Married Life +Liberty +Over There +The Author's Craft +Books and Persons +Self and Self-Management + +DRAMA + +Polite Farces +Cupid and Common Sense +What the Public Wants +The Honeymoon +The Great Adventure +The Title +Judith +Milestones (in collaboration with EDWARD KNOBLOCK) + +(In collaboration with EDEN PHILLPOTTS) +The Sinews of War: A Romance +The Statue: A Romance + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + + +BY + + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +THIRD EDITION + + +_LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO. +PATERNOSTER ROW_ + +NOTE +This novel was written before "The Pretty Lady", and is the first of the +author's war-novels. +A.B. + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAP. + I. THE NEW LODGING + II. MARGUERITE + III. THE CHARWOMAN + IV. THE LUNCHEON + V. THE TEA + VI. THE DINNER + VII. THE RUPTURE +VIII. INSPIRATION + IX. COMPETITION + + +PART II + + I. THE TRIUMPH + II. THE ROLL-CALL + III. IN THE MACHINE + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +THE NEW LODGING + +I + + +In the pupils' room of the offices of Lucas & Enwright, architects, +Russell Square, Bloomsbury, George Edwin Cannon, an articled pupil, +leaned over a large drawing-board and looked up at Mr. Enwright, the +head of the firm, who with cigarette and stick was on his way out after +what he called a good day's work. It was past six o'clock on an evening +in early July 1901. To George's right was an open door leading to the +principals' room, and to his left another open door leading to more +rooms and to the staircase. The lofty chambers were full of lassitude; +but round about George, who was working late, there floated the tonic +vapour of conscious virtue. Haim, the factotum, could be seen and heard +moving in his cubicle which guarded the offices from the stairs. In the +rooms shortly to be deserted and locked up, and in the decline of the +day, the three men were drawn together like survivors. + +"I gather you're going to change your abode," said Mr. Enwright, having +stopped. + +"Did Mr. Orgreave tell you, then?" George asked. + +"Well, he didn't exactly tell me...." + +John Orgreave was Mr. Enwright's junior partner; and for nearly two +years, since his advent in London from the Five Towns, George had lived +with Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave at Bedford Park. The Orgreaves, too, sprang +from the Five Towns. John's people and George's people were closely +entwined in the local annals. + +Pupil and principal glanced discreetly at one another, exchanging in +silence vague, malicious, unutterable critical verdicts upon both John +Orgreave and his wife. + +"Well, I am!" said George at length. + +"Where are you going to?" + +"Haven't settled a bit," said George. "I wish I could live in Paris." + +"Paris wouldn't be much good to you yet," Mr. Enwright laughed +benevolently. + +"I suppose it wouldn't. Besides, of course----" + +George spoke in a tone of candid deferential acceptance, which flattered +Mr. Enwright very much, for it was the final proof of the prestige which +the grizzled and wrinkled and peculiar Fellow and Member of the Council +of the Royal Institute of British Architects had acquired in the +estimation of that extremely independent, tossing sprig, George Edwin +Cannon. Mr. Enwright had recently been paying a visit to Paris, and +George had been sitting for the Intermediate Examination. "You can join +me here for a few days after the exam., if you care to," Mr. Enwright +had sent over. It was George's introduction to the Continent, and the +circumstances of it were almost ideal. For a week the deeply experienced +connoisseur of all the arts had had the fine, eager, responsive virgin +mind in his power. Day after day he had watched and guided it amid +entirely new sensations. Never had Mr. Enwright enjoyed himself more +purely, and at the close he knew with satisfaction that he had put Paris +in a proper perspective for George, and perhaps saved the youth from +years of groping misapprehension. As for George, all his preconceived +notions about Paris had been destroyed or shaken. In the quadrangles of +the Louvre, for example, Mr. Enwright, pointing to the under part of the +stone bench that foots so much of the walls, had said: "Look at that +curve." Nothing else. No ecstasies about the sculptures of Jean Goujon +and Carpeaux, or about the marvellous harmony of the East facade! But a +flick of the cane towards the half-hidden moulding! And George had felt +with a thrill what an exquisite curve and what an original curve and +what a modest curve that curve was. Suddenly and magically his eyes had +been opened. Or it might have been that a deceitful mist had rolled away +and the real Louvre been revealed in its esoteric and sole authentic +beauty.... + +"Why don't you try Chelsea?" said Mr. Enwright over his shoulder, +proceeding towards the stairs. + +"I was thinking of Chelsea." + +"You were!" Mr. Enwright halted again for an instant. "It's the only +place in London where the structure of society is anything like Paris. +Why, dash it, in the King's Road the grocers know each other's +business!" Mr. Enwright made the last strange remark to the outer door, +and vanished. + +"Funny cove!" George commented tolerantly to Mr. Haim, who passed +through the room immediately afterwards to his nightly task of +collecting and inspecting the scattered instruments on the principal's +august drawing-board. + +But Mr. Haim, though possibly he smiled ever so little, would not +compromise himself by an endorsement of the criticism of his employer. +George was a mere incident in the eternal career of Mr. Haim at Lucas & +Enwright's. + +When the factotum came back into the pupils' room, George stood up +straight and smoothed his trousers and gazed admiringly at his elegant +bright socks. + +"Let me see," said George in a very friendly manner. "_You_ live +somewhere in Chelsea, don't you?" + +"Yes," answered Mr. Haim. + +"Whereabouts, if it isn't a rude question?" + +"Well," said Mr. Haim, confidentially and benignantly, captivated by +George's youthful charm, "it's near the Redcliffe Arms." He mentioned +the Redcliffe Arms as he might have mentioned the Bank, Piccadilly +Circus, or Gibraltar. "Alexandra Grove. No. 8. To tell you the truth, I +own the house." + +"The deuce you do!" + +"Yes. The leasehold, that is, of course. No freeholds knocking about +loose in that district!" + +George saw a new and unsuspected Mr. Haim. He was impressed. And he was +glad that he had never broken the office tradition of treating Mr. Haim +with a respect not usually accorded to factotums. He saw a +property-owner, a tax-payer, and a human being behind the spectacles of +the shuffling, rather shabby, ceremonious familiar that pervaded those +rooms daily from before ten till after six. He grew curious about a +living phenomenon that hitherto had never awakened his curiosity. + +"Were you really looking for accommodation?" demanded Mr. Haim suavely. + +George hesitated. "Yes." + +"Perhaps I have something that might suit you." + +Events, disguised as mere words, seemed to George to be pushing him +forward. + +"I should like to have a look at it," he said. He had to say it; there +was no alternative. + +Mr. Haim raised a hand. "Any evening that happens to be convenient." + +"What about to-night, then?" + +"Certainly," Mr. Haim agreed. For a moment George apprehended that Mr. +Haim was going to invite him to dinner. But Mr. Haim was not going to +invite him to dinner. "About nine, shall we say?" he suggested, with a +courtliness softer even than usual. + +Later, George said that he would lock up the office himself and leave +the key with the housekeeper. + +"You can't miss the place," said Mr. Haim on leaving. "It's between the +Workhouse and the Redcliffe." + + +II + + +At the corner dominated by the Queen's Elm, which on the great route +from Piccadilly Circus to Putney was a public-house and halt second only +in importance to the Redcliffe Arms, night fell earlier than it ought to +have done, owing to a vast rain-cloud over Chelsea. A few drops +descended, but so warm and so gently that they were not like real rain, +and sentimentalists could not believe that they would wet. People, +arriving mysteriously out of darkness, gathered sparsely on the +pavements, lingered a few moments, and were swallowed by omnibuses that +bore them obscurely away. At intervals an individual got out of an +omnibus and adventured hurriedly forth and was lost in the gloom. The +omnibuses, all white, trotted on an inward curve to the pavement, +stopped while the conductor, with hand raised to the bell-string, +murmured apathetically the names of streets and of public-houses, and +then they jerked off again on an outward curve to the impatient double +ting of the bell. To the east was a high defile of hospitals, and to the +west the Workhouse tower faintly imprinted itself on the sombre sky. + +The drops of rain grew very large and heavy, and the travellers, instead +of waiting on the kerb, withdrew to the shelter of the wall of the +Queen's Elm. George was now among the group, precipitated like the rest, +as it were, out of the solution of London. George was of the age which +does not admit rain or which believes that it is immune from the usual +consequences of exposure to rain. When advised, especially by women, to +defend himself against the treacheries of the weather, he always +protested confidently that he would 'be all right.' Thus with a stick +and a straw hat he would affront terrible dangers. It was a species of +valour which the event often justified. Indeed he generally was all +right. But to-night, afoot on the way from South Kensington Station in a +region quite unfamiliar to him, he was intimidated by the slapping +menace of the big drops. Reality faced him. His scared thought ran: +"Unless I do something at once I shall get wet through." Impossible to +appear drenched at old Haim's! So he had abandoned all his pretensions +to a magical invulnerability, and rushed under the eave of the Queen's +Elm to join the omnibus group. + +He did not harmonize with the omnibus group, being both too elegant and +too high-spirited. His proper rôle in the circumstances would have been +to 'jump into a hansom'; but there were no empty hansoms, and moreover, +for certain reasons of finance, he had sworn off hansoms until a given +date. He regarded the situation as 'rather a lark,' and he somehow knew +that the group understood and appreciated and perhaps resented his +superior and tolerant attitude. An omnibus rolled palely into the +radiance of the Queen's Elm lamp, the horses' flanks and the lofty +driver's apron gleaming with rain. He sprang towards the vehicle; the +whole group sprang. "Full inside!" snapped the conductor inexorably. +Ting, ting! It was gone, glimmering with its enigmatic load into the +distance. George turned again to the wall, humiliated. It seemed wrong +that the conductor should have included him with the knot of common +omnibus-travellers and late workers. The conductor ought to have +differentiated.... He put out a hand. The rain had capriciously ceased! +He departed gaily and triumphantly. He was re-endowed with the magical +invulnerability. + +The background of his mind was variegated. The incidents of the +tremendous motor-car race from Paris to Berlin, which had finished +nearly a week earlier, still glowed on it. And the fact that King Edward +VII had driven in a car from Pall Mall to Windsor Castle in sixty +minutes was beautifully present. Then, he was slightly worried +concerning the Mediterranean Fleet. He knew nothing about it, but as a +good citizen he suspected in idle moments, like a number of other good +citizens, that all was not quite well with the Mediterranean Fleet. As +for the war, he had only begun to be interested in the war within the +last six months, and already he was sick of it. He knew that the Boers +had just wrecked a British military train, and his attitude towards such +methods of fighting was rather severe and scornful; he did not regard +them as 'war.' However, the apparent permanence of the war was +splendidly compensated by the victory of the brothers Doherty over the +American lawn-tennis champions in the Gentlemen's Doubles at Wimbledon. +Who could have expected the brothers to win after the defeat of R.H. by +Mr. Gore in the Singles? George had most painfully feared that the +Americans would conquer, and their overthrowing by the twin brothers +indicated to George, who took himself for a serious student of affairs, +that Britain was continuing to exist, and that the new national +self-depreciative, yearning for efficiency might possibly be rather +absurd after all. + +In the midst of these and similar thoughts, and of innumerable minor +thoughts about himself, in the very centre of his mind and occupying +nearly the whole of it, was the vast thought, the obsession, of his own +potential power and its fulfilment. George's egotism was terrific, and +as right as any other natural phenomenon. He had to get on. Much money +was included in his scheme, but simply as a by-product. He had to be a +great architect, and--equally important--he had to be publicly +recognized as a great architect, and recognition could not come without +money. For him, the entire created universe was the means to his end. He +would not use it unlawfully, but he would use it. He was using it, as +well as he yet knew how, and with an independence that was as complete +as it was unconscious. In regard to matters upon which his instinct had +not suggested a course of action, George was always ready enough to be +taught; indeed his respect for an expert was truly deferential. But when +his instinct had begun to operate he would consult nobody and consider +nobody, being deeply sure that infallible wisdom had been granted to +him. (Nor did experience seem to teach him.) Thus, in the affair of a +London lodging, though he was still two years from his majority and had +no resources save the purse of his stepfather, Edwin Clayhanger, he had +decided to leave the Orgreaves without asking or even informing his +parents. In his next letter home he would no doubt inform them, +casually, of what he meant to do or actually had done, and if objections +followed he would honestly resent them. + +A characteristic example of his independence had happened when at the +unripe age of seventeen he left the Five Towns for London. Upon his +mother's marriage to Edwin Clayhanger his own name had been informally +changed for him to Clayhanger. But a few days before the day of +departure he had announced that, as Clayhanger was not his own name and +that he preferred his own name, he should henceforth be known as +'Cannon,' his father's name. He did not invite discussion. Mr. +Clayhanger had thereupon said to him privately and as one man of the +world to another: "But you aren't really entitled to the name Cannon, +sonny." "Why?" "Because your father was what's commonly known as a +bigamist, and his marriage with your mother was not legal. I thought I'd +take this opportunity of telling you. You needn't say anything to your +mother--unless of course you feel you must." To which George had +replied: "No, I won't. But if Cannon was my father's name I think I'll +have it all the same." And he did have it. The bigamy of his father did +not apparently affect him. Upon further inquiry he learnt that his +father might be alive or might be dead, but that if alive he was in +America. + +The few words from Mr. Enwright about Chelsea had sufficed to turn +Chelsea into Elysium, Paradise, almost into Paris. No other quarter of +London was inhabitable by a rising architect. As soon as Haim had gone +George had begun to look up Chelsea in the office library, and as Mr. +Enwright happened to be an active member of the Society for the Survey +of the Memorials of Greater London, the library served him well. In an +hour and a half he had absorbed something of the historical topography +of Chelsea. He knew that the Fulham Road upon which he was now walking +was a boundary of Chelsea. He knew that the Queen's Elm public-house had +its name from the tradition that Elizabeth had once sheltered from a +shower beneath an elm tree which stood at that very corner. He knew that +Chelsea had been a 'village of palaces,' and what was the function of +the Thames in the magnificent life of that village. The secret residence +of Turner in Chelsea, under the strange _alias_ of Admiral Booth, +excited George's admiration; he liked the idea of hidden retreats and +splendid, fanciful pseudonyms. But the master-figure of Chelsea for +George was Sir Thomas More. He could see Sir Thomas More walking in his +majestic garden by the river with the King's arm round his neck, and +Holbein close by, and respectful august prelates and a nagging wife in +the background. And he could see Sir Thomas More taking his barge for +the last journey to the Tower, and Sir Thomas More's daughter coming +back in the same barge with her father's head on board. Curious! He +envied Sir Thomas More. + +"Darned bad tower for a village of palaces!" he thought, not of the +Tower of London, but of the tower of the Workhouse which he was now +approaching. He thought he could design an incomparably better tower +than that. And he saw himself in the future, the architect of vast +monuments, strolling in a grand garden of his own at evening with other +distinguished and witty persons. + +But there were high-sounding names in the history of Chelsea besides +those of More and Turner. Not names of people! Cremorne and Ranelagh! +Cremorne to the west and Ranelagh to the east. The legend of these +vanished resorts of pleasure and vice stirred his longings and his +sense of romantic beauty--especially Ranelagh with its Rotunda. (He +wanted, when the time came, to be finely vicious, as he wanted to be +everything. An architect could not be great without being everything.) +He projected himself into the Rotunda, with its sixty windows, its +countless refreshment-boxes, its huge paintings, and the orchestra in +the middle, and the expensive and naughty crowd walking round and round +and round on the matting, and the muffled footsteps and the swish of +trains on the matting, and the specious smiles and whispers, and the +blare of the band and the smell of the lamps and candles.... Earl's +Court was a poor, tawdry, unsightly thing after that. + +When he had passed under the Workhouse tower he came to a side street +which, according to Haim's description of the neighbourhood, ought to +have been Alexandra Grove. The large lamp on the corner, however, gave +no indication, nor in the darkness could any sign be seen on the blind +wall of either of the corner houses in Fulham Road. Doubtless in daytime +the street had a visible label, but the borough authorities evidently +believed that night endowed the stranger with powers of divination. +George turned hesitant down the mysterious gorge, which had two dim +lamps of its own, and which ended in a high wall, whereat could be +descried unattainable trees--possibly the grove of Alexandra. Silence +and a charmed stillness held the gorge, while in Fulham Road not a +hundred yards away omnibuses and an occasional hansom rattled along in +an ordinary world. George soon decided that he was not in Alexandra +Grove, on account of the size of the houses. He could not conceive Mr. +Haim owning one of them. They stood lofty in the gloom, in pairs, +secluded from the pavement by a stucco garden-wall and low bushes. They +were double-fronted, and their doors were at the summits of flights of +blanched steps that showed through the bars of iron gates. They had +three stories above a basement. Still, he looked for No. 8. But just as +the street had no name, so the houses had no numbers. No. 16 alone could +be distinguished; it had figures on its faintly illuminated fanlight. He +walked back, idly counting. + +Then, amid the curtained and shuttered facades, he saw, across the road, +a bright beam from a basement. He crossed and peeped through a gate, and +an interior was suddenly revealed to him. Near the window of a room sat +a young woman bending over a table. A gas-jet on a bracket in the wall, +a few inches higher than her head and a foot distant from it, threw a +strong radiance on her face and hair. The luminous living picture, +framed by the window in blackness, instantly entranced him. All the +splendid images of the past faded and were confuted and invalidated and +destroyed by this intense reality so present and so near to him. +(Nevertheless, for a moment he thought of her as the daughter of Sir +Thomas More.) She was drawing. She was drawing with her whole mind and +heart. At intervals, scarcely moving her head, she would glance aside at +a paper to her left on the table.... She seemed to search it, to drag +some secret out of it, and then she would resume her drawing. She was +neither dark nor fair; she was comely, perhaps beautiful; she had +beautiful lips, and her nose, behind the nostrils, joined the cheek in a +lovely contour, like a tiny bulb. Yes, she was superb. But what mastered +him was less her fresh physical charm than the rapt and extreme vitality +of her existing.... He knew from her gestures and the tools on the table +that she could be no amateur. She was a professional. He thought: +Chelsea!... Marvellous place, Chelsea! He ought to have found that out +long ago. He imagined Chelsea full of such pictures--the only true home +of beauty and romance. + +Then the impact of a single idea startled his blood. He went hot. He +flushed. He had tingling sensations all down his back, and in his legs +and in his arms. It was as though he had been caught in a dubious +situation. Though he was utterly innocent, he felt as though he had +something to be ashamed of. The idea was: she resembled old Haim, +facially! Ridiculous idea! But she did resemble old Haim, particularly +in the lobal termination of the nose. And in the lips too. And there was +a vague, general resemblance. Absurd! It was a fancy.... He would not +have cared for anybody to be watching him then, to surprise him watching +her. He heard unmistakable footsteps on the pavement. A policeman darkly +approached. Policemen at times can be very apposite. George moved his +gaze and looked with admirable casualness around. + +"Officer, is this Alexandra Grove?" (His stepfather had taught him to +address all policemen as 'officer.') + +"It is, sir." + +"Oh! Well, which is No. 8? There're no numbers." + +"You couldn't be much nearer to it, sir," said the policeman dryly, and +pointed to a large number, fairly visible, on the wide gate-post. George +had not inspected the gate-post. + +"Oh! Thanks!" + +He mounted the steps, and in the thick gloom of the portico fumbled for +the bell and rang it. He was tremendously excited and expectant and +apprehensive and puzzled. He heard rain flatly spitting in big drops on +the steps. He had not noticed till then that it had begun again. The +bell jangled below. The light in the basement went out. He flushed anew. +He thought, trembling: "She's coming to the door herself!" + + +III + + +"It had occurred to me some time ago," said Mr. Haim, "that if ever you +should be wanting rooms I might be able to suit you." + +"Really!" George murmured. After having been shown into the room by the +young woman, who had at once disappeared, he was now recovering from the +nervousness of that agitating entry and resuming his normal demeanour of +an experienced and well-balanced man of the world. He felt relieved that +she had gone, and yet he regretted her departure extremely, and hoped +against fear that she would soon return. + +"Yes!" said Mr. Haim, as it were triumphantly, like one who had +whispered to himself during long years: "The hour will come." The hour +had come. + +Mr. Haim was surprising to George. The man seemed much older in his own +parlour than at the office--his hair thinner and greyer, and his face +more wrinkled. But the surprising part of him was that he had a home and +was master in it, and possessed interests other than those of the firm +of Lucas & Enwright. George had never until that day conceived the man +apart from Russell Square. And here he was smoking a cigarette in an +easy-chair and wearing red morocco slippers, and being called 'father' +by a really stunning creature in a thin white blouse and a blue skirt. + +The young girl, opening the front door, had said: "Do you want to see +father?" And instantly the words were out George had realized that she +might have said: "_Did_ you want to see father?" ... in the idiom of the +shop-girl or clerk, and that if she had said 'did' he would have been +gravely disappointed and hurt. But she had not. Of course she had not! +Of course she was incapable of such a locution, and it was silly of him +to have thought otherwise, even momentarily. She was an artist. Entirely +different from the blonde and fluffy Mrs. John Orgreave--(and a good +thing too, for Mrs. John with her eternal womanishness had got on his +nerves)--Miss Haim was without doubt just as much a lady, and probably a +jolly sight more cultured, in the true sense. Yet Miss Haim had not in +the least revealed herself to him in the hall as she indicated the +depository for his hat and stick and opened the door of the +sitting-room. She had barely smiled. Indeed she had not smiled. She had +not mentioned the weather. On the other hand, she had not been prim or +repellent. She had revealed nothing of herself. Her one feat had been to +stimulate mightily his curiosity and his imagination concerning +her--rampant enough even before he entered the house! + +The house--what he saw of it--suited her and set her off, and, as she +was different from Mrs. John, so was the house different from the +polished, conventional abode of Mrs. John at Bedford Park. To George's +taste it knocked Bedford Park to smithereens. In the parlour, for +instance, an oak chest, an oak settee, an oak gate-table, one tapestried +easy chair, several rush-bottomed chairs, a very small brass fender, a +self-coloured wall-paper of warm green, two or three old engravings in +maple-wood or tarnished gilt frames, several small portraits in +maple-wood frames, brass candlesticks on the mantelpiece and no clock, +self-coloured brown curtains across the windows (two windows opposite +each other at either end of the long room), sundry rugs on the +dark-stained floor, and so on! Not too much furniture, and not too much +symmetry either. An agreeable and original higgledy-piggledyness! The +room was lighted by a fairly large oil-lamp, with a paper shade +hand-painted in a design of cupids--delightful personal design, rough, +sketchy, adorable! She had certainly done it. + +George sat on the oak settle, fronting the old man in the easy chair. It +was a hard, smooth oak settle; it had no upholstering nor cushion; but +George liked it. + +"May I smoke?" asked George. + +"Please do. Please do," said Mr. Haim, who was smoking a cigarette +himself, with courteous hospitality. However, it was a match and not a +cigarette that he offered to George, who opened his own dandiacal case. + +"I stayed rather late at the office to-night," said George, as he blew +out those great clouds with which young men demonstrate to the world +that the cigarette is actually lighted. And as Mr. Haim, who was +accustomed to the boastings of articled pupils, made no comment, George +proceeded, lolling on the settle and showing his socks: "You know, I +like Chelsea. I've always had a fancy for it." He was just about to +continue cosmopolitanly: "It's the only part of London that's like +Paris. The people in the King's Road," etc., when fortunately he +remembered that Mr. Haim must have overheard these remarks of Mr. +Enwright, and ceased, rather awkwardly. Whereupon Mr. Haim suggested +that he should see the house, and George said eagerly that he should +like to see the house. + +"We've got one bedroom more than we want," Mr. Haim remarked as he led +George to the hall. + +"Oh yes!" said George politely. + +The hall had a small bracket-lamp, which Mr. Haim unhooked, and then he +opened a door opposite to the door of the room which they had quitted. + +"Now this is a bedroom," said he, holding the lamp high. + +George was startled. A ground-floor bedroom would have been unthinkable +at Bedford Park. Still, in a flat.... Moreover, the idea had piquancy. +The bedroom was sparsely furnished. Instead of a wardrobe it had a +corner curtained off with cretonne. + +"A good-sized room," said Mr. Haim. + +"Very," said George. "Two windows, too, like the drawing-room." Then +they went upstairs to the first floor, and saw two more bedrooms, each +with two windows. One of them was Miss Haim's; there was a hat hung on +the looking-glass, and a table with a few books on it. They did not go +to the second floor. The staircase to the second floor was boarded up at +the point where it turned. + +"That's all there is," said Mr. Haim on the landing. "The studio people +have the second floor, but they don't use my front door." He spoke the +last words rather defiantly. + +"I see," said George untruthfully, for he was mystified. But the mystery +did not trouble him. + +There was no bathroom, and this did not trouble him either, though at +Bedford Park he could never have seriously considered a house without a +bathroom. + +"You could have your choice of ground floor or first floor," said Mr. +Haim confidentially, still on the landing. He moved the lamp about, and +the shadows moved accordingly on the stairs. + +"Oh, I don't mind in the least," George answered. "Whichever would suit +you best." + +"We could give you breakfast, and use of sitting-room," Mr. Haim +proceeded in a low tone. "But no other meals." + +"That would be all right," said George cheerfully. "I often dine in +town. Like that I can get in a bit of extra work at the office, you +see." + +"Except on Sundays," Mr. Haim corrected himself. "You'd want your meals +on Sundays, of course. But I expect you're out a good deal, what with +one thing or another." + +"Oh, I am!" George concurred. + +The place was perfect, and he was determined to establish himself in it. +Nothing could baulk him. A hitch would have desolated him completely. + +"I may as well show you the basement while I'm about it," said Mr. Haim. + +"Do!" said George ardently. + +They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably at the +office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute correctness of an +educated Londoner. His deportment gave distinction and safety even to +the precipitous and mean basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by +the knees of pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about +along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient layers +of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted yellow, and some were +painted grey, and some were not painted. Mr. Haim exhibited first the +kitchen. George saw a morsel of red amber behind black bars, a white +deal table and a black cat crouched on a corner of the table, a chair, +and a tea-cloth drying over the back thereof. He liked the scene; it +reminded him of the Five Towns, and showed reassuringly--if he needed +reassurance, which he did not--that all houses are the same at heart. +Then Mr. Haim, flashing a lamp-ray on the coal-hole and the area door as +he turned, crossed the stone passage into the other basement room. + +"This is our second sitting-room," said Mr. Haim, entering. + +There she was at work, rapt, exactly as George had seen her from the +outside. But now he saw the right side of her face instead of the left. +It was wonderful to him that within the space of a few minutes he should +have developed from an absolute stranger to her into an acquaintance of +the house, walking about in it, peering into its recesses, disturbing +its secrets, which were hers. But she remained as mysterious, as +withdrawn and intangible, as ever. And then she shifted round suddenly +on the chair, and her absorbed, intent face softened into a most +beautiful, simple smile--a smile of welcome. An astonishing and +celestial change!... She was not one of those queer girls, as perhaps +she might have been. She was a girl of natural impulses. He smiled back, +uplifted. + +"My daughter designs bookbindings," said Mr. Haim. "Happens to be very +busy to-night on something urgent." + +He advanced towards her, George following. + +"Awfully good!" George murmured enthusiastically, and quite sincerely, +though he was not at all in a condition to judge the design. Strange, +that he should come to the basement of an ordinary stock-size house in +Alexandra Grove to see bookbindings in the making! This was a design for +a boy's book. He had possessed many such books. But it had never +occurred to him that the gay bindings of them were each the result of +individual human thought and labour. He pulled at his cigarette. + +There was a sound of pushing and rattling outside. + +"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. + +"It's the area door. I bolted it. I dare say it's Mrs. Lobley," said the +girl indifferently. + +Mr. Haim moved sharply. + +"Why did you bolt it, Marguerite? No, I'll go myself." + +He picked up the lamp, which he had put down, and shuffled quickly out +in his red morocco slippers, closing the door. + +Marguerite? Yes, it suited her; and it was among the most romantic of +names. It completed the picture. She now seemed to be listening and +waiting, her attention on the unseen area door. He felt shy and yet +very happy alone with her. Voices were distinctly heard. Who was Mrs. +Lobley? Was Mr. Haim a little annoyed with his daughter, and was +Marguerite exquisitely defiant? Time hung. The situation was slightly +awkward, he thought. And it was obscure, alluring.... He stood there, +below the level of the street, shut in with those beings unknown, +provocative, and full of half-divined implications. And all Chelsea was +around him and all London around Chelsea. + +"Father won't be a moment," said the girl. "It's only the charwoman." + +"Oh! That's quite all right," he answered effusively, and turning to the +design: "The outlining of that lettering fairly beats me, you know." + +"Not really!... I get that from father, of course." + +Mr. Haim was famous in the office as a letterer. + +She sat idly glancing at her own design, her plump, small hands lying in +the blue lap. George compared her, unspeakably to her advantage, with +the kind, coarse young woman at the chop-house, whom he had asked to +telephone to the Orgreaves for him, and for whom he had been conscious +of a faint penchant. + +"I can't colour it by gaslight," said Marguerite Haim. "I shall have to +do that in the morning." + +He imagined her at work again early in the morning. Within a week or so +he might be living in this house with this girl. He would be,--watching +her life! Seducing prospect, scarcely credible! He remembered having +heard when he first went to Lucas & Enwright's that old Haim was a +widower. + +"Do excuse me," said Mr. Haim, urgently apologetic, reappearing. + +A quarter of an hour later, George had left the house, having accepted +Mr. Haim's terms without the least argument. In five days he was to be +an inmate of No. 8 Alexandra Grove. The episode presented itself to him +as a vast, romantic adventure, staggering and enchanting. His luck +continued, for the rain-cloud was spent. He got into an Earl's Court +bus. The dimly perceived travellers in it seemed all of them in a new +sense to be romantic and mysterious.... "Yes," he thought, "I did say +good-night to her, but I didn't shake hands." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MARGUERITE + +I + + +More than two months later George came into the office in Russell Square +an hour or so after his usual time. He had been to South Kensington +Museum to look up, for professional purposes, some scale drawings of +architectural detail which were required for a restaurant then rising in +Piccadilly under the direction of Lucas & Enwright. In his room Mr. +Everard Lucas was already seated. Mr. Lucas was another articled pupil +of the firm; being a remote cousin of the late senior partner, he had +entered on special terms. Although a year older than George he was less +advanced, for whereas George had passed the Intermediate, Mr. Lucas had +not. But in manly beauty, in stylishness, in mature tact, and especially +in persuasive charm, he could beat George. + +"Hallo!" Lucas greeted. "How do you feel? Fit?" + +"Fit?" said George enthusiastically "I feel so fit I could push in the +side of a house." + +"What did I tell you?" said Lucas. + +George rubbed his hand all over Lucas's hair, and Lucas thereupon seized +George's other hand and twisted his arm, and a struggle followed. In +this way they would often lovingly salute each other of a morning. Lucas +had infected George with the craze for physical exercises as a remedy +for all ills and indiscretions, including even late nights and excessive +smoking. The competition between them to excel in the quality of fitness +was acute, and sometimes led to strange challenges. After a little +discussion about springing from the toes, Lucas now accused George's +toes of a lack of muscularity, and upon George denying the charge, he +asserted that George could not hang from the mantelpiece by his toes. +They were both men of the world, capable of great heights of dignity, +figures in an important business, aspirants to a supreme +art and profession. They were at that moment in a beautiful +late-eighteenth-century house of a stately and renowned square, and in a +room whose proportions and ornament admittedly might serve as an +exemplar to the student; and not the least lovely feature of the room +was the high carved mantelpiece. The morning itself was historic, for it +was the very morning upon which, President McKinley having expired, +Theodore Roosevelt ascended the throne and inaugurated a new era. +Nevertheless, such was their peculiar time of life that George, a minute +later, was as a fact hanging by his toes from the mantelpiece, while +Lucas urged him to keep the blood out of his head. George had stood on +his hands on a box and lodged his toes on the mantelpiece, and then +raised his hands--and Lucas had softly pushed the box away. George's +watch was dangling against his flushed cheek. + +"Put that box back, you cuckoo!" George exploded chokingly. + +Then the door opened and Mr. Enwright appeared. Simultaneously some +shillings slipped out of George's pocket and rolled about the floor. The +hour was Mr. Enwright's customary hour of arrival, but he had no fair +excuse for passing through that room instead of proceeding along the +corridor direct to the principals' room. His aspect, as he gazed at +George's hair and at the revealed sateen back of George's waistcoat, was +unusual. Mr. Enwright commonly entered the office full of an intense and +aggrieved consciousness of his own existence--of his insomnia, of the +reaction upon himself of some client's stupidity, of the necessity of +going out again in order to have his chin lacerated by his favourite and +hated Albanian barber. But now he had actually forgotten himself. + +"What _is_ this?" he demanded. + +Lucas having quickly restored the box, George subsided dangerously +thereon, and arose in a condition much disarrayed and confused, and +beheld Mr. Enwright with shame. + +"I--I was just looking to see if the trap of the chimney was shut," said +George. It was foolish in the extreme, but it was the best he could do, +and after all it was a rather marvellous invention. Lucas sat down and +made no remark. + +"You might respect the mantelpiece," said Mr. Enwright bitterly, and +went into the principals' room, where John Orgreave could be heard +dictating letters. George straightened his clothes and picked up his +money, and the two men of the world giggled nervously at each other. + +Mr. Haim next disturbed them. The shabby, respectable old man smiled +vaguely, with averted glance. + +"I think he's heard the result," said he. + +Both men knew that 'he' was Mr. Enwright, and that the 'result' was the +result of the open competition for the £150,000 Law Courts which a proud +provincial city proposed to erect for itself. The whole office had +worked very hard on the drawings for that competition throughout the +summer, while cursing the corporation which had chosen so unusual a date +for sending-in day. Even Lucas had worked. George's ideas for certain +details, upon which he had been engaged on the evening of his +introduction to Mr. Haim's household, had been accepted by Mr. Enwright. +As for Mr. Enwright, though the exigencies of his beard, and his regular +morning habit of inveighing against the profession at great length, and +his inability to decide where he should lunch, generally prevented him +from beginning the day until three o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. +Enwright had given many highly concentrated hours of creative energy to +the design. And Mr. Haim had adorned the sheets with the finest +lettering. The design was held to be very good. The principals knew the +identity of all the other chief competitors and their powers, and they +knew also the idiosyncrasies of the Assessor; and their expert and +impartial opinion was that the Lucas & Enwright design ought to win and +would win. This view, indeed, was widespread in the arcana of the +architectural world. George had gradually grown certain of victory. And +yet, at Mr. Haim's words, his hopes sank horribly away. + +"Have we won?" he asked sharply. + +"That I can't say, Mr. Cannon," answered Haim. + +"Well, then, how do you know he's heard? Has he told you?" + +"No," said the factotum mysteriously. "But I think he's heard." And upon +this Mr. Haim slouched off quite calmly. Often he had assisted at the +advent of such vital news in the office--news obtained in advance by the +principals through secret channels--and often the news had been bad. But +the firm's calamities seemed never to affect the smoothness of Mr. +Haim's earthly passage. + +The door into the principals' room opened, and Mr. Enwright's head +showed. The gloomy, resenting eyes fixed George for an instant. + +"Well, you've lost that competition," said Mr. Enwright, and he stepped +into full view. His unseen partner had ceased to dictate, and the +shorthand-clerk could be heard going out by the other door. + +"No!" said George, in a long, outraged murmur. The news seemed +incredible and quite disastrous; and yet at the same time had he not, in +one unvisited corner of his mind, always foreknown it? Suddenly he was +distressed, discouraged, disillusioned about the whole of life. He +thought that Everard Lucas, screwing up a compass, was strangely +unmoved. But Mr. Enwright ignored Lucas. + +"Who's got it?" George asked. + +"Whinburn." + +"That chap!... Where are _we_?" + +"Nowhere." + +"Not placed?" + +"Not in it. Skelting's second. And Grant third. I shouldn't have minded +so much if Grant had got it. There was something to be said for his +scheme. I knew _we_ shouldn't get it. I knew that perfectly well--not +with Corver assessing." + +George wondered that his admired principal should thus state the exact +opposite of what he had so often affirmed during the last few weeks. +People were certainly very queer, even the best of them. The perception +of this fact added to his puzzled woe. + +"But Whinburn's design is grotesque!" he protested borrowing one of Mr. +Enwright's adjectives. + +"Of course it is." + +"Then why does Sir Hugh Corver go and give him the award? Surely he must +know----" + +"Know!" Mr. Enwright growled, destroying Sir Hugh and his reputation and +his pretensions with one single monosyllable. + +"Then why did they make him Assessor--that's what I can't understand." + +"It's quite simple," rasped Mr. Enwright. "They made him assessor +because he's got so much work to do it takes him all his time to trot +about from one job to another on his blooming pony. They made him +assessor because his pony's a piebald pony. Couldn't you think of that +for yourself? Or have you been stone deaf in this office for two years? +It stands to reason that a man who's responsible for all the largest +new eyesores in London would impress any corporation. Clever chap, +Corver! Instead of wasting his time in travel and study, he made a +speciality of learning how to talk to committees. And he was always full +of ideas like the piebald pony, ever since I knew him." + +"It's that façade that did for us," broke in another voice. John +Orgreave stood behind Mr. Enwright. He spoke easily; he was not ruffled +by the immense disappointment, though the mournful greatness of the +topic had drawn him irresistibly into the discussion. John Orgreave had +grown rather fat and coarse. At one period, in the Five Towns, he had +been George's hero. He was so no longer. George was still fond of him, +but he had torn him down from the pedestal and established Mr. Enwright +in his place. George in his heart now somewhat patronized the placid +Orgreave, regarding him as an excellent person who comprehended naught +that was worth comprehending, and as a husband who was the dupe of his +wife. + +"You couldn't have any other façade," Mr. Enwright turned on him, +"unless you're absolutely going to ignore the market on the other side +of the Square. Whinburn's façade is an outrage--an outrage. Give me a +cigarette. I must run out and get shaved." + +While Mr. Enwright was lighting the cigarette, George reflected in +desolation upon the slow evolving of the firm's design for the Law +Courts. Again and again in the course of the work had he been struck +into a worshipping enthusiasm by the brilliance of Mr. Enwright's +invention and the happy beauty of his ideas. For George there was only +one architect in the world; he was convinced that nobody could possibly +rival Mr. Enwright, and that no Law Courts ever had been conceived equal +to those Law Courts. And he himself had contributed something to the +creation. He had dreamed of the building erected and of being able to +stand in front of some detail of it and say to himself: "That was my +notion, that was." And now the building was destroyed before its birth. +It would never come into existence. It was wasted. And the prospect for +the firm of several years' remunerative and satisfying labour had +vanished. But the ridiculous, canny Whinburn would be profitably +occupied, and his grotesque building would actually arise, and people +would praise it, and it would survive for centuries--at any rate for a +century. + +Mr. Enwright did not move. + +"It's no use regretting the façade, Orgreave," he said suddenly. +"There's such a thing as self-respect." + +"I don't see that self-respect's got much to do with it," Orgreave +replied lightly. + +("Of course you don't," George thought. "You're a decent sort, but you +don't see, and you never will see. Even Lucas doesn't see. I alone see." +And he felt savage and defiant.) + +"Better shove my self-respect away into this cupboard, I suppose!" said +Mr. Enwright, with the most acrid cynicism, and he pulled open one door +of a long, low cupboard whose top formed a table for portfolios, dusty +illustrated books, and other accumulations. + +The gesture was dramatic, and none knew it better than Mr. Enwright. The +cupboard was the cupboard which contained the skeleton. It was full of +designs rejected in public competitions. There they lay, piles and piles +of them, the earliest dating from the late seventies. The cupboard was +crammed with the futility of Enwright's genius. It held monuments enough +to make illustrious a score of cities. Lucas & Enwright was a successful +firm. But, confining itself chiefly to large public works, it could not +escape from the competition system; and it had lost in far more +competitions than it had won. It was always, and always would be, at the +mercy of an Assessor. The chances had always been, and always would be, +against the acceptance of its designs, because they had the fatal +quality of originality combined with modest adherence to the classical +tradition. When they conquered, it was by sheer force. George glanced at +the skeleton, and he was afraid. Something was very wrong with +architecture. He agreed with Mr. Enwright's tiresomely reiterated axiom +that it was the Cinderella of professions and the chosen field of +ghastly injustice. He had embraced architecture; he had determined to +follow exactly in the footsteps of Mr. Enwright; he had sworn to +succeed. But could he succeed? Suppose he failed! Yes, his faith +faltered. He was intensely, miserably afraid. He was the most serious +man in Russell Square. Astounding that only a few minutes ago he had +hung triumphantly by his feet from the mantelpiece! + +Mr. Enwright kicked-to the door of the cupboard. + +"Look here," he said to his partner, "I shan't be back just yet. I have +to go and see Bentley. I'd forgotten it." + +Nobody was surprised at this remark. Whenever Mr. Enwright was +inconveniently set back he always went off to visit Bentley, the +architect of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral at Westminster, on the +plea of an urgent appointment. + +"_You_ had a look at the cathedral lately?" he demanded of George as he +left. + +"No, I haven't," said George, who, by reason of a series of +unaccountable omissions, and of the fullness of his life as an architect +and a man of the world, had never seen the celebrated cathedral at all. + +"Well," said Mr. Enwright sarcastically, "better take just a glance at +it--some time--before they've spoilt the thing with decorations. There's +a whole lot of 'em only waiting till Bentley's out of the way to begin +and ruin it." + + +II + + +Before the regular closing hour of the office the two articled pupils +had left and were walking side by side through Bloomsbury. They skirted +the oval garden of Bedford Square, which, lying off the main track to +the northern termini, and with nothing baser in it than a consulate or +so, took precedence in austerity and selectness over Russell Square, +which had consented to receive a grand hotel or 'modern caravanserai' +and a shorthand school. Indeed the aspect of Bedford Square, where the +great institution of the basement and area still flourished in +perfection, and wealthy menials with traditional manners lived sensually +in caves beneath the spacious, calm salons of their employers and +dupes,--the aspect of Bedford Square gave the illusion that evolution +was not, and that Bloomsbury and the whole impressive structure of +British society could never change. Still, from a more dubious +Bloomsbury, demure creatures with inviting, indiscreet eyes were already +traversing the prim flags of Bedford Square on their way to the +evening's hard diplomacy. Mr. Lucas made quiet remarks about their +qualities, but George did not respond. + +"Look here, old man," said Lucas, "there's no use in all this gloom. You +might think Lucas & Enwright had never put up a building in their lives. +Just as well to dwell now and then on what they have done instead of on +what they haven't done. We're fairly busy, you know. Besides----" + +He spoke seriously, tactfully, with charm, and he had a beautiful voice. + +"Quite right! Quite right!" George willingly agreed, swinging his stick +and gazing straight ahead. And he thought: "This chap has got his head +screwed on. He's miles wiser than I am, and he's really nice. I could +never be nice like that." + +In a moment they were at the turbulent junction of Tottenham Court Road +and Oxford Street, where crowds of Londoners, deeply unconscious of +their own vulgarity, and of the marvellous distinction of Bedford +Square, and of the moral obligation to harmonize socks with neckties, +were preoccupying themselves with omnibuses and routes, and constituting +the spectacle of London. The high-heeled, demure creatures were lost in +this crowd, and Lucas and George were lost in it. + +"Well," said Lucas, halting on the pavement. "You're going down to the +cathedral." + +"It'll please the old cock," answered George, anxious to disavow any +higher motive. "You aren't coming?" + +Lucas shook his head. "I shall just go and snatch a hasty".... 'Cup of +tea' was the unuttered end of the sentence. + +"Puffin's?" + +Lucas nodded. Puffin's was a cosy house of sustenance in a half-new +street on the site of the razed slums of St. Giles's. He would not +frequent the orthodox tea-houses, which were all alike and which had +other serious disadvantages. He adventured into the unusual, and could +always demonstrate that what he found was subtly superior to anything +else. + +"That affair still on?" George questioned. + +"It's not off." + +"She's a nice little thing--that I will say." + +"It all depends," Lucas replied sternly. "I don't mind telling you she +wasn't so jolly nice on Tuesday." + +"Wasn't she?" George raised his eyebrows. + +Lucas silently scowled, and his handsomeness vanished for an instant. + +"However----" he said. + +As George walked alone down Charing Cross Road, he thought: "That girl +will have to look out,"--meaning that in his opinion Lucas was not a man +to be trifled with. Lucas was a wise and an experienced man, and knew +the world. And what he did could not be other than right. This notion +comforted George, who had a small affair of his own, which he had not +yet even mentioned to Lucas. Delicacy as well as diffidence had +prevented him from doing so. It was a very different affair from any of +Lucas's, and he did not want Lucas to misesteem it; neither did he want +Lucas to be under the temptation to regard him as a ninny. + +Not the cathedral alone had induced George to leave the office early. +The dissembler had reflected that if he called in a certain conventional +tea-shop near Cambridge Circus at a certain hour he would probably meet +Marguerite Haim. He knew that she had an appointment with one of her +customers, a firm of bookbinders, that afternoon, and that on similar +occasions she had been to the tea-shop. In fact he had already once +deliciously taken tea with her therein. To-day he was disappointed, to +the extent of the tea, for he met her as she was coming out of the shop. +Their greetings were rather punctilious, but beneath superficial +formalities shone the proofs of intimacy. They had had large +opportunities to become intimate, and they had become intimate. The +immediate origin of and excuse for the intimacy was a lampshade. George +had needed a lampshade for his room, and she had offered to paint one. +She submitted sketches. But George also could paint a bit. Hence +discussions, conferences, rival designs, and, lastly, an agreement upon +a composite design. Before long, the lampshade craze increasing in +virulence, they had between them re-lampshaded the entire house. Then +the charming mania expired; but it had done its work. During the summer +holiday George had written twice to Marguerite, and he had thought +pleasurably about her the whole time. He had hoped that she would open +the door for him upon his return, and that when he saw her again he +would at length penetrate the baffling secret of her individuality. She +had opened the door for him, exquisitely, but the secret had not yielded +itself. It was astonishing to George, how that girl could combine the +candours of honest intimacy with a profound reserve. + +"Were you going in there for tea?" she asked, looking up at him gravely. + +"No," he said. "I don't want any tea. I have to wend my way to the Roman +Catholic Cathedral--you know, the new one, near Victoria. I suppose you +wouldn't care to see it?" + +"I should love to," she answered, with ingenuous eagerness. "I think it +might do me good." + +A strange phrase, he thought! What did she mean? + +"Would you mind walking?" she suggested. + +"Let me take that portfolio, then." + +So they walked. She had her usual serious expression, as it were full of +the consciousness of duty. It made him think how reliable she would +always be. She held herself straight and independently, and her +appearance was very simple and very trim. He considered it wrong that a +girl with such beautiful lips should have to consult callous +bookbinders and accept whatever they chose to say. To him she was like a +lovely and valiant martyr. The spectacle of her was touching. However, +he could not have dared to hint at these sentiments. He had to pretend +that her exposure to the stresses of the labour-market was quite natural +and right. Always he was careful in his speech with her. When he got to +know people he was apt to be impatient and ruthless; for example, to +John Orgreave and his wife, and to his mother and stepfather, and +sometimes even to Everard Lucas. He would bear them down. But he was +restrained from such freedoms with Enwright, and equally with Marguerite +Haim. She did not intimidate him, but she put him under a spell. + +Crossing Piccadilly Circus he had a glimpse of the rising walls and the +scaffolding of the new restaurant. He pointed to the building without a +word. She nodded and smiled. + +In the Mall, where the red campanile of the cathedral was first +descried, George began to get excited. And he perceived that Marguerite +sympathetically responded to his excitement. She had never even noticed +the campanile before, and the reason was that the cathedral happened not +to be on the route between Alexandra Grove and her principal customers. +Suddenly, out of Victoria Street, they came up against the vast form of +the Byzantine cathedral. It was hemmed in by puny six-story blocks of +flats, as ancient cathedrals also are hemmed in by the dwellings of +townsfolk. But here, instead of the houses having gathered about the +cathedral, the cathedral had excavated a place for itself amid the +houses. Tier above tier the expensively curtained windows of dark +drawing-rooms and bedrooms inhabited by thousands of the well-to-do +blinked up at the colossal symbol that dwarfed them all. George knew +that he was late. If the watchman's gate was shut for the night he would +look a fool. But his confidence in his magic power successfully to run +risks sustained him in a gallant and assured demeanour. The gate in the +hoarding that screened the west front was open. With a large gesture he +tipped the watchman a shilling, and they passed in like princes. The +transition to the calm and dusty interior was instantaneous and almost +overwhelming. Immense without, the cathedral seemed still more immense +within. On one side of the nave was a steam-engine; on the other some +sort of a mill; and everywhere lay in heaps the wild litter of +construction, among which moved here and there little parties of aproned +pygmies engaged silently and industriously on sub-contracts; the main +army of labourers had gone. The walls rose massively clear out of the +white-powdered confusion into arches and high domes; and the floor of +the choir, and a loftier floor beyond that, also rose clear. +Perspectives ended in shadow and were illimitable, while the afternoon +light through the stone grille of the western windows made luminous +spaces in the gloom. + +The sensation of having the mysterious girl at his elbow in that +wonder-striking interior was magnificent. + +He murmured, with pride: + +"Do you know this place has the widest nave of any cathedral in the +world? It's a much bigger cathedral than St. Paul's. In fact I'm not +sure if it isn't the biggest in England." + +"You know," he said again, "in the whole of the nineteenth century only +one cathedral was built in England." + +"Which was that?" + +"Truro.... And you could put Truro inside this and leave a margin all +round. Mr. Enwright says this is the last cathedral that ever will be +built, outside America." + +They gazed, more and more aware of a solemn miracle. + +"It's marvellous--marvellous!" he breathed. + +After a few moments, glancing at her, a strong impulse to be +confidential mastered him. He was obliged to tell that girl. + +"I say, we've lost that competition--for the Law Courts." + +He smiled, but the smile had no effect. + +"Oh!" She positively started. + +He saw that her eyes had moistened, and he looked quickly away, as +though he had seen something that he ought not to have seen. She cared! +She cared a great deal! She was shocked by the misfortune to the firm, +by the injustice to transcendent merit! She knew nothing whatever about +any design in the competition. But it was her religion that the Lucas & +Enwright design was the best, and by far the best. He had implanted the +dogma, and he felt that she was ready to die for it. Mystery dropped +away from her. Her soul stood bare to him. He was so happy and so proud +that the intensity of his feeling dismayed him. But he was enheartened +too, and courage to surmount a thousand failures welled up in him as +from an unimagined spring. + +"I wonder who that is?" she said quietly and ordinarily, as if a +terrific event had not happened. + +On the highest floor, at the other extremity of the cathedral, in front +of the apse, a figure had appeared in a frock-coat and a silk hat. The +figure stood solitary, gazing around in the dying light. + +"By Jove! It's Bentley! It's the architect!" + +George literally trembled. He literally gave a sob. The vision of +Bentley within his masterpiece, of Bentley whom Enwright himself +worshipped, was too much for him. Renewed ambition rushed through him in +electric currents. All was not wrong with the world of architecture. +Bentley had succeeded. Bentley, beginning life as an artisan, had +succeeded supremely. And here he stood on the throne of his triumph. +Genius would not be denied. Beauty would conquer despite everything. +What completed the unbearable grandeur of the scene was that Bentley had +cancer of the tongue, and was sentenced to death. Bentley's friends knew +it; the world of architecture knew it; Bentley knew it.... "Shall I tell +her?" George thought. He looked at her; he looked at the vessel which he +had filled with emotion. He could not speak. A highly sensitive decency, +an abhorrence of crudity, restrained him. "No," he decided, "I can't +tell her now. I'll tell her some other time." + + +III + + +With no clear plan as to his dinner he took her back to Alexandra Grove. +The dusk was far advanced. Mounting the steps quickly Marguerite rang +the bell. There was no answer. She pushed up the flap of the +letter-aperture and looked within. + +"Have you got your latchkey?" she asked, turning round on George. +"Father's not come home--his hat's not hanging up. He promised me +certain that he would be here at six-thirty at the latest. Otherwise I +should have taken the big key." + +She did not show resentment against her father; nor was there impatience +in her voice. But she seemed to be firmly and impassively judging her +father, as his equal, possibly even as somewhat his superior. And George +admired the force of her individuality. It flattered him that a being so +independent and so strong should have been so meltingly responsive to +him in the cathedral. + +An adventurous idea occurred to him in a flash and he impulsively +adopted it. His latchkey was in his pocket, but if the house door was +once opened he would lose her--he would have to go forth and seek his +dinner and she would remain in the house; whereas, barred out of the +house, she would be bound to him--they would be thrust together into +exquisite contingencies, into all the deep potentialities of dark +London. + +"Dash it!" he said, first fumbling in one waistcoat pocket, and then +ledging the portfolio against a step and fumbling in both waistcoat +pockets simultaneously. "I must have left it in my other clothes." + +It is doubtful whether his conscience troubled him. But he had a very +exciting sense of risk and of romance and of rapture, as though he had +done something wonderful and irremediable. + +"Ah! Well!" she murmured, instantly acquiescent, and without the least +hesitation descended the steps. + +How many girls (he demanded) would or could have made up their minds and +faced the situation like that? Her faculty of decision was simply +masculine! He looked at her in the twilight and she was inimitable, +unparalleled. And yet by virtue of the wet glistening of her eyes in the +cathedral she had somehow become mystically his! He. permitted himself +the suspicion: "Perhaps she guesses that I'm only pretending about the +latchkey." The suspicion which made her an accessory to his crime did +not lower her in his eyes. On the contrary, the enchanting naughtiness +with which it invested her only made her variety more intoxicant and +perfection more perfect. His regret was that the suspicion was not a +certainty. + +Before a word could be said as to the next move, a figure in a grey suit +and silk hat, and both arms filled with packages, passed in front of the +gate and then halted. + +"Oh! It's Mr. Buckingham Smith!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Mr. Buckingham +Smith, we're locked out till father comes." She completed the tale of +the mishap, to George's equal surprise and mortification. + +Mr. Buckingham Smith, with Mr. Alfred Prince, was tenant of the studio +at the back of No. 8. He raised his hat as well as an occupied arm would +allow. + +"Come and wait in the studio, then," he suggested bluntly. + +"You know Mr. Cannon, don't you?" said Marguerite, embarrassed. + +George and Mr. Buckingham Smith had in fact been introduced to one +another weeks earlier in the Grove by Mr. Haim. Thereafter Mr. +Buckingham Smith had, as George imagined, saluted George with a kind of +jealous defiance and mistrust, and the acquaintance had not progressed. +Nor, by the way, had George's dreams been realized of entering deeply +into the artistic life of Chelsea. Chelsea had been no more welcoming +than Mr. Buckingham Smith. But now Mr. Buckingham Smith grew affable and +neighbourly. Behind the man's inevitable insistence that George should +accompany Miss Haim into the studio was a genuine, eager hospitality. + +The studio was lofty and large, occupying most of the garden space of +No. 8. Crimson rep curtains, hung on a thick, blackened brass rod, +divided it into two unequal parts. By the wall nearest the house a +staircase ran up to a door high in the gable, which door communicated by +a covered bridge with the second floor of No. 8, where the artists had +bedrooms. The arrangement was a characteristic example of the manner in +which building was added to building in London contrary to the intention +of the original laying-out, and George in his expert capacity wondered +how the plans had been kept within the by-laws of the borough, and by +what chicane the consent of the ground-landlord had been obtained. + +Mr. Alfred Prince, whom also George knew slightly, was trimming a huge +oil-lamp which depended by a wire from the scarcely visible apex of the +roof. When at length the natural perversity of the lamp had been +mastered and the metal shade replaced, George got a general view of the +immense and complex disorder of the studio. It was obviously very +dirty--even in the lamplight the dust could be seen in drifts on the +moveless folds of the curtains--it was a pigsty; but it was romantic +with shadowed spaces, and gleams of copper and of the pale arms of the +etching-press, and glimpses of pictures; and the fellow desired a studio +of his own! He was glad, now, that Mr. Buckingham Smith had invited them +in. He had wanted to keep Marguerite Haim to himself; but it was worth +while to visit the studio, and it was especially worth while to watch +her under the illumination of the lamp. + +"Lucky we have a clean tablecloth," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, opening +his packages and setting a table. "Brawn, Miss Haim! And beer, Miss +Haim! That is to say, Pilsener. From the only place in Chelsea where you +can get it." + +And his packages really did contain brawn and beer (four bottles of the +Pilsener); also bread and a slice of butter. The visitors learnt that +they had happened on a feast, a feast which Mr. Buckingham Smith had +conceived and ordained, a feast to celebrate the triumph of Mr. Alfred +Prince. An etching by Mr. Prince had been bought by Vienna. Mr. +Buckingham Smith did not say that the etching had been bought by any +particular gallery in Vienna. He said 'by Vienna,' giving the idea that +all Vienna, every man, woman, and child in that distant and enlightened +city where etchings were truly understood, had combined for the +possession of a work by Mr. Prince. Mr. Buckingham Smith opined that +soon every gallery in Europe would be purchasing examples of Alfred +Prince. He snatched from a side-table and showed the identical authentic +letter from Vienna to Mr. Alfred Prince, with its official heading, +foreign calligraphy, and stilted English. The letter was very +complimentary. + +In George's estimation Mr. Prince did not look the part of an etcher of +continental renown. He was a small, pale man, with a small brown beard, +very shabby, and he was full of small nervous gestures. He had the +innocently-red nose which pertains to indigestion. His trousers bagged +horribly at the knees, and he wore indescribable slippers. He said +little, in an extremely quiet, weak voice. His eyes, however, were +lively and attractive. He was old, probably at least thirty-five. Mr. +Buckingham Smith made a marked contrast to him. Tall, with newish +clothes, a powerful voice and decisive gestures, Mr. Buckingham Smith +dominated, though he was younger than his friend. He tried to please, +and he mingled the grand seigneurial style with the abrupt. It was he +who played both the parlourmaid and the host. He forced Marguerite to +have some brawn, serving her with a vast portion; but he could not force +her to take Pilsener. + +"Now, Mr. Cannon," he said, pouring beer into a glass with an up-and-down +motion of the bottle so as to put a sparkling head on the beer. + +"No, thank you," said George decidedly. "I won't have beer." + +Mr. Buckingham Smith gazed at him challengingly out of his black eyes. +"Oh! But you've got to," he said. It was as if he had said: "I am +generous. I love to be hospitable, but I am not going to have my +hospitality thwarted, and you needn't think it." + +George accepted the beer and joined in the toasting of Mr. Alfred +Prince's health. + +"Old chap!" Mr. Buckingham Smith greeted his chum, and then to George +and Marguerite, informingly and seriously: "One of the best." + +It was during the snack that Mr. Buckingham Smith began to display the +etchings of Mr. Alfred Prince, massed in a portfolio. He extolled them +with his mouth half-full of brawn, or between two gulps of Pilsener. +They impressed George deeply--they were so rich and dark and austere. + +"Old Princey boy's one of the finest etchers in Europe to-day, if you +ask me," said Mr. Buckingham Smith off-handedly, and with the air of +stating the obvious. And George thought that Mr. Prince was. The +etchings were not signed 'Alfred Prince,' but just 'Prince,' which was +quietly imposing. Everybody agreed that Vienna had chosen the best one. + +"It's a dry-point, isn't it?" Marguerite asked, peering into it. George +started. This single remark convinced him that she knew all about +etching, whereas he himself knew nothing. He did not even know exactly +what a dry-point was. + +"Mostly," said Mr. Prince. "You can only get that peculiar quality of +line in dry-point." + +George perceived that etching was an entrancing subject, and he +determined to learn something about it--everything about it. + +Then came the turn of Mr. Buckingham Smith's paintings. These were not +signed 'Smith' as the etchings were signed 'Prince.' By no means! They +were signed 'Buckingham Smith.' George much admired them, though less +than he admired the etchings. They were very striking and ingenious, in +particular the portraits and the still-life subjects. He had to admit +that these fellows to whom he had scarcely given a thought, these +fellows who existed darkly behind the house, were prodigiously +accomplished. + +"Of course," said Mr. Buckingham Smith negligently, "you can't get any +idea of them by this light--though," he added warningly, "it's the +finest artificial light going. Better than all your electricity." + +There was a pause, and Mr. Prince sighed and said: + +"I was thinking of going up to the Promenades to-night, but Buck won't +go." + +George took fire at once. "The Glazounov ballet music?" + +"Glazounov?" repeated Mr. Prince uncertainly. "No. I rather wanted to +hear the new Elgar." + +George was disappointed, for he had derived from Mr. Enwright positive +opinions about the relative importance of Elgar and Glazounov. + +"Go often?" he asked. + +"No," said Mr. Prince. "I haven't been this season yet, but I'm always +meaning to." He smiled apologetically. "And I thought to-night----" +Despite appearances, he was not indifferent after all to his great +Viennese triumph; he had had some mild notion of his own of celebrating +the affair. + +"I suppose this is what etchings are printed with," said George to Mr. +Buckingham Smith, for the sake of conversation, and he moved towards the +press. The reception given to the wonderful name of Glazounov in that +studio was more than a disappointment for George; he felt obscurely that +it amounted to a snub. + +Mr. Buckingham Smith instantly became the urbane and alert showman. He +explained how the pressure was regulated. He pulled the capstan-like +arms of the motive wheel and the blanketed steel bed slid smoothly under +the glittering cylinder. Although George had often been in his +stepfather's printing works he now felt for the first time the +fascination of manual work, of artisanship, in art, and he regretted +that the architect had no such labour. He could indistinctly hear Mr. +Prince talking to Marguerite. + +"This is a monotype," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, picking up a dusty +print off the window-sill. "I do one occasionally." + +"Did you do this?" asked George, who had no idea what a monotype was and +dared not inquire. + +"Yes. They're rather amusing to do. You just use a match or your finger +or anything." + +"It's jolly good," said George. "D'you know, it reminds me a bit of +Cézanne." + +Of course it was in Paris that he had heard of the great original, the +martyr and saviour of modern painting. Equally of course it was Mr. +Enwright who had inducted him into the esoteric cult of Cézanne, and +magically made him see marvels in what at the first view had struck him +as a wilful and clumsy absurdity. + +"Oh!" murmured Buck, stiffening. + +"What do you think of Cézanne?" + +"Rule it out!" said Buck, with a warning cantankerous inflection, firmly +and almost brutally reproving this conversational delinquency of +George's. "Rule it out, young man! We don't want any of that sort of +mountebanking in England. We know what it's worth." + +George was cowed. More, his faith in Cézanne was shaken. He smiled +sheepishly and was angry with himself. Then he heard Mr. Prince saying +calmly and easily to Miss Haim--the little old man could not in fact be +so nervous as he seemed: + +"I suppose _you_ wouldn't come with me to the Prom?" + +George was staggered and indignant. It was inconceivable, monstrous, +that those two should be on such terms as would warrant Mr. Prince's +astounding proposal. He felt that he simply could not endure them +marching off together for the evening. Her acceptance of the proposal +would be an outrage. He trembled. However, she declined, and he was +lifted from the rack. + +"I must really go," she said. "Father's sure to be home by now." + +"May I?" demanded Mr. Buckingham Smith, stooping over Marguerite's +portfolio of designs, and glancing round at her for permission to open +it. Already his hand was on the tape. + +"On no account!" she cried. "No! No!... Mr. Cannon, please take it from +him!" She was serious. + +"Oh! All right! All right!" Mr. Buckingham Smith rose to the erect +good-humouredly. + +After a decent interval George took the portfolio under his arm. +Marguerite was giving thanks for hospitality. They left. George was +singularly uplifted by the fact that she never concealed from him those +designs upon which Mr. Buckingham Smith had not been allowed to gaze. +And, certain contretemps and disappointments notwithstanding, he was +impressed by the entity of the studio. It had made a desirable picture +in his mind: the romantic paraphernalia, the etchings, the canvases, the +lights and shadows, the informality, the warm odours of the lamp and of +the Pilsener, the dazzling white of the tablecloth, the quick, positive +tones of Buckingham Smith, who had always to be convincing not only +others but himself that he was a strong man whose views were +unassailable, the eyes of Buckingham Smith like black holes in his +handsome face, the stylish gestures and coarse petulance of Buckingham +Smith, the shy assurance of little old Prince. He envied the pair. Their +existence had a cloistral quality which appealed to something in him. +They were continually in the studio, morning, afternoon, evening. They +were independent. They had not to go forth to catch omnibuses and +trains, to sit in offices, to utilize the services of clerks, to take +orders, to consider the idiosyncrasies of superiors. They were +self-contained, they were consecrated, and they were free. No open +competitions for them! No struggles with committees and with +contractors! And no waiting for the realization of an idea! They sat +down and worked, and the idea came at once to life, complete, without +the necessity of other human co-operation! They did not sit in front of +a painting or etching and say, as architects had too often to say in +front of their designs: "That is wasted! That will never come into +being." Architecture might be the art of arts, and indeed it was, but +there were terrible drawbacks to it.... + +And next he was outside in the dark with Marguerite Haim, and new, +intensified sensations thrilled him. She was very marvellous in the +dark. + +Mr. Haim had not returned. + +"Well!" she muttered; and then dreamily: "What a funny little man Mr. +Prince is, isn't he?" She spoke condescendingly. + +"Anyhow," said George, who had been respecting Mr. Alfred Prince, +"anyhow, I'm glad you didn't go to the concert with him." + +"Why?" she asked, with apparent simplicity. "I adore the Proms. Don't +you?" + +"Let's go, then," he suggested. "We shan't be very late, and what else +is there for you to do?" + +His audacity frightened him. There she stood with him in the porch, +silent, reflective. She would never go. For sundry practical and other +reasons she would refuse. She must refuse. + +"I'll go," she said, as if announcing a well-meditated decision. He +could scarcely believe it. This could not be London that he was in. + +They deposited the portfolio under the mat in the porch. + + +IV + + +When they got into the hall the band was sending forth a tremendous +volume of brilliant exhilarating sound. A vast melody seemed to ride on +waves of brass. The conductor was very excited, and his dark locks shook +with the violence of his gestures as he urged onward the fingers and +arms of the executants flying madly through the maze of the music to a +climax. There were flags; there was a bank of flowers; there was a +fountain; there were the huge crimson-domed lamps that poured down their +radiance; and there was the packed crowd of straw-hatted and +floral-hatted erect figures gazing with upturned, intent faces at the +immense orchestral machine. Then came a final crash, and for an instant +the thin, silvery tinkle of the fountain supervened in an enchanted +hush; and then terrific applause, with yells and thuds above and below +the hand-clapping, filled and inflamed the whole interior. The +conductor, recovering from a collapse, turned round and bowed low with +his hand on his shirt-front; his hair fell over his forehead; he +straightened himself and threw the hair back again, and so he kept on, +time after time casting those plumes to and fro. At last, sated with +homage, he thought of justice, and pointed to the band and smiled with +an unconvincing air of humility, as if saying: "I am naught. Here are +the true heroes." And on the end of his stick he lifted to their feet +eighty men, whose rising drew invigorated shouts. Enthusiasm reigned; +triumph was accomplished. Even when the applause had expired, enthusiasm +still reigned; and every person present had the illusion of a share in +the triumph. It was a great night at the Promenades. + +George and Marguerite looked at each other happily. They both were +inspired by the feeling that life was a grand thing, and that they had +reached suddenly one of the summits of existence. George, observing the +excitement in her eyes, thought how wonderful it was that she too should +be excited. + +"What was that piece?" she asked. + +"I don't quite know," he said. "There don't appear to be any programmes +about." He wished he had been able to identify the piece, but he was too +content to be ashamed of his ignorance. Moreover, his ignorance was hers +also, and he liked that. + +The music resumed. He listened, ready to put himself into the mood of +admiration if it was the Glazounov item. Was it Glazounov? He could not +be certain. It sounded fine. Surely it sounded Russian. Then he had a +glimpse of a programme held by a man standing near, and he peered at it. +"No. 4. Elgar--Sea-Pictures." No. 5 was the Glazounov. + +"It's only the Elgar," he said, with careless condescension, perceiving +at once, by the mere virtue of a label, that the music was not fine and +not Russian. He really loved music, but he happened to be at that age, +from which some people never emerge, at which the judgment depends +almost completely on extraneous suggestion. + +"Oh!" murmured Marguerite indifferently, responding to his tone. + +"Glazounov's next," he said. + +"I suppose we couldn't sit down," she suggested. + +Yet it was she who had preferred the Promenade to the Grand Circle or +the Balcony. + +"We'll find something," he said, with his usual assurance. And in the +corridor that surrounded the hemicycle they climbed up on to a narrow +ledge in the wall and sat side by side in perfect luxury, not dreaming +that they were doing anything unusual or undignified. As a fact, they +were not. Other couples were perched on other ledges, and still others +on the cold steam-pipes. A girl with a big face and heavy red lips sat +alone, lounging, her head aslant. She had an open copy of _Home Notes_ +in one hand. Elgar had sent the simple creature into an ecstasy, and she +never stirred; probably she did not know anyone named Enwright. +Promenaders promenaded in and out of the corridor, and up and down the +corridor, and nobody troubled to glance twice either at the +heavy-lipped, solitary girl or at the ledged couples. + +Through an arched doorway could be seen the orchestra and half the +auditorium. + +"This is the best seat in the hall," George observed proudly. Marguerite +smiled at him. + +When the "Sea-Pictures" were finished she gave a sigh of appreciation, +having forgotten, it seemed, that persons who had come to admire +Glazounov ought not to relish Elgar. And George, too, reflecting upon +the sensations produced within him by Elgar, was ready to admit that, +though Elgar could of course not be classed with the foreigner, there +might be something to be said for him after all. + +"This is just what I needed," she murmured. + +"Oh?" + +"I was very depressed this afternoon," she said. + +"Were you?" He had not noticed it. + +"Yes. They've cut down my price from a pound to seventeen and six." +'They' were the employing bookbinders, and the price was the fixed price +for a design--side and back. + +He was shocked, and he felt guilty. How was it that he had noticed +nothing in her demeanour? He had been full of the misfortune of the +firm, and she had made the misfortune her own, keeping silence about the +grinding harshness of bookbinders. He was an insensible egotist, and +girls were wondrous. At any rate this girl was wondrous. He had an +intense desire to atone for his insensibility and his egotism by +protecting her, spoiling her, soothing her into forgetfulness of her +trouble.... Ah! He understood now what she meant when she had replied to +his suggestion as to visiting the cathedral: "It might do me good." + +"How rotten!" he exclaimed, expressing his sympathy by means of disgust. +"Couldn't you tell them to go to the dickens?" + +"You have to take what they'll give," she answered. "Especially when +they begin to talk about bad trade and that sort of thing." + +"Well, it's absolutely rotten!" + +It was not the arbitrary reduction of her earnings that he resented, but +the fact of her victimhood. Scandalous, infamous, that this rare and +delicate creature should be defenceless against commercial brutes! + +The Glazounov ballet music, "The Seasons," started. Knowing himself +justified, he surrendered himself to it, to its exoticism, to its +Russianism, to its wilful and disconcerting beauty. And there was no +composer like Glazounov. Beneath the sensory spell of the music, his +memory wandered about through the whole of his life. He recalled days in +his mother's boarding-house at Brighton; musical evenings, at which John +Orgreave was present, at his stepfather's house in the Five Towns; and +in all kinds of scenes at the later home at Ladderedge Hall--scenes in +which his mother again predominated, becoming young again and learning +sports and horsewomanship as a girl might have learnt them.... And they +were all beautiful beneath the music. The music softened; the fountain +was heard; the striking of matches was heard.... Still, all was +beautiful. Then he touched Marguerite's hand as it rested a little +behind her on the ledge. The effect of contact was surprising. With all +his other thoughts he had not ceased to think of the idea of shielding +and enveloping her. But now this idea utterly possessed him. The music +grew louder, and as it were under cover of the music he put his hand +round her hand. It was a venturesome act with such a girl; he was +afraid.... The hand lay acquiescent within his! He tightened the +pressure. The hand lay acquiescent; it accepted. The flashing +realization of her compliance overwhelmed him. He was holding the very +symbol of wild purity, and there was no effort to be free. None +guessed. None could see. They two had the astonishing, the incredible +secret between them. He looked at her profile, taking precautions. No +sign of alarm or disturbance. Her rapt glance was fixed steadily on the +orchestra framed in the arched doorway.... Incredible, the soft, warm +delicacy of the cotton glove! + +The applause at the end of the number awoke them. He released her hand. +She slipped neatly down from the ledge. + +"I think I ought to be going back home.... Father ..." she murmured. She +met his eyes; but his embarrassed eyes would not meet hers. + +"Certainly!" he agreed quickly, though they had been in the hall little +more than half an hour. He would have agreed to any suggestion from her. +It seemed to him that the least he could do at that moment was to fulfil +unquestioningly her slightest wish. Then she looked away, and he saw +that a deep blush gradually spread over her lovely face. This was the +supreme impressive phenomenon. Before the blush he was devotional. + + +V + + +They walked down Regent Street almost in silence, enjoying +simultaneously the silence and solitude of the curving thoroughfare and +the memory of the bright, crowded, triumphant scene which they had left. +At Piccadilly Circus George inquired for the new open motor-buses which +had just begun to run between the Circus and Putney, passing the +Redcliffe Arms. Already, within a year, the time was historically +distant when a policeman had refused to allow the automobile of a Member +of Parliament to enter Palace Yard, on the ground that there was no +precedent for such a desecration. The new motor-buses, however, did not +run at night. Human daring had limits, and it was reported that at least +one motor-driver, succumbing to the awful nervous strain of guiding +these fast expresses through the traffic of the West End, had been taken +to the lunatic asylum. George called a hansom, of which there were +dozens idling about. Marguerite seemed tacitly to object to this act as +the germ of extravagance; but it was the only classic thing to do, and +he did it. + +The hansom rolled rapidly and smoothly along upon that well-established +novelty, india-rubber tyres. Bits of the jingling harness oscillated +regularly from side to side. At intervals the whip-thong dragged gently +across the horse's back, and the horse lifted and shook its head. The +shallow and narrow interior of the hansom was constructed with +exactitude to hold two. Neither occupant could move in any direction, +and neither desired to move. The splendidly lighted avenues, of which +every detail could be discerned as by day, flowed evenly past the +vehicle. + +"I've never been in a hansom before," said Marguerite timidly--because +the situation was so dismaying in its enchantment. + +He, from the height of two years of hansom-using, was touched, +delighted, even impressed. The staggering fact increased her virginal +charm and its protectiveness. He thought upon the simplicity of her +existence. Of course she had never been in a hansom! Hansoms were +obviously outside her scheme. He said nothing, but he sought for and +found her hand beneath the apron. She did not resist. He reflected "Can +she resist? She cannot." Her hand was in a living swoon. Her hand was +his; it was admittedly his. She could never deny it, now. He touched the +button of the glove, and undid it. Then, moving her passive hand, he +brought both his to it, and with infinitely delicate and considerate +gestures he slowly drew off the glove, and he held her hand ungloved. +She did not stir nor speak. Nothing so marvellous as her exquisite and +confiding stillness had ever happened.... The hansom turned into +Alexandra Grove, and when it stopped he pushed the glove into her hand, +which closed on it. As they descended the cabman, accustomed to peer +down on loves pure and impure, gave them a beneficent look. + +"He's not come in," said Marguerite, glancing through the flap of the +front door. She was exceedingly self-conscious, but beneath her +self-consciousness could be noticed an indignant accusation against old +Haim. She had rung the bell and knocked. + +"Are you sure? Can you see the hat-stand?" + +"I can see it enough for that." + +"Look here," George suggested, with false lightness, "I expect I could +get in through my window." His room was on the ground floor, and not +much agility was needed to clamber up to its ledge from the level of the +area. He might have searched his pockets again and discovered his +latchkey, but he would not. Sooner than admit a deception he would have +remained at the door with her all night. + +"Think you could?" + +"Yes. I could slide the window-catch." + +He jumped down the steps and showed her how he could climb. In two +minutes he was opening the front door to her from the inside. She moved +towards him in the gloom. + +"Oh! My portfolio!" She stopped, and bent down to the mat. + +Then she busily lighted the little hall-lamp with his matches, and +hurried down, taking the matches, to the kitchen. After a few moments +George followed her; he was obliged to follow her. She had removed her +coat; it lay on the sole chair. The hat and blouse which she wore seemed +very vivid in the kitchen--vestiges of past glorious episodes in +concert-halls and hansoms. She had lighted the kitchen-lamp and was +standing apparently idle. The alarum-clock on the black mantelpiece +ticked noisily. The cat sat indifferently on the corner of the clean, +bare table. George hesitated in the doorway. He was extremely excited, +because the tremendous fact of what he had done and what she had +permitted, with all the implications, had to be explicitly acknowledged +between them. Of course it had to be acknowledged! They were both fully +aware of the thing, she as well as he, but spoken words must +authenticate its existence as only spoken words could. + +She said, beginning sternly and finishing with a peculiar smile: + +"I do think this business of father and Mrs. Lobley is going rather +far." + +And George had a sudden new sense of the purely feminine adroitness of +women. In those words she had clearly conceded that their relations were +utterly changed. Never before had she made even the slightest, most +distant reference to the monstrous household actuality, unadmitted and +yet patent, of the wooing of Mrs. Lobley the charwoman by her father, +the widower of her mother. If Mr. Haim stayed away from home of an +evening, Mrs. Lobley was the siren who deflected him from the straight +domestic path. She knew it; George surmised it; the whole street had its +suspicions. But hitherto Marguerite had given no sign. She now created +George the confidant of her resentment. And her smile was not an +earnest of some indulgence for her father--her smile was for George +alone. + +He went boldly up to her, put his arms round her, and kissed her. She +did not kiss. But she allowed herself to be kissed, and she let her body +loose in his embrace. She looked at him with her eyes nearly upon his, +and her eyes glittered with a mysterious burning; he knew that she was +content. That she should be content, that it should please her to let +him have the unimaginable experience of holding that thrilled and +thrilling body close to his, seemed to him to be a marvellous piece of +sheer luck and overwhelming good fortune. She was so sensuous and yet so +serious. Her gaze stimulated not only love but conscience. In him +ambition was superlatively vigorous. Nevertheless he felt then as though +he had never really known ambition till that moment. He thought of the +new century and of a new life. He perceived the childishness and folly +of his favourite idea that an artist ought to pass through a phase of +Don Juanism. He knew that the task of satisfying the lofty and exacting +and unique girl would be immense, and that he could fulfil it, but on +the one condition that it monopolized his powers. Thus he was both +modest and proud, anxious and divinely elated. His mind was the scene of +innumerable impulses and sensations over which floated the banner of the +male who has won an impassioned allegiance. + +"Don't let's tell anyone yet," she murmured. + +"No." + +"I mean for a long time," she insisted. + +"No, we won't," he agreed, and added scornfully: "They'd only say we're +too young." + +The notion of secrecy was an enchanting notion. + +She cut magic cake and poured out magic milk. And they ate and drank +together, for they were hungry. And at this point the cat began to show +an interest in their doings. + +And after they were both in their beds, but not after they were asleep, +Mr. Haim, by the clicking of a latchkey in a lock, reminded them of +something which they had practically forgotten--his disordered +existence. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHARWOMAN + +I + + +George entered Alexandra Grove very early the next evening, having dined +inadequately and swiftly so that he might reach the neighbourhood of +Marguerite at the first moment justifiable. He would have omitted dinner +and trusted to Marguerite's kitchen, only that, in view of the secrecy +resolved upon, appearances had to be preserved. The secrecy in itself +was delicious, but even the short experiences of the morning had shown +both of them how extremely difficult it would be for two people who were +everything to each other to behave as though they were nothing to each +other. George hoped, however, that Mr. Haim would again be absent, and +he was anticipating exquisite hours. + +At the precise instant when he put his latchkey in the door the door was +pulled away from him by a hand within, and he saw a woman of about +thirty-five, plump but not stout, in a blue sateen dress, bonneted but +not gloved. She had pleasant, commonplace features and brown hair. +Several seconds elapsed before George recognized in her Mrs. Lobley, the +charwoman of No. 8, and when he did so he was a little surprised at her +presentableness. He had met her very seldom in the house. He was always +late for breakfast, and his breakfast was always waiting for him. On +Sundays he was generally out. If he did catch sight of her, she was +invariably in a rough apron and as a rule on her knees. Their +acquaintance had scarcely progressed far enough for him to call her +'Mrs. Lob' with any confidence. He had never seen her at night, though +upon occasion he had heard her below in the basement, and for him she +was associated with mysterious nocturnal goings and comings by the +basement door. That she should be using the front door was as startling +as that she should be so nobly attired in blue sateen. + +"Good evening--Mr. Cannon," she said, in her timid voice, too thin for +her body. He noticed that she was perturbed. Hitherto she had always +addressed him as 'sir.' + +"Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic air she slipped past him +and departed out of the house. + +Mr. Haim was visible just within the doorway of the sitting-room, and +behind him the table with the tea-things still on it. George had felt +considerably self-conscious in Mr. Haim's presence at the office; and he +was so preoccupied by his own secret mighty affair that his first +suspicion connected the strange apparition of a new Mrs. Lobley and the +peculiar look on Mr. Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and +dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, though +absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other way. + +"Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early to-night." + +"A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to read, you +know." He was using the word 'read' in the examination sense. + +"If you could spare me a minute," smiled Mr. Haim + +"Certainly." + +"Have a cigarette," said Mr. Haim, as soon as George had deposited his +hat and come into the room. This quite unprecedented offer reassured +George, who in spite of reason had continued to fear that the landlord +had something on his mind about his daughter and his lodger. Mr. Haim +presented his well-known worn cigarette-case, and then with precise and +calm gestures carefully shut the door. + +"The fact is," said he, "I wanted to tell you something. I told Mr. +Enwright this afternoon, as I thought was proper, and it seems to me +that you are the next person who ought to be informed." + +"Oh yes?" + +"I am going to be married." + +"The deuce you are!" + +The light words had scarcely escaped from young George before he +perceived that his tone was a mistake, and that Mr. Haim was in a state +of considerable emotion, which would have to be treated very carefully. +And George too now suddenly partook of the emotion. He felt himself to +be astonished and even shaken by Mr. Haim's news. The atmosphere of the +interview changed in an instant. Mr. Haim moved silently on slippered +feet to the mantelpiece, out of the circle of lamplight, and dropped +some ash into the empty fire-place. + +"I congratulate you," said George. + +"Thank you!" said Mr. Haim brightly, seizing gratefully on the fustian +phrase, eager to hall-mark it as genuine and put it among his treasures. +Without doubt he was flattered. "Yes," he proceeded, as it were +reflectively, "I have asked Mrs. Lobley to be my wife, and she has done +me the honour to consent." He had the air of having invented the words +specially to indicate that Mrs. Lobley was descending from a throne in +order to espouse him. It could not have occurred to him that they had +ever been used before and that the formula was classic. He smiled again, +and went on: "Of course I've known and admired Mrs. Lobley for a long +time. What we should have done without her valuable help in this house I +don't like to think. I really don't." + +"'Her help in this house,'" thought the ruthless George, behind +cigarette smoke. "Why doesn't he say right out she's the charwoman? If I +was marrying a charwoman, I should say I was marrying a charwoman." And +then he had a misgiving: "Should I? I wonder whether I should." And he +remembered that ultimately the charwoman was going to be his own +mother-in-law. He was aware of a serious qualm. + +"Mrs. Lobley has had an uphill fight since her first husband's death," +said Mr. Haim. "He was an insurance agent--the Prudential. She's come +out of it splendidly. She's always kept up her little home, though it +was only two rooms, and she'll only leave it because I can offer her a +better one. I have always admired her, and I'm sure the more you know +her the more you'll like her. She's a woman in a thousand, Mr. Cannon." + +"I expect she is," George agreed feebly. He could not think of anything +to say. + +"And I'm thankful I _can_ offer her a better home. I don't mind telling +you now that at one time I began to fear I shouldn't have a home. I've +had my ambitions, Mr. Cannon. I was meant for a quantity surveyor. I was +one--you may say. But it was not to be. I came down in the world, but I +kept my head above water. And then in the end, with a little money I had +I bought this house. £575. It needed some negotiation. Ground-rent £10 +per annum, and seventy years to run. You see, all along I had had the +idea of building a studio in the garden. I was one of the first to see +the commercial possibilities of studios in Chelsea. But of course I know +Chelsea. I made the drawings for the studio myself. Mr. Enwright kindly +suggested a few improvements. With all my experience I was in a position +to get it put up as cheaply as possible. You'd be surprised at the +number of people in the building line anxious to oblige me. It cost +under £300. I had to borrow most of it. But I've paid it off. What's the +consequence? The consequence is that the rent of the studio and the top +rooms brings me in over eight per cent on all I spent on the house and +the studio together. And I'm living rent free myself." + +"Jolly good!" + +"Yes.... If I'd had capital, Mr. Cannon, I could have made thousands out +of studios. Thousands. I fancy I've the gift. But I've never had the +capital. And that's all there is to it." He smacked his lips, and leaned +back against the mantelpiece. "You may tell me I've realized my +ambitions. Not all of them, Mr. Cannon. Not all of them. If I'd had +money I should have had leisure, and I should have improved myself. +Reading, I mean. Study. Literature. Music. Painting. History of +architecture. All that sort of thing. I've got the taste for it. I know +I've got the taste for it. But what could I do? I gave it up. You'll +never know how lucky you are, Mr. Cannon. I gave it up. However, I've +nothing to be ashamed of. At any rate I hope not." + +George nodded appreciatively. He was touched. He was even impressed. He +admitted the _naiveté_ of the ageing man, his vanity, his +sentimentality. But he saw himself to be in the presence of an +achievement. And though the crown of Mr. Haim's achievement was to marry +a charwoman, still the achievement impressed. And the shabby man with +the lined, common face was looking back at the whole of his life--there +was something positively formidable in that alone. He was at the end; +George was at the beginning, and George felt callow and deferential. The +sensation of callowness at once heightened his resolve to succeed. All +George's sensations seemed mysteriously to transform themselves into +food for this great resolve. + +"And what does Miss Haim say to all this?" he asked, rather timidly and +wildly. It was a venturesome remark; it might well have been called an +impertinence; but the image of Marguerite was involved in all the +workings of his mind, and it would not be denied expression. + +Mr. Haim lifted his back from the mantelpiece sharply. Then he +hesitated, moving forward a little. + +"Mr. Cannon," he said, "it's curious you should ask that." His voice +trembled, and at the vibration George was suddenly apprehensive. Mr. +Haim had soon recovered from his original emotion, but now he seemed to +be in danger of losing control of himself. + +George nervously cleared his throat and apologized. + +"I didn't mean----" + +"I'd better tell you," Mr. Haim interrupted him, rather loudly. "We've +just had a terrible scene with my daughter, a terrible scene!" He seldom +referred to Marguerite by her Christian name, "Mr. Cannon, I had hoped +to get through my life without a scandal, and especially an open +scandal. But it seems as if I shouldn't--if I know my daughter! It was +not my intention to say anything. Far from it. Outsiders ought not to be +troubled.... I--I like you, Mr. Cannon. She left us a few minutes ago +And as she didn't put her hat on she must be either at the studio or at +Agg's...." + +"She went out of the house?" George questioned awkwardly. + +Mr. Haim nodded, and then without warning he dropped like an inert lump +on to a chair and let his head fall on to his hand. + +George was frightened as well as mystified. The spectacle of the old +man--at one moment boasting ingenuously of his career, and at the next +almost hysterical with woe--roused his pity in a very disconcerting +manner, and from his sight the Lucas & Enwright factotum vanished +utterly, and was supplanted by a tragic human being. But he had no idea +how to handle the unexampled situation with dignity; he realized +painfully his own lack of experience, and his over-mastering impulse was +to get away while it was still possible to get away. Moreover, he +desired intensely to see and hear Marguerite. + +"Perhaps I had better find out where she is," he absurdly suggested, and +departed from the room feeling like a criminal reprieved. + +The old man did not stir. + + +II + + +"Can I come in?" said George, hatless, pushing open the door of the +studio, which was ajar. + +There were people in the bright and rather chilly studio, and none of +them moved until the figure arriving out of the darkness was identified. +Mr. Prince, who in the far corner was apparently cleaning or adjusting +his press, then came forward with a quiet, shy, urbane welcome. +Marguerite herself stood nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg, +who was seated. The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in +her somewhat deep voice to Marguerite: + +"I must go." + +Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a broad-minded and +turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal headship of a hard-working +and successful barrister. She was a painter, and lived and slept in +semi-independence in a studio of her own in Manresa Road, but maintained +close and constant relations with the rest of the tribe. In shape and +proportions fairly tall and fairly thin, she counted in shops among the +stock-sizes; but otherwise she was entitled to call herself unusual. She +kept her hair about as short as the hair of a boy who has postponed +going to the barber's for a month after the proper time, and she +incompletely covered the hair with the smallest possible hat. Her coat +was long and straight and her skirt short. Her boots were high, reaching +well up the calf, but they had high heels and were laced in some +hundreds of holes. She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was +twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast with one +another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and liked it. + +"Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking hands. + +George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her father's house. +Having yet to learn the important truth that it takes all sorts to make +a world, he did not like her and wondered why she existed. He could +understand Agg being fond of Marguerite, but he could not understand +Marguerite being fond of Agg; and the friendship between these two, now +that he actually for the first time saw it in being, irked him. + +"Is anything the matter?... Have you seen father?" asked Marguerite in a +serious, calm tone, turning to him. Like George, she had run into the +studio without putting on any street attire. + +George perceived that there was no secret in the studio as to the crisis +in the Haim family. Clearly the topic had been under discussion. Prince +as well as Agg was privy to it. He did not quite like that. He was +vaguely jealous of both Prince and Agg. Indeed he was startled to find +that Marguerite could confide such a matter to Prince--at any rate +without consulting himself. While not definitely formulating the claim +in his own mind, he had somehow expected of Marguerite that until she +met him she would have existed absolutely sole, without any sentimental +connexions of any sort, in abeyance, waiting for his miraculous advent. +He was glad that Mr. Buckingham Smith was not of the conclave; he felt +that he could not have tolerated Mr. Buckingham Smith. + +"Yes, I've seen him," George answered. + +"Did he tell you?" + +"Yes." + +Mr. Prince, after a little hovering, retired to his press, and a wheel +could be heard creaking. + +"What did he tell you?" + +"He told me about--the marriage.... And I gathered there'd been a bit of +a scene." + +"Nothing else?" + +"No." + +Agg then interjected, fixing her blue eyes on George: + +"Marguerite is coming to live with me in my studio." + +And her challenging gaze met George's. + +"Oh!" George could not suppress his pained inquietude at this decision +having been made without his knowledge. Both girls misapprehended his +feeling. "That's it, is it?" + +"Well," said Agg, "what can Mr. Haim expect? Here Marguerite's been +paying this woman two shillings a day and her food, and letting her take +a parcel home at nights. And then all of a sudden she comes dressed up +for tea, and sits down, and Mr. Haim says she's his future wife. What +_does_ he expect? Does he expect Marguerite to kiss her and call her +mamma? The situation's impossible." + +"But you can't stop people from falling in love, Agg, you know. It's not +a crime," said Mr. Prince in his weak voice surprisingly from the press. + +"I know it's not a crime," said Agg sharply. "And nobody wants to stop +people from falling in love. If Mr. Haim chooses to go mad about a +charwoman, when his wife, and such a wife, 's been dead barely three +years, that's his concern. It's true the lady isn't much more than half +his age, and that the whole business would be screamingly funny if it +wasn't disgusting; but still he's a free agent. And Marguerite's a free +agent too, I hope. Of course he's thunder-struck to discover that +Marguerite _is_ a free agent. He would be!" + +"He certainly is in a state," said George, with an uneasy short laugh. + +Agg continued: + +"And why is he in a state? Because Marguerite says she shall leave the +house? Not a bit. Only because of what he thinks is the scandal of her +leaving. Mr. Haim is a respectable man. He's simply all respectability. +Respectability's his god--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Always has been. +He'd sacrifice everything to respectability--except the lovely Lobley. +It's not respectable in a respectable family for a girl to leave home on +account of her stepmother. And so he's in a state, if you please!... If +he wanted to carry on with Mrs. Lobley, let him carry on with her. But +no! That's not respectable. He's just got to marry her!" Agg sneered. + +George was startled, perhaps excusably, at the monstrous doctrine +implied in Agg's remarks. He had thought himself a man of the world, +experienced, unshockable. But he blenched, and all his presence of mind +was needed to preserve a casual, cool demeanour. The worst of the trial +was Marguerite's tranquil acceptance of the attitude of her friend. She +glanced at Agg in silent, admiring approval. He surmised that until that +moment he had been perfectly ignorant of what girls really were. + +"I see," said George courageously. And then, strangely, he began to +admire too. And he pulled himself together. + +"I think I shall leave to-morrow," Marguerite announced. "Morning. It +will be much better. She can look after him. I don't see that I owe any +duty ..." + +"Yes, you do, dear," Agg corrected her impressively. "You owe a duty to +your mother--to her memory. That's the duty you owe. I'll come round for +you to-morrow myself in a four-wheeler--let me see, about eleven." + +George hated the sound of the word 'duty.' + +"Thank you, dear," Marguerite murmured, and the girls shook hands; they +did not kiss. + +"Bye-bye, Princey." + +"Bye-bye, Agg." + +"Good night, Mr. Cannon." + +Agg departed, slightly banging the door. + +"I think I'll go back home now," said Marguerite, in a sweet, firm tone. +"Had they gone out?" + +"Who? Your father and What's-her-name? She's gone, but he hasn't. If you +don't want to meet him to-night again, hadn't you better----" + +"Oh! If she's gone, he'll be gone too by this time. Trust him!" + +Mr. Prince approached them, urging Marguerite soothingly to stay as long +as she liked. She shook her head, and pressed his hand affectionately. + + +III + + +When George and Marguerite re-entered No. 8 by the front door, Mr. Haim +was still sitting overcome at the tea-table. They both had sight of him +through the open door of the parlour. Marguerite was obviously disturbed +to see him there, but she went straight into the room. George moved into +the darkness of his own room. He heard the voices of the other two. + +"Then you mean to go?" Haim asked accusingly. + +Marguerite answered in a calm, good-humoured, sweet tone: + +"Of course, if you mean to marry Mrs. Lobley." + +"Marry Mrs. Lobley! Of course I shall marry her!" Haim's voice rose. +"What right have you to settle where I shall marry and where I shan't?" + +"I've fixed everything up with Celia Agg," said Marguerite very quietly. + +"You've soon arranged it!" + +No reply from Marguerite. The old man spoke again: + +"You've no right--It'll be an open scandal." + +Then a silence. George now thought impatiently that a great fuss was +being made about a trifle, and that a matter much more important +deserved attention. His ear caught a violent movement. The old man came +out of the parlour, and, instead of taking his hat and rushing off to +find the enchantress, he walked slowly and heavily upstairs, preceded by +his immense shadow thrown from the hall-lamp. He disappeared round the +corner of the stairs. George, under the influence of the apparition, was +forced to modify his view that all the fuss was over a trifle. He +tiptoed into the parlour. Marguerite was standing at the table. As soon +as George came in she began to gather the tea-things together on the +tray. + +"I _say_!" whispered George. + +Marguerite's bent, tranquil face had a pleasant look as she handled the +crockery. + +"I shall get him a nice breakfast to-morrow," she said, also in a +whisper. "And as soon as he's gone to the office I shall pack. It won't +take me long, really." + +"But won't Mrs. Lobley be here?" + +"What if she is? I've nothing against Mrs. Lobley. Nor, as far as that +goes, against poor father either--you see what I mean." + +"He told me you'd had a terrible scene. That's what he said'--a terrible +scene." + +"It depends what you call a scene," she said smoothly. "I was rather +upset just at first--who wouldn't be?--but ..." She stopped, listening, +with a glance at the ceiling. There was not the slightest sound +overhead. "I wonder what he's doing?" + +She picked up the tray. + +"I'll carry that," said George. + +"No! It's all right. I'm used to it. You might bring me the tablecloth. +But you won't drop the crumbs out of it, will you?" + +He followed her with the bunched-up tablecloth down the dangerous +basement steps into the kitchen. She passed straight into the little +scullery, where the tray with its contents was habitually left for the +attention of Mrs. Lobley the next morning. When she turned again, he +halted her, as it were, at the entrance from the scullery with a +question. + +"Shall you be all right?" + +"With Agg?" + +"Yes." + +"How do you mean--'all right'?" + +"Well, for money, and so on." + +"Oh yes!" She spoke lightly and surely, with a faint confident smile. + +"I was thinking as they'd cut down your prices----" + +"I shall have heaps. Agg and I--why, we can live splendidly for next to +nothing. You'll see." + +He was rebuffed. He felt jealous of both Agg and Prince, but especially +of Prince. It still seemed outrageous to him that Prince should have +been taken into her confidence. Prince had known of the affair before +himself. He was more than jealous; he had a greater grievance. +Marguerite appeared to have forgotten all about love, all about the +mighty event of their betrothal. She appeared to have put it away, as +casually as she had put away the tray. Yet ought not the event to count +supreme over everything else--over no matter what? He was desolate and +unhappy. + +"Did you tell Agg?" he asked. + +"What about?" + +"Our being engaged--and so on." + +She started towards him. + +"Dearest!" she protested, not in the least irritated or querulous, but +kindly, affectionately. "Without asking you first? Didn't we agree we +wouldn't say anything to anybody? But we shall have to think about +telling Agg." + +He met her and suddenly seized her. They kissed, and she shut her eyes. +He was ecstatically happy. + +"Oh!" she murmured in his embrace. "I'm so glad I've got you." + +And she opened her eyes and tears fell from them. She cried quietly, +without excitement and without shame. She cried with absolute +naturalness. Her tears filled him with profound delight. And in the +exquisite subterranean intimacy of the kitchen, he saw with his eyes and +felt with his arms how beautiful she was. Her face, seen close, was +incredibly soft and touching. Her nose was the most wonderful nose ever +witnessed. He gloated upon her perfection. For, literally, to him she +was perfect. With what dignity and with what a sense of justice she had +behaved, in the studio, in the parlour, and here. He was gloriously +reassured as he realized how in their joint future he would be able to +rely upon her fairness, her conscientiousness, her mere pleasantness +which nothing could disturb. Throughout the ordeal of the evening she +had not once been ruffled. She had not said an unkind word, nor given an +unkind gesture, nor exhibited the least trace of resentment. Then, she +had taste, and she was talented. But perhaps the greatest quality of all +was her adorable beauty and charm. And yet no! The final attraction was +that she trusted him, depended on him, cried in his embrace.... He +loosed her with reluctance, and she deliciously wiped her eyes on his +handkerchief, and he took her again. + +"I suppose I must leave here too, now," he said. + +"Oh, George!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't! Why should you? I don't want +you to." + +"Don't you? Why?" + +"Oh! I don't! Truly. You'll be just as well looked after as if I was +here. I do hope you'll stay." + +That settled it. And Manresa Road was not far off. + +She sat on the table and leaned against him a long time. Then she said +she must go upstairs to her room--she had so much to do. He could not +forbid, because she was irresistible. She extinguished the kitchen-lamp, +and, side by side, they groped up the stairs to the first floor. The cat +nonchalantly passed them in the hall. + +"Put the lights out here, will you, when you go to bed?" she whispered. +He felt flattered. + +She offered her face.... The lovely thing slipped away upstairs with +unimaginable, ravishing grace. She vanished. There was silence. After a +moment George could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen below. He +stood motionless, amid the dizzying memories of her glance, her +gestures, the softness of her body. What had happened to him was past +belief. He completely forgot the existence of the old man in love. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LUNCHEON + +I + + +George, having had breakfast in bed, opened his door for the second time +that morning, and duly found on the mat the can of hot water (covered +with a bit of old blanket) and the can of cold water which comprised the +material for his bath. There was no sound in the house. The new spouse +might be upstairs or she might be downstairs--he could not tell; but the +cans proved that she was immanent and regardful; indeed, she never +forgot anything. And George's second state at No. 8 was physically even +better than his first. In the transition through autumn from summer to +winter--a transition which, according to the experience of tens of +thousands of London lodgers, is capable of turning comparative comfort +into absolute discomfort--Mrs. Haim had behaved with benevolence and +ingenuity. For example, the bedroom fire, laid overnight, was now +burning up well from the mere touch of the lodger's own match. Such +things are apt to count, and they counted with George. + +As for Mr. Haim, George knew that he was still in bed, because, since +his marriage, Mr. Haim had made a practice of staying in bed on Sunday +mornings. The scheme was his wife's; she regarded it as his duty to +himself to exercise this grand male privilege of staying in bed; to do +so gave him majesty, magnificence, and was a sign of authority. A copy +of _The Referee_, fresh as fruit new-dropped from the bough, lay in the +hall at the front door. Mr. Haim had read _The Referee_ since _The +Referee_ was. He began his perusal with the feature known as "Mustard +and Cress," which not only amused him greatly, but convinced him that +his own ideas on affairs were really very sagacious. His chief and most +serious admiration, however was kept for "Our Hand-Book." "It's my +Bible," he had once remarked, "and I'm not ashamed to say it. And there +are scores and scores of men who'd say the same." Church bells could not +be heard at No. 8. _The Referee_ lying in the hall was the gracious sign +of Sabbath morning. Presently Mrs. Haim would carry it upstairs, +respectfully. For her it was simply and unanalysably _The Referee_. She +did not dream of looking into it. Mr. Haim did not expect her to look +into it. Her mission was to solace and to charm, his alone to supply the +intellectual basis upon which their existence reposed. George's nose +caught the ascending beautiful odour of bacon; he picked up his cans and +disappeared. + +When he was dressed, he brought forward the grindstone to the fire, and +conscientiously put his nose to it, without even lighting a cigarette. +It had been agreed between himself and Marguerite that there should be +no more cigarettes until after lunch. It had also been agreed that he +should put his nose to the grindstone that Sunday morning, and that she +should do the same away in Manresa Road. George's grindstone happened to +be Miers and Crosskey's _The Soil in Relation to Health_. He was +preparing for his Final Examination. In addition to the vast +imperial subject of Design, the Final comprised four other +subjects--Construction, Hygiene, Properties and Uses of Building +Materials, and Ordinary Practice of Architecture. George was now busy +with one branch of the second of these subjects. Perhaps he was not +following precisely the order of tactics prescribed by the most wily +tacticians, for as usual he had his own ideas and they were arbitrary; +but he was veritably and visibly engaged in the slow but exciting +process of becoming a great architect. And he knew and felt that he was. +And the disordered bed, and the untransparent bath-water, and the +soap-tin by the side of the bath, and the breakfast-tray on a chair, +were as much a part of the inspiring spectacle as himself tense and +especially dandiacal in the midst. + +Nevertheless appearances deceived. On a table were the thirteen folio +and quarto glorious illustrated volumes of Ongania's _Basilica di San +Marco_, which Mr. Enwright had obtained for him on loan, and which had +come down to No. 8 in a big box by Carter Paterson van. And while George +sat quite still with his eyes and his volition centred fiercely on Miers +and Crosskey, his brain would keep making excursions across the room to +the Church of St. Mark at Venice. He brought it back again and again +with a jerk but he could not retain it in place. The minutes passed; the +quarters passed, until an hour and a half had gone. Then he closed Miers +and Crosskey. He had sworn to study Miers and Crosskey for an hour and a +half. He had fought hard to do so, and nobody could say that he had not +done so. He was aware, however, that the fight had not been wholly +successful; he had not won it; on the other hand neither had he lost it. +Honour was saved, and he could still sincerely assert that in regard to +the Final Examination he had got time fiercely by the forelock. He rose +and strolled over to the _Basilica di San Marco_, and opened one or two +of those formidable and enchanting volumes. Then he produced a +cigarette, and struck a match, and he was about to light the cigarette, +when squinting down at it he suddenly wondered: "Now how the deuce did +that cigarette come into my mouth?" He replaced the cigarette in his +case, and in a moment he had left the house. + +He was invited to Mrs. John Orgreave's new abode at Bedford Park for +lunch. In the early part of the year, Mrs. John had inherited +money--again, and the result had been an increase in the spaciousness of +her existence. George had not expected to see the new house, for he had +determined to have nothing more to do with Mrs. John. He was, it is to +be feared, rather touchy. He and Mrs. John had not openly quarrelled, +but in their hearts they had quarrelled. George had for some time +objected to her attitude towards him as a boarder. She would hint that, +as she assuredly had no need of boarders, she was conferring a favour on +him by boarding him. It was of course true, but George considered that +her references to the fact were offensive. He did not understand and +make allowances for Adela. Moreover, he thought that a woman who had +been through the Divorce Court ought to be modest in demeanour towards +people who had not been through the Divorce Court. Further, Adela +resented his frequent lateness for meals. And she had said, with an +uncompromising glance: "I hope you'll turn over a new leaf when we get +into the new house." And he had replied, with an uncompromising glance: +"Perhaps _I_ shan't get into the new house." Nothing else. But that +ended it. After that both felt that mutual detestation had set in. John +Orgreave was not implicated in the discreet rupture. Possibly he knew of +it; possibly he didn't; he was not one to look for trouble, and he +accepted the theory that it was part of George's vital scheme to inhabit +Chelsea. And then Adela, all fluffiness and winsomeness, had called, in +the previous week, at Russell Square and behaved like a woman whose sole +aim in life is to please and cosset men of genius. "I shall be +dreadfully hurt if you don't come to one of my Sunday lunches, George!" +she had said. And also: "We _miss_ you, you know," and had put her head +on one side. + +Marguerite had thoroughly approved his acceptance of the invitation. She +thought that he 'ought' to accept. He had promised, as she had an urgent +design to do, not to arrive at the studio before 8 p.m., and he had +received a note from her that morning to insist on the hour. + + +II + + +The roads were covered with a very even, very thin coating of mud; it +was as though a corps of highly skilled house-painters had laid on the +mud, and just vanished. The pavements had a kind of yellowish-brown +varnish. Each of the few trees that could be seen--and there were a +few--carried about six surviving leaves. The sky was of a blue-black +with golden rents and gleams that travelled steadily eastwards. Except +the man with newspapers at the corner of Alexandra Grove, scarcely a +sign of life showed along the vistas of Fulham Road; but the clock over +the jeweller's was alive and bearing the usual false witness. From the +upper open galleries of the Workhouse one or two old men and old women +in uniform looked down indifferently upon the free world which they had +left for ever. Then an omnibus appeared faintly advancing from the +beautiful grey distance of the straight and endless street. George +crossed the road on his way towards Redcliffe Gardens and Earl's Court. +He was very smart, indeed smarter than ever, having produced in himself +quite naturally and easily a fair imitation of the elegant figures +which, upon his visits to the restaurant-building in Piccadilly, he had +observed airing themselves round about Bond Street. His hair was smooth +like polished marble; his hat and stick were at the right angle; his +overcoat was new, and it indicated the locality of his waist; the spots +of colour in his attire complied with the operative decrees. His young +face had in it nothing that obviously separated him from the average +youth of his clothes. Nobody would have said of him, at a glance, that +he might be a particularly serious individual. And most people would +have at once classed him as a callow pleasure-seeking person in the act +of seeking pleasure. + +Nevertheless he was at that moment particularly serious, and his +seriousness was growing. His secret engagement had affected him, in part +directly, and in part by the intensification of ambitious endeavour +which had resulted from contact with that fount of seriousness, +Marguerite. Although still entirely dependent--even to cigarette +money--upon the benevolence of a couple of old individuals a hundred and +fifty miles off, he reckoned that he was advancing in the world. The +Intermediate Examination was past, and already he felt that he had come +to grips with the Final and would emerge victorious. He felt too that +his general knowledge and the force and variety of his ideas were +increasing. At times, when he and Marguerite talked, he was convinced +that both of them had achieved absolute knowledge, and that their +criticisms of the world were and would always be unanswerable. After the +Final, he hoped, his uncle would buy him a share in the Lucas & Enwright +practice. In due season, his engagement would be revealed, and all would +be immensely impressed by his self-restraint and his good taste, and the +marriage would occur, and he would be a London architect, an established +man--at the mature age of, say, twenty-two. + +No cloud would have obscured the inward radiance caused by the lovely +image of Marguerite and by his confidence in himself, had it not been +for those criticisms of the world. He had moods of being rather gravely +concerned as to the world, and as to London. He was recovering from the +first great attack of London. He saw faults in London. He was capable of +being disturbed by, for example, the ugliness and the inefficiency of +London. He even thought that something ought to be done about it. Upon +this Sunday morning, fresh from visions of Venice, and rendered a little +complacent by the grim execution of the morning's programme of work, he +was positively pained by the aspect of Redcliffe Gardens. The Redcliffe +Arms public-house, locked and dead, which was the daily paradise of +hundreds of human beings, and had given balm and illusion to whole +generations, seemed simply horrible to him in its Sunday morning coma. +The large and stuffy unsightliness of it could not be borne. (However, +the glimpse of a barmaid at an upper window interested him pleasantly +for a moment.) And the Redcliffe Arms was the true gate to the stucco +and areas of Redcliffe Gardens. He looked down into the areas and saw +therein the furtive existence of squalor behind barred windows. All the +obscene apparatus of London life was there. And as he raised his eyes to +the drawing-room and bedroom stories he found no relief. His eyes could +discover nothing that was not mean, ugly, frowzy, and unimaginative. He +pictured the heavy, gloomy, lethargic life within. The slatternly +servants pottering about the bases of the sooty buildings sickened and +saddened him. A solitary Earl's Court omnibus that lumbered past with +its sinister, sparse cargo seemed to be a spectacle absolutely +tragic--he did not know why. The few wayfarers were obviously prim and +smug. No joy, no elegance, anywhere! Only, at intervals, a feeling that +mysterious and repulsive wealth was hiding itself like an ogre in the +eternal twilight of fastnesses beyond the stuccoed walls and the grimy +curtains.... The city worked six days in order to be precisely this on +the seventh. Truly it was very similar to the Five Towns, and in +essentials not a bit better.--A sociological discovery which startled +him! He wanted to destroy Redcliffe Gardens, and to design it afresh and +rebuild it under the inspiration of St. Mark's and of the principles of +hygiene as taught for the Final Examination. He had grandiose ideas for +a new design. As for Redcliffe Square, he could do marvels with its +spaces. + +He arrived too soon at Earl's Court Station, having forgotten that the +Underground Railway had a treaty with the Church of England and all the +Nonconformist churches not to run trains while the city, represented by +possibly two per cent of its numbers, was at divine worship. He walked +to and fro along the platforms in the vast echoing cavern peopled with +wandering lost souls, and at last a train came in from the void, and it +had the air of a miracle, because nobody had believed that any train +ever would come in. And at last the Turnham Green train came in, and +George got into a smoking compartment, and Mr. Enwright was in the +compartment. + +Mr. Enwright also was going to the Orgreave luncheon. He was in what the +office called 'one of his moods.' The other occupants of the compartment +had a stiff and self-conscious air: some apparently were proud of being +abroad on Sunday morning; some apparently were ashamed. Mr. Enwright's +demeanour was as free and natural as that of a child. His lined and +drawn face showed worry and self-absorption in the frankest manner. He +began at once to explain how badly he had slept; indeed he asserted that +he had not slept at all; and he complained with extreme acerbity of the +renewal of his catarrh. 'Constant secretion. Constant secretion,' was +the phrase he used to describe the chief symptom. Then by a forced +transition he turned to the profession of architecture, and restated his +celebrated theory that it was the Cinderella of professions. The firm +had quite recently obtained a very important job in a manufacturing +quarter of London, without having to compete for it; but Mr. Enwright's +great leading ideas never fluctuated with the fluctuation of facts. If +the multiplicity of his lucrative jobs had been such as to compel him to +run round from one to another on a piebald pony in the style of Sir Hugh +Corver, his view of the profession would not have altered. He spoke with +terrible sarcasm apropos of a rumour current in architectural circles +that a provincial city intended soon to invite competitive designs for a +building of really enormous proportions, and took oath that in no case +should his firm, enter for the competition. In short, his condition was +markedly pessimistic. + +George loved him, and was bound to humour him; and in order to respond +sympathetically to Enwright's pessimism he attempted to describe his +sensations concerning the London Sunday, and in particular the Sunday +morning aspect of Earl's Court streets. He animadverted with virulence, +and brought forward his new startling discovery that London was in truth +as provincial as the provinces. + +"Well, I don't think it is," said Enwright, instantly becoming a +judicial truth-seeker. + +"Why don't you?" + +"Simply because it's bigger--so much bigger. That's the principal +difference, and you'll never get over it. You must appreciate size. An +elephant is a noble animal, but it wouldn't be if it was only as big as +a fly. London's an elephant, and forget it not." + +"It's frightfully ugly, most of it, anyhow, and especially on Sunday +morning," George persisted. + +"Is it? I wonder whether it is, now. The architecture's ugly. But what's +architecture? Architecture isn't everything. If you can go up and down +London and see nothing but architecture, you'll never be an A1 +architect." He spoke in a low, kindly, and reasonable tone. "I like +London on Sunday mornings. In fact it's marvellous. You say it's untidy +and all that ... slatternly, and so on. Well, so it ought to be when it +gets up late. Jolly bad sign if it wasn't. And that's part of it! Why, +dash it, look at a bedroom when you trail about, getting up! Look how +you leave it! The existence of a big city while it's waking up--lethargy +business--a sort of shamelessness--it's like a great animal! I think +it's marvellous, and I always have thought so." + +George would not openly agree, but his mind was illuminated with a new +light, and in his mind he agreed, very admiringly. + +The train stopped; people got out; and the two were alone in the +compartment. + +"I thought all was over between you and Adela," said Mr. Enwright, +confidentially and quizzically. + +George blushed a little. "Oh no!" + +"I don't know what I'm going to her lunch for, I'm sure. I suppose I +have to go." + +"I have, too," said George. + +"Well, she won't do you any good, you know. I was glad when you left +there." + +George looked worldly. "Rum sort, isn't she?" + +I'll tell you what she is, now. You remember _Aida_ at the Paris Opéra. +The procession in the second act where you lost your head and said it +was the finest music ever written. And those girls in white, waving +palms in front of the hero--What's-his-name. There are some women who +are born to do that and nothing else. Thin lips. Fixed idiotic smile. +They don't think a bit about what they're doing. They're thinking about +themselves all the time. They simply don't care a damn about the hero, +or about the audience, or anything, and they scarcely pretend to. +Arrogance isn't the word. It's something more terrific--it's stupendous! +Mrs. John's like that. I thought of it as I was coming along here." + +"Is she?" said George negligently. "Perhaps she is. I never thought of +her like that." + +Turnham Green Station was announced. + + +III + + +Despite the fresh pinky horrors of its external architecture, and +despite his own desire and firm intention to the contrary, George was +very deeply impressed by the new Orgreave home. It was far larger than +the previous house. The entrance was spacious, and the drawing-room, +with a great fire at either end, immense. He had never been in an +interior so splendid. He tried to be off-hand in his attitude towards +it, but did not fully succeed. The taste shown in the decoration and +furniture was almost unexceptionable. White walls--Heppel-white; +chintz--black, crackling chintz strewn with tens of thousands of giant +roses. On the walls were a few lithographs--John's contribution to the +general effect. John having of late years begun to take himself +seriously as a collector of lithographs. + +One-third of the room was divided from the rest by an arched and fretted +screen of red lacquer, and within this open cage stood Mrs. John, +surveying winsomely the expanse of little tables, little chairs, big +chairs, huge chairs, sofas, rugs, flower-vases, and knick-knacks. She +had an advantage over most blondes nearing the forties in that she had +not stoutened. She was in fact thin as well as short; but her face was +too thin. Still, it dimpled, and she held her head knowingly on one +side, and her bright hair was wonderfully done up. Dressed richly as she +was, and assisted by the rejuvenating magic of jewels, she produced, in +the shadow of the screen, a notable effect of youthful vivacity, which +only the insult of close inspection could destroy. With sinuous gestures +she waved Mr. Enwright's metaphorical palm before the approaching +George. Her smile flattered him; her frail, dinging hand flattered him. +He had known her in her harsh morning moods; he had seen that +persuasive, manufactured mask vanish for whole minutes, to reveal a +petty egotism, giving way, regardless of appearances, to rage; he +clearly observed now the hard, preoccupied eyes. Nevertheless, the charm +which she exercised was undeniable. Her husband was permanently under +its spell. There he stood, near her, big, coarsening, good-natured, +content, proud of her. He mixed a cocktail and he threw a match into the +fire, in exactly the old Five Towns manner, which he would never lose. +But as for her, she had thrown off all trace of the Five Towns; she had +learnt London, deliberately, thoroughly. And even George, with the +unmerciful, ruthless judgment of his years, was obliged to admit that +she possessed a genuine pertinacity and had marvellously accomplished an +ambition. She had held John Orgreave for considerably over a decade; she +had had the tremendous courage to Leave the heavy provincial +manufacturer, her first husband; she had passed through the Divorce +Court as a respondent without blenching; she had slowly darned her +reputation with such skill that you could scarcely put your finger on +the place where the hole had been; and lo! she was reigning in Bedford +Park and had all she wanted--except youth. Nor did she in the least show +the resigned, disillusioned air of women who have but recently lost +their youth. She bore herself just as though she still had no fear of +strong lights, and as though she was still the dazzling, dashing blonde +of whom John in his earliest twenties used to say, with ingenuous +enthusiasm, that she was 'ripping'--the ripping Mrs. Chris Hamson. An +epical creature! + +This domestic organism created by Mrs. John inspired George, and +instantly he was rapt away in dreams of his own future. He said to +himself again, and more forcibly, that he had a natural taste for luxury +and expensiveness, and that he would have the one and practise the +other. He invented gorgeous interiors which would be his and in which he +would be paramount and at ease. He positively yearned for them. He was +impatient to get back home and resume the long labours that would lead +him to them. Every grand adjunct of life must be his, and he could not +wait. Absurd to apprehend that Marguerite would not rise to his dreams! +Of course she would! She would fit herself perfectly into them, +completing them. She would understand all the artistic aspects of them, +because she was an artist; and in addition she would be mistress, wife, +hostess, commanding impeccable servants, receiving friends with beauty +and unsurpassable sweet dignity, wearing costly frocks and jewels as +though she had never worn anything else. She had the calm power, she had +the individuality, to fulfil all his desires for her. She would be the +authentic queen of which Mrs. John was merely the imitation. He wanted +intensely to talk to her about the future.... And then he had the +seductive idea of making presentable his bed-sitting-room at Mr. Haim's. +He saw the room instantaneously transformed; he at once invented each +necessary dodge for absolutely hiding during the day the inconvenient +fact that it had to serve as a bedroom at night; he refurnished it; he +found the money to refurnish it. And just as he was impatient to get +back home in order to work, so he was impatient to get back home in +order to transform his chamber into the ideal. Delay irked him +painfully. And yet he was extremely happy in the excitement of the +dreams that ached to be fulfilled. + +"Now, Mr. Enwright," said Mrs. John in an accent to draw honey out of a +boulder. "You haven't told me what you think of it." + +Enwright was wandering about by himself. + +"He's coming on with his lithographs," he replied, as if after a +decision. "One or two of these are rather interesting." + +"Oh! I don't mean the lithographs. You know those are all Jack's +affairs. I mean--well, the room. Now do pay me a compliment." + +The other guests listened. + +Enwright gave a little self-conscious smile, characteristic of him in +these dilemmas, half kind and half malicious. + +"You must have taken a great deal of trouble over it," he said, with +bright amiability; and then relapsing from the effort: "it's all very +nice and harmless." + +"Oh! Mr. Enwright! Is that all?" She pouted, though still waving the +palm. "And you so fond of the eighteenth century, too!" + +"But I heard a rumour at the beginning of this year that we're living in +the twentieth," said Enwright. + +"And I thought I should please you!" sighed Adela. "What _ought_ I to +have done?" + +"Well, you might have asked me to design you some furniture. Nobody ever +has asked me yet." He rubbed his eyeglasses and blinked. + +"Oh! You geniuses.... Janet darling!" + +Mrs. John moved forward to meet Miss Orgreave, John's appreciably elder +sister, spinster, who lived with another brother, Charles, a doctor at +Ealing. Janet was a prim emaciated creature, very straight and +dignified, whose glance always seemed to hesitate between benevolence +and fastidiousness. Janet and Charles had consented to forget the +episode of the Divorce Court. Marion, however, the eldest Orgreave +sister, mother of a family of daughters, had never received the +divorcee. On the other hand the divorcee, obeying her own code, had +obstinately ignored the wife of Jim Orgreave, a younger brother, who, +according to the universal opinion, had married disgracefully. + +When the sisters-in-law had embraced, with that unconvincing fulsomeness +which is apt to result from a charitable act of oblivion, Janet turned +lovingly to George and asked after his mother. She was his mother's most +intimate friend. In the past he had called her Auntie, and was +accustomed to kiss her and be kissed. Indeed he feared that she might +want to kiss him now, but he was spared. As with negligence of tone he +answered her fond inquiries, he was busy reconstructing quite anew his +scheme for the bed-sittingroom--for it had actually been an +eighteenth-century scheme, and inspired by the notions of Mrs. John! + +At the lunch-table George found that the party consisted of ten persons, +of whom one, seated next to himself, was a youngish, somewhat plump +woman who had arrived at the last moment. He had not been introduced to +her, nor to the four other strangers, for it had lately reached Bedford +Park that introductions were no longer the correct prelude to a meal. A +hostess who wished to be modern should throw her guests in ignorance +together and leave them to acquire knowledge by their own initiative. +This device added to the piquancy of a gathering. Moreover, there was +always a theory that each individual was well known, and that therefore +to introduce was subtly to insult. On Mrs. John's right was a +beautifully braided gentleman of forty or so, in brown, with brown +necktie and hair to match, and the hair was so perfect and ended so +abruptly that George at first took it for a wig; but soon afterwards he +decided that he had been unkind. Mr. Enwright was opposite to this brown +gentleman. + +Mrs. John began by hoping that the brown gentleman had been to church. + +"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied, with gentle regret in his voice. + +And in the course of the conversation he was frequently afraid. +Nevertheless his attitude was by no means a fearful attitude; on the +contrary it was very confident. He would grasp the edge of the table +with his hands, and narrate at length, smiling amiably, and looking from +side to side regularly like a public speaker. He narrated in detail the +difficulties which he had in obtaining the right sort of cutlets rightly +cooked at his club, and added: "But of course there's only one club in +London that would be satisfactory in all this--shall I say?--finesse, +and I'm afraid I don't belong to it." + +"What club's that?" John Orgreave sent the inquiry down the table. + +"The Orleans." + +"Oh yes, the Orleans! I suppose that _is_ the best." + +And everybody seemed glad and proud that everybody had known of the +culinary supremacy of the Orleans. + +"I'm afraid you'll all think I'm horribly greedy," said the brown +gentleman apologetically. And then at once, having noticed that Mr. +Enwright was gazing up at the great sham oak rafters that were glued on +to the white ceiling, he started upon this new architectural +picturesqueness which was to London and the beginning of the twentieth +century what the enamelled milking-stool had been to the provinces and +the end of the nineteenth century--namely, a reminder that even in an +industrial age romance should still survive in the hearts of men. The +brown gentleman remarked that with due deference to 'you professional +gentlemen,' he was afraid he liked the sham rafters, because they +reminded him of the good old times and all that sort of thing. + +He was not only a conscientious conversationalist, but he originated +talk in others, and listened to them with his best attention. And he +invariably stepped into gaps with praise-worthy tact and skill. Thus the +chat meandered easily from subject to subject--the Automobile Club's +tour from London to Southsea, the latest hotel, Richter, the war (which +the brown gentleman treated with tired respect, as some venerable +survival that had forgotten to die), the abnormally early fogs, and the +abnormally violent and destructive gales. An argument arose as to +whether these startling weather phenomena were or were not a hint to +mankind from some undefined Higher Power that a new century had in truth +begun and that mankind had better mind what it was about. Mrs. John +favoured the notion, and so did Miss Orgreave, whereas John Orgreave +coarsely laughed at it. The brown gentleman held the scales admirably; +he was chivalrously sympathetic to the two ladies, and yet he respected +John's materialism. He did, however, venture to point out the +contradictions in the character of 'our host,' who was really very +responsive to music and art, but who seemed curiously to ignore certain +other influences--etc. etc. + +"How true that is!" murmured Mrs. John. + +The brown gentleman modestly enjoyed his triumph. With only three people +had he failed--Mr. Enwright, George, and the youngish woman next to +George. + +"And how's Paris, Miss Ingram?" he pointedly asked the last. + +George was surprised. He had certainly taken her for a married woman, +and one of his generalizations about life was that he did not like young +married women; hence he had not liked her. He now regarded her with +fresh interest. She blushed a little, and looked very young indeed. + +"Oh! Paris is all right!" she answered shortly. + +The brown gentleman after a long, musing smile, discreetly abandoned the +opening; but George, inquiring in a low voice if she lived in Paris, +began a private talk with Miss Ingram, who did live in Paris. He had his +doubts about her entire agreeableness, but at any rate they got on to a +natural, brusque footing, which contrasted with the somewhat ceremonious +manner of the general conversation. She exceeded George in brusqueness, +and tended to patronize him as a youngster. He noticed that she had +yellow eyes. + +"What do you think of his wig?" she demanded in an astonishing whisper, +when the meal was over and chairs were being vacated. + +"_Is_ it a wig?" George exclaimed ingenuously. + +"Oh, you boys!" she protested, with superiority. "Of course it's a wig." + +"But how do you know it's a wig?" George insisted stoutly. + +"'Is it a wig!'" she scorned him. + +"Well, I'm not up in wigs," said George. "Who is he, anyhow?" + +"I forget his name. I've only met him once, here at tea. I think he's a +tea-merchant. He seemed to remember me all right." + +"A tea-merchant! I wonder why Mrs. John put him on her right, then, and +Mr. Enwright on her left." George resented the precedence. + +"Is Mr. Enwright really very great, then?" + +"Great! You bet he is.... I was in Paris with him in the summer. +Whereabouts do you live in Paris?" + +She improved, especially at the point where she said that Mr. Enwright's +face was one of the most wonderful faces that she had ever seen. +Evidently she knew Paris as well as George knew London. Apparently she +had always lived there. But their interchanges concerning Paris, on a +sofa in the drawing-room, were stopped by a general departure. Mr. +Enwright began it. The tea-merchant instantly supported the movement. +Miss Ingram herself rose. The affair was at an end. Nothing interesting +had been said in the general talk, and little that was sincere. No topic +had been explored, no argument taken to a finish. No wit worth +mentioning had glinted. But everybody had behaved very well, and had +demonstrated that he or she was familiar with the usages of society and +with aspects of existence with which it was proper to be familiar. And +everybody--even Mr. Enwright--thanked Mrs. John most heartily for her +quite delightful luncheon; Mrs. John insisted warmly on her own pleasure +and her appreciation of her guests' extreme good nature in troubling to +come, and she was beyond question joyously triumphant. And George, +relieved, thought, as he tried to rival the rest in gratitude to Mrs. +John: + +"What was it all about? What did they all come for? _I_ came because she +made me. But why did the others come?" + +The lunch had passed like a mild nightmare, and he felt as though, with +the inconsequence of dream-people, these people had gone away without +having accomplished some essential act which had been the object of +their gathering. + + +IV + + +When George came out of the front door, he beheld Miss Ingram on the +kerb, in the act of getting into a very rich fur coat. A chauffeur, in a +very rich livery, was deferentially helping her. Behind them stretched a +long, open motor-car. This car, existing as it did at a time when the +public acutely felt that automobiles splashed respectable foot-farers +with arrogant mud and rendered unbearable the lives of the humble in +village streets, was of the immodest kind described, abusively, as +'powerful and luxurious.' The car of course drew attention, because it +had yet occurred to but few of anybody's friends that they might +themselves possess even a modest car, much less an immodest one. George +had not hitherto personally known a single motor-car owner. + +But what struck him even more than the car was the fur coat, and the +haughty and fastidious manner in which Miss Ingram accepted it from the +chauffeur, and the disdainful, accustomed way in which she wore it--as +though it were a cheap rag--when once it was on her back. In her +gestures he glimpsed a new world. He had been secretly scorning the +affairs of the luncheon and all that it implied, and he had been +secretly scorning himself for his pitiful lack of brilliancy at the +luncheon. These two somewhat contradictory sentiments were suddenly +shrivelled in the fire of his ambition which had flared up anew at +contact with a spark. And the spark was the sight of the girl's costly +fur coat. He must have a costly fur coat, and a girl in it, and the girl +must treat the fur coat like a cheap rag. Otherwise he would die a +disappointed man. + +"Hallo!" called Miss Ingram. + +"Hallo!" She had climbed into the car, and turned her head to look at +him. He saw that she was younger even than he had thought. She seemed +quite mature when she was still, but when she moved she had the lithe +motions of immaturity. As a boy, he now infallibly recognized a girl. + +"Which way are you going?" + +"Well--Chelsea more or less." + +"I'll give you a lift." + +He ought to have said: "Are you sure I shan't be taking you out of your +way?" But he said merely: "Oh! Thanks awfully!" + +The chauffeur held the door for him, and then arranged a fur rug over +the knees of the boy and the girl. To be in the car gave George intense +pleasure, especially when the contrivance thrilled into life and began +to travel. He was thankful that his clothes were as smart as they ought +to be. She could not think ill of his clothes--no matter who her friends +were. + +"This is a great car," he said. "Had it long?" + +"Oh! It's not mine," answered Miss Ingram. "It's Miss Wheeler's." + +"Who's Miss Wheeler, if I may ask?" + +"Miss Wheeler! She's a friend of mine. She lives in Paris. But she has a +flat in London too. I came over with her. We brought the car with us. +She was to have come to the Orgreaves's to-day, but she had a headache. +So I took the car--and her furs as well. They fit me, you see.... I say, +what's your Christian name? I hate surnames, don't you?" + +"George. What's yours?" + +"Mine's Lois." + +"What? How do you spell it?" + +She spelt it, adding 'Of course.' He thought it was somehow a very +romantic name. He decidedly liked the name. He was by no means sure, +however, that he liked the girl. He liked her appearance, though she was +freckled; she was unquestionably stylish; she had ascendancy; she +imposed herself; she sat as though the world was the instrument of her +individuality. Nevertheless he doubted if she was kind, and he knew that +she was patronizing. Further, she was not a conversationalist. At the +luncheon she had not been at ease; but here in the car she was at ease +absolutely, yet she remained taciturn. + +"D'you drive?" he inquired. + +"Yes," she said. "Look here, would you like to sit in front? And I'll +drive." + +"Good!" he agreed vigorously. But he had a qualm about the safety of +being driven by a girl. + +She abruptly stopped the car, and the chauffeur swerved to the pavement. + +"I'm going to drive, Cuthbert," she said. + +"Yes, miss," said the chauffeur willingly. "It's a bit side-slippy, +miss." + +She gave no answer to this remark, but got out of the car with a +preoccupied, frowning air, as if she was being obliged to take a +responsible post, which she could fill better than anybody else, rather +against her inclination. A few persons paused to watch. She carefully +ignored them; so did George. + +As soon as she had seized the wheel, released the brake and started the +car, she began to talk, looking negligently about her. George thought: +"She's only showing off." Still, the car travelled beautifully, and +there was a curious illusion that she must have the credit for that. She +explained the function of handles, pedals, and switches, and George +deemed it proper to indicate that he was not without some elementary +knowledge of the subject. He leaned far back, as Lois leaned, and as the +chauffeur had leaned, enjoying the brass fittings, the indicators, and +all the signs of high mechanical elaboration. + +He noticed that Lois sounded her horn constantly, and often upon no +visible provocation. But once as she approached cross-roads at +unslackened speed, she seemed to forget to sound it and then sounded it +too late. Nothing untoward happened; Sunday traffic was thin, and she +sailed through the danger-zone with grand intrepidity. + +"I say, George," she remarked, looking now straight in front of her. +("She's a bit of a caution," he reflected happily.) "Have you got +anything special on this afternoon?" + +"Nothing what you may call deadly special," he answered. He wanted to +call her 'Lois,' but his volition failed at the critical moment. + +"Well, then, won't you come and have tea with Miss Wheeler and me? +There'll only be just a few people, and you must be introduced to Miss +Wheeler." + +"Oh! I don't think I'd better." He was timid. + +"Why not?" She pouted. + +"All right, then. Thanks. I should like to." + +"By the way, what's your surname?" + +("She _is_ a caution," he reflected.) + +"I wasn't quite sure," she said, when he had told her. + +He was rather taken aback, but he reassured himself. No doubt girls of +her environment did behave as she behaved. After all, why not? + +They entered Hammersmith. It was a grand and inspiring sensation to +swing through Hammersmith thus aristocratically repudiating the dowdy +Sunday crowd that stared in ingenuous curiosity. And there was a +wonderful quality in the spectacle of the great, formidable car being +actuated and controlled by the little gloved hands and delicately shod +feet of this frail, pampered, wilful girl. + +In overtaking a cab that kept nearly to the middle of the road, Lois +hesitated in direction, appeared to defy the rule, and then corrected +her impulse. + +"It's rather confusing," she observed, with a laugh. "You see, in France +you keep to the right and overtake things on their left." + +"Yes. But this is London," said George dryly. + +Half a minute later, just beyond the node of Hammersmith, where bright +hats and frocks were set off against the dark-shuttered fronts of shops, +Lois at quite a good speed inserted the car between a tramcar and an +omnibus, meeting the tram and overtaking the omnibus. The tram went by +like thunder, all its glass and iron rattling and shaking; the noise +deafened, and the wind blew hard like a squall. There appeared to be +scarcely an inch of space on either side of the car. George's heart +stopped. For one horrible second he expected a tremendous smash. The car +emerged safe. He saw the omnibus-driver gazing down at them with +reproof. After the roar of the tram died he heard the trotting of the +omnibus horses and Lois's nervous giggle. She tried, and did not fail, +to be jaunty; but she had had a shock, and the proof was that by mere +inadvertence she nearly charged the posts of the next street-refuge.... +George switched off the current. She herself had shown him how to do it. +She now saw him do it. The engine stopped, and Lois, remembering in a +flash that her dignity was at stake, raised her hand and drew up fairly +neatly at the pavement. + +"What's the matter?" she demanded imperiously. + +"Are you going to drive this thing all the way into London, Lois?" he +demanded in turn. + +They looked at each other. The chauffeur got down. "Of course." + +"Not with me in it, anyhow!" + +She sneered. "Oh! You boys! You've got no pluck." + +"Perhaps not," he returned viciously. "Neither have you got any sense of +danger. Girls like you never have. I've noticed that before." Even his +mother with horses had no sense of danger. + +"You're very rude," she replied. "And it was very rude of you to stop +the car." + +"I dare say. But you shouldn't have told me you could drive." + +He was now angry. And she not less so. He descended, and slammed the +door. + +"Thanks so much," he said, raised his hat, and walked away. She spoke, +but he did not catch what she said. He was saying to himself: "Pluck +indeed!" (He did not like her accusation.) "Pluck indeed! Of all the +damned cheek!... We might all have been killed--or worse. The least she +could have done was to apologize. But no! Pluck indeed! Women oughtn't +to be allowed to drive. It's too infernally silly for words." + +He glanced backward. The chauffeur had started the car again, and was +getting in by Lois's side. Doubtless he was a fatalist by profession. +She drove off. + +"Yes!" thought George. "And you'd drive home yourself now even if you +knew for certain you'd have an accident. You're just that stupid kind." + +The car looked superb as it drew away, and she reclined in the driver's +seat with a superb effrontery. George was envious; he was pierced by +envy. He hated that other people, and especially girls, should command +luxuries which he could not possess. He hated that violently. "You +wait!" he said to himself. "You wait! I'll have as good a car as that, +and a finer girl than you in it. And she won't want to drive either. +You wait." He was more excited than he knew by the episode. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TEA + +I + + +"Tea is ready, Mr. Cannon," said Mr. Haim in his most courteous style, +coming softly into George's room. And George looked up at the old man's +wrinkled face, and down at his crimson slippers, with the benevolent air +of a bookworm permitting himself to be drawn away from an ideal world +into the actual. Glasses on the end of George's nose would have set off +the tableau, but George had outgrown the spectacles which had disfigured +his boyhood. As a fact, since his return that afternoon from Mrs. +John's, he had, to the detriment of modesty and the fostering of +conceit, accomplished some further study for the Final, although most of +the time had been spent in dreaming of women and luxury. + +"All right," said he. "I'll come." + +"I don't think that lamp's been very well trimmed to-day," said Mr. Haim +apologetically, sniffing. + +"Does it smell?" + +"Well, I do notice a slight odour." + +"I'll open the window," said George heartily. He rose, pulled the +curtains, and opened the front French window with a large gesture. The +wild, raw, damp air of Sunday night rushed in from the nocturnal Grove, +and instantly extinguished the lamp. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Haim, rather nervously. + +"Saved me the trouble," said George. + +As he emerged after Mr. Haim from the dark room, he was thinking that it +was ridiculous not to have electricity, and that he must try to come to +some arrangement with Mr. Haim for the installation of electricity. +Fancy oil-lamps in the middle of London in the twentieth century! Shocks +were waiting in George's mind for Mr. Haim. He intended, if he could, to +get the room on the first floor, empty since the departure of +Marguerite, and to use it for a bedroom, while keeping the ground-floor +room exclusively for work and society. His project would involve shocks +also for Mr. Edwin Clayhanger in the Five Towns, who would be called +upon to pay; but George had an airy confidence in the ability of his +stepfather to meet such shocks in a satisfactory manner. + +To George's surprise, Mr. Alfred Prince was in the sitting-room. Shabby +and creased as usual, he looked far more like a clerk in some +establishment where clerks were not morally compelled to imitate dandies +than like an etcher of European renown. But, also as usual, he was +quietly at ease and conversational; and George at once divined that he +had been invited with the object of relieving the social situation +created by the presence of the brilliant young lodger at tea. This tea +was the first meal to be taken by George with Mr. and Mrs. Haim, for he +was almost never at home on Sunday afternoons, and he was not expected +to be at home. The table showed, as Mr. Haim's nervousness had shown, +that the importance of the occasion had been realized. It was an +obviously elaborate table. The repast was ready in every detail; the +teapot was under the cosy; the cover was over the hot crumpets; Mrs. +Haim alone lacked. + +"Where's missus?" asked George lightly. Mr. Haim had not come into the +room. + +"I don't know," said Mr. Prince. "She brought the tea in a minute ago. +You been working this afternoon?" + +At that moment Mr. Haim entered. He said: + +"Mrs. Haim isn't feeling very well. She's upstairs. She says she's sure +she'll be all right in a little while. In the meantime she prefers us to +go on with our tea." + +Mr. Prince and Mr. Haim looked at each other, and George looked at Mr. +Haim. The older men showed apprehension. The strange idea of +unconquerable destiny crossed George's mind--destiny clashing ruthlessly +with ambition and desire. The three males sat down in obedience to the +wish of the woman who had hidden herself in the room above. All of them +were dominated by the thought of her. They did not want to sit down and +eat and drink, and they were obliged to do so by the invisible +volitional force of which Mr. Haim was the unwilling channel. Mr. Haim, +highly self-conscious, began to pour out the tea. Mr. Prince, highly +self-conscious, suggested that he should make himself useful by +distributing the crumpets while they were hot. George, highly +selfconscious, accepted a crumpet. Mr. Prince chatted; George responded +in a brave worldly fashion; Mr. Haim said 'Yes,' 'Ye-es,' very absently. + +And then Mrs. Haim appeared smiling in the doorway. "Ah!" breathed +everybody, assuaged. "Ah!" Mr. Haim moved from in front of the tea-tray +to the next seat. Mrs. Haim was perhaps somewhat pale, but she gave a +sincere, positive assurance that she was perfectly well again. +Reassurance spread throughout the company. Forebodings vanished; hearts +lightened; gladness reigned; the excellence of crumpets became +apparent. And all this swift, wonderful change was brought about by the +simple entry of the woman. But beneath the genuine relief and +satisfaction of the men there stirred vaguely the thought of the +mysteriousness of women, of the entire female sex. Mrs. Haim, charwoman, +was just as mysterious as any other woman. As for George, despite the +exhilaration which he could feel rising in him effortless and unsought, +he was preoccupied by more than women's mysteriousness; the conception +of destiny lingered and faintly troubled him. It was as though he had +been walking on a clear path through a vast and empty and safe forest, +and the eyes of a tiger had gleamed for an instant in the bush and gone. +Not a real tiger! And if a real tiger, then a tiger that would never +recur, and the only tiger in the forest!... Yet the entire forest was +transformed. + +Mrs. Haim was wearing the blue sateen. It was a dress unsuited to her +because it emphasized her large bulk; but it was her best dress; it +shone and glittered; it imposed. Her duty was to wear it on that Sunday +afternoon. She was shy, without being self-conscious. To preside over a +society consisting of young bloods, etchers of European renown, and +pillars of the architectural profession was an ordeal for her. She did +not pretend that it was not an ordeal. She did not pretend that the +occasion was not extraordinary. She was quite natural in her calm +confusion. She was not even proud, being perhaps utterly incapable of +social pride. Her husband was proud for her. He looked at her earnestly, +wistfully. He could not disguise his anxiety for her success. Was she +equal to the rôle? She was. Of course she was. He had never doubted that +she would be (he said to himself). His pride increased, scarcely escaped +being fatuous. + +"I must congratulate you on the new front doormat, Mrs. Haim," said Mr. +Prince, with notable conversational tact. "I felt it at once in the +dark." + +Mrs. Haim smiled. + +"I do like a good doormat," she said. "It saves so much work, I always +think. I told Mr. Haim I thought we needed a new one, and bless me if he +didn't take me straight out to buy one." + +The new doormat expressed Mrs. Haim's sole and characteristic criticism +of the organism into which she had so unassumingly entered. Secure in +the adoration of Mr. Haim, she might safely have turned the place +upside-down and proved to the Grove that she could act the mistress with +the best of them; but she changed nothing except the doormat. The +kitchen and scullery had already been hers before the eye of Mr. Haim +had fallen upon her; she was accustomed to them and had largely +fashioned their arrangements. Her own furniture, such of it as was +retained, had been put into the spare bedroom and the kitchen, and was +hardly noticeable there. The dramatic thing for her to do would have +been to engage another charwoman. But Mrs. Haim was not dramatic; she +was accommodating. She fitted herself in. The answer to people who asked +what Mr. Haim could see in her, was that what Mr. Haim first saw was her +mere way of existing, and that in the same way she loved. At her +tea-table, as elsewhere, she exhibited no special quality; she said +little; she certainly did not shine. Nevertheless the three men were +quite happy and at ease, because her way of existing soothed and +reinspired them. George especially got gay; and he narrated the +automobile adventure of the afternoon with amusing gusto. He was thereby +a sort of hero, and he liked that. He was bound by his position in the +world and by his clothes and his style to pretend to some extent that +the adventure was much less extraordinary to him than it seemed to them. +The others made no pretence. They were open-mouthed. Their attitude +admitted frankly that above them was a world to which they could not +climb, that they were not familiar with it and knew nothing about it. +They admired George; they put it to his credit that he was acquainted +with these lofty matters and moved carelessly and freely among them; and +George too somehow thought that credit was due to him and that his +superiority was genuine. + +"And do you mean to say she'd never met you before?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. + +"Never in this world!" + +Mr. Prince remarked calmly: "You must have had a very considerable +effect on her then." His eyes twinkled. + +George flushed slightly. The idea had already presented itself to him +with great force. "Oh no!" He negligently pooh-poohed it. + +"Well, does she go about asking every man she meets what his Christian +name is?" + +"I expect she just does." + +There was silence for a moment. Mrs. Haim refilled a cup. + +"Something will have to be done soon about these motor-cars," observed +Mr. Haim at length, sententiously, in the vein of 'Mustard and Cress.' +"That's very evident." + +"They cost so much," said Mr. Prince. "Why! They cost as much as a +house, some of them." + +"More!" said George. + +"Nay, nay!" Mr. Haim protested. The point had come at which his +imagination halted. + +"Anyhow, you had a lucky escape," said Mr. Prince. "You might have been +lamed for life--or anything." + +George laughed. + +"I am always lucky," said he. He thought: "I wonder whether I _am_!" He +was afraid. + +Mrs. Haim was half-way towards the door before any of the men noticed +what she was about. She had risen silently and quickly; she could +manoeuvre that stout frame of hers with surprising facility. There was a +strange, silly look on her face as she disappeared, and the face was +extremely pale. Mr. Haim showed alarm, and Mr. Prince concern. Mr. +Haim's hands clasped the arms of his chair; he bent forward +hesitatingly. + +"What----?" + +Then was heard the noise of a heavy subsidence, apparently on the +stairs. George was out of the room first. But the other two were +instantly upon him. Mrs. Haim had fallen at the turn of the stairs; her +body was distributed along the little half-landing there. + +"My God! She's fainted!" muttered Mr. Haim. + +"We'd better get her into the bedroom," said Mr. Prince, with awe. + +The trouble had come back, but in a far more acute form. The prostrate +and unconscious body, all crooked and heaped in the shadow, intimidated +the three men, convicting them of helplessness and lack of ready wit. +George stood aside and let the elder pair pass him. Mr. Haim hurried up +the stairs, bent over his wife, and seized her under the arms. Mr. +Prince took her by the legs. They could not lift her. They were both +thin little men, quite unaccustomed to physical exertion. Mrs. Haim lay +like a giantess, immovably recumbent between their puny, straining +figures. + +"Here, let me try," said George eagerly, springing towards the group. + +With natural reluctance Mr. Haim gave way to him. George stooped and +braced himself to the effort. His face was close to the blanched, blind +face of Mrs. Haim. He thought she looked very young, astonishingly young +in comparison with either Haim or Prince. Her complexion was damaged but +not destroyed. Little fluffy portions of her hair seemed absolutely +girlish. Her body was full of nice curves, which struck George as most +enigmatically pathetic. But indeed the whole of her was pathetic, very +touching, very precious and fragile. Even her large, shiny, shapeless +boots and the coarse sateen stuff of her dress affected him. A lump +embarrassed his throat. He suddenly understood the feelings of Mr. Haim +towards her. She was inexpressibly romantic.... He lifted her torso +easily; and pride filled him because he could do easily what others +could not do at all. Her arms trailed limp. Mr. Haim and Mr. Prince +jointly raised her lower limbs. George staggered backwards up the +remainder of the stairs. As they steered the burden into the bedroom, +where a candle was burning, Mrs. Haim opened her eyes and, gazing +vacantly at the ceiling, murmured in a weak, tired voice: + +"I'm all right. It's nothing. Please put me down." + +"Yes, yes, my love!" said Mr. Haim, agitated. + +They deposited her on the bed. She sighed; then smiled. A slight flush +showed on her cheek under the light of the candle which Mr. Prince was +holding aloft. Mysterious creature, with the mysterious forces of life +flowing and ebbing incomprehensibly within her! To George she was +marvellous, she was beautiful, as she lay defenceless and silently +appealing. + +"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Thank you very much," said Mr. Haim, turning to +the strong man. + +It was a dismissal. George modestly departed from the bedroom, which was +no place for him. After a few minutes Mr. Prince also descended. They +stood together at the foot of the stairs in the draught from the open +window of George's room. + +"Hadn't I better go for a doctor?" George suggested. + +"That's what I said," replied Mr. Prince. "But she won't have one." + +"But----" + +"Well, she won't." + +The accommodating, acquiescent dame, with scarcely strength to speak, +was defeating all three of them on that one point. + +"What is it?" asked George confidentially. + +"Oh! I don't suppose it's anything, really." + + +II + + +That George should collect the tea-things together on the tray, and +brush and fold the cloth, and carry the loaded tray downstairs into the +scullery, was sufficiently strange. But it was very much more strange +that he should have actually had the idea of washing-up the tea-things +himself. In his time, in the domestic crises of Bursley, he had boyishly +helped ladies to wash-up, and he reckoned that he knew all about the +operation. There he stood, between the kitchen and the scullery, +elegantly attired, with an inquiring eye upon the kettle of warm water +on the stove, debating whether he should make the decisive gesture of +emptying the kettle into the large tin receptacle that lay on the +slop-stone. Such was the miraculous effect on him of Mrs. Haim's +simplicity, her weakness, and her predicament. Mrs. Haim was a different +woman for him now that he had carried her upstairs and laid her all limp +and girlish on the solemn conjugal bed! He felt quite sure that old Haim +was incapable of washing-up. He assuredly did not want to be caught in +the act of washing-up, but he did want to be able to say in his +elaborately nonchalant manner, answering a question about the +disappearance of the tea-things: "I thought I might as well wash-up +while I was about it." And he did want Mrs. Haim to be put in a flutter +by the news that Mr. George Cannon had washed-up for her. The affair +would positively cause a sensation. + +He was about to begin, taking the risks of premature discovery, when he +heard a noise above. It was Mr. Haim at last descending the stairs to +the ground floor. George started. He had been alone in the lower parts +of the house for a period which seemed long. (Mr. Prince had gone to the +studio, promising to return later.) The bedroom containing Mr. and Mrs. +Haim had become for him the abode of mystery. The entity of the +enchanted house had laid hold of his imagination. He had thought of +Marguerite as she used to pervade the house, and of his approaching +interview with her at the Manresa Road studio. He had thought very +benevolently of Marguerite and also of, Mr. and Mrs. Haim. He had +involved them all three, in his mind, in a net of peace and goodwill. He +saw the family quarrel as something inevitable, touching, absurd--the +work of a maleficent destiny which he might somehow undo and exorcise +by the magic act of washing-up, to be followed by other acts of a more +diplomatic and ingenious nature. And now the dull, distant symptoms of +Mr. Haim on the stairs suddenly halted him at the very outset of his +benignant machinations. He listened. If the peace of the world had +depended upon his washing-up he could not have permitted himself to be +actually seen in the rôle of kitchen-girl by Mr. Haim--so extreme was +his lack of logic and right reason. There was a silence, a protracted +silence, and then Mr. Haim unmistakably came down the basement stairs, +and George thanked God that he had not allowed his impulse to wash-up +run away with his discretion, to the ruin of his dignity. + +Mr. Haim, hesitating in the kitchen doorway, peered in front of him as +if at a loss. George had shifted the kitchen lamp from its accustomed +place. + +"I'm here," said George, moving slightly in the dim light. "I thought I +might as well make myself useful and clear the table for you. How is she +going on?" He spoke cheerfully, even gaily, and he expected Mr. Haim to +be courteously appreciative--perhaps enthusiastic in gratitude. + +"Mrs. Haim is quite recovered, thank you. It was only a passing +indisposition," said Mr. Haim, using one of his ridiculously stilted +phrases. His tone was strange; it was very strange. + +"Good!" exclaimed George, with a gaiety that was now forced, a bravado +of gaiety. + +He thought: + +"The old chump evidently doesn't like me interfering. Silly old pompous +ass!" Nevertheless his attitude towards the huffy landlord, if scornful, +was good-humoured and indulgent. + +Then he noticed that Mr. Haim held in his hand a half-sheet of +note-paper which disturbingly seemed familiar. "What is the meaning of +this, Mr. Cannon?" Mr. Haim demanded, advancing towards the brightness +of the lamp and extending the paper. He was excessively excited. +Excitement always intensified his age. + +The offered document was the letter which George had that morning +received from Marguerite. The missive was short, a mere note, but its +terms could leave no doubt as to the relations between the writer and +the recipient. Moreover, it ended with a hieroglyphic sign, several +times repeated, whose significance is notorious throughout the civilized +world. + +"Where did you get that?" muttered George, with a defensive menace half +formed in his voice. He faltered. His mood had not yet become +definitive. + +Mr. Haim answered: + +"I have just picked it up in the hall, sir. The wind must have blown it +off the table in your room, and the door was left open. I presume that I +have the right to read papers I find lying about in my own house." + +George was dashed. On returning home from Mrs. John's lunch he had +changed his suit for another one almost equally smart, but of Angora and +therefore more comfortable. He liked to change. He had taken the letter +out of a side-pocket of the jacket and put it with his watch, money, and +other kit on the table while he changed, and he had placed everything +back into the proper pockets, everything except the letter. +Carelessness! A moment of negligence had brought about the irremediable. +The lovely secret was violated. The whole of his future life and of +Marguerite's future life seemed to have been undermined and contaminated +by that single act of omission. Marguerite wrote seldom to him because +of the risks. But precautions had been arranged for the occasions when +she had need to write, and she possessed a small stock of envelopes +addressed by himself, so that Mr. Haim might never by chance, picking up +an envelope from the hall floor, see George's name in his daughter's +hand. And now Mr. Haim had picked up an actual letter from the hall +floor. And the fault for the disaster was George's own. + +"May I ask, sir, are you engaged to my daughter?" demanded Mr. Haim, +getting every instant still more excited. + +George had once before seen him agitated about Marguerite, but by no +means to the same degree. He trembled. He shook. His dignity had a touch +of the grotesque; yet it remained dignity, and it enforced respect. For +George, destiny seemed to dominate the kitchen and the scullery like a +presence. He and the old man were alone together in that presence, and +he was abashed. He was conscious of awe. The old man's mien accused him +of an odious crime, of something base and shameful. Useless to argue +with himself that he was entirely guiltless, that he had the right to be +the betrothed of either Mr. Haim's daughter or any other girl, and to +publish or conceal the betrothal as he chose and as she chose. Yes, +useless! He felt, inexplicably, a criminal. He felt that he had +committed an enormity. It was not a matter of argument; it was a matter +of instinct. The old man's frightful and irrational resentment was his +condemnation. He could not face the old man. + +He thought grievously: "I am up against this man. All politeness and +conventions have vanished. It's the real, inmost me, and the real, +inmost him." Nobody else could take a part in the encounter. And he was +sad, because he could not blame the old man. Could he blame the old man +for marrying a charwoman? Why, he could only admire him for marrying the +charwoman. In marrying the charwoman the old man had done a most +marvellous thing. Could he blame Marguerite? Impossible. Marguerite's +behaviour was perfectly comprehensible. He understood Marguerite and he +understood her father; he sympathized with both of them. But Marguerite +could not understand her father, and her father could not understand +either his daughter or George. Never could they understand! He alone +understood. And his understanding gave him a melancholy, hopeless +feeling of superiority, without at all lessening the strange conviction +of guilt. He had got himself gripped by destiny. Destiny had captured +all three of them. But not the fourth. The charwoman possessed the +mysterious power to defy destiny. Perhaps the power lay in her +simplicity.... Fool! An accursed negligence had eternally botched his +high plans for peace and goodwill. + +"Yes," he said. "I am." + +"And how long have you been engaged, sir?" + +"Oh! Since before Marguerite left here." He tried to talk naturally and +calmly. + +"Then you've been living here all this time like a spy--a dirty spy. My +daughter behaves to us in an infamous manner. She makes an open scandal. +And all the time you're----" + +George suddenly became very angry. And his anger relieved and delighted +him. With intense pleasure he felt his anger surging within him. He +frowned savagely. His eyes blazed. But he did not move. + +"Excuse me," he interrupted, with cold and dangerous fury. "She didn't +do anything of the kind." + +Mr. Haim went wildly on, intimidated possibly by George's defiance, but +desperate: + +"And all the time, I say, you stay on here, deceiving us, spying on us. +Going every night to that wicked, cruel, shameful girl and +tittle-tattling. Do you suppose that if we'd had the slightest idea----" + +George walked up to him. + +"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you talking about Marguerite +like that." + +Their faces were rather close together. George forced himself away by a +terrific effort and left the kitchen. + +"Jackanapes!" + +George swung round, very pale. Then with a hard laugh he departed. He +stood in the hall, and thought of Mrs. Haim upstairs. The next moment he +had got his hat and overcoat and was in the street. A figure appeared in +the gloom. It was Mr. Prince. + +"Hallo! Going out? How are things?" + +"Oh! Fine!" He could scarcely articulate. A ghastly sob impeded the +words. Tears gushed into his eyes. The dimly glowing oblongs in the dark +façades of the Grove seemed unbearably tragic. + + +III + + +No. 6 Romney Studios, Manresa Road, Chelsea, was at the end of the +narrow alley which, running at right angles to the road, had a blank +wall on its left and Romney Studios on its right. The studios themselves +were nondescript shanties which reminded George of nothing so much as +the office of a clerk-of-the-works nailed together anyhow on ground upon +which a large building is in course of erection. They were constructed +of brick, wood, waterproof felting, and that adaptable material, +corrugated iron. No two were alike. None had the least pretension to +permanency, comeliness, or even architectural decency. They were all +horribly hot in summer, and they all needed immense stoves to render +them habitable in winter. In putting them up, however, cautiously and +one by one, the landlord had esteemed them to be the sort of thing that +was good enough for artists and that artists would willingly accept. He +had not been mistaken. Though inexpensive they were dear, but artists +accepted them with eagerness. None was ever empty. Thus it was +demonstrated once more that artists were exactly what capitalists and +other sagacious persons had always accused them of being. + +When George knocked on the door of No. 6, the entire studio, and No. 5 +also, vibrated. As a rule Agg, the female Cerberus of the shanty, +answered any summons from outside; but George hoped that to-night she +would be absent; he knew by experience that on Sunday nights she usually +paid a visit to her obstreperous family in Alexandra Grove. + +The door was opened by a young man in a rich but torn and soiled +eighteenth-century costume, and he looked, in the half-light of the +entrance, as though he was just recovering from a sustained debauch. The +young man stared haughtily in silence. Only after an appreciable +hesitation did George see through the disguise and recover himself +sufficiently to remark with the proper nonchalance: + +"Hallo, Agg! What's the meaning of this?" + +"You're before your time," said she, shutting the door. + +While he took off his overcoat Agg walked up the studio. She made an +astonishingly life-like young man. George and Agg were now not +unfriendly; but each constantly criticized the other in silence, and +both were aware of the existence of this vast body of unspoken +criticism. Agg criticized more than George, who had begun to take the +attitude that Agg ought to be philosophically accepted as +incomprehensible rather than criticized. He had not hitherto seen her in +male costume, but he would not exhibit any surprise. + +"Where's Marguerite?" he inquired, advancing to the Stove and rubbing +his hands above it. + +"Restrain your ardour," said Agg lightly. "She'll appear in due season. +I've told you--you're before your time." + +George offered no retort. Despite his sharp walk, he was still terribly +agitated and preoccupied, and the phenomena of the lamplit studio had +not yet fully impressed his mind. He saw them, including Agg, as +hallucinations gradually turning to realities. He could not be worried +with Agg. His sole desire was to be alone with Marguerite immediately, +and he regarded the fancy costume chiefly as an obstacle to the +fulfilment of that desire, because Agg could not depart until she had +changed it for something else. + +Then his gaze fell upon a life-size oil-sketch of Agg in the +eighteenth-century male dress. The light was bad, but it disclosed the +sketch sufficiently to enable some judgment on it to be formed. The +sketch was exceedingly clever, painted in the broad, synthetic manner +which Steer and Sickert had introduced into England as a natural +reaction from the finicking, false exactitudes of the previous age. It +showed Agg, glass in hand, as a leering, tottering young drunkard in +frills and velvet. The face was odious, but it did strongly resemble +Agg's face. The hair was replaced by a bag wig. + +"Who did that?" + +"I did, of course," said Agg. She pointed to the large mirror at the +opposite side of the studio. + +"The dickens you did!" George murmured, struck. But now that he knew the +sketch to be the work of a woman he at once became more critical, +perceiving in it imitative instead of original qualities. "What is it? I +mean, what's the idea at the back of it, if it isn't a rude question, +Agg?" + +"Title: 'Bonnie Prince Charlie,'" said Agg, without a smile. She was +walking about, in a convincingly masculine style. Unfortunately she +could not put her hands in her pockets, as the costume was without +pockets. + +"Is that your notion of the gent?" + +"Didn't you know I'm supposed to be very like him?" cried Agg, vain. The +stern creature had frailties. Then she smiled grimly. "Look at my cold +blue eyes, my sharp chin, my curly-curly lips, my broad forehead, my +clear complexion. And I hope I'm thin enough. Look!" She picked up the +bag wig, which was lying on a chair, and put it on, and posed. The pose +was effective. + +"You seem to know a lot about this Charlie." + +"Well, our well-beloved brother Sam is writing a monograph on him, you +see. Besides, every one----" + +"But what's the idea? What's the scheme? Why is he drunk?" + +"He always was drunk. He was a confirmed drunkard at thirty. Both his +fair ladies had to leave him because he was just a violent brute. And so +on and so on. I thought it was about time Charlie was shown up in his +true colours. And I'm doing it!... After all the sugar-stick Academy +pictures of him, my picture will administer a much-needed tonic to our +dear public. I expect I can get it into next year's New English Art +Club, and if I do it will be the sensation of the show.... I haven't +done with it yet. In fact I only started yesterday. There's going to be +a lot more realism in it. All those silly Jacobite societies will +furiously rage together.... And it's a bit of pretty good painting, you +know." + +"It is," George agreed. "But it's a wild scheme." + +"Not so wild as you think, my minstrel boy. It's very, much needed. It's +symbolic, that picture is. It's a symbolic antidote. Shall I tell you +what put me on to it? Look here." + +She led him to Marguerite's special work-table, under the curtained +window. There, on a sheet of paper stretched upon a drawing-board, was +the finished design which Marguerite had been labouring at for two days. +It was a design for a bookbinding, and the title of the book was, _The +Womanly Woman,_ and the author of the book was Sir Amurath Onway, M.D., +D.Sc., F.R.S., a famous specialist in pathology. Marguerite, under +instruction from the bookbinders, had drawn a sweet picture, in quiet +colours, of a womanly woman in a tea-gown, sitting in a cosy corner of a +boudoir. The volume was destined to open the spring season of a +publishing firm of immense and historic respectability. + +"Look at it! Look at it!" Agg insisted. "I've read the book myself. Poor +Marguerite had to go through the proofs, so that she could be sure of +getting the spirit of the binding right. Do you know why he wrote it? He +hates his wife--that's why. His wife isn't a womanly woman, and he's put +all his hatred of her into this immortal rubbish. Read this great work, +and you will be made to see what fine, noble creatures we men are"--she +strode to and fro--"and how a woman's first duty is to recognize her +inferiority to us, and be womanly.... Damme!... As soon as I saw what +poor Marguerite had to do I told her I should either have to go out and +kill some one, or produce an antidote. And then it occurred to me to +tell the truth about one of the leading popular heroes of history." She +bowed in the direction of the canvas. "I began to feel better at once. I +got the costume from a friend of the learned Sam's, and I've ruined +it.... I'm feeling quite bright to-night." + +She gazed at George with her cold blue eyes, arraigning in his person +the whole sex which she thought she despised but which her deepest +instinct it was to counterfeit. George, while admiring, was a little +dismayed. She was sarcastic. She had brains and knowledge and ideas. +There was an intellectual foundation to her picture. And she could +paint--like a witch! Oh! She was ruthlessly clever! Well, he did not +like her. What he wanted, though he would not admit it, was old Onway's +womanly woman. And especially in that hour he wanted the womanly woman. + +"What's Marguerite up to?" he asked quietly. + +"After the heat and the toil of the day she's beautifying herself for +your august approval," said Agg icily. "I expect she's hurrying all she +can. But naturally you expect her to be in a permanent state of waiting +for you--fresh out of the cotton-wool." + +The next instant Marguerite appeared from the cubicle or dressing-room +which had been contrived in a corner of the studio to the left of the +door. She was in her plain, everyday attire, but she had obviously just +washed, and her smooth hair shone from the brush. + +"Well, George." + +"Well, Marguerite." + +Both spoke casually. Celia Agg was the only person in the world privy to +their engagement; but they permitted themselves no freedoms in front of +her. As Marguerite came near to George, she delicately touched his +arm--nothing more. She was smiling happily, but as soon as she looked +close at his face under the lamp, her face changed completely. He +thought: "She understands there's something up." + +She said, not without embarrassment: + +"George, I really must have some fresh air. I haven't had a breath all +day. Is it raining?" + +"No. Would you like to go for a walk?" + +"Oh! I should!" + +He was very grateful, and also impressed by the accuracy of her +intuitions and her quick resourcefulness. She had comprehended at a +glance that he had a profound and urgent need to be alone with her. She +was marvellously comforting, precious beyond price. All his +susceptibilities, wounded by the scene at Alexandra Grove, and further +irritated by Agg, were instantaneously salved and soothed. Her tones, +her scarcely perceptible gesture of succour, produced the assuaging +miracle. She fulfilled her role to perfection. She was a talented and +competent designer, but as the helpmeet of a man she had genius. His +mind dwelt on her with rapture. + +"You'll be going out as soon as you've changed, dear?" she said +affectionately to Agg. + +"Yes," answered Agg, who at the mirror was wiping from her face the +painted signs of alcoholism. She had thrown off the bag wig. "You'd +better take the key with you. You'll be back before I am." She sat down +on one of the draped settees which were beds in disguise, and +Marguerite got a hat, cloak, and gloves. + +While George was resuming his overcoat, which Marguerite held for him, +Agg suddenly sprang up and rushed towards them. + +"Good night, Flora Macdonald," she murmured in her deep voice in +Marguerite's ear, put masculine arms round her, and kissed her. It was a +truly remarkable bit of male impersonating, as George had to admit, +though he resented it. + +Then she gave a short, harsh laugh. + +"Good night, old Agg," said Marguerite, with sweet responsiveness, and +smiled ingenuously at George. + +George, impatient, opened the door, and the damp wind swept anew into +the studio. + + +IV + + +It was a fine night; the weather had cleared, and the pavements were +drying. George, looking up in a pause of the eager conversational +exchanges, drew tonic air mightily into his lungs. + +"Where are we?" he asked. + +"Tite Street," said Marguerite. "That's the Tower House." And she nodded +towards the formidable sky-scraper which another grade of landlord had +erected for another grade of artists who demanded studios from the +capitalist. Marguerite, the Chelsea girl, knew Chelsea, if she knew +nothing else; her feet turned corners in the dark with assurance, and +she had no need to look at street-signs. George regarded the short +thoroughfare made notorious by the dilettantism, the modishness, and the +witticisms of art. It had an impressive aspect. From the portico of one +highly illuminated house a crimson carpet stretched across the pavement +to the gutter; some dashing blade of the brush had maliciously +determined to affront the bourgeois Sabbath. George stamped on the +carpet; he hated it because it was not his carpet; and he swore to +himself to possess that very carpet or its indistinguishable brother. + +"I was a most frightful ass to leave that letter lying about!" he +exclaimed. + +"Oh! George!" she protested lovingly. "It could so easily happen--a +thing like that could. It was just bad luck." + +A cushion! The divinest down cushion! That was what she was! She was +more. She defended a man against himself. She restored him to +perfection. Her affectionate faith was a magical inspiration to him; it +was, really, the greatest force in the world. Most women would have +agreed with him, however tactfully, that he had been careless about the +letter. An Adela would certainly have berated him in her shrewish, thin +tones. A Lois would have been sarcastic, scornfully patronizing him as a +'boy.' And what would Agg have done?... They might have forgiven and +even forgotten, but they would have indulged themselves first. +Marguerite was exteriorly simple. She would not perhaps successfully +dominate a drawing-room. She would cut no figure playing with lives at +the wheel of an automobile. After all, she would no doubt be ridiculous +in the costume of Bonnie Prince Charlie. But she was finer than the +other women whose images floated in his mind. And she was worth millions +of them. He was overpowered by the sense of his good fortune in finding +her. He went cold at the thought of what he would have missed if he had +not found her. He would not try to conceive what his existence would be +without her, for it would be unendurable. Of this he was convinced. + +"Do you think he'll go talking about it?" George asked, meaning of +course Mr. Haim. + +"More likely _she_ will," said Marguerite. + +He positively could feel her lips tightening. Futile to put in a word +for Mrs. Haim! When he had described the swoon, Marguerite had shown +neither concern nor curiosity. Not the slightest! Antipathy to her +stepmother had radiated from her almost visibly in the night like the +nimbus round a street lamp. Well, she did not understand; she was +capable of injustice; she was quite wrong about Mrs. Haim. What matter? +Her whole being was centralized on himself. He was aware of his +superiority. + +He went on quietly: + +"If the old man gets chattering at the office, the Orgreaves will know, +and the next minute the news'll be in the Five Towns. I can't possibly +let my people hear from anybody else of _my engagement_ before they hear +from me. However, if it comes to the point, we'll tell everybody. Why +not?" + +"Oh, but dearest! It was so nice it being a secret. It was the loveliest +thing in the world." + +"Yes, it was jolly." + +"Perhaps father will feel differently in the morning, and then you +can----" + +"He won't," said George flatly. "You don't know what a state he's in. I +didn't tell you--he called me a spy in the house, a dirty spy. Likewise +a jackanapes. Doubtless a delicate illusion to my tender years." + +"He _didn't_!" + +"He did, honestly." + +"So that was what upset you so!" Marguerite murmured. It was her first +admission that she had noticed his agitation. + +"Did I look so upset, then?" + +"George, you looked terrible. I felt the only thing to do was for us to +go out at once." + +"Oh! But surely I wasn't so upset as all that?" said George, finding in +Marguerite's statement a reflection upon his ability to play the part of +an imperturbable man of the world. "Agg didn't seem to see anything." + +"Agg doesn't know you like I do." + +She insinuated her arm into his. He raised his hand and took hold of +hers. In the left pocket of his overcoat he could feel the somewhat +unwieldy key of the studio. He was happy. The domestic feel of the key +completed his happiness. + +"Of course I can't stay on there," said he. + +"At father's? Oh! I do wish father hadn't talked like that." She spoke +sadly, not critically. + +"I suppose I must sleep there to-night. But I'm not going to have my +breakfast there to-morrow morning. No fear! I'll have it up town. +Lucas'll be able to put me up to some new digs. He always knows about +that sort of thing. Then I'll drive down and remove all my worldly in a +four-wheeler." + +He spoke with jauntiness, in his role of male who is easily equal to any +situation. But she said in a low, tenderly commiserating voice: + +"It's a shame!" + +"Not a bit!" he replied. Then he suddenly stood still and brought her to +a halt. Under his erratic guidance they had turned along Dilke Street, +and northwards again, past the Botanical Garden. "And this is Paradise +Row!" he said, surveying the broad street which they had come into. + +"Paradise Row?" she corrected him softly. "No, dear, it's Queen's Road. +It runs into Pimlico Road." + +"I mean it used to be Paradise Row," he explained. "It was the most +fashionable street in Chelsea, you know. Everybody that was anybody +lived here." + +"Oh! Really!" She showed an amiable desire to be interested, but her +interest did not survive more than a few seconds. "I didn't know. I know +Paradise Walk. It's that horrid little passage down there on the right." + +She had not the historic sense; and she did not understand his mood, did +not in the slightest degree suspect that events had been whipping his +ambition once more, and that at that moment he was enjoying the +seventeenth and even the sixteenth centuries, and thinking of Sir Thomas +More and Miss More, and all manner of grandiose personages and abodes, +and rebelling obstinately against the fact, that he was as yet a +nonentity in Chelsea, whereas he meant in the end to yield to nobody in +distinction and renown. He knew that she did not understand, and he +would not pretend to himself that she did. There was no reason why she +should understand. He did not particularly want her to understand. + +"Let's have a look at the river, shall we?" he suggested, and they moved +towards Cheyne Walk. + +"Dearest," she said, "you must come and have breakfast at the studio +to-morrow morning. I shall get it myself." + +"But Agg won't like me poking my nose in for breakfast." + +"You great silly! Don't you know she simply adores you?" + +He was certainly startled by this remark, and he began to like Agg. + +"Old Agg! Not she!" he protested, pleased, but a little embarrassed. +"Will she be up?" + +"You'll see whether she'll be up or not. Nine o'clock's the time, isn't +it?" + +They reached the gardens of Cheyne Walk. Three bridges hung their double +chaplets of lights over the dark river. On the southern shore the shapes +of high trees waved mysteriously above the withdrawn woodland glades +that in daytime were Battersea Park. Here and there a tiny red gleam +gave warning that a pier jutted out into the stream; but nothing moved +on the water. The wind that swept clean the pavements had unclouded ten +million stars. It was a wind unlike any other wind that ever blew, at +once caressing and roughly challenging. The two, putting it behind them, +faced eastward, and began to pass one by one the innumerable ornate +gas-lamps of Chelsea Embankment, which stretched absolutely rectilinear +in front of them for a clear mile. No soul but themselves was afoot. But +on the left rose gigantic and splendid houses, palaces designed by +modern architects, vying with almost any houses in London, some dark, +others richly illuminated and full of souls luxurious, successful, and +dominant. As the girl talked creatively about the breakfast, her arm +pressed his, and his fingers clasped her acquiescent fingers, and her +chaste and confiding passion ran through him in powerful voltaic +currents from some inexhaustible source of energy in her secret heart. It +seemed to him that since their ride home in the hansom from the +Promenade concert her faculty for love had miraculously developed. He +divined great deeps in her, and deeps beyond those deeps. The tenderness +which he felt for her was inexpressible. He said not a word, keeping to +himself the terrific resolves to which she, and the wind, and the +spectacular majesty of London inspired him. He and she would live +regally in one of those very houses, and people should kowtow to her +because she was the dazzling wife of the renowned young architect, +George Cannon. And he would show her to Mrs. John Orgreave and to Lois, +and those women should acknowledge in her a woman incomparably their +superior. They should not be able to hide their impressed astonishment +when they saw her. + +Nothing of all this did he impart to her as she hung supported and +inspiring on his arm. He held it all in reserve for her. And then, +thinking again for a moment of what she had said about Agg's liking for +him, he thought of Agg's picture and of Marguerite's design which had +originated the picture. It was a special design, new for Marguerite, +whose bindings were generally of conventional patterns; it was to be +paid for at a special price because of its elaborateness; she had worked +on it for nearly two days; in particular she had stayed indoors during +the whole of Sunday to finish it; and it was efficient, skilful, as good +as it could be. It had filled her life for nearly two days--and he had +not even mentioned it to her! In the ruthless egotism of the ambitious +man he had forgotten it, and forgotten to imagine sympathetically the +contents of her mind. Sharp remorse overcame him; she grew noble and +pathetic in his eyes.... Contrast her modest and talented industry with +the exacting, supercilious, incapable idleness of a Lois! + +"That design of yours is jolly good," he said shortly without any +introductory phrases. + +She perceptibly started. + +"Oh! George! I'm so glad you think so. I was afraid. You know it was +horribly difficult--they give you no chance." + +"I know. I know. You've come out of it fine." + +She was in heaven; he also, because it was so easy for him to put her +there. He glanced backwards a few hours into the past, and he simply +could not comprehend how it was that he had been so upset by the +grotesque scene with Mr. Haim in the basement of No. 8. Everything was +all right; everything was utterly for the best. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE DINNER + +I + + +Early on the morning of a Tuesday in the second half of June 1903, +George Cannon was moving fast on a motor-bicycle westwards down the +slope of Piccadilly. At any rate he had the sensation of earliness, and +was indeed thereby quite invigorated; it almost served instead of the +breakfast which he had not yet taken. But thousands of people travelling +in the opposite direction in horse-omnibuses and in a few motor-buses +seemed to regard the fact of their being abroad at that hour as dully +normal. They had fought, men and girls, for places in the crammed +vehicles; they had travelled from far lands such as Putney; they had +been up for hours, and the morning, which was so new to George, had lost +its freshness for them; they were well used to the lustrous summer +glories of the Green Park; what they chiefly beheld in the Green Park +was the endless lines of wayfarers, radiating from Victoria along the +various avenues, on the way, like themselves, to offices, ware-houses, +and shops. Of the stablemen, bus-washers, drivers, mechanics, +chauffeurs, and conductors, who had left their beds much in advance even +of the travellers, let us not speak--even they had begun the day later +than their wives, mothers, or daughters. All this flying population, +urged and preoccupied by pitiless time, gazed down upon George and saw a +gay young swell without a care in the world rushing on 'one of those +motor-bikes' to freedom. + +George was well aware of the popular gaze, and he supported it with +negligent pride. He had the air of having been born to greatness; +cigarette smoke and the fumes of exploded petrol and the rattle of +explosions made a fine wake behind his greatness. In two years, since he +had walked into Mr. Haim's parlour, his body had broadened, his eyes +had slightly hardened, and his complexion and hair had darkened. And +there was his moustache, very sprightly, and there was a glint of gold +in his teeth. He had poor teeth, but luxuriant hair, ruthlessly cut and +disciplined and subjugated. His trousers were clipped tightly at the +ankles, and his jacket loosely buttoned by the correct button; his soft +felt hat achieved the architect's ideal of combining the perfectly +artistic with the perfectly modish. But the most remarkable and +envy-raising portion of his attire was the loose, washable, yellow +gloves, with large gauntlets, designed to protect the delicately tended +hands when they had to explore among machinery. + +He had obtained the motor-bicycle in a peculiar way. On arriving at Axe +Station for the previous Christmas holidays, he had seen two low-hung +lamps brilliantly flashing instead of the higher and less powerful lamps +of the dogcart, and there had been no light-reflecting flanks of a horse +in front of the lamps. The dark figure sitting behind the lamps proved +to be his mother. His mother herself had driven him home. He noted +calmly that as a chauffeur she had the same faults as the contemned Lois +Ingram. Still, she did drive, and they reached Ladderedge Hall in +safety. He admired, and he was a little frightened by, his mother's +terrific volition to widen her existence. She would insist on doing +everything that might be done, and nobody could stop her. Who would have +dreamt that she, with her narrow, troubled past, and her passionate +temperament rendered somewhat harsh by strange experiences, would at the +age of forty-six or so be careering about the country at the wheel of a +motor-car? Ah! But she would! She would be a girl. And by her individual +force she successfully carried it off! Those two plotters, she and his +stepfather, had conspired to buy a motor-car in secret from him. No +letter from home had breathed a word of the motor-car. He was +thunder-struck, and jealous. He had spent the whole of the Christmas +holidays in that car, and in four days could drive better than his +mother, and also--what was more difficult--could convince her obstinate +self-assurance that he knew far more about the mechanism than she did. +As a fact, her notions of the mechanism, though she was convinced of +their rightness, were mainly fantastic. George of course had had to +punish his parents. He had considered it his duty to do so. "The _least_ +you can do," he had said discontentedly and menacingly, "the _least_ you +can do is to give me a decent motor-bike!" The guilty pair had made +amends in the manner thus indicated for them. George gathered from +various signs that his stepfather was steadily and rapidly growing +richer. George had acted accordingly--not only in the matter of the +motor-bicycle, but in other matters. + +Now, on this June morning he had just begun to breast the slope rising +from the hollow to Hyde Park Corner when a boy shot out from behind a +huge, stationary dust-cart on the left and dashed unregarding towards +him. George shouted. The boy, faced with sudden death, was happily so +paralysed that he fell down, thus checking his momentum by the severest +form of friction. George swerved aside, missing the small, outstretched +hands by an inch or two, but missing also by an inch or two the front +wheel of a tremendous motor-bus on his right. He gave a nervous giggle +as he flashed by the high red side of the motor-bus; and then he +deliberately looked back at the murderous boy, who had jumped up. At the +same moment George was brought to a sense of his own foolishness in +looking back by a heavy jolt. He had gone over half a creosoted wood +block which had somehow escaped from a lozenge-shaped oasis in the road +where two workmen were indolently using picks under the magic protection +of a tiny, dirty red flag. Secure in the guardianship of the bit of +bunting, which for them was as powerful and sacred as the flag of an +empire, the two workmen gazed with indifference at George and at the +deafening traffic which swirled affronting but harmless around them. +George slackened speed, afraid lest the jar might have snapped the +plates of his accumulator. The motor-bicycle was a wondrous thing, but +as capricious and delicate as a horse. For a trifle, for nothing at all, +it would cease to function. The high-tension magneto and the float-feed +carburetter, whose invention was to transform the motor-bicycle from an +everlasting harassment into a means of loco-motion, were yet years away +in the future. However, the jar had done no harm. The episode, having +occupied less than ten seconds, was closed. George felt his heart +thumping. He thought suddenly of the recent Paris-Madrid automobile +race, in which the elite of the world had perished. He saw himself +beneath the motor-bus, and a futile staring crowd round about. Simply by +a miracle was he alive. But this miracle was only one of a score of +miracles. He believed strongly in luck. He had always believed in it. +The smoke of the cigarette displayed his confidence to all Piccadilly. +Still, his heart was thumping. + +And it had not ceased to thump when a few minutes later he turned into +Manresa Road. Opposite the entrance to the alley of Romney Studios, +there happened to be a small hiatus in the kerbstone. George curved the +machine largely round and, mounting the pavement through this hiatus, +rode gingerly up the alley, in defiance of the regulations of a great +city, and stopped precisely at the door of No. 6. It was a matter of +honour with him to arrive thus. Not for a million would he have walked +the machine up the alley. He got off, sounded a peremptory call on the +horn, and tattooed with the knocker. No answer came. An apprehension +visited him. By the last post on the previous night he had received a +special invitation to breakfast from Marguerite. Never had he been kept +waiting at the door. He knocked again. Then he heard a voice from the +side of the studio: + +"Come round here, George." + +In the side of the studio was a very small window from which the girls, +when unpresentable, would parley with early tradesmen. Agg was at the +window. He could see only her head and neck, framed by the window. Her +short hair was tousled, and she held a dressing-gown tight about her +neck. For the first time she seemed to him like a real feminine girl, +and her tones were soft as they never were when Marguerite was present +with her. + +"I'm very sorry," she said. "You woke me. I was fast asleep. You can't +come in." + +"Anything up?" he questioned, rather anxiously. "Where's Marguerite?" + +"Oh, George! A dreadful night!" she answered, almost plaintively, almost +demanding sympathy from the male--she, Agg! "We were wakened up at two +o'clock. Mr. Prince came round to fetch Marguerite to go to No. 8." + +"To go to No. 8?" he repeated, frightened, and wondered why he should be +frightened. "What on earth for?" + +"Mrs. Haim very ill!" Agg paused. "Something about a baby." + +"And did she go?" + +"Yes; she put on her things and went off at once." + +He was silent. He felt the rough grip of destiny, of some strange power +irresistible and unescapable, just as he had momentarily felt it in the +basement of No. 8 more than eighteen months before, when the outraged +Mr. Haim had quarrelled with him. The mere idea of Marguerite being at +No. 8 made him feel sick. He no longer believed in his luck. "How soon +d'ye think she'll be back?" + +"I--I don't know, George. I should have thought she'd have been back +before this." + +"I'll run round there," he said curtly. + +Agg was disconcertingly, astoundingly sympathetic. Her attitude +increased his disturbance. + + +II + + +When George rang the bell at No. 8 Alexandra Grove his mysterious qualms +were intensified. He dreaded the moment when the door should open, even +though it should be opened by Marguerite herself. And yet he had a +tremendous desire to see Marguerite--merely to look at her face, to +examine it, to read it. His summons was not answered. He glanced about. +The steps were dirty. The brass knob and the letter-flap had not been +polished. After a time he pushed up the flap and gazed within, and saw +the interior which he knew so well and which he had not entered for so +many months. Nothing was changed in it, but it also had a dusty and +neglected air. Every detail roused his memory. The door of what had once +been his room was shut; he wondered what the room was now. This house +held the greatest part of his history. It lived in his mind as vitally +as even the boarding-house kept by his mother in a side-street in +Brighton, romantic and miserable scene of his sensitive childhood. It +was a solemn house for him. Through the basement window on a dark night +he had first glimpsed Marguerite. Unforgettable event! Unlike anything +else that had ever happened to anybody!... He heard a creak, and caught +sight through the letter-aperture of a pair of red slippers, and then +the lower half of a pair of trousers, descending the stairs. And he +dropped the flap hurriedly. Mr. Haim was coming to open the door. Mr. +Haim did open the door, started at the apparition of George, and stood +defensively and forbiddingly in the very centre of the doorway. + +"Oh!" said George nervously. "How is Mrs. Haim?" + +"Mrs. Haim is very ill indeed." The reply was emphatic and inimical. + +"I'm sorry." + +Mr. Haim said nothing further. George had not seen him since the +previous Saturday, having been excused by Mr. Enwright from the office +on Monday on account of examination work. He did not know that Mr. Haim +had not been to the office on Monday either. In the interval the man had +shockingly changed. He seemed much older, and weaker too; he seemed worn +out by acute anxiety. Nevertheless he so evidently resented sympathy +that George was not sympathetic, and regarded him coldly as a tiresome +old man. The official relations between the two had been rigorously +polite and formal. No reference had ever been made by either to the +quarrel in the basement or to the cause of it. And for the world in +general George's engagement had remained as secret as before. Marguerite +had not seen her father in the long interval, and George had seen only +the factotum of Lucas & Enwright. But he now saw Marguerite's father +again--a quite different person from the factotum.... Strange, how the +house seemed forlorn! 'Something about a baby,' Agg had said vaguely. +And it was as though something that Mr. Haim and his wife had concealed +had burst from its concealment and horrified and put a curse on the +whole Grove. Something not at all nice! What in the name of decent +propriety was that slippered old man doing with a baby? George would not +picture to himself Mrs. Haim lying upstairs. He did not care to think of +Marguerite secretly active somewhere in one of those rooms. But she was +there; she was initiated. He did not criticize her. + +"I should like to see Marguerite," he said at length. Despite himself he +had a guilty feeling. + +"My daughter!" Mr. Haim took up the heavy rôle. + +"Only for a minute," said George boyishly, and irritated by his own +boyishness. + +"You can't see her, sir." + +"But if she knows I'm here, she'll come to me," George insisted. He saw +that the old man's hatred of him was undiminished. Indeed, time had +probably strengthened it. + +"You can't see her, sir. This is my house." + +George considered himself infinitely more mature than in the November of +1901 when the old man had worsted him. And yet he was no more equal to +this situation than he had been to the former one. + +"But what am I to do, then?" he demanded, not fiercely, but crossly. + +"What are you to do? Don't ask me, sir. My wife is very ill indeed, and +you come down the Grove making noise enough to wake the dead"--he +indicated the motor-bicycle, of which the silencer was admittedly +defective--"and you want to see my daughter. My daughter has more +important work to do than to see you. I never heard of such callousness. +If you want to communicate with my daughter you had better write--so +long as she stays in this house." + +Mr. Haim shut the door, which rendered his advantage over George +complete. + +From the post office nearly opposite the end of the Grove George +dispatched a reply-paid telegram to Marguerite: + +"Where and when can I see you?--GEORGE. Russell Square." + +It seemed a feeble retort to Mr. Haim, but he could think of nothing +better. + +On the way up town he suddenly felt, not hungry, but empty, and he +called in at a tea-shop. He was the only customer, in a great expanse of +marble-topped tables. He sat down at a marble-topped table. On the +marble-topped table next to him were twenty-four sugar-basins, and on +the next to that a large number of brass bells, and on another one an +infinity of cruets. A very slatternly woman was washing the linoleum in +a corner of the floor. Two thin, wrinkled girls in shabby black were +whispering together behind the counter. The cash-den was empty. Through +the open door he could keep an eye on his motor-bicycle, which was being +surreptitiously regarded by a boy theoretically engaged in cleaning the +window. A big van drove up, and a man entered with pastry on a wooden +tray and bantered one of the girls in black. She made no reply, being +preoccupied with the responsibility of counting cakes. The man departed +and the van disappeared. Nobody took the least notice of George. He +might have been a customer invisible and inaudible. After the fiasco of +his interview with Mr. Haim, he had not the courage to protest. He +framed withering sentences to the girls in black, such as: "Is this +place supposed to be open for business, or isn't it?" but they were not +uttered. Then a girl in black with a plain, ugly white apron and a dowdy +white cap appeared on the stairs leading from the basement, and removed +for her passage a bar of stained wood lettered in gilt: 'Closed,' and +she halted at George's table. She spoke no word. She just stood over +him, unsmiling, placid, flaccid, immensely indifferent. She was pale, a +poor sort of a girl, without vigour. But she had a decent, honest face. +She was not aware that she ought to be bright, welcoming, provocative, +for a penny farthing an hour. She had never heard of Hebe. George +thought of the long, desolating day that lay before her. He looked at +her seriously. His eyes did not challenge hers as they were accustomed +to challenge Hebe's. He said in a friendly, matter-of-fact tone: + +"A meat-pie, please, and a large coffee." + +And she repeated in a thin voice: + +"Meat-pie. Large coffee." + +A minute later she dropped the order on the table, as it might have +been refuse, and with it a bit of white paper. The sadness of the city, +and the inexplicable sadness of June mornings, overwhelmed George as he +munched at the meat-pie and drank the coffee, and reached over for the +sugar and reached over for the mustard. And he kept saying to himself: + +"She doesn't see her father at all for nearly two years, and then she +goes off to him like that in the middle of the night--at a word." + + +III + + +The office was not at its normal. The empty cubicle of the factotum +looked strange enough. But there was more than that in the abnormality. +There were currents of excitement in the office. The door of the +principals' room was open, and George saw John Orgreave and Everard +Lucas within, leaning over one of the great flat desks. The hour was +early for Lucas, and self-satisfaction was on Lucas's face as he raised +it to look at the entering of George. + +"I say," he remarked quietly through the doorway, "that town hall scheme +is on again." + +"Oh!" said George, depositing his hat and gloves and strolling into the +principals' room. "Good morning, Mr. Orgreave. Got the conditions +there?" For a moment his attitude of interest was a pose, but very +quickly it became sincere. Astonishing how at sight of a drawing-board +and a problem he could forget all that lay beyond them! He was genuinely +and extremely disturbed by the course of affairs at Chelsea; +nevertheless he now approached Mr. Orgreave and Lucas with eagerness, +and Chelsea slipped away into another dimension. + +"No," said John Orgreave, "the conditions aren't out yet. But it's all +right this time. I know for a fact." + +The offices of all the regular architectural competitors in London were +excited that morning. For the conception of the northern town hall was a +vast one. Indeed, journalists had announced, from their mysterious +founts of information, that the town hall would be the largest public +building erected in England during half a century. The scheme had been +the sport of municipal politics for many months, for years. Apparently +it could not get itself definitely born. And now the Town Clerk's wife +had brought about the august parturition. It is true that her agency was +unintentional. The Town Clerk had belonged to a powerful provincial +dynasty of town clerks. He had the illusion that without him a great +town would cease to exist. There was nothing uncommon in this illusion, +which indeed is rife among town clerks; but the Town Clerk in question +had the precious faculty of being able to communicate it to mayors, +aldermen, and councillors. He was a force in the municipal council. +Voteless, he exercised a moral influence over votes. And he happened to +be opposed to the scheme for the new town hall. He gave various +admirable reasons for the postponement of the scheme, but he never gave +the true reasons, even to himself. The true reasons were, first, that he +hated and detested the idea of moving office, and, second, that he +wanted acutely to be able to say in the fullness of years that he had +completed half a century of municipal work in one and the same room. If +the pro-scheme party had had the wit to invent a pretext for allowing +the Town Clerk to remain in the old municipal buildings, the scheme +would instantly have taken life. The Town Clerk, being widowed, had +consoled himself with a young second wife. This girl adored dancing; the +Town Clerk adored her; and therefore where she danced he deemed it +prudent to attend. Driving home from a January ball at 4 a.m. the Town +Clerk had caught pneumonia. In a week he was dead, and his dynasty with +him. In a couple of months the pro-scheme party had carried the council +off its feet. Such are the realities, never printed in newspapers, of +municipal politics in the grim north. + +Sketches of the site had appeared in the architectural press. John +Orgreave and Lucas were pencilling in turn upon one of these, a page +torn out of a weekly. George inserted himself between them, roughly +towards Lucas and deferentially towards Mr. John. + +"But you've got the main axis wrong!" he exclaimed. + +"How, wrong?" John Orgreave demanded. + +"See here--give me the pencil, Looc." + +George felt with a little thrill of satisfaction the respect for him +which underlay John Orgreave's curt tone of a principal--and a principal +from the Midlands. He did not miss, either, Lucas's quick, obedient, +expectant gesture in surrendering the pencil. Ideas for the plan of the +building sprang up multitudinously in his mind. He called; they came. He +snatched towards him a blank sheet of tracing-paper, and scrawled it +over with significant lines. + +"That's my notion. I thought of it long ago," he said. "Or if you +prefer--" + +The other two were impressed. He himself was impressed. His notion, +which he was modifying and improving every moment, seemed to him perfect +and ever more perfect. He was intensely and happily stimulated in the +act of creation; and they were all three absorbed. + +"Why hasn't my desk been arranged?" said a discontented voice behind +them. Mr. Enwright had arrived by the farther door from the corridor. + +Lucas glanced up. + +"I expect Haim hasn't come again to-day," he answered urbanely, +placatingly. + +"Why hasn't he come?" + +"I hear his wife's very ill," said George. + +"Who told you?" + +"I happened to be round that way this morning." + +"Oh! I thought all was over between you two." + +George flushed. Nothing had ever been said in the office as to his +relations with Haim, though it was of course known that George no longer +lodged with the factotum. Mr. Enwright, however, often had disconcerting +intuitions concerning matters to which Mr. Orgreave and Lucas were +utterly insensible. + +"Oh no!" George haltingly murmured. + +"Well, this is all very well, this is----!" Mr. Enwright ruthlessly +proceeded, beginning to marshal the instruments on his desk. + +He had been a somewhat spectacular martyr for some time past. A +mysterious facial neuralgia had harried his nights and days. For the +greater part of a week he had dozed in an arm-chair in the office under +the spell of eight tabloids of aspirin per diem. Then a specialist had +decided that seven of his side teeth, already studded with gold, must +leave him. Those teeth were not like any other person's teeth, and in +Mr. Enwright's mind the extracting of them had become a major operation, +as, for example, the taking off of a limb. He had spent three days in a +nursing home in Welbeck Street. His life was now saved, and he was a +convalescent, and passed several hours daily in giving to friends +tragi-farcical accounts of existence in a nursing home. Mr. Enwright's +career was one unending romance. + +"I was just looking at that town hall affair," said John Orgreave. + +"What town hall?" his partner snapped. + +"_The_ town hall," answered the imperturbable John. "George here has got +an idea." + +"I suppose you know Sir Hugh Corver, Bart., is to be the assessor," said +Mr. Enwright in a devastating tone. + +Sir Hugh Corver, formerly a mere knight, had received a baronetcy, to +Mr. Enwright's deep disgust. Mr. Enwright had remarked that any +decent-minded man who had been a husband and childless for twenty-four +years would have regarded the supplementary honour as an insult, but +that Sir Hugh was not decent-minded and, moreover, was not capable of +knowing an insult when he got one. This theory of Mr. Enwright's, +however, did not a bit lessen his disgust. + +"Oh yes," John Orgreave admitted lamely. + +"I for one am not going in for any more competitions with Corver as +assessor," said Mr. Enwright. "I won't do it." + +Faces fell. Mr. Enwright had previously published this resolve, but it +had not been taken quite seriously. It was entirely serious. Neuralgia +and a baronetcy had given it the consistency of steel. + +"It isn't as if we hadn't got plenty of work in the office," said Mr. +Enwright. + +This was true. The firm was exceedingly prosperous. + +Nobody else spoke. + +"What _can_ you expect from a fellow like Corver?" Mr. Enwright cried, +with a special glance at George. "He's the upas-tree of decent +architecture." + +George's mood changed immediately. Profound discouragement succeeded to +his creative stimulation. Mr. Enwright had reason on his side. What +_could_ you expect from a fellow like Corver? With all the ardour of a +disciple George dismissed the town hall scheme, and simultaneously his +private woes surged up and took full possession of him. He walked +silently out of the room, and Lucas followed. As a fact, Mr. Enwright +ought not to have talked in such a way before the pupils. A question of +general policy should first have been discussed in private between the +partners, and the result then formally announced to the staff. Mr. +Enwright was not treating his partner with proper consideration. But +Mr. Enwright, as every one said at intervals, was 'like that'; and his +partner did not seem to care greatly. + +Lucas shut the door between the principals' room and the pupils' room. + +"I say," said Lucas importantly. "I've got a show on to-night. Women. +Café Royal. I want a fourth. You must come." + +"Yes," sneered George. "And what about my exam., I should like to +know.... Besides, I can't." + +The Final was due to begin on Thursday. + +"That's all right," Lucas answered, with tact. "That's all right. I'd +thought of the exam., of course. You'll have to-morrow to recover. It'll +do you all the good in the world. And you know you're more than ready +for the thing. You don't want to be overtrained, my son. Besides, you'll +sail through it. As for 'can't,' 'can't' be damned. You've got to." + +A telegraph boy, after hesitating at the empty cubicle, came straight +into the room. + +"Name of Cannon?" + +George nodded, trembling. + +The telegram read: + +"Impossible to-day.--MARGUERITE." + +It was an incredible telegram, as much by what it said as by what it +didn't say. It overthrew George. + +"Seven forty-five, and I'll drive you round," said Lucas. + +"Tis well," said George. + +Immediately afterwards Mr. Enwright summoned Lucas. + + +IV + + +The two young men of fashion were silent that evening as they drove to +the Café Royal in the car which Lucas loosely called 'my car,' but which +was his mother's and only to be obtained by him upon his own conditions +after delicate diplomacies. The chief of his conditions was that the +chauffeur should not accompany the car. Lucas, having been engaged upon +outdoor work for the firm, had not seen George throughout the day. +Further, he was late in calling for George, and therefore rather +exacerbated in secret; and if George had not been ready and waiting for +him at the club trouble might have arisen. George understood his host's +mood and respected it. Lucas drove rapidly and fiercely, with +appropriate frowns and settings of cruel teeth; his mien indeed had the +arrogance of the performer who, having given only a fraction of his time +to the acquirement of skill, reckons that he can beat the professional +who has given the whole of his time. Lucas's glances at chauffeurs who +hindered his swiftness were masterpieces of high disdain, and he would +accelerate, after circumventing them, with positive ferocity. + +George himself, an implacable critic, could not find fault with the +technique of Lucas's driving. But exacerbation tells, even in the young, +and at Piccadilly Circus, Lucas, in obeying a too suddenly uplifted hand +of a policeman, stopped his engine. The situation, horribly humiliating +for Lucas and also for George, provided pleasure for half the chauffeurs +and drivers in Piccadilly Circus, and was the origin of much jocularity +of a kind then fairly new. Lucas cursed the innocent engine, and George +leapt down to wield the crank. But the engine, apparently resenting +curses, refused to start again. No, it would not start. Lucas leapt down +too. "Get out of the way," he muttered savagely to George, and scowled +at the bonnet as if saying to the engine: "I'm not going to stand any of +your infernal nonsense!" But still the engine refused to start. + +The situation, humiliating before, was now appalling. Two entirely +correct young gentlemen, in evening dress, with light overcoats and +opera hats, struggling with a refractory car that in its obstinacy was +far more dignified than themselves--and the car obstructing traffic at +the very centre of the world in the very hour when the elect of Britain +were driving by on the way to _Tristan_ at the Opera! Sebastians both, +they were martyrized by the poisoned arrows of vulgar wit, shot at them +from all sides and especially from the lofty thrones of hansom-cab +drivers. The policeman ordered them to shove the car to the kerb, and +with the aid of a boy and the policeman himself they did so, opposite +the shuttered front of Swan & Edgar's. + +The two experts then examined the engine in a professional manner; they +did everything but take it down; they tried in vain all known devices to +conquer the recalcitrancy of engines; and when they had reached despair +and fury George, startlingly visited by an idea, demanded: + +"Any petrol in the tank?..." In those days men of fashion were apt to +forget, at moments of crisis, that the first necessity of the engine was +petrol. George behaved magnanimously. He might have extinguished Lucas +with a single inflection as Lucas, shamed to the uttermost, poured a +spare half-tin of petrol into the tank. He refrained. + +In one minute, in less than one minute, they were at the side entrance +to the Café Royal, which less than a minute earlier had been +inconceivably distant and unattainable. Lucas dashed first into the +restaurant. To keep ladies waiting in a public place was for him the +very worst crime, surpassing in turpitude arson, embezzlement, and the +murder of innocents. The ladies must have been waiting for a quarter of +an hour, half an hour! His reputation was destroyed! + +However, the ladies had not arrived. + +"That's all right," Lucas breathed, at ease at last. The terrible scowl +had vanished from his face, which was perfectly recomposed into its +urbane, bland charm. + +"Now perhaps you'll inform me who they are, old man," George suggested, +relinquishing his overcoat to a flunkey, and following Lucas into the +cloister set apart for the cleansing of hands which have meddled with +machinery. + +"The Wheeler woman is one--didn't I tell you?" Lucas answered, +unsuccessfully concealing his pride. + +"Wheeler?" + +"Irene Wheeler. You know." + +George was really impressed. Lucas had hitherto said no word as to his +acquaintance with this celebrated woman. It was true that recently Lucas +had been spreading himself in various ways--he had even passed his +Intermediate--but George had not anticipated such a height of +achievement as the feat of entertaining at a restaurant a cynosure like +Irene Wheeler. George had expected quite another sort of company at +dinner, for he had publicly dined with Lucas before. All day he had been +abstracted, listless, and utterly desolate. All day he had gone over +again and again the details of the interview with Mr. Haim, his telegram +to Marguerite and her unspeakable telegram to him, hugging close a +terrific grievance. Only from pique against Marguerite had he accepted +Lucas's invitation. The adventure in Piccadilly Circus had somewhat +enlivened him, and now the fluttering prospect of acquaintance with the +legendary Irene Wheeler pushed Marguerite into the background of his +mind, and excitement became quite pleasant. "And a Miss Ingram," Lucas +added. + +"Not Lois Ingram?" exclaimed George, suddenly dragging the names of +Ingram and Wheeler out of the same drawer of his memory. + +"No. Laurencine. But she has a sister named Lois. What do _you_ know +about her?" Lucas spoke challengingly, as if George had trespassed on +preserves sacred to himself alone. He had not yet admitted that it was +merely Mrs. John Orgreave who had put him in the way of Irene Wheeler. + +George was surprised and shocked that it had never occurred to him to +identify Lois Ingram's wealthy friend Miss Wheeler with the Irene +Wheeler of society columns of newspapers. And Lois Ingram rose in his +esteem, not because of the distinction of her friend, but because she +had laid no boastful stress on the distinction of her friend. + +"Don't you remember?" he said. "I told you once about a girl who jolly +nearly got me into a motor accident all through her fancying herself as +a chauffeur. That was Lois Ingram. Paris girl. Same lot, isn't it?" + +"Oh! Was _that_ Lois?" Lucas murmured. "Well, I'm dashed!" + +They returned in a hurry to the entrance-hall, fearful lest the ladies +might have arrived. However, the ladies had not arrived. Lucas had the +inexpressible satisfaction of finding in an illustrated weekly a +full-page portrait of Miss Irene Wheeler. + +"Here you are!" he ejaculated, with an air of use, as though he was +habitually picking up from the tables of fashionable restaurants +high-class illustrated papers containing portraits of renowned beauties +to whom he said "Come!" and they came. It was a great moment for Lucas. + +Ten minutes later the ladies very calmly arrived, seeming perfectly +unaware that they were three-quarters of an hour behind time. Lucas felt +that, much as he already knew about life, he had learned something +fresh. + +To George, Irene Wheeler was not immediately recognizable as the +original of her portrait. He saw the resemblance when he looked for it, +but if after seeing the photograph he had met the woman in the street he +would have passed her by unknowing. At first he was disappointed in her. +He had never before encountered celebrated people--except architects, +who, Enwright always said, never could be really celebrated--and he had +to learn that celebrated people seldom differ in appearance from +uncelebrated people. Nevertheless it was not to be expected that George +should escape where the most experienced and the most wary of two +capitals had not escaped. He did not agree that she was beautiful, but +her complexion enthralled him. He had never seen such a complexion; +nobody had ever seen such a complexion. It combined extremely marvellous +whites and extremely marvellous pinks, and the skin had the exquisite, +incredible softness of a baby's. Next he was struck by her candid, +ingenuous, inquiring gaze, and by her thin voice with the slight +occasional lisp. The splendid magnificence of her frock and jewels came +into play later. Lastly her demeanour imposed itself. That simple gaze +showed not the slightest diffidence, scarcely even modesty; it was more +brazen than effrontery. She preceded the other three into the +restaurant, where electricity had finally conquered the expiring +daylight, and her entry obviously excited the whole room; yet, guided by +two waving and fawning waiters, and a hundred glances upon her, she +walked to the appointed table without a trace of self-consciousness--as +naturally as a policeman down a street. When she sat down, George on her +right, Lucas on her left, and the tall, virginal Laurencine Ingram +opposite, she was the principal person in the restaurant. George had +already passed from disappointment to an impressed nervousness. The +inquisitive diners might all have been quizzing him instead of Irene +Wheeler. He envied Lucas, who was talking freely to both Miss Wheeler +and Laurencine about what he had ordered for dinner. That morning over a +drawing-board and an architectural problem, Lucas had been humble enough +to George, and George by natural right had laid the law down to Lucas; +but now Lucas, who--George was obliged to admit--never said anything +brilliant or original, was outshining him.... It was unquestionable that +in getting Irene Wheeler to dinner, Lucas, by some mysterious talent +which he possessed, had performed a feat greater even than George had at +first imagined--a prodigious feat. + +George waited for Irene Wheeler to begin to talk. She did not begin to +talk. She was content with the grand function of existing. Lucas showed +her the portrait in the illustrated paper, which he had kept. She said +that it was comparatively an old one, and had been taken at the Durbar +in January. "Were you at the Durbar?" asked the simpleton George. Irene +Wheeler looked at him. "Yes. I was in the Viceroy's house-party," she +answered mildly. And then she said to Lucas that she had sat three times +to photographers that week--"They won't leave me alone"--but that the +proofs were none of them satisfactory. At this Laurencine Ingram boldly +and blushingly protested, maintaining that one of them was lovely. +George was attracted to Laurencine, in whom he saw no likeness to her +sister Lois. She could not long have left school. She was the product +finished for the world; she had been taught everything that was +considered desirable--even to the art of talking easily and yet +virginally on all subjects at table; and she was a nice, honest, +handsome girl, entirely unspoilt by the mysterious operations practised +upon her. She related how she had been present when a famous +photographer arrived at Miss Wheeler's flat with his apparatus, and what +the famous photographer had said. The boys laughed. Miss Wheeler smiled +faintly. "I'm glad we didn't have to go to that play to-night," she +remarked, quitting photography. "However, I shall have to go to-morrow +night. And I don't care for first nights in London, only they will have +me go." In this last phrase, and in the intonation of it, was the first +sign she had given of her American origin; her speech was usually +indistinguishable from English English, which language she had in fact +carefully acquired years earlier. George gathered that Lucas's success +in getting Miss Wheeler to dinner was due to the accident of a first +night being postponed at the last moment and Miss Wheeler thus finding +herself with an empty evening. He covertly examined her. Why was the +feat of getting Miss Wheeler to dinner enormous? Why would photographers +not leave her alone? Why would theatrical managers have her accept boxes +gratis which they could sell for money? Why was she asked to join the +Viceregal party for the Durbar? Why was the restaurant agog? Why was he +himself proud and flattered--yes, proud and flattered--to be seen at the +same table with her?... She was excessively rich, no doubt; she was +reputed to be the niece of a railway man in Indianapolis who was one of +the major rivals of Harriman. She dressed superbly, perhaps too +superbly. But there were innumerable rich and well-dressed women on +earth. After all, she put her gold bag and her gloves down on the table +with just the same gesture as other women did; and little big Laurencine +had a gold bag too. She was not witty. He questioned whether she was +essentially kind. She was not young; her age was an enigma. She had not +a remarkable figure, nor unforgettable hair, nor incendiary eyes. She +seemed too placid and self-centred for love. If she had loved, it must +have been as she sat to photographers or occupied boxes on first +nights--because 'they' would have it so. George was baffled to discover +the origin of her prestige. He had to seek it in her complexion. Her +complexion was indubitably miraculous. He enjoyed looking at it, though +he lacked the experience to know that he was looking at a complexion +held by connoisseurs who do naught else but look at complexions to be a +complexion unique in Europe. George, unsophisticated, thought that the +unaffected simplicity--far exceeding self-confidence--with which she +acquiesced in her prestige was perhaps more miraculous than her +complexion. It staggered him. + +The dinner was a social success. Irene Wheeler listened adroitly, if +without brilliance, and after one glass of wine George found himself +quite able to talk in the Enwright manner about architecture and the +profession of architecture, and also to talk about automobiles. The +casualness with which he mentioned his Final Examination was superb--the +examiners might have been respectfully waiting for him to arrive and +discomfit them. But of course the main subject was automobiles. Even +Laurencine knew the names of all the leading makers, and when the names +of all the leading makers had been enumerated and their products +discussed, the party seemed to think that it had accomplished something +that was both necessary and stylish. When the tablecloth had been +renewed, and the solemn moment came for Everard Lucas to order liqueurs, +George felt almost gay. He glanced round the gilded and mirrored +apartment, now alluringly animated by the subdued yet vivacious +intimacies of a score of white tables, and decided that the institution +of restaurants was a laudable and agreeable institution. Marguerite had +receded further than ever into the background of his mind; and as for +the Final, it had diminished to a formality. + +"And you?" Everard asked Laurencine, after Miss Wheeler. + +George had thought that Laurencine was too young for liqueurs. She had +had no wine. He expected her to say 'Nothing, thanks,' as conventionally +as if her late head mistress had been present. But she hesitated, +smiling, and then, obedient to the profound and universal instinct +which seems to guide all young women to the same liqueur, she said: + +"May I have a _crême de menthe_? I've never had _crême de menthe_." + +George was certainly shocked for an instant. But no one else appeared to +be shocked. Miss Wheeler, in charge of Laurencine, offered no protest. +And then George reflected: "And why not? Why shouldn't she have a _crême +de menthe_?" When Laurencine raised the tiny glass to her firm, large +mouth, George thought that the sight of the young virginal thing tasting +a liqueur was a fine and a beautiful sight. + +"It's just heavenly!" murmured Laurencine ecstatically. + +Miss Wheeler was gazing at George. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, smiling, and rested one elbow on the +table and looked enigmatically through the smoke of his cigar. + +"I was just wondering about you," said Miss Wheeler. Her voice, always +faint, had dropped to a murmur which seemed to expire as it reached +George's ear. + +"Why?" He was flattered. + +"I've been wanting to see you." + +"Really!" he laughed, rather too loudly. "What a pity I didn't know +earlier!" He was disturbed as well as flattered, for such a remark from +such a person as Irene Wheeler to such a person as himself was bound to +be disturbing. His eyes sought audaciously to commune with hers, but +hers were not responsive; they were entirely non-committal. + +"You _are_ the man that wouldn't let my friend Lois drive him in my car, +aren't you?" + +"Yes," he said defiantly, but rather guiltily. "Did she tell you about +that? It's an awful long time ago." + +"She told me something about it." + +"And you've remembered it all this long while!" + +"Yes," she answered, and her thin, queer tone and her tepid, impartial +glance had the effect of a challenge to him to justify himself. + +"And don't you think I was quite right?" he ventured. + +"She drives very well." It was not the sort of answer he was expecting. +His desire was to argue. + +"She didn't drive very well then," he said, with conviction. + +"Was that a reason for your leaving her to drive home alone?" + +Women were astounding! + +"She ought to have let the chauffeur drive," he maintained. + +"Ah! A man mustn't expect too much from a woman." + +"But I was risking my life in that car! Do you mean to say I ought to +have kept on risking it?" + +"I don't express any opinion on that. That was for you to decide.... You +must admit it was very humiliating for poor Lois." + +He felt himself cornered, but whether justly or unjustly he was +uncertain. + +"Was she vexed?" + +"No, she wasn't vexed. Lois isn't the woman to be vexed. But I have an +idea she was a little hurt." + +"Did she say so?" + +"Say so? Lois? She'd never say anything against anybody. Lois is a +perfect angel.... Isn't she, Laurencine?" + +Laurencine was being monopolized by Everard. + +"What did you say?" the girl asked, collecting herself. + +"I was just saying what an angel Lois is." + +"Oh, she _is_!" the younger sister agreed, with immense and sincere +emphasis. + +George, startled, said to himself suddenly: + +"Was I mistaken in her? Some girls you _are_ mistaken in! They're +regular bricks, but they keep it from you at first." + +Somehow, in spite of a slight superficial mortification, he was very +pleased by the episode of the conversation, and his curiosity was +titillated. + +"Lois would have come to-night instead of Laurencine," Miss Wheeler went +on, "only she wasn't feeling very well." + +"Is she in London? I've only seen her once from that day to this, and +then we didn't get near each other owing to the crush. So we didn't +speak. It was at Mrs. Orgreave's." + +"Yes, I know." + +"Did she tell you?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she at your flat?" + +"Yes; but she's not well." + +"Not in bed, I hope, or anything like that?" + +"Oh no! She's not in bed." + +Laurencine threw laughingly across the table: + +"She's as well as I am." + +It was another aspect of the younger sister. + +When they left the restaurant it was nearly empty. They left easily, +slowly, magnificently. The largesse of Everard Lucas--his hat slightly +raked--in the foyer and at the portico was magnificent in both quantity +and manner. There was no need to hurry; the hour, though late for the +end of dinner, was early for separation. They moved and talked without +the slightest diffidence, familiar and confident; the whole world was +reformed and improved for them by the stimulus of food and alcohol. The +night was sultry and dark. The two women threw their cloaks back from +their shoulders, revealing the whiteness of toilettes. At the door the +head-lights of Miss Wheeler's automobile shot horizontally right across +Regent Street. The chauffeur recognized George, and George recognized +the car; he was rather surprised that Miss Wheeler had not had a new car +in eighteen months. Lucas spoke of his own car, which lay beyond in the +middle of the side-street like a ship at anchor. He spoke in such a +strain that Miss Wheeler deigned to ask him to drive her home in it. The +two young men went to light the head-lights. George noticed the angry +scowl on Everard's face when three matches had been blown out in the +capricious breeze. The success of the fourth match restored his face to +perfect benignity. He made the engine roar triumphantly, imperiously +sounded his horn, plunged forward, and drew the car up in front of Miss +Wheeler's. His bliss, when Miss Wheeler had delicately inserted herself +into the space by his side, was stern and yet radiant. The big car, with +George and Laurencine on board, followed the little one like a cat +following a mouse, and Laurencine girlishly interested herself in the +chase. George, with his mind on Lois, kept saying to himself: "She's +been thinking about that little affair ever since last November but one. +They've all been thinking about it." He felt apprehensive, but his +satisfaction amounted to excitement. His attitude was: "At any rate I +gave them something to think about!" Also he breathed appreciatively the +atmosphere of the three women--two seen and one unseen. How +extraordinarily different all of them were from Agg! They reminded him +acutely of his deep need of luxury. After all, the life lived by those +two men about town, George and Everard, was rather humdrum and +monotonous. In spite of Everard's dash, and in spite of George's secret +engagement, neither of them met enough women or enough sorts of women. +George said to himself: "I shall see her to-night. We shall go up to the +flat. She isn't in bed. I shall see her to-night." He wanted to see her +because he had hurt her, and because she had remembered and had talked +about him and had raised curiosity about him in others. Was she really +unwell? Or had she been excusing herself! Was she an angel? He wanted to +see her again in order to judge for himself whether she was an angel. If +Laurencine said she was an angel she must be an angel. Laurencine was a +jolly, honest girl. To be in the car with her was agreeable. But she was +insipid. So he assessed the splendidly budding Laurencine, patronizing +her a little. Miss Wheeler gave him pause. Her simple phrases had +mysterious intonations. He did not understand her glance. He could not +settle the first question about her--her age. She might be very wicked; +certainly she could be very ruthless. And he had no hold over her. He +could give her nothing that she wanted. He doubted whether any man +could. + +"Have you been in London long?" he asked Laurencine. + +"A week," she said. "I came over with Miss Wheeler. I didn't think +mother would let me, but she did." + +"And did your sister come with you?" + +"No; Lois only came yesterday." + +"By herself?" + +"Yes." + +"I suppose you go about a lot?" + +"Oh, we _do_ It's such a change from Paris." + +"Well, I should prefer Paris." + +"You wouldn't! London's much more romantic. Paris is so hard and +matter-of-fact." + +"So's London." + +She squirmed about lissomly on the seat. + +"You don't know what I mean," she said. "I never _can_ make people see +what I mean--about anything." + +He smiled indulgently and dropped the point. + +"Miss Wheeler taken you to Mrs. Orgreave's yet?" + +"Yes; we were there on Saturday afternoon." + +"Well, what do you think of Mrs. Orgreave?" + +"Oh! She's very nice," Laurencine answered, with polite tepidity; and +added eagerly: "Mr. Orgreave's a dear." + +George was glad that she had not been enthusiastic about Mrs. Orgreave. +Her reserve showed that she could discriminate. Ecstasy was not +altogether a habit. If she said that Lois was an angel, Lois probably +was an angel. + +The cars stopped at the foot of a huge block of masonry in a vast leafy +square. George suddenly became very nervous. He thought: "I shall be +seeing her in a minute." + +Then, as he got out of the car, he heard Miss Wheeler saying to Lucas: + +"Well, good night. And thank you so much. It's been most delightful.... +We expect you soon, of course." + +She actually was not asking them to go up! George was excessively +disappointed. He watched Miss Wheeler and Laurencine disappear into the +rich and guarded interior with envy, as though they had entered a +delectable paradise to which he could not aspire; and the fact that Miss +Wheeler had vaguely invited him to call did not brighten him very much. +He had assumed that he would see Lois the angel that night. + + +V + + +The young men finished the evening at Pickering's. Pickering's was +George's club. George considered, rightly, that in the matter of his +club he had had great luck. Pickering's was a small club, and it had had +vicissitudes. Most men whose worldly education had been completed in St. +James's were familiar with its historical name, but few could say +off-hand where it was. Its address was Candle Court, and Candle Court +lay at the end of Candle Alley (a very short passage), between Duke +Street and Bury Street. The Court was in fact a tiny square of several +houses, chiefly used by traders and agents of respectability--as +respectability is understood in St. James's; it had a lamp-post of its +own. The report ran, and was believed by persons entitled to an opinion, +that the Duke of Wellington had for some years hidden there the lovely +desire of his heart from an inquisitive West End. Pickering's had, of +course, originally been a coffee-house; later, like many other +coffee-houses in the neighbourhood, it had developed into a proprietary +club. Misfortunes due to the caprices of taste and to competition had +brought about an arrangement by which the ownership was vested in a +representative committee. The misfortunes had continued, and at the +beginning of the century a crisis was reached, and Pickering's tried +hard to popularize itself, thereby doing violence to its feelings. Rules +were abated, and the entrance-fee fell. It was in this period that +Everard Lucas, whose ears were always open for useful items, heard of it +and suggested it to George. George wanted to join Lucas's club, which +was in St. James's Street itself, but Lucas wisely pointed out that if +they belonged to different clubs each would in practice have two clubs. +Moreover, he said that George might conceivably get a permanent bedroom +there. The first sight of the prim, picturesque square, the first hint +of scandal about the Duke of Wellington, decided George. It was +impossible for a man about town to refuse the chance of belonging to a +club in a Court where the Duke of Wellington had committed follies. + +George was proposed, seconded, and duly elected, together with other new +blood. Some of the old blood naturally objected, but the feud was never +acute. Solely owing to the impression which his young face made on the +powerful and aged hall-porter, George obtained a bedroom. It was small, +and at the top of the house; but it was cheap, it solved the even more +tiresome and uncomfortable problem of lodging; and further it was a +bedroom at Pickering's, and George could say that he lived at his +club--an imposing social advantage. He soon learnt how to employ the +resources of the club for his own utmost benefit. Nobody could surpass +him in choosing a meal inexpensively. He could have his breakfast in his +bedroom for tenpence, or even sixpence when his appetite was poor. He +was well served by a valet who apparently passed his whole life on +stairs and landings. This valet, courteous rather in the style of old +Haim, had a brain just equal to the problems presented by his vocation. +Every morning George would say: "Now, Downs, how soon can I have my +bath?" or "Now, Downs, what can I have for breakfast?" And Downs would +conscientiously cerebrate, and come forth after some seconds with sound +solutions, such as: "I'll see if I can put you in before Mr. de Gales if +you're in a hurry, sir," or "Scrambled eggs, sir--it'll make a bit of a +change." And when George agreed, Downs would exhibit a restrained but +real satisfaction. Yes, George had been very lucky. The club too was +lucky. The oldest member, who being paralysed had not visited the club +for eleven years, died and bequeathed ten thousand pounds to the +institution where he had happily played cards for several decades. +Pickering's was refurnished, and the stringency of its rules +re-established. The right wing of the committee wished that the oldest +member could have managed to die a year or two earlier and so obviated +the crisis. It was recognized, however, by the more reasonable, that you +cannot have everything in this world. + +Pickering's was very dull; but it was still Pickering's. George was +often bored at Pickering's. He soon reached the stage at which a club +member asserts gloomily that the club cookery is simply damnable. +Nevertheless he would have been desolated to leave Pickering's. The +place was useful to him in another respect than the purely material. He +learnt there the code which governs the familiar relations of men about +town. + +On the night of the Café Royal dinner, George and Lucas reclined in two +easy chairs in the inner smoking-room of Pickering's. They were alone. +Through the wide archway that marked the division between the inner and +the outer smoking-rooms they could see one solitary old gentleman dozing +in an attitude of abandonment, a magazine on his knees. Ash-trays were +full of ash and cigarette ends and matches. Newspapers were scattered +around, some folded inside out, some not folded, some whose component +sheets had been divided for ever like the members of a ruined family. +The windows were open, and one gave a view of the Court's watchful +lamp-post, and the other of the house--now occupied by an art dealer and +a commission agent--where the Duke had known both illusion and +disillusion. The delicate sound of the collision of billiard-balls came +from somewhere, and the rat-tatting of a tape-machine from somewhere +else. The two friends had arrived at the condition of absolute wisdom +and sagacity and tolerance which is apt to be achieved at a late hour in +clubs by young and old men who have discussed at length the phenomena of +society. + +"Well, I must be toddling," said Lucas, yawning as he looked idly at the +coloured horses on each wall who were for ever passing winning-posts or +soaring over bullfinches or throwing riders into brooks. + +"Here! Hold on!" George protested. "It's early." + +"Is it?" + +They began again to smoke and talk. + +"Nice little thing, What's-her-name! What's her funny name?" + +"Laurencine, do you mean? Yes." Lucas spoke coldly, with a careful +indifference. George, to whom insight had not been denied, understood +that Everard did not altogether care for Laurencine to be referred to as +a little thing, that he had rendered Laurencine sacred by his secret +approval. + +"I say," said George, sitting up slightly, and increasing the intimacy +of his tone, "devilish odd, wasn't it, that the Wheeler woman didn't ask +us up?" + +Hitherto they had avoided this question in their profound gossip. It had +lain between them untouched, like a substance possibly dangerous and +explosive. Yet they could not have parted without touching it, and +George, with characteristic moral courage or rashness, had touched it +first. Lucas was of a mind to reply succinctly that the Wheeler woman's +conduct was not a bit devilish odd. But sincerity won. The dismissal at +the entrance to the Mansions had affected him somewhat deeply. It had +impaired the perfection of his most notable triumph. The temptation to +release his feelings was too strong. + +"Well, if you ask me," he answered, it was. After a little pause he went +on: + +"Especially seeing that she practically asked me to ask them to dinner." +His nice features loosened to dissatisfaction. "The deuce she did!" + +"Yes! Practically asked me! Anyhow, gave me the tip What can you do?" He +implied that, far from deriving unique and unhoped-for glory from the +condescension of Irene Wheeler in consenting to dine with him, he had +conferred a favour on her by his invitation. He implied that brilliant +women all over London competed for his invitations. His manner was +entirely serious; it probably deceived even himself. George's manner +corresponded, instinctively, chivalrously; but George was not +deceived--at any rate in the subconscious depth of his mind. + +"Exactly!" murmured George. + +"Yes" said Lucas. "She said: 'I could bring Laurencine with me, if you +can get another man. That would make a four.' She said she wanted to +wake Laurencine up." + +"Did you tell her you should ask me?" George questioned. + +"Oh! She seemed to know all about you, my boy." + +"Well, but she couldn't know all about me," said George insincerely. +"Well, if you want to know then, she suggested I should ask you." + +"But she'd never seen me!" + +"She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect." + +"Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically assessing an +announcement that had no intrinsic interest for him. In reality he was +greatly excited. + +"Well you know what those sort of women are!" Lucas summed up wisely, as +if referring to truths of knowledge common among men of their kidney. + +"Oh, of course!" + +The magazine slid from the knees of the sleeper. The sleeper snorted and +woke up. The spell was broken. Lucas rose suddenly. "Bye-bye!" He was +giving an ultimatum as to his departure. + +George rose also, but slowly. + +"All that doesn't explain why she didn't ask us up," said he. + +But in his heart he thought he knew why Miss Wheeler hadn't asked them +up. The reason was that she maliciously wanted to tantalize him, George. +She had roused his curiosity about Lois, and then she had said to +herself: "You think you're going to see her to-night, but you just +aren't." Such, according to George, was Irene Wheeler the illustrious. +He reflected on the exasperating affair until he had undressed and got +into bed. But as soon as he had put out the light Marguerite appeared +before him, and at the back of her were the examiners for the Final. He +slept ill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE RUPTURE + +I + + +During the whole of the next day George waited for a letter from +Marguerite. There was nothing at the club by the first post; he went to +the office, hoping that as he had addressed his telegram from Russell +Square she might have written to Russell Square; there was nothing at +Russell Square. At lunch-time no word had arrived at the club; when the +office closed no word had arrived at the office; the last post brought +nothing to the club. He might have sent another telegram to Alexandra +Grove, but he was too proud to do so. He dined alone and most miserably +at the club. Inspired by unhappiness and resentment, he resolved to go +to bed; in bed he might read himself to sleep. But in the hall of the +club his feet faltered. Perhaps it was the sight of hats and sticks that +made him vacillate, or a glimpse of reluctantly dying silver in the +firmament over Candle Court. He wavered; he stood still at the foot of +the stairs. The next moment he was in the street. He had decided to call +on Agg at the studio. Agg might have the clue to Marguerite's astounding +conduct, though he had it not. He took a hansom, after saying he would +walk; he was too impatient for walking. Possibly Marguerite would be at +the studio; possibly a letter of hers had miscarried; letters did +miscarry. He was in a state of peculiar excitement as he paid the +cabman--an enigma to himself. + +The studio was quite dark. Other studios showed lights, but not Agg's. +From one studio came the sound of a mandolin--he thought it was a +mandolin--and the sound seemed pathetic, tragic, to his ears. Agg was +perhaps in bed; he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But +no! He would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for +him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know anything +about Marguerite?" The affianced ought to be the leading authority as to +the doings of Marguerite. He turned away, walked a little, and perceived +the cabman swinging himself cautiously down from his perch in order to +enter a public-house. He turned back. Marguerite too might be in bed at +the studio. Or the girls might be sitting in the dark, talking--a habit +of theirs.... Fanciful suppositions! At any rate he would not knock at +the door of the studio, would not even enter the alley again. What +carried him into the Fulham Road and westwards as far as the Workhouse +tower and the corner of Alexandra Grove? Feet! But surely the feet of +another person, over which he had no control! He went in the lamplit +dimness of Alexandra Grove like a thief; he crept into it. The silver +had not yet died out of the sky; he could see it across the spaces +between the dark houses; it was sad in exactly the same way as the sound +of the mandolin had been sad. + +What did he mean to do in the Grove? Nothing! He was just walking in it +by chance. He could indeed do nothing. For if he rang at No. 8 old Haim +would again confront him in the portico. He passed by No. 8 on the +opposite side of the road. No light showed, except a very dim glow +through the blind of the basement window to the left of the front door. +Those feet beneath him strolled across the road. The basement window was +wide open. The blind being narrower than the window-frame, he could see, +through the railings, into the room within. He saw Marguerite. She was +sitting, in an uncomfortable posture, in the rather high-seated +arm-chair in which formerly, when the room was her studio, she used to +sit at her work. Her head had dropped, on one shoulder. She was asleep. +On the table a candle burned. His heart behaved strangely. He flushed. +All his flesh tingled. The gate creaked horribly as he tiptoed into the +patch of garden. He leaned over the little chasm between the level of +the garden and the window, and supported himself with a hand on the +lower sash. He pushed the blind sideways with the other hand. + +"Marguerite!" in a whisper. Then louder: "Marguerite!" + +She did not stir. She was in a deep sleep. Her hands hung limp. Her face +was very pale and very fatigued. She liberated the same sadness as the +sound of the mandolin and the gleam of silver in the June sky, but it +was far more poignant. At the spectacle of those weary and unconscious +features and of the soft, bodily form, George's resentment was +annihilated. He wondered at his resentment. He was aware of nothing in +himself but warm, protective love. Tenderness surged out from the +impenetrable secrecy of his heart, filled him, overflowed, and floated +in waves towards the sleeper. In the intense sadness, and in the +uncertainty of events, he was happy. + +An older man might have paused, but without hesitancy George put his +foot on the window-sill, pushed down the window farther, and clambered +into the room in which he had first seen Marguerite. His hat, pressing +backward the blind, fell off and bounced its hard felt on the floor, +which at the edges was uncarpeted. The noise of the hat and the general +stir of George's infraction disturbed Marguerite, who awoke and looked +up. The melancholy which she was exhaling suddenly vanished. Her steady +composure in the alarm delighted George. + +"Couldn't wake you," he murmured lightly. It was part of his Five Towns +upbringing to conceal excitement. "Saw you through the window." + +"Oh! George! Was I asleep?" + +Pleasure shone on her face. He deposited his stick and sprang to her. He +sat on the arm of the chair. He bent her head back and examined her +face. He sat on her knee and held her. She did not kiss; she was kissed; +he liked that. Her fatigue was adorable. + +"I came here for something, and I just sat down for a second because I +was so tired, and I must have gone right off.... No! No!" + +The admonishing negative was to stop him from getting up off her knee. +She was exhausted, yet she had vast resources of strength to bear him on +her knee. She was wearing her oldest frock. It was shabby. But it +exquisitely suited her then. It was the frock of her capability, of her +great labours, of her vigil, of her fatigue. It covered, but did not +hide, her beautiful contours. He thought she was marvellously +beautiful--and very young, far younger than himself. As for him, he was +the dandy, in striking contrast to her. His dandyism as he sat on her +knee pleased both of them. He looked older than his years, his shoulders +had broadened, his dark moustache thickened. In his own view he was +utterly adult, as she was in hers. But their young faces so close +together, so confident, were touchingly immature. As he observed her +grave satisfaction at his presence, the comfort which he gave her, he +felt sure of her, and the memory of his just resentment came to him, and +he was tenderly reproachful. + +"I expected to hear from you," he said. The male in him relished the +delicate accusation of his tone. + +Marguerite answered with a little startled intake of breath: + +"She's dead!" + +"Dead?" + +"She died this afternoon. The layer-out left about half an hour ago." + +Death parted them. He rose from her knee, and Marguerite did not try to +prevent him. He was profoundly shocked. With desolating vividness he +recalled the Sunday afternoon when he had carried upstairs the plump, +living woman now dead. He had always liked Mrs. Lob--it was as Mrs. Lob +that he thought of her. He had seen not much of her. Only on that Sunday +afternoon had he and she reached a sort of intimacy--unspoken but real. +He had liked her. He had even admired her. She was no ordinary being. +And he had sympathized with her for Marguerite's quite explicable +defection. He had often wished that those two, the charwoman and his +beloved, could somehow have been brought together. The menaces of death +had brought them together. Mrs. Lob was laid out in the bedroom which he +had once entered. Mrs. Lob had been dying while he dined richly with +Miss Wheeler and Laurencine, and while he talked cynically with Everard +Lucas. And while he had been resenting Marguerite's neglect Marguerite +was watching by the dying bed. Oh! The despicable superficialities of +restaurants and clubs! He was ashamed. The mere receding shadow of death +shamed him. + +"The baby's dead too, of course," Marguerite added. "She ought never to +have had a baby. It seems she had had two miscarriages." + +There were tears in Marguerite's eyes and in her voice. Nevertheless her +tone was rather matter-of-fact as she related these recondite and +sinister things. George thought that women were very strange. Imagine +Marguerite quietly talking to him in this strain! Then the sense of the +formidable secrets that lie hidden in the history of families, and the +sense of the continuity of individual destinies, overwhelmed him. There +was silence. + +"And your exam. begins to-morrow," whispered the astonishing Marguerite. + +"Where's the old gentleman?" + +"He's sitting in the parlour in the dark." + +It was a terrible house: they two intimidated and mournful in the +basement; the widower solitary on the ground floor; the dead bodies, the +wastage and futility of conception and long bearing, up in the bedroom. +And in all the house the light of one candle! George suddenly noticed, +then, that Marguerite was not wearing the thin, delicate ring which he +had long ago given her. Had she removed it because of her manual duties? +He wanted to ask the question, but, even unspoken, it seemed too trivial +for the hour.... + +There was a shuffling sound beyond the door, and a groping on the outer +face of the door. Marguerite jumped up. Mr. Haim stumbled into the room. +He had incredibly aged; he looked incredibly feeble. But as he pointed a +finger at George he was in a fury of anger, and his anger was senile, +ridiculous, awful. + +"I thought I heard voices," he said, half squeaking. "How did you get +in? You didn't come in by the door. Out of my house! My wife lying dead +upstairs, and you choose this night to break in!" He was implacable +against George, absolutely; and George recoiled. + +The opening of the door had created a draught in which the candle-flame +trembled, and the shadow of the old man trembled on the door. + +"You'd better go. I'll write. I'll write," Marguerite murmured to George +very calmly, very gently, very persuasively. She stood between the two +men. Her manner was perfect. It eternally impressed itself on George. +"Father, come and sit down." + +The old man obeyed her. So did George. He snatched his hat and stick. By +the familiar stone steps of the basement, and along the familiar hall, +he felt his way to the door, turned the familiar knob, and departed. + + +II + + +The examination began the next day. Despite his preoccupation about +Marguerite, George's performances during the first days were quite +satisfactory to himself. Indeed, after a few minutes in the +examination-room, after the preliminary critical assessing of the +difficulty of the problems in design, and the questions, and of his +ability to deal with them, George successfully forgot everything except +the great seven-day duel between the self-constituted autocratic +authorities backed by prestige and force, and the aspirants who had +naught but their wits to help them. He was neither a son, nor a friend, +nor a lover; he ceased to have human ties; he had become an examinee. +Marguerite wrote him two short letters which were perfect, save that he +always regarded her handwriting as a little too clerical, too like her +father's. She made no reference whatever to the scene in the basement +room. She said that she could not easily arrange to see him immediately, +and that for the sake of his exam. he ought not to be distracted. She +would have seen him on the Saturday, but on Saturday George learnt that +her father was a little unwell and required, even if he did not need, +constant attention. The funeral, unduly late, occurred by Mr. Haim's +special desire on the Sunday, most of which day George spent with +Everard Lucas. On the Monday he had a rendezvous at eight o'clock with +Marguerite at the studio. + +She opened the door herself; and her welcome was divine. Her gestures +spoke, delicate, and yet robust in their candour. But she was in deep +mourning. + +"Oh!" he said, holding her. "You're wearing black, then." + +"Of course!" she answered sweetly. "You see, I had to be there all +through the funeral. And father would have been frightfully shocked if I +hadn't been in black--naturally." + +"Of course!" he agreed. It was ridiculous that he should be surprised +and somewhat aggrieved to find her in mourning; still, he was surprised +and somewhat aggrieved. + +"Besides----" she added vaguely. + +And that 'besides' disquieted him, and confirmed his grievance. Why +should she wear mourning for a woman to whom she was not related, whom +she had known simply as a charwoman, and who had forced her to leave her +father's house? There was no tie between Marguerite and her stepmother. +George, for his part, had liked the dead woman, but Marguerite had not +even liked her. No, she was not wearing black in honour of the dead, but +to humour the living. And why should her father be humoured? George +privately admitted the unreasonableness, the unsoundness, of these +considerations--obviously mourning wear was imperative for +Marguerite--nevertheless they were present in his mind. + +"That frock's a bit tight, but it suits you," he said, advancing with +her into the studio. + +"It's an old one," she smiled. + +"An old one?" + +"It's one I had for mother." + +He had forgotten that she had had a mother, that she had known what +grief was, only a very few years earlier. He resented these bereavements +and the atmosphere which they disengaged. He wanted a different +atmosphere. + +"Is the exam. really all right?" she appealed to him, taking both his +hands and leaning against him and looking up into his face. + +"What did I tell you in my letter?" + +"Yes, I know." + +"The exam. is as right as rain." + +"I knew it would be." + +"You didn't," he laughed. He imitated her: "'Is the exam. really all +right?'" She just smiled. He went on confidently: "Of course you never +know your luck, you know. There's the viva to-morrow.... Where's old +Agg?" + +"She's gone home." + +"Thoughtful child! How soon will she be back?" + +"About nine," said Marguerite, apparently unaware that George was being +funny. + +"Nine!" + +"Oh, George!" Marguerite exclaimed, breaking away from him. "I'm awfully +sorry, but I must get on with my packing." + +"What packing?" + +"I have to take my things home." + +"What home?" + +"Father's, I mean." + +She was going to live with her father, who would not willingly allow +him, George, to enter the house! How astounding girls were! She had +written to him twice without giving the least hint of her resolve. He +had to learn it as it were incidentally, through the urgency of packing. +She did not tell him she was going--she said she must get on with her +packing! And there, lying on the floor, was an open trunk; and two of +her drawing-boards already had string round them. + +George inquired: + +"How is the old man--to-day?" + +"He's very nervy," said Marguerite briefly and significantly. "I'd +better light the lamp; I shall see better." She seemed to be speaking to +herself. She stood on a chair and lifted the chimney off the central +lamp. George absently passed her his box of matches. + +As she, was replacing the chimney, he said suddenly in a very resolute +tone: + +"This is all very well, Marguerite. But it's going to be jolly awkward +for me." + +She jumped lightly down from the chair, like a little girl. + +"Oh! George! I know!" she cried. "It will be awkward for both of us. But +we shall arrange something." She might have resented his tone. She might +have impulsively defended herself. But she did not. She accepted his +attitude with unreserved benevolence. Her gaze was marvellously +sympathetic. + +"I can't make out what your father's got against me," said George +angrily, building his vexation on her benevolence. "What have I done, I +should like to know." + +"It's simply because you lived there all that time without him knowing +we were engaged. He says if he'd known he would never have let you stay +there a day." She smiled, mournfully, forgivingly, excusingly. + +"But it's preposterous!" + +"Oh! It is." + +"And how does he behave to _you_? Is he treating you decently?" + +"Oh! Fairly. You see, he's got a lot to get over. And he's most +frightfully upset about--his wife. Well, you saw him yourself, didn't +you?" + +"That's no reason why he should treat you badly." + +"But he doesn't, George!" + +"Oh! I know! I know! Do you think I don't know? He's not even decent to +you. I can hear it in your voice. Why should you go back and live with +him if he isn't prepared to appreciate it?" + +"But he expects it, George. And what am I to do? He's all alone. I can't +leave him all alone, can I?" + +George burst out: + +"I tell you what it is. Marguerite. You're too good-natured. That's what +it is. You're too good-natured. And it's a very bad thing." + +Tears came into her eyes; she could not control them. She was grieved by +his remark. + +"I'm not, George, truly. You must remember father's been through a lot +this last week. So have I." + +"I know! I know! I admit all that. But you're too good-natured, and +I'll stick to it." + +She was smiling again. + +"You only think that because you're fond of me. Nobody else would say +it, and I'm not. Help me to lift this trunk on to the chest." + +While the daylight withdrew, and the smell of the lamp strengthened and +then faded, and the shadows cast by the lamp-rays grew blacker, she went +on rapidly with her packing, he serving her at intervals. They said +little. His lower lip fell lower and lower. The evening was immensely, +horribly different from what he had expected and hoped for. He felt once +more the inescapable grip of destiny fastening upon him. + +"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, after a long time. + +"I told father I should be back at a quarter-past nine." + +This statement threw George into a condition of total dark disgust. He +made no remark. But what remarks he could have made--sarcastic, bitter, +unanswerable! Why indeed in the name of heaven should she promise her +father to be back at a quarter-past nine, or at a quarter-past anything? +Was she a servant? Had she no rights? Had he himself, George, no rights? + +A little before nine Agg arrived. Marguerite was fastening the trunk. + +"Now be sure, Agg," said Marguerite. "Don't forget to hang out the +Carter Paterson card at the end of the alley to-morrow morning. I must +have these things at home to-morrow night for certain. The labels are +on. And here's twopence for the man." + +"Do I forget?" retorted Agg cheerfully. "By the way, George, I want to +talk to you." She turned to Marguerite and repeated in quite a different +voice: "I want to talk to him, dear, to-night. Do, let him stay. Will +you?" + +Marguerite gave a puzzled assent. + +"I'll call after I've taken Marguerite to Alexandra Grove, Agg--on my +way back to the club." + +"Oh no, you won't!" said Agg. "I shall be gone to bed then. Look at that +portrait and see how I've worked. My family's concerned about me. It +wants me to go away for a holiday." + +George had not till then noticed the portrait at all. + +"But I must take Marguerite along to the Grove," he insisted. "She can't +go alone." + +"And why can't she go alone? What sort of a conventional world do you +think you live in? Don't girls go home alone? Don't they come in alone? +Don't I? Anybody would think, to listen to some people, that the purdah +flourished in Chelsea. But it's all pretence. I don't ask for the honour +of a private interview with you every night. You've both of you got all +your lives before you. And for once in a way Marguerite's going out +alone. At least, you can take her to the street, I don't mind that. But +don't be outside more than a minute." + +Agg, who had sat down, rose and slowly removed her small hat. With pins +in her mouth she said something about the luggage to Marguerite. + +"All right! All right!" George surrendered gloomily. In truth he was not +sorry to let Marguerite depart solitary. And Agg's demeanour was very +peculiar; he would have been almost afraid to be too obstinate in +denying her request. He had never seen her hysterical, but a suspicion +took him that she might be capable of hysteria.... You never knew, with +that kind of girl, he thought sagaciously. + +In the darkness of the alley George said to Marguerite, feigning +irritation: + +"What on earth does she want?" + +"Agg? Oh! It's probably nothing. She does get excited sometimes, you +know." + +The two girls had parted with strange, hard demonstrations of affection +from Agg. + +"I suppose you'll write," said George coldly. + +"To-morrow, darling," she replied quite simply and gravely. + +Her kiss was warm, complete, faithful, very loving, very sympathetic. +Nothing in her demeanour as she left him showed that George had received +it in a non-committal manner. Yet she must have noticed his wounded +reserve. He did not like such duplicity. He would have preferred her to +be less miraculously angelic. + +When he re-entered the studio, Agg, who very seldom smoked, was puffing +violently at a cigarette. She reclined on one elbow on the settee, her +eyes fixed on the portrait of herself. George was really perturbed by +the baffling queerness of the scenes through which he was passing. + +"Look here, infant-in-arms," she began immediately. "I only wanted to +say two words to you about Marguerite. Can you stand it?" + +There was a pause. George walked in front of her, hiding the easel. + +"Yes," he said gruffly. + +"Well, Marguerite's a magnificent girl. She's extraordinarily capable. +You'd think she could look after herself as well as anyone. But she +can't. I know her far better than you do. She needs looking after. +She'll make a fool of herself if she isn't handled." + +"How do you mean?" + +"You know how I mean." + +"D'you mean about the old man?" + +"I mean about the perfectly horrid old man.... Ah! If I was in your +place, if I was a man," she said passionately, "do you know what I +should do with Marguerite? I should carry her off. I should run away +with her. I should drag her out of the house, and she should know what a +real man was. I'm not going to discuss her with you. I'm not going to +say any more at all. I'm off to bed. But before you go, I do think you +might tell me my portrait's a pretty good thing." + +And she did not say any more. + + +III + + +The written part of the examination lasted four days; and then there was +an interval of one day in which the harassed and harried aspirants might +restore themselves for the two days' ordeal of the viva voce. George had +continued to be well satisfied with his work up to the interval. He +considered that he had perfectly succeeded in separating the lover and +the examinee, and that nothing foreign to the examination could vitiate +his activity therein. It was on the day of repose, a Wednesday, that a +doubt suddenly occurred to him as to the correctness of his answer, in +the "Construction" paper, to a question which began with the following +formidable words: "A girder, freely supported at each end and forty feet +long, carries a load of six tons at a distance of six feet from one end +and another load of ten tons----" Thus it went on for ten lines. He had +always been impatient of detail, and he hated every kind of calculation. +Nevertheless he held that calculations were relatively easy, and that he +could do them as well as the driest duffer in the profession when he set +his mind to them. But the doubt as to the correctness of his answer +developed into a certainty. Facing the question in private again, he +obtained four different solutions in an hour; it was John Orgreave who +ultimately set him right, convicting him of a most elementary +misconception. Forthwith his faith in his whole "Construction" paper +vanished. He grumbled that it was monstrous to give candidates an +unbroken stretch of four hours' work at the end of a four-day effort. +Yet earlier he had been boasting that he had not felt the slightest +fatigue. He had expected to see Marguerite on the day of repose. He did +not see her. She had offered no appointment, and he said to himself +that he had not the slightest intention of running after her. Such had +become the attitude of the lover to the beloved. + +On the Thursday morning, however, he felt fit enough to face a dozen +oral examiners, and he performed his morning exercises in the club +bedroom with a positive ferocity of vigour. And then he was gradually +overtaken by a black moodiness which he could not explain. He had passed +through similar though less acute moods as a boy; but this was the first +of the inexplicable sombre humours which at moments darkened his +manhood. He had not the least suspicion that prolonged nervous tension +due to two distinct causes had nearly worn him out. He was melancholy, +and his melancholy increased. But he was proud; he was defiant. His +self-confidence, as he looked back at the years of genuine hard study +behind him, was complete. He disdained examiners. He knew that with all +their damnable ingenuity they could not floor him. + +The crisis arrived in the afternoon of the first of the two days. His +brain was quite clear. Thousands of details about drainage, ventilation, +shoring, architectural practice, lighting, subsoils, specifications, +iron and steel construction, under-pinning, the properties of building +materials, strains, thrusts, water-supply; thousands of details about +his designs--the designs in his 'testimonies of study,' the design for +his Thesis, and the designs produced during the examination itself--all +these peopled his brain; but they were in order; they were under +control; they were his slaves. For four and a half hours, off and on, he +had admirably displayed the reality of his knowledge, and then he was +sent into a fresh room to meet a fresh examiner. There he stood in the +room alone with his designs for a small provincial town hall--a +key-plan, several one-eighth scale-plans, a piece of half-inch detail, +and two rough perspective sketches which he knew were brilliant. The +room was hot; through the open window came the distant sound of the +traffic of Regent Street. The strange melancholy of a city in summer +floated towards him from the outside and reinforced his own. + +The examiner, who had been snatching tea, entered briskly and sternly. +He was a small, dapper, fair man of about fifty, with wonderfully tended +finger-nails. George despised him because Mr. Enwright despised him, but +he had met him once in the way of the firm's business and found him +urbane. + +"Good afternoon," said George politely. + +The examiner replied, trotting along the length of the desk with quick, +short steps: + +"Now about this work of yours. I've looked at it with some care----" His +speech was like his demeanour and his finger-nails. + +"Boor!" thought George. But he could not actively resent the slight. He +glanced round at the walls; he was in a prison. He was at the mercy of a +tyrant invested with omnipotence. + +The little tyrant, however, was superficially affable. Only now and then +in his prim, courteous voice was there a hint of hostility and cruelty. +He put a number of questions, the answers to which had to be George's +justification. He said "H'm!" and "Ah!" and "Really?" He came to the +matter of spouting. + +"Now, I object to hopper-heads," he said. "I regard them as unhygienic." + +And he looked coldly at George with eyebrows lifted. George returned the +gaze. + +"I know you do, sir," George replied. + +Indeed it was notorious that hopper-heads to vertical spouting were a +special antipathy of the examiner's; he was a famous faddist. But the +reply was a mistake. The examiner, secure in his attributes, ignored the +sally. A little later, taking up the general plan of the town hall, he +said: + +"The fact is, I do--not--care for this kind of thing. The whole +tendency----" + +"Excuse me, sir," George interrupted, with conscious and elaborate +respectfulness. "But surely the question isn't one of personal +preferences. Is the design good or is it bad?" + +"Well, I call it bad," said the examiner, showing testiness. The +examiner too could be impulsive, was indeed apt to be short-tempered. +The next instant he seized one of the brilliant perspective sketches, +and by his mere manner of holding it between his thumb and finger he +sneered at it and condemned it. + +He snapped out, not angrily--rather pityingly: + +"And what the devil's this?" + +George, furious, retorted: + +"What the hell do you think it is?" + +He had not foreseen that he was going to say such a thing. The traffic +in Regent Street, which had been inaudible to both of them, was loud in +their ears. + +The examiner had committed a peccadillo, George a terrible crime. The +next morning the episode, in various forms, was somehow common knowledge +and a source of immense diversion. George went through the second day, +but lifelessly. He was sure he had failed. Apart from the significance +of the fact that the viva voce counted for 550 marks out of a total of +1200, he felt that the Royal Institute of British Architects would know +how to defend its dignity. On the Saturday morning John Orgreave had +positive secret information that George would be plucked. + + +IV + + +On that same Saturday afternoon George and Marguerite went out together. +She had given him a rendezvous in Brompton Cemetery, choosing this spot +partly because it was conveniently near and partly in unconscious +obedience to the traditional instinct of lovers for the society of the +undisturbing dead. Each of them had a roofed habitation, but neither +could employ it for the ends of love. No. 8 was barred to George as much +by his own dignity as by the invisible sword of the old man; and of +course he could not break the immemorial savage taboo of a club by +introducing a girl into it. The Duke of Wellington himself, though +Candle Court was his purdah, could never have broken the taboo of even +so modest a club as Pickering's. Owing to the absence of Agg, who had +gone to Wales with part of her family, the studio in Manresa Road was +equally closed to the pair. + +Marguerite was first at the rendezvous. George saw her walking sedately +near the entrance. Despite her sedateness she had unmistakably the air +of waiting at a tryst. Anybody at a glance would have said that she was +expecting a man. She had the classical demure innocency of her +situation. George did not care for that. Why? She in fact was expecting +a man, and in expecting him she had nothing to be ashamed of. Well, he +did not care for it. He did not care for her being like other girls of +her class. In his pocket he had an invitation from Miss Wheeler for the +next evening. Would Miss Wheeler wait for a man in a public place, +especially a cemetery? Would Lois Ingram? Would Laurencine? He could not +picture them so waiting. Oh, simpleton, unlearned in the world! A snob +too, no doubt! (He actually thought that Hyde Park would have been +'better' than the cemetery for their rendezvous.) And illogical! If No. +8 had been open to them, and the studio, and the club, he would have +accepted with gusto the idea of an open-air rendezvous. But since there +was no alternative to an open-air rendezvous the idea of it humiliated +and repelled him. + +Further, in addition to her culpable demure innocency, Marguerite was +wearing black. Of course she was. She had no choice. Still, he hated her +mourning. Moreover, she was too modest; she did not impose herself. Some +girls wore mourning with splendid defiance. Marguerite seemed to +apologize; seemed to turn the other cheek to death.... He arrived +critical, and naturally he found matter to criticize. + +Her greeting showed quite candidly the pleasure she had in the sight of +him. Her heart was in the hand she gave him; he felt its mystic +throbbings there. + +"How are things?" he began. "I rather thought I should have been hearing +from you." He softened his voice to match the tenderness of her smile, +but he did it consciously. + +She replied: + +"I thought you'd have enough to worry about with the exam. without me." + +It was not a wise speech, because it implied that he was capable of +being worried, of being disturbed in the effort of absorption necessary +for the examination. He laughed a little harshly. + +"Well, you see the result!" + +He had written to tell her of the disastrous incident and that failure +was a certainty; a sort of shame had made him recoil from telling her to +her face; it was easier to be casual in writing than in talking; the +letter had at any rate tempered for both of them the shock of +communication. Now, he was out of humour with her because he had played +the ass with an ass of an examiner--not because she was directly or +indirectly responsible for his doing so; simply because he had done so. +She was the woman. It was true that she in part was indirectly +responsible for the calamity, but he did not believe it, and anyhow +would never have admitted it. + +"Oh! George! What a shame it was!" As usual, not a trace of reproach +from her: an absolute conviction that he was entirely blameless. "What +shall you do? You'll have to sit again." + +"Sit again? Me?" he exclaimed haughtily. "I never shall! I've done with +exams." He meant it. + +"But--shall you give up architecture, then?" + +"Certainly not! My dear girl, what are you thinking of? Of course I +shan't give up architecture. But you needn't pass any exams, to be an +architect. Anybody can call himself an architect, and be an architect, +without passing exams. Exams. are optional. That's what makes old +Enwright so cross with our beautiful profession." + +He laughed again harshly. All the time, beneath his quite genuine +defiance, he was thinking what an idiot he had been to cheek the +examiner, and how staggeringly simple it was to ruin years of industry +by one impulsive moment's folly, and how iniquitous was a world in which +such injustice could be. + +Marguerite was puzzled. In her ignorance she had imagined that +professions were inseparably connected with examinations. However, she +had to find faith to accept his dictum, and she found it. + +"Now about this afternoon," he said. "I vote we take a steamboat down +the river. I've made up my mind I must have a look at Greenwich again +from the water. And we both need a blow." + +"But won't it take a long time?" she mildly objected. + +He turned on her violently, and spoke as he had never spoken: + +"What if it does?" + +He knew that she was thinking of her infernal father, and he would not +have it. He remembered all that Agg had said. Assuredly Agg had shown +nerve, too much nerve, to tackle him in the way she did, and the more he +reflected upon Agg's interference the more he resented it as +impertinent. Still, Agg had happened to talk sense. + +"Oh, nothing!" Marguerite agreed quickly, fearfully. "I should like to +go. I've never been. Do we go to Chelsea Pier? Down Fernshaw Road will +be the nearest." + +"We'll go down Beaufort Street," he decided. He divined that she had +suggested Fernshaw Road in order to avoid passing the end of the Grove, +where her father might conceivably see them. Well, he was not going out +of his way to avoid her father. Nay, he was going slightly out of his +way in order to give her father every chance of beholding them +together. + +Although the day was Saturday there was no stir on Chelsea Pier. The +pier-keeper, indeed, was alone on the pier, which rose high on the +urgent flood-tide, so that the gangway to it sloped unusually upwards. +No steamer was in sight, and it seemed impossible that any steamer +should ever call at that forlorn and decrepit platform that trembled +under the straining of the water. Nevertheless, a steamer did after a +little while appear round the bend, in Battersea Reach; she dropped her +funnel, aimed her sharp nose at an arch of Battersea Bridge, and +finally, poising herself against the strong stream, bumped very gently +and neatly into contact with the pier. The pier-keeper went through all +the classic motions of mooring, unbarring, barring, and casting off, and +in a few seconds the throbbing steamer, which was named with the name of +a great Londoner, left the pier again with George and Marguerite on +board. Nobody had disembarked. The shallow and handsome craft, flying +its gay flags, crossed and recrossed the river, calling at three piers +in the space of a few minutes; but all the piers were like Chelsea Pier; +all the pier-keepers had the air of castaways upon shaking islets. The +passengers on the steamer would not have filled a motor-bus, and they +carried themselves like melancholy adventurers who have begun to doubt +the authenticity of the inspiration which sent them on a mysterious +quest. Such was travel on the Thames in the years immediately before +Londoners came to a final decision that the Thames was meet to be +ignored by the genteel town which it had begotten. + +George and Marguerite sat close together near the prow, saying little, +the one waiting to spring, the other to suffer onslaught. It was in +Lambeth Reach that the broad, brimming river challenged and seized +George's imagination. A gusty, warm, south-west wind met the rushing +tide and blew it up into foamy waves. The wind was powerful, but the +tide was irresistible. Far away, Land's End having divided the Atlantic +surge, that same wind was furiously driving vast waters up the English +Channel and round the Forelands, and also vast waters up the west coast +of Britain. The twin surges had met again in the outer estuary of the +Thames and joined their terrific impulses to defy the very wind which +had given them strength, and the mighty flux swept with unregarding +power through the mushroom city whose existence on its banks was a +transient episode in the everlasting life of the river. + +The river seemed to threaten the city that had confined it in stone. And +George, in the background of his mind, which was obsessed by the +tormenting enigma of the girl by his side, also threatened the city. +With the uncompromising arrogance of the student who has newly acquired +critical ideas, he estimated and judged it. He cursed the Tate Gallery +and utterly damned Doulton's works. He sternly approved Lambeth Palace, +the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Somerset House, Waterloo +Bridge, and St. Paul's. He cursed St. Thomas's Hospital and the hotels. +He patronized New Scotland Yard. The "Isambard Brunel" penetrated more +and more into the heart of the city, fighting for every yard of her +progress. Flags stood out straight in the blue sky traversed by swift +white clouds. Huge rudder-less barges, each with a dwarf in the stern +struggling at a giant's oar, were borne westwards broadside on like +straws upon the surface of a hurrying brook. A launch with an orchestra +on board flew gaily past. Tugs with a serpentine tail of craft threaded +perilously through the increasing traffic. Railway trains, cabs, +coloured omnibuses, cyclists, and footfarers mingled in and complicated +the scene. Then the first ocean-going steamer appeared, belittling all +else. And then the calm, pale beauty of the custom-house at last humbled +George, and for an instant made him think that he could never do +anything worth doing. His pride leapt up, unconquerable. The ocean-going +steamers, as they multiplied on the river, roused in him wild and +painful longings to rush to the ends of the earth and gorge himself on +the immense feast which the great romantic earth had to offer. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed passionately. "I'd give something to go to +Japan." + +"Would you?" Marguerite answered with mildness. She had not the least +notion of what he was feeling. Her voice responded to him, but her +imagination did not respond. True, as he had always known, she had no +ambition! The critical quality of his mood developed. The imperious +impulse came to take her to task. + +"What's the latest about your father?" he asked, with a touch of +impatient, aggrieved disdain. Both were aware that the words had opened +a crucial interview between them. She moved nervously on the seat. The +benches that ran along the deck-rails met in an acute angle at the stem +of the steamer, so that the pair sat opposite each other with their +knees almost touching. He went on: "I hear he hasn't gone back to the +office yet." + +"No," said Marguerite. "But he'll start again on Monday, I think." + +"But is he fit to go back? I thought he looked awful." + +She flushed slightly--at the indirect reference to the episode in the +basement on the night of the death. + +"It will do him good to go back," said Marguerite. "I'm sure he misses +the office dreadfully." + +George gazed at her person. Under the thin glove he suddenly detected +the form of her ring. She was wearing it again, then. (He could not +remember whether she had worn it at their last meeting, in Agg's studio. +The very curious fact was that at their last meeting he had forgotten to +look for the ring.) Not only was she wearing the ring, but she carried a +stylish little handbag which he had given her. When he bought that bag, +in the Burlington Arcade, it had been a bag like any other bag. But now +it had become part of her, individualized by her personality, a +mysterious and provocative bag. Everything she wore, down to her boots +and even her bootlaces so neatly threaded and knotted, was mysterious +and provocative. He examined her face. It was marvellously beautiful; it +was ordinary; it was marvellously beautiful. He knew her to the depths; +he did not know her at all; she was a chance acquaintance; she was a +complete stranger. + +"How are you getting on with him? You know you really ought to tell me." + +"Oh, George!" she said, earnestly vivacious. "You're wrong in thinking +he's not nice to me. He is. He's quite forgiven me." + +"Forgiven you!" George took her up. "I should like to know what he had +to forgive." + +"Well," she murmured timorously. "You understand what I mean." + +He drummed his elegant feet on the striated deck. Out of the corner of +his left eye he saw the mediaeval shape of the Tower rapidly +disappearing. In front were the variegated funnels and masts of fleets +gathered together in St. Katherine's Dock and London Dock. The steamer +gained speed as she headed from Cherry Gardens Pier towards the middle +of the river. She was a frail trifle compared with the big boats that +lined the wharves; but in herself she had size and irresistible force, +travelling quite smoothly over the short, riotous, sparkling waves which +her cut-water divided and spurned away on either side. Only a tremor +faintly vibrated throughout her being. + +"Has he forgiven you for being engaged?" George demanded, with rough +sarcasm. + +She showed no resentment of his tone, but replied gently: + +"I did try to mention it once, but it was no use--he wasn't in a +condition. He made me quite afraid--not for me of course, but for him." + +"Well, I give it up!" said George. "I simply give it up! It's past me. +How soon's he going to _be_ in condition? He can't keep us walking about +the streets for ever." + +"No, of course not!" She smiled to placate him. + +There was a pause, and then George, his eyes fixed on her hand, +remarked: + +"I see you've got your ring on." + +She too looked at her hand. + +"My ring? Naturally. What do you mean?" + +He proceeded cruelly: + +"I suppose you don't wear it in the house, so that the sight of it +shan't annoy him." + +She flushed once more. + +"Oh, George, dear!" Her glance asked for mercy, for magnanimity. + +"Do you wear it when you're in the house, or don't you?" + +Her eyes fell. + +"I daren't excite him. Truly, I daren't. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't be +right." + +She was admitting George's haphazard charge against her. He was +astounded. But he merely flung back his head and raised his eyebrows. He +thought: + +"And yet she sticks to it he's nice to her! My God!" + +He said nothing aloud. The Royal Hospital, Greenwich, showed itself in +the distance like a domed island rising fabulously out of the blue-green +water. Even far off, before he could decipher the main contours of the +gigantic quadruple pile, the vision excited him. His mind, darkened by +the most dreadful apprehensions concerning Marguerite, dwelt on it +darkly, sardonically, and yet with pleasure. And he proudly compared his +own disillusions with those of his greatest forerunners. His studies, +and the example of Mr. Enwright, had inspired him with an extremely +enthusiastic worship of Inigo Jones, whom he classed, not without +reason, among the great creative artists of Europe. He snorted when he +heard the Royal Hospital referred to as the largest and finest +charitable institution in the world. For him it was the supreme English +architectural work. He snorted at the thought of that pompous and absurd +monarch James I ordering Inigo Jones to design him a palace surpassing +all palaces and choosing a sublime site therefor, and then doing +nothing. He snorted at the thought of that deluded monarch Charles I +ordering Inigo Jones to design him a palace surpassing all palaces, and +receiving from Inigo Jones the plans of a structure which would have +equalled in beauty and eclipsed in grandeur any European structure of +the Christian era--even Chambord, even the Escurial, even +Versailles--and then accomplishing nothing beyond a tiny fragment of the +sublime dream. He snorted at the thought that Inigo Jones had died at +the age of nearly eighty ere the foundations of the Greenwich palace had +begun to be dug, and without having seen more than the fragment of his +unique Whitehall--after a youth spent in arranging masques for a stupid +court, and an old age spent in disappointment. But then no English +monarch had ever begun and finished a palace. George wished, rather +venturesomely, that he had lived under Francis I!... + +The largest and finest charitable institution! The ineffable William and +Mary had merely turned it into a charitable institution because they did +not know what else to do with it. The mighty halls which ought to have +resounded to the laughter of the mistresses of Charles II were diverted +to the inevitable squalor of almsgiving. The mutilated victims of the +egotism and the fatuity of kings were imprisoned there together under +the rules and regulations of charity, the cruellest of all rules and +regulations. And all was done meanly--that is, all that interested +George. Christopher Wren, who was building St. Paul's and fighting +libels and slanders at a salary of two hundred a year, came down to +Greenwich and for years worked immortally for nothing amid material +difficulties that never ceased to multiply; and he too was beaten by the +huge monster. Then Vanbrugh arrived and blithely finished in corrupt +brick and flaming manifestations of decadence that which the pure and +monumental genius of Inigo Jones had first conceived. The north +frontages were marvels of beauty; the final erections to the south +amounted to an outrage upon Jones and Wren. Still, the affair was the +largest and finest charitable institution on earth! What a country, +thought George, hugging injustice! So it had treated Jones and Wren and +many another. So it had treated Enwright. And so it would treat, was +already treating, him, George. He did not care. As the steamer +approached Greenwich, and the details of the aborted palace grew +clearer, and he could distinguish between the genius of Jones and the +genius of Wren, he felt grimly and victoriously sure that both Jones and +Wren had had the best of the struggle against indifference and +philistinism--as he too would have the best of the struggle, though he +should die obscure and in penury. He was miserable and resentful, and +yet he was triumphant. The steamer stopped at the town-pier. + +"Are we there?" said Marguerite. "Already?" + +"Yes," said he. "And I think we may as well go back by the same +steamer." + +She concurred. However, an official insisted on them disembarking, even +if they meant to re-embark at once. They, went ashore. The facade of the +palace-hospital stretched majestically to the left of them, in sharp +perspective, a sensational spectacle. + +"It's very large," Marguerite commented. Her voice was nervous. + +"Yes, it's rather more than large," he said dryly. + +He would not share his thoughts with her. He knew that she had some +inklings of taste, but in that moment he preferred to pretend that her +artistic perception was on a level with that of William and Mary. They +boarded the steamer again, and took their old places; and the menacing +problem of their predicament was still between them. + +"We can have some tea downstairs if you like," he said, after the +steamer had turned round and started upstream. + +She answered in tones imperfectly controlled: + +"No, thank you. I feel as if I couldn't swallow anything." And she +looked up at him very quickly; with the embryo of a smile, and then +looked down again very quickly, because she could not bring the smile to +maturity. + +George thought: + +"Am I going to have a scene with her--on the steamer?" It would not +matter much if a scene did occur. There was nobody else on deck forward +of the bridge. They were alone--they were more solitary than they might +have been in the studio, or in any room at No. 8. The steamer was now +nearly heading the wind, but she travelled more smoothly, for she had +the last of the flood-tide under her. + +George said kindly and persuasively: + +"Upon my soul, I don't know what the old gentleman's got against me." + +She eagerly accepted his advance, which seemed to give her courage. + +"But there's nothing to know, dear. We both know that. There's nothing +at all. And yet of course I can understand it. So can you. In fact it +was you who first explained it to me. If you'd left No. 8 when I did and +he'd heard of our engagement afterwards, he wouldn't have thought +anything of it. But it was you staying on in the house that did it, and +him not knowing of the engagement. He thought you used to come to see me +at nights at the studio, me and Agg, and make fun of everything at No. +8--especially of his wife. He's evidently got some such idea in his +head, and there's no getting it out again." + +"But it's childish." + +"I know. However, we've said all this before, haven't we?" + +"But the idea's _got_ to be got out of his head again!" said George +vigorously--more dictatorially and less persuasively than before. + +Marguerite offered no remark. + +"And after all," George continued, "he couldn't have been so desperately +keen on--your stepmother. When he married her your mother hadn't been +dead so very long, had she?" + +"No. But he never cared for mother anything like so much as he cared for +Mrs. Lobley--at least not as far back as I can remember. It was a +different sort of thing altogether. I think he was perfectly mad about +Mrs. Lobley. Oh! He stood mother's death much--much better than hers! +You've no idea--" + +"Oh yes, I have. We know all about that sort of thing," said George the +man of the world impatiently. + +Marguerite said tenderly: + +"It's broken him." + +"Nonsense!" + +"It has, George." Her voice was very soft. + +But George would not listen to the softness of her voice. + +"Well," he objected firmly and strongly, "supposing it has! What then? +We're sorry for him. What then? That affair has nothing to do with our +affair. Is all that reason why I shouldn't see you in your own home? Or +are we to depend on Agg--when she happens to be at her studio? Or are we +always to see each other in the street, or in museums and things--or +steamers--just as if you were a shop-girl? We may just as well look +facts in the face, you know." + +She flushed. Her features changed under emotion. + +"Oh! George! I don't know what to do." + +"Then you think he's determined not to have anything to do with me?" + +She was silent. + +"You think he's determined not to have anything to do with me, I say?" + +"He may change," Marguerite murmured. + +"'May change' be dashed! We've got to know where we stand." + +He most surprisingly stood up, staring at her. She did not speak, but +she lifted her eyes to his with timid courage. They were wet. George +abruptly walked away along the deck. The steamer was passing the +custom-house again. The tide had now almost slacked. Fresh and heavier +clouds had overcast the sky. All the varied thoughts of the afternoon +were active in George's head at once: architecture, architects, beauty, +professional injustices, girls--his girl. Each affected the others, for +they were deeply entangled. It is a fact that he could not put Inigo +Jones and Christopher Wren out of his head; he wondered what had been +their experiences with women, histories and textbooks of architecture +did not treat of this surely important aspect of architecture! He +glanced at Marguerite from the distance. He remembered what Agg had said +to him about her; but what Agg had said did not appear to help him +practically.... Why had he left Marguerite? Why was he standing thirty +feet from her and observing her inimically? He walked back to her, sat +down, and said calmly: + +"Listen to me, darling. Suppose we arrange now, definitely, to get +married in two years' time. How will that do for you?" + +"But, George, can you be sure that you'll be able to marry in two +years?" + +He put his chin forward. + +"You needn't worry about that," said he. "You needn't think because I've +failed in an exam. I don't know what I'm about. You leave all that to +me. In two years I shall be able enough to keep a wife--_and_ well! Now, +shall we arrange to get married in two years' time?" + +"It might be a fearful drag for you," she said. "Because, you know, I +don't really earn very much." + +"That's not the point. I don't care what you earn. I shan't want you to +earn anything--so far as that goes. Any earning that's wanted I shall be +prepared to do. I'll put it like this: Supposing I'm in a position to +keep you, shall we arrange to get married in two years' time?" He found +a fierce pleasure in reiterating the phrase. "So long as that's +understood, I don't mind the rest. If we have to depend on Agg, or meet +in the streets--never mind. It'll be an infernal nuisance, but I expect +I can stand it as well as you can. Moreover, I quite see your +difficulty--quite. And let's hope the old gentleman will begin to have a +little sense." + +"Oh, George! If he only would!" + +He did not like her habit of "Oh, George! Oh! George!" + +"Well?" He waited, ignoring her pious aspiration. + +"I don't know what to say, George." + +He restrained himself. + +"We're engaged, aren't we?" She gave no answer, and he repeated: "We're +engaged, aren't we?" + +"Yes." + +"That's all right. Well, will you give me your absolute promise to marry +me in two years' time--if I'm in a position to keep you? It's quite +simple. You say you don't know what to say. But you've got to know what +to say." As he looked at her averted face, his calmness began to leave +him. + +"Oh, George! I can't promise that!" she burst out, showing at length her +emotion. The observant skipper on the bridge noted that there were a boy +and a girl forward having a bit of a tiff. + +George trembled. All that Agg had said recurred to him once more. But +what could he do to act on it? Anger was gaining, on him. + +"Why not?" he menaced. + +"It would have to depend on how father was. Surely you must see that!" + +"Indeed I don't see it. I see quite the contrary. We're engaged. You've +got the first call on me, and I've got the first call on you--not your +father." The skin over his nose was tight, owing to the sudden swelling +of two points, one on either side of the bone. + +"George, I couldn't leave him--again. I think now I may have been wrong +to leave him before. However, that's over. I couldn't leave him again. +It would be very wrong. He'd be all alone." + +"Well, then, let him be friends with me." + +"I do wish he would." + +"Yes. Well, wishing won't do much good. If there's any trouble it's +entirely your father's fault. And what I want to know is--will you give +me your absolute promise to marry me in two years' time?" + +"I can't, George. It wouldn't be honest. I can't! I can't! How can you +ask me to throw over my duty to father?" + +He rose and walked away again. She was profoundly moved, but no sympathy +for her mitigated his resentment. He considered that her attitude was +utterly monstrous--monstrous! He could not find a word adequate for it. +He was furious; his fury increased with each moment. He returned to the +prow, but did not sit down. + +"Don't you think, then, you ought to choose between your father and me?" +he said in a low, hard voice, standing over her. + +"What do you mean?" she faltered. + +"What do I mean? It's plain enough what I mean, isn't it? Your father +may live twenty years yet. Nobody knows. The older he gets the more +obstinate he'll be. We may be kept hanging about for years and years and +years. Indefinitely. What's the sense of it? You say you've got your +duty, but what's the object of being engaged?" + +"Do you want to break it off, George?" + +"Now don't put it like that. You know I don't want to break it off. You +know I want to marry you. Only you won't, and I'm not going to be made a +fool of. I'm absolutely innocent." + +"Of course you are!" she agreed eagerly. + +"Well, I'm not going to be made a fool of by your father. If we're +engaged, you know what it means. Marriage. If it doesn't mean that, then +I say we've no right to be engaged." + +Marguerite seemed to recoil at the last words, but she recovered +herself. And then, heedless of being in a public place, she drew off her +glove, and drew the engagement ring from her finger, and held it out to +George. She could not speak. The gesture was her language. George was +extremely staggered. He was stupefied for an instant. Then he took the +ring, and under an uncontrollable savage impulse he threw it into the +river. He did not move for a considerable time, staring at the river in +front. Neither did she move. At length he said in a cold voice, without +moving his head: + +"Here's Chelsea Pier." + +She got up and walked to the rail amidships. He followed. The steamer +moored. A section of rail slid aside. The pier-keeper gave a hand to +Marguerite, who jumped on to the pier. George hesitated. The pier-keeper +challenged him testily: + +"Now then, are ye coming ashore or aren't ye?" + +George could not move. The pier-keeper banged the rail to close the gap, +and cast off the ropes, and the steamer resumed her voyage. + +A minute later George saw Marguerite slowly crossing the gangway from +the pier to the embankment. There she went! She was about to be +swallowed up in the waste of human dwellings, in the measureless and +tragic expanse of the indifferent town.... She was gone. Curse her, with +her reliability! She was too reliable. He knew that. Her father could +rely on her. Curse her, with her outrageous, incredibly cruel, and +unjust sense of duty! She had held him once. Once the sight of her had +made him turn hot and cold. Once the prospect of life without her had +seemed unbearable. He had loved her instinctively and intensely. He now +judged and condemned her. Her beauty, her sweetness, her belief in him, +her reliability--these qualities were neutralized by her sense of duty, +awful, uncompromising, blind to fundamental justice. The affair was +over. If he knew her, he knew also himself. The affair was over. He was +in despair. His mind went round and round like a life-prisoner +exercising in an enclosed yard. No escape! Till then, he had always +believed in his luck. Infantile delusion! He was now aware that destiny +had struck him a blow once for all. But of course he did not perceive +that he was too young, not ripe, for such a blow. The mark of destiny +was on his features, and it was out of place there.... He had lost +Marguerite. And what had he lost? What was there in her? She was not +brilliant; she had no position; she had neither learning nor wit. He +could remember nothing remarkable that they had ever said to each other. +Indeed, their conversations had generally been rather banal. But he +could remember how they had felt, how he had felt, in their hours +together.... The sensation communicated to him by her hand when he had +drawn off her glove in the tremendous silence of the hansom! Marvellous, +exquisite, magical sensation that no words of his could render! And +there had been others as rare. These scenes were love; they were +Marguerite; they were what he had lost.... Strange, that he should throw +the ring into the river! Nevertheless it was a right gesture. She +deserved it. She was absolutely wrong; he was absolutely right--she had +admitted it. Towards him she had no excuse. Logically her attitude was +absurd. Yet no argument would change it. Stupid--that was what she was! +Stupid! And ruthless! She would be capable of martyrizing the whole +world to her sense of duty, her damnable, insane sense of duty.... She +was gone. He was ruined; she had ruined him. But he respected her. He +hated to respect her, but he respected her. + +A thought leapt up in his mind--and who could have guessed it? It was +the thought that the secrecy of the engagement would save him from a +great deal of public humiliation. He would have loathed saying: "We've +broken it off." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +INSPIRATION + +I + + +George, despite his own dispositions, as he went up in the lift, to +obviate the danger of such a mishap, was put out of countenance by the +overwhelming splendour of Miss Irene Wheeler's flat. And he did not +quite recover his aplomb until the dinner was nearly finished. The rooms +were very large and lofty; they blazed with electric light, though the +day had not yet gone; they gleamed with the polish of furniture, enamel, +bookbindings, marble, ivory, and precious metals; they were ennobled by +magnificent pictures, and purified by immense quantities of lovely +flowers. George had made the mistake of arriving last. He found in the +vast drawing-room five people who had the air of being at home and +intimate together. There were, in addition to the hostess, Lois and +Laurencine Ingram, Everard Lucas, and a Frenchman from the French +Embassy whose name he did not catch. Miss Wheeler wore an elaborate +Oriental costume, and apologized for its simplicity on the grounds that +she was fatigued by a crowded and tiresome reception which she had held +that afternoon, and that the dinner was to be without ceremony. This +said, her conversation seemed to fail, but she remained by George's +side, apart from the others. George saw not the least vestige of the +ruinous disorder which, in the society to which he was accustomed, +usually accompanied a big afternoon tea, or any sign of a lack of +ceremony. He had encountered two male servants in the hall, and had also +glimpsed a mulatto woman in a black dress and a white apron, and a +Frenchwoman in a black dress and a black apron. Now a third man-servant +entered, bearing an enormous silver-gilt tray on which were +multitudinous bottles, glasses, decanters, and jugs. George comprehended +that _apéritifs_ were being offered. The tray contained enough cocktails +and other combinations, some already mingled and some not, to produce a +factitious appetite in the stomachs of a whole platoon. The girls +declined, Miss Wheeler declined, the Frenchman declined, George declined +(from prudence and diffidence); only Lucas took an _apéritif_, and he +took it, as George admitted, in style. The man-servant, superbly +indifferent to refusals, marched processionally off with the loaded +tray. The great principle of conspicuous ritualistic waste had been +illustrated in a manner to satisfy the most exacting standard of the +leisured class; and incidentally a subject of talk was provided. + +George observed the name of 'Renoir' on the gorgeous frame of a gorgeous +portrait in oils of the hostess. + +"Is that a Renoir?" he asked the taciturn Miss Wheeler, who seemed to +jump at the opening with relief. + +"Yes," she said, with her slight lisp. "I'm glad you noticed it. Come +and look at it. Do you think it's a good one? Do you like Renoir?" + +By good fortune George had seen a Renoir or two in Paris under the +guidance of Mr. Enwright. They stared at the portrait together. + +"It's awfully distinguished," he decided, employing a useful adjective +which he had borrowed from Mr. Enwright. + +"Isn't it!" she said, turning her wondrous complexion towards him, and +admiring his adjective. "I have a Boldini too." + +He followed her across the room to the Boldini portrait of herself, +which was dazzling in its malicious flattery. + +"And here's a Nicholson," she said. + +Those three portraits were the most striking pictures in the _salon_, +but there were others of at least equal value. + +"Are you interested in fans?" she demanded, and pulled down a switch +which illuminated the interior of a large cabinet full of fans. She +pointed out fans painted by Lami, Glaize, Jacquemart. "That one is +supposed to be a Lancret," she said. "But I'm not sure about it, and I +don't know anybody that is. Here's the latest book on the subject." She +indicated Lady Charlotte Schreiber's work in two volumes which, bound in +vellum and gold, lay on a table. "But of course it only deals with +English fans. However, Conder is going to do me a couple. He was here +yesterday to see me about them. Of course you know him. What a wonderful +man! The only really cosmopolitan artist in England, I say, now +Beardsley's dead. I've got a Siegfried drawing by Beardsley. He was a +great friend of mine. I adored him." + +"This is a fine thing," said George, touching a bronze of a young girl +on the same table as the books. + +"You think so?" Miss Wheeler responded uncertainly. "I suppose it _is_. +It's a Gilbert. He gave it me. But do you really think it compares with +this Barye? It doesn't, does it?" She directed him to another bronze of +a crouching cheetah. + +So she moved him about. He was dazed. His modest supply of adjectives +proved inadequate. When she paused, he murmured: + +"It's a great room you've managed to get here." + +"Ah!" she cried thinly. "But you've no idea of the trouble I've had over +this room. Do you know it's really two rooms. I had to take two flats in +order to fix this room." + +She was launched on a supreme topic, and George heard a full history. +She would not have a house. She would have a flat. She instructed +house-agents to find for her the best flat in London. There was no best +flat in London. London landlords did not understand flats, which were +comprehended only in Paris. The least imperfect flats in London were two +on a floor, and as their drawing-rooms happened to be contiguous on +their longer sides, she had the idea of leasing two intolerable flats so +as to obtain one flat that was tolerable. She had had terrible +difficulties about the central heating. No flats in London were +centrally heated except in the corridors and on the staircases. However, +she had imposed her will on the landlord, and radiators had appeared in +every room. George had a vision of excessive wealth subjugating the +greatest artists and riding with implacable egotism over the customs and +institutions of a city obstinately conservative. The cost and the +complexity of Irene Wheeler's existence amazed and intimidated +George--for this double flat was only one of her residences. He wondered +what his parents would say if they could see him casually treading the +oak parquetry and the heavy rugs of the resplendent abode. And then he +thought, the humble and suspicious upstart: "There must be something +funny about her, or she wouldn't be asking _me_ here!" + +They went in to dinner, without ceremony. George was last, the hostess +close to his side. + +"Who's the Frenchman?" he inquired casually, with the sudden boldness +that often breaks out of timidity. "I didn't catch." + +"It's Monsieur Defourcambault," said Miss Wheeler in a low voice of +sincere admiration. "He's from the Embassy. A most interesting man. Been +everywhere. Seen everything. Read everything. Done everything." + +George could not but be struck by the ingenuous earnestness of her tone, +so different from the perfunctory accents in which she had catalogued +her objects of art. + +The dining-room, the dinner, and the service of the dinner were equally +superb. The broad table seemed small in the midst of the great +mysterious chamber, of which the illumination was confined by shades to +the centre. The glance wandering round the obscurity of the walls could +rest on nothing that was not obviously in good taste and very costly. +The three men-servants, moving soundless as phantoms, brought burdens +from a hidden country behind a gigantic screen, and at intervals in the +twilight near the screen could be detected the transient gleam of the +white apron of the mulatto, whose sex clashed delicately and piquantly +with the grave, priest-like performances of the male menials. The table +was of mahogany covered with a sheet of plate-glass. A large gold +épergne glittered in the middle. Suitably dispersed about the rim of the +board were six rectangular islands of pale lace, and on each island lay +a complete set of the innumerable instruments and condiments necessary +to the proper consumption of the meal. Thus, every diner dined +independently, cut off from his fellows, but able to communicate with +them across expanses of plate-glass over mahogany. George was confused +by the multiplicity of metal tools and crystal receptacles--he alone had +four wine-glasses--but in the handling of the tools he was saved from +shame by remembering the maxim--a masterpiece of terse clarity worthy of +a class which has given its best brains to the perfecting of the +formalities preliminary to deglutition: "Take always from the outside." + +The man from the French Embassy sat on the right of the hostess, and +George on her left. George had Lois Ingram on his left. Laurencine was +opposite her sister. Everard Lucas, by command of the hostess, had taken +the foot of the table and was a sort of 'Mr. Vice.' The six people were +soon divided into two equal groups, one silent and the other talkative, +the talkative three being M. Defourcambault, Laurencine and Lucas. The +diplomatist, though he could speak diplomatic English, persisted in +speaking French. Laurencine spoke French quite perfectly, with exactly +the same idiomatic ease as the Frenchman. Lucas neither spoke nor +understood French--he had been to a great public school. Nevertheless +these three attained positive loquacity. Lucas guessed at words, or the +Frenchman obliged with bits of English, or Laurencine interpreted. +Laurencine was far less prim and far more girlish than at the Café +Royal. She kept all the freshness of her intensely virginal quality, but +she was at ease. Her rather large body was at ease, continually restless +in awkward and exquisite gestures; she laughed at ease, and made fun at +ease. She appeared to have no sex-consciousness, nor even to suspect +that she was a most delightful creature. The conversation was disjointed +in its gaiety, and had no claim to the attention of the serious. +Laurencine said that Lucas ought really to know French. Lucas said he +would learn if she would teach him. Laurencine said that she would teach +him if he would have his first lesson instantly, during dinner. Lucas +said that wasn't fair. Laurencine said that it was. Both of them +appealed to M. Defourcambault. M. Defourcambault said that it was fair. +Lucas said that there was a plot between them, but that he would consent +to learn at once if Laurencine would play the piano for him after +dinner. Laurencine said she didn't play. Lucas said she did. M. +Defourcambault, invoked once again, said that she played magnificently. +Laurencine blushed, and asked M. Defourcambault how he could!... And so +on, indefinitely. It was all naught; yet the taciturn three, smiling +indulgently and glancing from one to another of the talkers, as taciturn +and constrained persons must, envied that peculiar ability to maintain a +rush and gush of chatter. + +George was greatly disappointed in Lois. In the period before dinner his +eyes had avoided her, and now, since they sat side by side, he could not +properly see her without deliberately looking at her: which he would not +do. She gave no manifestation. She was almost glum. Her French, though +free, was markedly inferior to Laurencine's. She denied any interest in +music. George decided, with self-condemnation, that he had been +deliberately creating in his own mind an illusion about her; on no other +hypothesis could either his impatience to meet her to-night, or his +disappointment at not meeting her on the night of the Café Royal dinner, +be explained. She was nothing, after all. And he did not deeply care for +Miss Irene Wheeler, whom he could watch at will. She might be concealing +something very marvellous, but she was dull, and she ignored the finer +responsibilities of a hostess. She collected many beautiful things; she +had some knowledge of what they were; she must be interested in them--or +why should she trouble to possess them? She must have taste. And yet had +she taste? Was she interested in her environment? A tone, a word, will +create suspicion that the exhibition of expertise for hours cannot +allay. George did not like the Frenchman. The Frenchman was about +thirty--small, thin, fair, with the worn face of the man who lives +several lives at once. He did not look kind; he did not look reliable; +and he offered little evidence in support of Miss Wheeler's ardent +assertion that he had been everywhere, seen everything, read everything, +done everything. He assuredly had not, for example, read Verlaine, who +was mentioned by Miss Wheeler. Now George had read one or two poems of +Verlaine, and thought them unique; hence he despised M. Defourcambault. +He could read French, in a way, but he was incapable of speaking a +single word of it in the presence of compatriots; the least +mono-syllable would have died on his lips. He was absurdly envious of +those who could speak two languages; he thought sometimes that he would +prefer to be able to speak two languages than to do anything else in the +world; not to be able to speak two languages humiliated him intensely; +he decided to 'take up French seriously' on the morrow; but he had +several times arrived at a similar decision. + +If Lois was glum, George too was glum. He wished he had not come to the +dinner; he wished he could be magically transported to the solitude of +his room at the club. He slipped into a reverie about the Marguerite +affair. Nobody could have divined that scarcely twenty-four hours +earlier he had played a principal part in a tragedy affecting his whole +life. He had borne the stroke better than he otherwise would have done +for the simple reason that nobody knew of his trouble. He had not to +arrange his countenance for the benefit of people who were aware what +was behind the countenance. But also he was philosophical. He recognized +that the Marguerite affair was over. She would never give way, and he +would never give way. She was wrong. He had been victimized. He had +behaved with wisdom and with correctness (save for the detail of +throwing the ring into the Thames). Agg's warnings and injunctions were +ridiculous. What could he have done that he had not done? Run away with +Marguerite, carry her off? Silly! No, he was well out of the affair. He +perceived the limitations of the world in which Marguerite lived. It was +a world too small and too austere for him. He required the spaciousness +and the splendour of the new world in which Irene Wheeler and the +Ingrams lived. Yea, though it was a world that excited the sardonic in +him, he liked it. It flattered authentic, if unsuspected, appetites in +him. Still, the image of Marguerite inhabited his memory. He saw her as +she stood between himself and old Haim in the basement of No. 8. He +heard her.... She was absolutely unlike any other girl; she was so +gentle, so acquiescent. Only she put her lover second to her father.... +What would Miss Wheeler think of the basement of No. 8? + +The chatterers, apropos of songs in musical comedies, were talking about +a French popular song concerning Boulanger. + +"You knew Boulanger, didn't you, Jules?" Miss Wheeler suggested. + +M. Defourcambault looked round, content. He related in English how his +father had been in the very centre of the Boulangist movement, and had +predicted disaster to the General's cause from the instant that Madame +de Bonnemain came on the scene. (Out of consideration for the girls, M. +Defourcambault phrased his narrative with neat discretion.) His +grandfather also had been of his father's opinion, and his grandfather +was in the Senate, and had been Minister at Brussels.... He affirmed +that Madame de Bonnemain had telegraphed to Boulanger to leave Paris at +the very moment when his presence in Paris was essential, and Boulanger +had obediently gone. He said that he always remembered what his mother +had said to him: a clever woman irregularly in love with a man may make +his fortune, but a stupid woman is certain to ruin it. Finally he +related how he, Jules Defourcambault, had driven the General's carriage +on a famous occasion through Paris, and how the populace in its frenzy +of idolatry had even climbed on to the roof of the carriage. + +"And what did you do, then?" George demanded in the hard tone of a +cross-examiner. + +"I drove straight on," said M. Defourcambault, returning George's cold +stare. + +This close glimpse into history--into politics and passion--excited +George considerably. He was furiously envious of M. Defourcambault, who +had been in the middle of things all his life, whose father, mother, and +grandfather were all in the middle of things. M. Defourcambault had an +immense and unfair advantage over him. To whatever heights he might +rise, George would never be in a position to talk as M. Defourcambault +talked of his forbears. He would always have to stand alone, and to +fight for all he wanted. He could not even refer to his father. He +scorned M. Defourcambault because M. Defourcambault was not worthy of +his heritage. M. Defourcambault was a little rotter, yet he had driven +the carriage of Boulanger in a crisis of the history of France! Miss +Wheeler, however, did not scorn M. Defourcambault. On the contrary, she +looked at him with admiration, as though he had now proved that he had +been everywhere, seen everything, and done everything. George's mood was +black. He was a nobody; he would always be a nobody; why should he be +wasting his time and looking a fool in this new world? + + +II + + +After dinner, in the drawing-room which had cost Irene Wheeler an extra +flat, there was, during coffee, a certain amount of general dullness, +slackness, and self-consciousness which demonstrated once more Miss +Wheeler's defects as a hostess. Miss Wheeler would not or could not act +as shepherdess and inspirer to her guests. She reclined, and charmingly +left them to manufacture the evening for her. George was still +disappointed and disgusted; for he had imagined, very absurdly as he +admitted, that artistic luxuriousness always implied social dexterity +and the ability to energize and reinvigorate diversion without apparent +effort. There were moments during coffee which reminded him of the +maladroit hospitalities of the Five Towns. + +Then Everard Lucas opened the piano, and the duel between him and +Laurencine was resumed. The girl yielded. Electric lights were adjusted. +She began to play, while Lucas, smoking, leaned over the piano. George +was standing by himself at a little distance behind the piano. He had +perhaps been on his way to a chair when suddenly caught and immobilized +by one of those hazards which do notoriously occur--the victim never +remembers how--in drawing-rooms. Hands in pockets, he looked aimlessly +about, smiling perfunctorily, and wondering where he should settle or +whether he should remain where he was. In the deep embrasure of the +large east bow-window Lois was lounging. She beckoned to him, not with +her hand but with a brief, bright smile--she smiled rarely--and with a +lifting of the chin. He responded alertly and pleasurably, and went to +sit beside her. Such invitations from young women holding themselves +apart in obscurity are never received without excitement and never +unanswered. + +Crimson curtains of brocaded silk would have cut off the embrasure +entirely from the room had they been fully drawn, but they were not +fully drawn; one was not drawn at all, and the other was only half +drawn. Still, the mere fact of the curtains, drawn or undrawn, did +morally separate the embrasure from the _salon_; and the shadows +thickened in front of the window. The smile had gone from Lois's face, +but it had been there. Sequins glittered on her dark dress, the line of +the low neck of which was distinct against the pallor of the flesh. +George could follow the outlines of her slanted, plump body from the +hair and freckled face down to the elaborate shoes. The eyes were half +closed. She did not speak. The figure of Laurencine, whose back was +towards the window, received an aura from the electric light immediately +over the music-stand of the piano. She played brilliantly. She played +with a brilliance that astonished George.... She was exceedingly clever, +was this awkward girl who had not long since left school Her body might +be awkward, but not her hands. The music radiated from the piano and +filled the room with brightness, with the illusion of the joy of life, +and with a sense of triumph. To George it was an intoxication. + +A man-servant entered with a priceless collection of bon-bons, some of +which he deferentially placed on a small table in the embrasure. To do +so he had to come into the embrasure, disturbing the solitude, which had +already begun to exist, of Lois and George. He ignored the pair. His +sublime indifference seemed to say: "I am beyond good and evil." But at +the same time it left them more sensitively awake to themselves than +before. The hostess indolently muttered an order to the man, and in +passing the door on his way out he extinguished several lights. The +place and the hour grew romantic. George was impressed by the scene, and +he eagerly allowed it to impress him. It was, to him, a marvellous +scene; the splendour of the apartment, the richly attired girls, the +gay, exciting music, the spots of high light, the glooms, the glimpses +everywhere of lovely objects. He said to himself: "I was born for this." + +Lois turned her head slowly and looked out of the window. + +"Wonderful view from here," she murmured. + +George turned his head. The flat was on the sixth story. The slope of +central London lay beneath. There was no moon, but there were stars in a +clear night. Roofs; lighted windows; lines of lighted traffic; lines of +lamps patterning the invisible meadows of a park; hiatuses of blackness; +beyond, several towers scarcely discernible against the sky--the towers +of Parliament, and the high tower of the Roman Catholic Cathedral: these +were London. + +"You haven't seen it in daytime, have you?" said Lois. + +"No. I'd sooner see it at night." + +"So would I." + +The reply, the sympathy in it, the soft, thrilled tone of It, startled +him. His curiosity about Lois was being justified, after all. And he was +startled too at the extraordinary surprises of his own being. Yesterday +he had parted from Marguerite; not ten years ago, but yesterday. And now +already he was conscious of pleasure, both physical and spiritual, in +the voice of another girl heard in the withdrawn obscurity of the +embrasure. Yes, and a girl whom he had despised! Yesterday he had +seriously believed himself to be a celibate for life; he had dismissed +for ever the hope of happiness. He had seen naught but a dogged and +eternal infelicity. And now he was, if not finding happiness, expecting +it. He felt disloyal--less precisely to Marguerite than to a vanished +ideal. He felt that he ought to be ashamed. For Marguerite still +existed; she was existing at that moment less than three miles +off--somewhere over there in the dark. + +"See the Cathedral tower?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered. "What a shame Bentley died, wasn't it?" + +He was more than startled, now--he was amazed and enchanted. Something +touching and strange in her voice usually hard; something in the elegant +fragility of her slipper! Everybody knew that Bentley was the architect +of the Cathedral and that he had died of cancer on the tongue. The +knowledge was not esoteric; it did not by itself indicate a passion for +architecture or a comprehension of architecture. Yet when she said the +exclamatory words, leaning far back in the seat, her throat emerging +from the sequined frock, her tapping slipper peeping out beneath the +skirt, she cast a spell on him. He perceived in her a woman gifted and +endowed. This was the girl whom he had bullied in the automobile. She +must have bowed in secret to his bullying; though he knew she had been +hurt by it, she had given no sign of resentment, and her voice was +acquiescent. Above all, she had remembered him. + +"You only like doing very large buildings, don't you?" she suggested. + +"Who told you?" + +"Everard." + +"Oh! Did old Lucas tell you? Well, he's quite right." + +He had a sudden desire to talk to her about the great municipal building +in the north that was soon to be competed for. He yielded to the desire. +She listened, motionless. He gave vent to his regret that Mr. Enwright +absolutely declined to enter for the competition. He said he had had +ideas for it, and would have liked to work for it. + +"But why don't you go in for it yourself, George?" she murmured gravely. + +"Me!" he exclaimed, almost frightened. "It wouldn't be any good. I'm too +young. Besides----" + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty-one." + +"Good heavens! You look twenty-five at least! I know I should go in for +it if I were you--if I were a man." + +He understood her. She could not talk well. She could not easily be +agreeable; she could easily be rude; she could not play the piano like +the delightful Laurencine. But she was passionate. And she knew the +force of ambition. He admired ambition perhaps more than anything. +Ambition roused him. She was ambitious when she drove the automobile and +endangered his life.... She had called him by his Christian name quite +naturally. There was absolutely no nonsense about her. Now Marguerite +was not in the slightest degree ambitious. The word had no significance +for her. + +"I couldn't!" he insisted humbly. "I don't know enough. It's a terrific +affair." + +She made no response. But she looked at him, and suddenly he saw the +angel that Irene Wheeler and Laurencine had so enthusiastically spoken +of at the Cafe Royal! + +"I couldn't!" he murmured. + +He was insisting too much. He was insisting against himself. She had +implanted the idea in his mind. Why had he not thought of it? Certainly +he had not thought of it. Had he lacked courage to think of it? He +beheld the idea as though it was an utterly original discovery, +revolutionary, dismaying, and seductive. His inchoate plans for the +building took form afresh in his brain. And the luxury by which he was +surrounded whipped his ambition till it writhed. + +Curious, she said no more! After a moment she sat up and took a sweet. + +George saw, in a far corner, Jules Defourcambault talking very quietly +to Irene Wheeler, whose lackadaisical face had become ingenuous and +ardent as she listened to him under the shelter of the dazzling music. +George felt himself to be within the sphere of unguessed and highly +perturbing forces. + + +III + + +He left early. Lucas seemed to regard his departure as the act of a +traitor, but he insisted on leaving. And in spite of Lucas's great +social success he inwardly condescended to Lucas. Lucas was not a +serious man and could not comprehend seriousness. George went because he +had to go, because the power of an idea drove him forth. He had no +intention of sleeping. He walked automatically through dark London, and +his eyes, turned within, saw nothing of the city. He did not walk +quickly--he was too preoccupied to walk quickly--yet in his brain he was +hurrying, he had not a moment to lose. The goal was immensely far off. +His haste was as absurd and as fine as that of a man who, starting to +cross Europe on foot, must needs run in order to get out of Calais and +be fairly on his way. + +At Russell Square he wondered whether he would be able to get into the +office. However, there was still a light in the basement, and he rang +the house-bell. The housekeeper's daughter, a girl who played at being +parlourmaid in the afternoons and brought bad tea and thick +bread-and-butter to the privileged in the office, opened the front door +with bridling exclamations of astonishment. She had her best frock on; +her hair was in curling-pins; she smelt delicately of beer; the +excitement of the Sunday League excursion and of the evening's dalliance +had not quite cooled in this respectable and experienced young creature +of central London. She was very feminine and provocative and +unparlourmaidish, standing there in the hall, and George passed by her +as callously as though she had been a real parlourmaid on duty. She had +to fly to her mother for the key of the office. Taking the key from the +breathless, ardent little thing, he said that he would see to the front +door being properly shut when he went out. That was all. Her legitimate +curiosity about his visit had to go to bed hungry. + +In the office he switched on the lights in Haim's cubicle, in the +pupils' room, and in the principals' room. He enjoyed the illumination +and the solitude. He took deep breaths. He walked about. After rummaging +for the sketches and the printed site-plan of the town hall projected by +the northern city, he discovered them under John Orgreave's desk. He +moved them to Mr. Enwright's desk, which was the best one, and he bent +over them rapturously. Yes, the idea of entering for the competition +himself was a magnificent idea. Strange that it should have occurred +not to him, but to Lois! A disconcerting girl, Lois! She had said that +he looked twenty-five. He liked that. Why should he not enter for the +competition himself? He would enter for it. The decision was made, as +usual without consulting anybody; instinct was his sole guide. Failure +in the final examination was beside the point. Moreover, though he had +sworn never to sit again, he could easily sit again in December; he +could pass the exam, on his head. He might win the competition; to be +even in the selected first six or ten would rank as a glorious +achievement. But why should he not win outright? He was lucky, always +had been lucky. It was essential that he should win outright. It was +essential that he should create vast and grandiose structures, that he +should have both artistic fame and worldly success. He could not wait +long for success. He required luxury. He required a position enabling +him to meet anybody and everybody on equal terms, and to fulfil all his +desires. + +He would not admit that he was too young for the enterprise. He was not +too young. He refused to be too young. And indeed he felt that he had +that very night become adult, and that a new impulse, reducing all +previous impulses to unimportance, had inspired his life. He owed the +impulse to the baffling Lois. Marguerite would never have given him such +an impulse. Marguerite had no ambition either for herself or for him. +She was profoundly the wrong girl for him. He admitted his error +candidly, with the eagerness of youth. He had no shame about the +blunder. And the girl's environment was wrong for him also. What had he +to do with Chelsea? Chelsea was a parish; it was not the world. He had +been gravely disappointed in Chelsea. Marguerite had no shimmer of +romance. She was homely. And she was content with her sphere. And she +was not elegant; she had no kind of smartness; who would look twice at +her? And she was unjust, she was unfair. She had lacerated his highly +sensitive pride. She had dealt his conceit a frightful wound. He would +not think of it. + +And in fact he could ignore the wound in the exquisite activity of +creating town halls for mighty municipalities. He drew plans with +passion and with fury; he had scores of alternative schemes; he was a +god fashioning worlds. Having drawn plans, he drew elevations and +perspectives; he rushed to the files (rushed--because he was in haste to +reach the goal) and studied afresh the schedules of accommodation for +other municipal buildings that had been competed for in the past. Much +as he hated detail, he stooped rather humbly to detail that night, and +contended with it in all honesty. He worked for hours before he thought +of lighting a cigarette. + +It was something uncanny beyond the large windows that first gently and +perceptibly began to draw away his mind from the profusion of town halls +on the desk, and so indirectly reminded him of the existence of +cigarettes. When he lighted a cigarette he stretched himself and glanced +at the dark windows, of which the blinds had not been pulled down. He +understood then what was the matter. Dawn was the matter. The windows +were no longer quite dark. He looked out. A faint pallor in the sky, and +some stars sickening therein, and underneath the silent square with its +patient trees and indefatigable lamps! The cigarette tasted bad in his +mouth, but he would not give it up. He yawned heavily. The melancholy of +the square, awaiting without hope the slow, hard dawn, overcame him +suddenly.... Marguerite was a beautiful girl; her nose was marvellous; +he could never forget it. He could never forget her gesture as she +intervened between him and her father in the basement at Alexandra +Grove. They had painted lamp-shades together. She was angelically kind; +she could not be ruffled; she would never criticize, never grasp, never +exhibit selfishness. She was a unique combination of the serious and the +sensuous. He felt the passionate, ecstatic clinging of her arm as they +walked under the interminable chain of lamp-posts on Chelsea Embankment. +Magical hours!... And how she could absorb herself in her work! And what +a damned shame it was that rascally employers should have cut down her +prices! It was intolerable; it would not bear thinking about. He dropped +the cigarette and stamped on it angrily. Then he returned to the desk, +and put his head in his hands and shut his eyes. + +He awakened with a start of misgiving. He was alone in the huge house +(for the basement was under the house and, somehow, did not count). +Something was astir in the house. He could hear it through the doors +ajar. His flesh crept. It was exactly like the flap of a washing-cloth +on the stone stairs; it stopped; it came nearer. He thought inevitably +of the dead Mrs. Haim, once charwoman and step cleaner. In an instant he +believed fully in all that he had ever heard about ghosts and spirit +manifestations. An icy wave passed down his spine. He felt that if the +phantom of Mrs. Haim was approaching him he simply could not bear to +meet it. The ordeal would kill him. Then he decided that the sounds were +not those of a washing-cloth, but of slippered feet. Odd that he should +have been so deluded. Somebody was coming down the long stairs from the +upper stories, uninhabited at night. Burglars? He was still very +perturbed, but differently perturbed. He could not move a muscle. The +suspense as the footsteps hesitated at the cubicle was awful. George +stood up straight and called out in a rough voice--louder than he +expected it to be: + +"Who's there?" + +Mr. Enwright appeared. He was wearing beautiful blue pyjamas and a +plum-coloured silk dressing-gown and doe-skin slippers. His hair was +extremely deranged; he blinked rapidly, and his lined face seemed very +old. + +"Well, I like this, I like this!" he said in a quiet, sardonic tone. +"Sitting at my desk and blazing my electricity away! I happened to get +up, and I looked out of the window and noticed the glare below. So I +came to see what was afoot. Do you know you frightened me?--and I don't +like being frightened." + +"I hadn't the slightest notion you ever slept here," George feebly +stammered. + +"Didn't you know I'd decided to keep a couple of rooms here for myself?" + +"I had heard something about it, but I didn't know you'd really moved +in. I--I've been away so much." + +"I moved in, as you call it, to-day--yesterday, and a nice night you're +giving me! And even supposing I hadn't moved in, what's that got to do +with your being here? Give me a cigarette." + +With hurrying deference George gave the cigarette, and struck a match +for it, and as he held the match he had a near view of Mr. Enwright's +prosaic unshaved chin. The house was no longer the haunt of lurking +phantoms; it was a common worldly house without any mystery or any +menace. George's skin was no longer the field of abnormal phenomena. +Dawn was conquering Russell Square. On the other hand, George was no +longer a giant of energy, initiating out of ample experience a +tremendous and superb enterprise. He was suddenly diminished to a boy, +or at best a lad. He really felt that it was ridiculous for him to be +sketching and scratching away there in the middle of the night in his +dress-clothes. Even his overcoat, hat, and fancy muffler cast on a chair +seemed ridiculous. He was a child, pretending to be an adult. He glanced +like a child at Mr. Enwright; he roughened his hair with his hand like a +child. He had the most wistful and apologetic air. + +He said: + +"I just came along here for a bit instead of going to bed. I didn't know +it was so late." + +"Do you often just come along here?" + +"No. I never did it before. But to-night----" + +"What is it you're _at_?" + +"I'd been thinking a bit about that new town hall." + +"What new town hall?" + +"You know----" + +Mr. Enwright did know. + +"But haven't I even yet succeeded in making it clear that this firm is +not going in for that particular competition?" + +Mr. Enwright's sarcastic and discontented tone challenged George, who +stiffened. + +"Oh! I know the firm isn't going in for it. But what's the matter with +me going in for it?" + +He forced himself to meet Mr. Enwright's eyes, but he could not help +blushing. He was scarcely out of his articles; he had failed in the +Final; and he aspired to create the largest English public building of +the last half-century. + +"Are you quite mad?" Mr. Enwright turned away from the desk to the +farther window, hiding his countenance. + +"Yes," said George firmly. "Quite!" + +Mr. Enwright, after a pause, came back to the desk. + +"Well, it's something to admit that," he sneered. "At any rate, we know +where we are. Let's have a look at the horrid mess." + +He made a number of curt observations as he handled the sheets of +sketches. + +"I see you've got that Saracenic touch in again." + +"What's the scale here?" + +"Is this really a town hall, or are you trying to beat the Temple at +Karnak?" + +"If that's meant for an Ionic capital, no assessor would stand it. It's +against all the textbooks to have Ionic capitals where there's a +side-view of them. Not that it matters to me." + +"Have you made the slightest attempt to cube it up? You'd never get out +of this under half a million, you know." + +Shaking his head, he retired once more to the window. George began to +breathe more freely, as one who has fronted danger and still lives. Mr. +Enwright addressed the window: + +"It's absolute folly to start on a thing like that before the conditions +are out. Absolute folly. Have you done all that to-night?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you've shifted the stuff.... But you haven't the slightest notion +what accommodation they want. You simply don't know." + +"I know what accommodation they _ought_ to want with four hundred +thousand inhabitants," George retorted pugnaciously. + +"Is it four hundred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with bland innocence. +He generally left statistics to his partner. + +"Four hundred and twenty-five." + +"You've looked it up?" + +"I have." + +Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again. + +"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the principal sheet +and blinking. + +"_I shall go in for it_!" The thought swept through George's brain like +a fierce flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and +incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those produced +by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught admiration and +benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was intensely happy, +encouraged, and proud. He began to talk eagerly; he babbled, entrusting +himself to Mr. Enwright's benevolence. + +"Of course there's the Final. If they give six months for the thing I +could easily get through the Final before sending-in day. I could take a +room somewhere. I shouldn't really want any assistance--clerk, I mean. I +could do it all myself...." He ran on until Mr. Enwright stopped him. + +"You could have a room here--upstairs." + +"Could I?" + +"But you would want some help. And you needn't think they'll give six +months, because they won't. They might give five." + +"That's no good." + +"Why isn't it any good?" snapped Mr. Enwright. "You don't suppose +they're going to issue the conditions just yet, do you? Not a day before +September, not a day. And you can take it from me!" + +"Oh! Hurrah!" + +"But look here, my boy, let's be clear about one thing." + +"Yes?" + +"You're quite mad." + +They looked at each other. + +"The harmless kind, though," said George confidently, well aware that +Mr. Enwright doted upon him. + +In another minute the principal had gone to bed, without having uttered +one word as to his health. George had announced that he should tidy the +sacred desk before departing. When he had done that he wrote a letter, +in pencil. "It's the least I can do," he said to himself seriously. He +began: + +"DEAR MISS INGRAM."--"Dash it!--She calls me 'George,'" he thought, and +tore up the sheet.--"DEAR LOIS,--I think after what you said it's only +due to you to tell you that I've decided to go in for that competition +on my own. Thanks for the tip.--Yours, GEORGE CANNON" + +He surveyed the message. + +"That's about right," he murmured. + +Then he looked at his watch. It showed 3.15, but it had ceased to beat. +He added at the foot of the letter: "Monday, 3.30 a.m." He stole one of +John Orgreave's ready-stamped envelopes. + +In quitting the house he inadvertently banged the heavy front door. + +"Do 'em good!" he said, thinking of awakened sleepers. + +It was now quite light. He dropped the letter into the pillar-box round +the corner, and as soon as he had irretrievably done so, the thought +occurred to him: "I wish I hadn't put '3.30 a.m.' There's something +rottenly sentimental about it." The chill fresh air was bracing him to a +more perfect sanity. He raised the collar of his overcoat. + + +IV + + +At the club on Tuesday morning Downs brought to his bedside a letter +addressed in a large, striking, and untidy hand. Not until he had +generally examined the letter did he realize that it was from Lois +Ingram. He remembered having mentioned to her that he lived at his +club--Pickering's; but he had laid no stress on the detail, nor had she +seemed to notice it. Yet she must have noticed it. + +"DEAR GEORGE,--I am so glad. Miss Wheeler is going to her bootmaker's in +Conduit Street to-morrow afternoon. She's always such a long time there. +Come and have tea with me at the new Prosser's in Regent Street, four +sharp. I shall have half an hour.--L.I." + +In his heart he pretended to jeer at this letter. He said it was 'like' +Lois. She calmly assumed that at a sign from her he, a busy man, would +arrange to be free in the middle of the afternoon! Doubtless the letter +was the consequence of putting '3.30 a.m.' on his own letter. What could +a fellow expect?... + +All pretence! In reality the letter flattered and excited him. He +thought upon the necktie he would wear. + +By the same post arrived a small parcel: it contained a ring, a few +other bits of jewellery, and all the letters and notes that he had ever +written or scribbled to Marguerite. He did not want the jewellery back; +he did not want the letters back. To receive them somehow humiliated +him. Surely she might have omitted this nauseous conventionality! She +was so exasperatingly conscientious. Her neat, clerk-like calligraphy, +on the label of the parcel, exasperated him. She had carefully kept +every scrap of a missive from him. He hated to look at the letters. What +could he do with them except rip them up? And the miserable +trinkets--which she had worn, which had been part of her? As for him, he +had not kept all her letters--not by any means. There might be a few, +lying about in drawers. He would have to collect and return them. Odious +job! And he could not ask anybody else to do it for him. + +He was obliged to question Lucas about the Regent Street Prosser's, of +which, regrettably, he had never heard. He did not, in so many words, +request John Orgreave for the favour of an hour off. He was now out of +his articles, though still by the force of inertia at the office, and +therefore he informed John Orgreave that unless Mr. John had any +objection he proposed to take an hour off. Mr. Enwright was not in. +Lucas knew vaguely of the rendezvous, having somewhere met Laurencine. + +From the outside Prosser's was not distinguishable from any other part +of Regent Street. But George could not mistake it, because Miss +Wheeler's car was drawn up in front of the establishment, and Lois was +waiting for him therein. Strange procedure! She smiled and then frowned, +and got out sternly. She said scarcely anything, and he found that he +could make only such silly remarks as: "Hope I'm not late, am I?" + +The new Prosser's was a grandiose by-product of chocolate. The firm had +taken the leading ideas of the chief tea-shop companies catering for the +million in hundreds of establishments arranged according to pattern, and +elaborated them with what is called in its advertisements 'cachet.' Its +prices were not as cheap as those of the popular houses, but they could +not be called dear. George and Lois pushed through a crowded lane of +chocolate and confectionery, past a staircase which bore a large notice: +"Please keep to the right." This notice was needed. They came at length +to the main hall, under a dome, with a gallery between the dome and the +ground. The floor was carpeted. The multitudinous small tables had +cloths, flowers, silver, and menus knotted with red satin ribbon. The +place was full of people, people seated at the tables and people walking +about. Above the rail of the gallery could be seen the hats and heads of +more people. People were entering all the time and leaving all the time. +Scores of waitresses, in pale green and white, moved to and fro like an +alien and mercenary population. The heat, the stir, the hum, and the +clatter were terrific. And from on high descended thin, strident music +in a rapid and monotonous rhythm. + +"No room!" said George, feeling that he had at last got into the true +arena of the struggle for life. + +"Oh yes!" said Lois, with superior confidence. + +She bore mercilessly across the floor. Round the edge of the huge room, +beneath the gallery, were a number of little alcoves framed in fretted +Moorish arches of white-enamelled wood. Three persons were just emerging +from one of these. She sprang within, and sank into a wicker arm-chair. + +"There is always a table," she breathed, surveying the whole scene with +a smile of conquest. + +George sat down opposite to her with his back to the hall; he could +survey nothing but Lois, and the world of the mirror behind her. + +"That's one of father's maxims," she said. + +"What is?" + +"'There is always a table.' Well, you know, there always is." + +"He must be a very wise man." + +"He is." + +"What's his special line?" + +She exclaimed: + +"Don't you know father? Hasn't Miss Wheeler told you? Or Mrs. Orgreave?" + +"No." + +"But you must know father. Father's 'Parisian' in _The Sunday Journal_." + +Despite the mention of this ancient and very dignified newspaper, George +felt a sense of disappointment. He had little esteem for journalists, +whom Mr. Enwright was continually scoffing at, and whom he imagined to +be all poor. He had conceived Mr. Ingram as perhaps a rich cosmopolitan +financier, or a rich idler--but at any rate rich, whatever he might be. + +"Of course he does lots of other work besides that. He writes for the +_Pall Mall Gazette_ and the _St. James's Gazette._ In fact it's his +proud boast that he writes for all the gazettes, and he's the only man +who does. That's because he's so liked. Everybody adores him. I adore +him myself. He's a great pal of mine. But he's very strict." + +"Strict?" + +"Yes," she insisted, rather defensively. "Why not? I should like a +strawberry ice, and a lemon-squash, and a millefeuille cake. Don't be +alarmed, please. I'm a cave-woman. You've got to get used to it." + +"What's a cave-woman?" + +"It's something primitive. You must come over to Paris. If father likes +you, he'll take you to one of the weekly lunches of the Anglo-American +Press Circle. He always does that when he likes anyone. He's the +Treasurer.... Haven't you got any millefeuille cakes?" she demanded of +the waitress, who had come to renew the table and had deposited a basket +of various cakes. + +"I'm afraid we haven't, miss," answered the waitress, not comprehending +the strange word any better than George did. + +"Bit rowdy, isn't it?" George observed, looking round, when the waitress +had gone. + +Lois said with earnestness: + +"I simply love these big, noisy places. They make me feel alive." + +He looked at her. She was very well dressed--more stylistic than any +girl that he could see in the mirror. He could not be sure whether or +not her yellow eyes had a slight cast; if they had, it was so slight as +to be almost imperceptible. There was no trace of diffidence in them; +they commanded. She was not a girl whom you could masculinely protect. +On the contrary, she would protect not only herself but others. + +"Haven't you cream?" she curtly challenged the waitress, arriving with +ice, lemon-squash, and George's tea. + +The alien mercenary met her glance inimically for a second, and then, +shutting her lips together, walked off with the milk. At Prosser's the +waitresses did not wear caps, and were, in theory, ladies. Lois would +have none of the theory; the waitress was ready to die for it and +carried it away with her intact. George preferred milk to cream, but he +said nothing. + +"Yes," Lois went on. "You ought to come to Paris. You have been, haven't +you? I remember you told me. We're supposed to go back next week, but if +Irene doesn't go, I shan't." She frowned. + +George said that positively he would come to Paris. + +When they had fairly begun the rich, barbaric meal, Lois asked abruptly: + +"Why did you write in the middle of the night?" + +Sometimes her voice was veiled. + +"Why did I write in the middle of the night? Because I thought I would." +He spoke masterfully. He didn't mean to stand any of her cheek. + +"Oh!" she laughed nicely. "_I_ didn't mind. I liked it--awfully. It was +just the sort of thing I should have done myself. But you might tell me +all about it. I think I deserve that much, don't you?" + +Thus he told her all about it--how he had arranged everything, got a +room, meant to have his name painted on the door, meant to make his +parents take their holiday on the north-east coast for a change, so that +he could study the site, meant to work like a hundred devils, etc. He +saw with satisfaction that the arrogant, wilful creature was impressed. + +She said: + +"Now listen to me. You'll win that competition." + +"I shan't," he said. "But it's worth trying, for the experience--that's +what Enwright says." + +She said: + +"I don't care a fig what Enwright says. You'll win that competition. I'm +always right when I sort of feel--you know." + +For the moment he believed in the miraculous, inexplicable intuitions of +women. + +"Oh!" she cried, as the invisible orchestra started a new tune. "Do you +know that? It's the first time I've heard it in London. It's the +_machiche_. It's all over Paris. I think it's the most wonderful tune in +the world." Her body swayed; her foot tapped. + +George listened. Yes, it was a maddening tune. + +"It is," he agreed eagerly. + +She cried: + +"Oh! I do love pleasure! And success! And money! Don't you?" + +Her eyes had softened; they were liquid with yearning; but there was +something frankly sensual in them. This quality, swiftly revealed, +attracted George intensely for an instant. + +Immediately afterwards she asked the time, and said she must go. + +"I daren't keep Irene waiting," she said. Her eyes now had a hard +glitter. + +In full Regent Street he put the haughty girl into Irene's automobile, +which had turned round; he was proud to be seen in the act; he privately +enjoyed the glances of common, unsuccessful persons. As he walked away +he smiled to himself, to hide from himself his own nervous excitement. +She was a handful, she was. Within her life burned and blazed. He +remembered Mr. Prince's remark: "You must have made a considerable +impression on her," or words to that effect. The startling thought +visited him: "I shall marry that woman." Then another thought: "Not if I +know it! I don't like her. I do not like her. I don't like her eyes." + +She had, however, tremendously intensified in him the desire for +success. He hurried off to work. The days passed too slowly, and yet +they were too short for his task. He could not wait for the fullness of +time. His life had become a breathless race. "I shall win. I can't +possibly win. The thing's idiotic. I might.... Enwright's rather +struck." Yes, it was Mr. Enwright's attitude that inspired him. To have +impressed Mr. Enwright--by Jove, it was something! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +COMPETITION + +I + + +On the face of the door on the third floor of the house in Russell +Square the words 'G.E. Cannon' appeared in dirty white paint and the +freshly added initials 'A.R.I.B.A.' in clean white paint. The addition +of the triumphant initials (indicating that George had kissed the rod of +the Royal Institute of British Architects in order to conquer) had put +the sign as a whole out of centre, throwing it considerably to the right +on the green door-face. Within the small and bare room, on an evening in +earliest spring in 1904, sat George at the customary large flat desk of +the architect. He had just switched on the electric light over his head. +He looked sterner and older; he looked very worried, fretful, exhausted. +He was thin and pale; his eyes burned, and there were dark patches under +the eyes; the discipline of the hair had been rather gravely neglected. +In front of George lay a number of large plans, mounted on thick +cardboard, whose upper surface had a slight convex curve. There were +plans of the basement of the projected town hall, of the ground floor, +of the building at a height of twelve feet from the ground, of the +mezzanine floor, of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth floors; +these plans were coloured. Further, in plain black and white, there were +a plan of the roof (with tower), a longitudinal section on the central +axis, two other sections, three elevations, and a perspective view of +the entire edifice. Seventeen sheets in all. + +The sum of work seemed tremendous; it made the mind dizzy; it made +George smile with terrible satisfaction at his own industry. For he had +engaged very little help. He would have been compelled to engage more, +had not the Corporation extended by one month the time for sending in. +The Corporation had behaved with singular enlightenment. Its schedules +of required accommodation (George's copy was scored over everywhere in +pencil and ink and seriously torn) were held to be admirably drawn, and +its supplementary circular of answers to questions from competitors had +displayed a clarity and a breadth of mind unusual in corporations. +Still more to the point, the Corporation had appointed a second assessor +to act with Sir Hugh Corver. In short, it had shown that it was under no +mandarin's thumb, and that what it really and seriously wanted was the +best design that the profession could produce. Mr. Enwright, indeed, had +nearly admitted regret at having kept out of the immense affair. John +Orgreave had expressed regret with vigour and candour. They had in the +main left George alone, though occasionally at night Mr. Enwright, in +the little room, had suggested valuable solutions of certain problems. +In detail he was severely critical of George's design, and he would pour +delicate satires upon the idiosyncrasy which caused the wilful boy to +'impurify' (a word from Enwright's private vocabulary) a Renaissance +creation with Saracenic tendencies in the treatment of arches and +wall-spaces. + +Nevertheless Mr. Enwright greatly respected the design in its entirety, +and both he and John Orgreave (who had collected by the subterranean +channels of the profession a large amount of fact and rumour about the +efforts of various competitors) opined that it stood a fair chance of +being among the selected six or ten whose authors would be invited to +submit final designs for the final award. George tried to be hopeful; +but he could not be hopeful by trying. It was impossible to believe that +he would succeed; the notion was preposterous; yet at moments, when he +was not cultivating optimism, optimism would impregnate all his being, +and he would be convinced that it was impossible not to win. How +inconceivably grand! His chief rallying thought was that he had +undertaken a gigantic task and had accomplished it. Well or ill, he had +accomplished it. He said to himself aloud: + +"I've done it! I've done it!" + +And that he actually had done it was almost incredible. The very sheets +of drawings were almost incredible. But they existed there. All was +complete. The declaration that the design was G.E. Cannon's personal +work, drawn in his own office by his ordinary staff, was there, in the +printed envelope officially supplied by the Corporation. The estimate of +cost and the cubing was there. The explanatory report on the design, +duly typewritten, was there. Nothing lacked. + +"I've done it! I've done it!" + +And then, tired as he was, the conscience of the creative artist and of +the competitor began to annoy him and spur him. The perspective drawing +did not quite satisfy--and there was still time. The point of view for +the perspective drawing was too high up, and the result was a certain +marring of the nobility of the lines, and certainly a diminishment of +the effect of the tower. He had previously started another perspective +drawing with a lower view-point, but he had mistakenly cast it aside. He +ought to finish the first one and substitute it for the second one. 'The +perspective drawing had a moral importance; it had a special influence +on the assessors and committees. Horrid, tiresome labour! Three, four, +five, or six hours of highly concentrated tedium. Was it worth while? It +was not. Mr. Enwright liked the finished drawing. He, George, could not +face a further strain. And yet he was not content.... Pooh! Who said he +could not face a further strain? Of course he could face it. If he did +not face it, his conscience would accuse him of cowardice during the +rest of his life, and he would never be able to say honestly: "I did my +level best with the thing." He snapped his fingers lightly, and in one +second had decided to finish the original perspective drawing, and in +his very finest style. He would complete it some time during the night. +In the morning it could be mounted. The drawings were to go to the north +in a case on the morrow by passenger train, and to be met at their +destination by a commissionaire common to several competitors; this +commissionaire would deliver them to the Town Clerk in accordance with +the conditions. In a few minutes George was at work, excited, having +forgotten all fatigue. He was saying to himself that he would run out +towards eight o'clock for a chop or a steak. As he worked he perceived +that he had been quite right to throw over the second drawing; he +wondered that he could have felt any hesitation; the new drawing would +be immeasurably superior. + +Mr. Haim 'stepped up,' discreetly knocking, entering with dignity. The +relations between these two had little by little resumed their old, +purely formal quality. Both seemed to have forgotten that passionate +anger had ever separated them and joined them together. George was +young, and capable of oblivion. Mr. Haim had beaten him in the struggle +and could afford to forget. They conversed politely, as though the old +man had no daughter and the youth had never had a lover. Mr. Haim had +even assisted with the lettering of the sheets--not because George +needed his help, but because Mr. Haim's calligraphic pride needed to +help. To refuse the stately offer would have been to insult. Mr. Haim +had aged, but not greatly. + +"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Cannon." + +"Oh! Dash it!... Thanks!" + +After all George was no longer on the staff of Lucas & Enwright, and Mr. +Haim was conferring a favour. + +Down below in the big office everybody had gone except the factotum. + +George seized the telephone receiver and called brusquely for attention. + +"Is that Mr. Cannon?" + +"Yes. Who is it?" + +"Oh! It's you, George! How nice to hear your voice again!" + +He recognized, but not instantly, the voice of Lois Ingram. He was not +surprised. Indeed he had suspected that the disturber of work must be +either Lois or Miss Wheeler, or possibly Laurencine. The three had been +in London again for several days, and he had known from Lucas that a +theatre-party had been arranged for that night to witness the +irresistible musical comedy, _The Gay Spark_, Lucas and M. +Defourcambault were to be of the party. George had not yet seen Lois +since her latest return to London; he had only seen her twice since the +previous summer; he had not visited Paris in the interval. The tone of +her voice, even as transformed by the telephone, was caressing. He had +to think of some suitable response to her startling amiability, and to +utter it with conviction. He tried to hold fast in his mind to the image +of the perspective with its countless complexities and the co-ordination +of them all; the thing seemed to be retreating from him, and he dared +not let it go. + +"Do you know," said Lois, "I only came to London to celebrate the +sending-in of your design. I hear it's marvellous. Aren't you glad +you've finished it?" + +"Well, I haven't finished it," said George. "I'm on it now." + +What did the girl mean by saying she'd only come to London to celebrate +the end of his work? An invention on her part! Still, it flattered him. +She was very strange. + +"But Everard's told us you'd finished a bit earlier than you'd expected. +We counted on seeing your lordship to-morrow. But now we've got to see +you to-night." + +"Awfully sorry I can't." + +"But look here, George. You must really. The party's all broken up. Miss +Wheeler's had to go back to Paris to-night, and Jules can't come. +Everything's upset. The flat's going to be closed, and Laurencine and, I +will have to leave to-morrow. It's most frightfully annoying. We've got +the box all right, and Everard's coming, and you must make the fourth. +We must have a fourth. Laurencine's here at the phone, and she says the +same as me." + +"Wish I could!" George answered shortly. "Look here! What train are you +going by to-morrow? I'll come and see you off. I shall be free then." + +"But, George. We _want_ you to come to-night." There seemed positively +to be tears in the faint voice. "Why can't you come? You must come." + +"I haven't finished one of the drawings. I tell you I'm on it now. It'll +take me half the night, or more. I'm just in the thick of it, you see." +He spoke with a slight resentful impatience--less at her +over-persuasiveness than at the fact that his mind and the drawing were +being more and more separated. Soon he would have lost the right mood, +and he would be compelled to re-create it before he could resume the +work. The forcible, gradual dragging away of his mind from its +passionately gripped objective was torture. He had an impulse to throw +down the receiver and run off. + +The distant squeaking voice changed to the petulant: + +"You are horrid. You could come right enough if you wanted to." + +"But don't you understand? It's awfully important for me." + +He was astounded, absolutely astounded. She would not understand. She +had decided that he must go to the musical comedy and nothing else +mattered. His whole future did not matter. + +"Oh! Very well, then," Lois said, undisguisedly vexed. "Of course, if +you won't, you won't. But really when two girls _implore_ you like +that.... And we have to leave to-morrow, and everything's upset!... I do +think it's ... However, good night." + +"Here! Hold hard a sec. I'll come for an hour or so. What's the number +of the box?" + +"Fourteen," said the voice brokenly. + +Immediately afterwards she rang off. George was hurt and bewildered. The +girl was incredibly ruthless. She was mad. Why had he yielded? Only a +silly conventional feeling had made him yield. And yet he was a great +scorner of convention. He went upstairs again to the perspective +drawing. He looked at his watch. He might work for half an hour before +leaving to dress. No, he could not. The mood had vanished. The +perspective had slipped into another universe. He could not even pick up +a pen. He despised himself terribly, despairingly, for yielding. + + +II + + +In spite of all this he anticipated with pleasure the theatre-party. He +wanted to go; he was glad he was going; the memory of Lois in the +tea-palace excited him. And he could refuse a hearing to his conscience, +and could prevent himself from thinking uncomfortably of the future, as +well as most young men. His secret, unadmitted voluptuous eagerness was +alloyed only by an apprehension that after the scene over the telephone +Lois might be peevish and ungracious. The fear proved to be baseless. + +Owing to the imperfections of the club laundry and the erring humanity +of Downs, he arrived late. _The Gay Spark_ had begun. He found a +darkened auditorium and a glowing stage. In the dim box Lois and +Laurencine were sitting in front on gilt chairs. Lucas sat behind +Laurencine, and there was an empty chair behind Lois. Her gesture, her +smile, her glance, as she turned to George and looked up, were touching. +She was delighted to see him; she had the mien of a child who has got +what it wanted and has absolutely forgotten that it ever pouted, +shrieked, and stamped its foot. She was determined to charm her +uttermost. Her eye in the gloom was soft with mysterious invitations. +George looked about the interior of the box; he saw the rich cloaks of +the girls hanging up next to glossy masculine hats, the large mirror on +the wall, and mother-of-pearl opera-glasses, chocolates, and flowers on +the crimson ledge. He was very close to the powerfully built and yet +plastic Lois. He could watch her changing curves as she breathed; the +faint scent she used rose to his nostrils. He thought, with contained +rapture: "Nothing in the world is equal to this." He did not care a fig +for the effect of perspective drawings or the result of the competition. +Lois, her head half-turned towards him, her gaze lost in the sombre +distances of the auditorium, talked in a low tone, ignoring the +performance. He gathered that the sudden departure of Irene Wheeler had +unusually impressed and disconcerted and, to a certain extent, mortified +the sisters, who could not explain it, and who resented the compulsion +to go back to Paris at once. And he detected in Lois, not for the first +time, a grievance that Irene kept her, Lois, apart from the main current +of her apparently gorgeous social career. Obviously an evening at which +the sole guests were two girls and a youth all quite unknown to +newspapers could not be a major item in the life of a woman such as +Irene Wheeler. She had left them unceremoniously to themselves at the +last moment, as it were permitting them to do what they liked within the +limits of goodness for one night, and commanding them to return sagely +home on the morrow. A red-nosed actor, hands in pockets, waddled +self-consciously on to the stage, and the packed audience, emitting +murmurs of satisfaction, applauded. Conversations were interrupted. +George, expectant, gave his attention to the show. He knew little or +nothing of musical comedy, having come under influences which had taught +him to despise it. His stepfather, for example, could be very sarcastic +about musical comedy, and through both Enwright and John Orgreave George +had further cultivated the habit of classical music, already acquired in +boyhood at home in the Five Towns. In the previous year, despite the +calls upon his time of study for examinations, George had attended the +Covent Garden performances of the Wagnerian "Ring" as he might have +attended High Mass. He knew by name a considerable percentage of the +hundred odd themes in "The Ring," and it was his boast that he could +identify practically all the forty-seven themes in _The Meistersingers_. +He raved about Ternina in _Tristan_. He had worshipped the Joachim +quartet. He was acquainted with all the popular symphonies of Beethoven, +Schubert, Schumann, Mozart, Glazounov, and Tschaikovsky. He even +frequented the Philharmonic Concerts, which were then conducted by a +composer of sentimental drawing-room ballads, and though he would not +class this conductor with Richter or Henry J. Wood, he yet believed that +somehow, by the magic of the sacred name of the Philharmonic Society, +the balladmonger in the man expired in the act of raising the baton and +was replaced by a serious and sensitive artist. He was accustomed to +hear the same pieces of music again and again and again, and they were +all or nearly all very fine, indisputably great. It never occurred to +him that once they had been unfamiliar and had had to fight for the +notice of persons who indulged in music exactly as he indulged in music. +He had no traffic with the unfamiliar. Unfamiliar items on a programme +displeased him. He had heard compositions by Richard Strauss, but he +could make nothing of them, and his timid, untravelled taste feared to +like them. Mr. Enwright himself was mainly inimical to Strauss, as to +most of modern Germany, perhaps because of the new architecture in +Berlin. George knew that there existed young English composers with such +names as Cyril Scott, Balfour Gardiner, Donald Tovey--for he had seen +these names recently on the front page of _The Daily Telegraph_--but he +had never gone to the extent of listening to their works. He was +entirely sure that they could not hold a candle to Wagner, and his +sub-conscious idea was that it was rather like their cheek to compose at +all. He had not noticed that Hugo Wolf had just died, nor indeed had he +noticed that Hugo Wolf had ever lived. + +Nevertheless this lofty and exclusive adherent of the 'best' music was +not prejudiced in advance against _The Gay Spark_. He was anxious to +enjoy it and he expected to enjoy it. _The Gay Spark_ had already an +enormous prestige; it bore the agreeable, captivating label of Vienna; +and immense sums were being made out of it in all the capitals of the +world. George did not hope for immortal strains, but he anticipated a +distinguished, lilting gaiety, and in the 'book' a witty and +cosmopolitan flavour that would lift the thing high above such English +musical comedies as he had seen. It was impossible that a work of so +universal and prodigious a vogue should not have unquestionable virtues. + +The sight of the red-nosed comedian rather shocked George, who had +supposed that red-nosed comedians belonged to the past. However, the man +was atoned for by three extremely beautiful and graceful young girls who +followed him. Round about the small group was ranged a semicircle of +handsome creatures in long skirts, behind whom was another semicircle of +young men in white flannels; the scene was a street in Mandalay. The +red-nosed comedian began by making a joke concerning his mother-in-law, +and another concerning mendacious statements to his wife to explain his +nocturnal absences from home, and another concerning his intoxicated +condition. The three extremely beautiful and graceful young girls +laughed deliriously at the red-nosed comedian; they replied in a similar +vein. They clasped his neck and kissed him rapturously, and thereupon he +sang a song, of which the message was that all three extremely beautiful +and graceful girls practised professionally the most ancient and stable +of feminine vocations; the girls, by means of many refrains, confirmed +this definition of their status in society. Then the four of them +danced, and there was enthusiastic applause from every part of the house +except the semicircle of European odalisques lost, for some unexplained +reason, in Mandalay. These ladies, the indubitable physical attractions +of each of whom were known by the management to fill five or six stalls +every night, took no pains whatever to hide that they were acutely bored +by the whole proceedings. Self-sufficient in their beauty, deeply aware +of the power of their beauty, they deigned to move a lackadaisical arm +or leg at intervals in accordance with the respectful suggestions of the +conductor. + +Soon afterwards the gay spark herself appeared, amid a hysteria of +applause. She played the part of the wife of a military officer, and +displayed therein a marvellous, a terrifying vitality of tongue, leg, +and arm. The young men in white flannels surrounded her, and she could +flirt with all of them; she was on intimate terms with the red-nosed +comedian, and also with the trio of delightful wantons, and her ideals +in life seemed to be identical with theirs. When, through the arrival of +certain dandies twirling canes, and the mysterious transformation of the +Burmese street into a Parisian cafe, these ideals were on the point of +realization, there was a great burst of brass in the orchestra, +succeeded by a violent chorus, some kicking, and a general wassail, and +the curtain fell on the first act. It had to be raised four times before +the gratefully appreciative clapping would cease. + +The auditorium shone with light; it grew murmurous with ecstatic +approval. The virginal face of Laurencine shot its rapture to Lucas as +she turned to shake hands with George. + +"Jolly well done, isn't it?" said Lucas. + +"Yes," said George. + +Lucas, too content to notice the perfunctoriness of George's +affirmative, went on: + +"When you think that they're performing it this very night in St. +Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, Brussels, and, I fancy, Rome, but I'm not +sure--marvellous, isn't it?" + +"It is," said George ambiguously. + +Though continuing to like him, he now definitely despised Everard. The +fellow had no artistic perceptions; he was a child. By some means he had +got through his Final, and was soon to be a junior partner in Enwright & +Lucas. George, however, did not envy Everard the soft situation; he only +pitied Enwright & Lucas. Everard had often urged George to go to musical +comedies more frequently, hinting that they were frightfully better +than George could conceive. _The Gay Spark_ gave Lucas away entirely; it +gave away his method of existence. + +"I don't believe you like it," said sharp Laurencine. + +"I adore it," George protested. "Don't you?" + +"Oh! _I_ do, of course," said Laurencine. "I knew I should." + +Lucas, instinctively on the defence, said: + +"The second act's much better than the first." + +George's hopes, dashed but not broken, recovered somewhat. After all +there had been one or two gleams of real jokes, and a catchiness in +certain airs; and the spark possessed temperament in profusion. It was +possible that the next act might be diverting. + +"You do look tired," said Laurencine. + +"Oh no, darling!" Lois objected. "I think he looks splendid." + +She was intensely happy in the theatre. The box was very well +placed--since Irene had bought it--with a view equally good of the stage +and of the semicircle of boxes. Lois' glance wandered blissfully round +the boxes, all occupied by gay parties, and over the vivacious stalls. +She gazed, and she enjoyed being gazed at. She bathed herself in the +glitter and the gaudiness and the opulence and the humanity, as in tonic +fluid. She seemed to float sinuously and voluptuously immersed in it, as +in tepid water lit with sunshine. + +"Do have a choc.," she invited eagerly. + +George took a chocolate. She took one. They all took one. They all had +the unconscious pride of youth that does not know itself young. Each was +different from the others. George showed the reserve of the artist; +Lucas the ease of the connoisseur of mundane spectacles; Laurencine the +sturdy, catholic, girlish innocence that nothing can corrupt. And the +sovereign was Lois. She straightened her shoulders; she leaned +languorously; she looked up, she looked down; she spoke softly and +loudly; she laughed and smiled. And in every movement and in every +gesture and tone she symbolized the ecstasy of life. She sought +pleasure, and she had found it, and she had no afterthought. She was +infectious; she was irresistible, and terrible too. For it was +dismaying, at any rate to George, to dwell on the fierceness of her +instinct and on the fierceness of its satisfaction. To George her +burning eyes were wistful, pathetic, in their simplicity. He felt a sort +of fearful pity for her. And he admired her--she was something +definite; she was something magnificently outright; she did live. Also +he liked her; the implications in her glance appealed to him. The +peculiar accents in which she referred to the enigma of Irene Wheeler +were extraordinarily attractive to that part of his nature which was +perverse and sophisticated. "At least she is not a simpleton," he +thought. "And she doesn't pretend to be. Some day I shall talk to her." + +The orchestra resumed; the lights went out. Lois settled herself to +fresh enchantment as the curtain rolled up to disclose the bright halls +and staircases of a supper-club. The second act was an amplification and +inflammation of the themes of the first. As for the music, George +listened in vain for an original tune, even for a tune of which he could +not foretell the end from the beginning; the one or two engaging bits of +melody which enlivened the first act were employed again in the second. +The disdainful, lethargic chorus was the same; the same trio of +delicious wantons fondled and kissed the same red-nosed comedian, who +was still in the same state of inebriety, and the gay spark flitted +roysteringly through the same evolutions, in pursuit of the same simple +ideals. The jocularity pivoted unendingly on the same twin centres of +alcohol and concupiscence. Gradually the latter grew to more and more +importance, and the piece became a high and candid homage to the impulse +by force of which alone one generation succeeds another. No beautiful +and graceful young girl on the stage blenched before the salacious +witticisms of the tireless comedian; on the contrary he remained the +darling of the stage. And as he was the darling of the stage, so was he +the darling of the audience. + +And if no beautiful and graceful young girl blenched on the stage, +neither did the beautiful and graceful young girls in the audience +blench. You could see them sitting happily with their fathers and +mothers and cousins and uncles and aunts, savouring the spectacle from +dim stalls and boxes in the most perfect respectability. Laurencine +leaning her elbows on the ledge of the box, watched with eager, parted +lips, and never showed the slightest sign of uneasiness. + +George was uneasy; he was distressed. The extraordinary juxtaposition of +respectability and a ribald sexual display startled but did not distress +him. If the whole audience was ready to stand it he certainly was. He +had no desire to protect people from themselves, nor to blush on behalf +of others--whoever they might be. Had anybody accused him of saintliness +he would have resented the charge, quite justifiably, and if the wit of +_The Gay Spark_ had been witty, he would have enjoyed it without a +qualm. What distressed him, what utterly desolated him, was the +grossness, the poorness, the cheapness, the dullness, and the +uninventive monotony of the interminable entertainment. He yawned, he +could not help yawning; he yawned his soul away. Lois must have heard +him yawning, but she did not move. He looked at her curiously, +pitifully, speculating how much of her luxury was due to Irene Wheeler, +and how little to 'Parisian' of _The Sunday Journal_--for he had been +inquiring about the fruits of journalism. The vision of his own office +and of the perspective drawing rose seductively and irresistibly in his +mind. He could not stay in the theatre; he felt that if he stayed he +would be in danger of dropping down dead, suffocated by tedium; and the +drawing must be finished; it would not wait; it was the most urgent +thing in the world. And not a syllable had any person in the box said to +him about his great task. Lois's forearm, braceleted, lay on the front +of the box. Unceremoniously he took her hand. + +"Bye-bye." + +"You aren't going?" Her whisper was incredulous. + +"Must." + +He gave her no chance to expostulate. With one movement he had seized +his hat and coat and slid from the box, just as the finale of the act +was imminent and the red-nosed comedian was measuring the gay spark for +new _lingerie_ with a giant property-cigar. He had not said good-bye to +Laurencine. He had not asked about their departure on the morrow. But he +was free. + +In the foyer a couple--a woman in a rose plush _sortie de bal_, and a +blade--were mysteriously talking. The blade looked at him, smiled, and +left the lady. + +"Hal_lo_, old fellow!" It was Buckingham Smith, who had been getting on +in the world. + +They shook hands. + +"You've left Chelsea, haven't you?" + +"Yes," said George. + +"So've I. Don't see much of the old gang nowadays. Heard anything of old +Princey lately?" + +George replied that he had not. The colloquy was over in a moment. + +"You must come and see my show--next week," Buck Smith called out after +the departing George. + +"I will," cried George. + +He walked quickly up to Russell Square, impatient to steep himself anew +in his work. All sense of fatigue had left him. Time seemed to be flying +past him, and he rushing towards an unknown fate. On the previous day he +had received an enheartening, challenging, sardonic letter from his +stepfather, who referred to politics and envisaged a new epoch for the +country. Edwin Clayhanger was a Radical of a type found only in the +Midlands and the North. For many years Clayhanger's party, to which he +was passionately faithful, had had no war-cry and no programme worthy of +its traditions. The increasing success of the campaign against +Protection, and certain signs that the introduction of Chinese labour +into South Africa could be effectively resisted, had excited the +middle-aged provincial--now an Alderman--and he had managed to +communicate fire to George. But in George, though he sturdily shared his +stepfather's views, the resulting righteous energy was diverted to +architectural creation. + + +III + + +The circumstances in which, about a month later, George lunched with the +Ingram family at their flat in the Rue d'Athènes, near the Gare St. +Lazare, Paris, had an appearance of the utmost simplicity and +ordinariness. He had been down to Staffordshire for a rest, and had +returned unrested. And then Mr. Enwright had suggested that it would do +him good to go to Paris, even to go alone. He went, with no plan, but +having made careful arrangements for the telegraphing to him of the +result of the competition, which was daily expected. By this time he was +very seriously convinced that there was no hope of him being among the +selected six or ten, and he preferred to get the news away from London +rather than in it; he felt that he could not face London on the day or +the morrow of a defeat which would of course render his youthful +audacity ridiculous. + +He arrived in Paris on a Wednesday evening, and took a room in a _maison +meublée_ of the Rue de Sèze. Every inexperienced traveller in Paris has +a friend who knows a lodging in Paris which he alleges is better and +cheaper than any other lodging--and which is not. The house in the Rue +de Sèze was the economical paradise of Buckingham Smith, whom George had +encountered again at the Buckingham Smith exhibition. Buckingham Smith, +with over half his pictures bearing the red seal that indicates 'Sold,' +felt justified in posing to the younger George as a cosmopolitan +expert--especially as his opinions on modern French art were changing. +George spent three solitary and dejected days in Paris, affecting an +interest in museums and architecture and French opera, and committing +follies. Near the end of the third day, a Saturday, he suddenly sent a +threepenny express note to Lois Ingram. He would have telephoned had he +dared to use the French telephone. On Sunday morning, an aproned valet +having informed him that Monsieur was demanded at the telephone, he had +to use the telephone. Lois told him that he must come to lunch, and that +afterwards he would be escorted to the races. Dejection was instantly +transformed into a gay excitation. Proud of having spoken through a +French telephone, he began to conceive romantically the interior of a +Paris home--he had seen naught but a studio or so with Mr. Enwright--and +to thrill at the prospect of Sunday races. Not merely had he never seen +a horse-race on a Sunday--he had never seen a horse-race at all. He +perhaps was conscious of a genuine interest in Lois and her environment, +but what most satisfied and flattered him, after his loneliness, was the +bare fact of possessing social relations in Paris at all. + +The Ingram home was up four flights of naked oaken stairs, fairly swept, +in a plain, flat-fronted house. The door of the home was opened by a +dark, untidy, dishevelled, uncapped, fat girl, with a full apron, +dazzling white and rectangularly creased, that had obviously just been +taken out of a drawer. Familiarly and amicably smiling, she led him into +a small, modest drawing-room where were Lois and her father and mother. +Lois was enigmatic and taciturn. Mr. and Mrs. Ingram were ingenuous, +loquacious, and at ease. Both of them had twinkling eyes. Mrs. Ingram +was rather stout and grey and small, and wore a quiet, inexpensive blue +dress, embroidered at the neck in the Morrisian manner, of no kind of +fashionableness. She spoke in a low voice, smiled to herself with a +benevolence that was not without a touch of the sardonic, and often +looked at the floor or at the ceiling. Mr. Ingram, very slim and neat, +was quite as small as his wife, and seemed smaller. He talked much and +rather amusingly, in a somewhat mincing tone, as it were apologetically, +truly anxious to please. He had an extremely fair complexion, and his +youthfulness was quite startling. His golden hair and perfect teeth +might have belonged to a boy. George leapt immediately into familiarity +with these two. But nobody could have less resembled his preconceived +image of 'Parisian' than Mr. Ingram. And he could not understand a bit +whence or how such a pair had produced their daughter Lois. Laurencine +was a far more comprehensible offspring for them. + +The dining-room was even less spacious than the drawing-room, and as +unpretentious. The furniture everywhere was sparse, but there were one +or two rich knick-knacks, and an abundance of signed photographs. The +few pictures, too, were signed, and they drew attention. On the table +the napkins, save George's, were in rings, and each ring different from +the others. George's napkin had the air of a wealthy, stiff, shiny +relative of the rest. Evidently in that home the long art of making both +ends meet was daily practised. George grew light-hearted and happy, +despite the supreme preoccupation which only a telegram could allay. He +had keenly the sensation of being abroad. The multiplicity of doors, the +panelling of the doors, the narrow planking of the oaken floor, the +moulding of the cornices, the shape of the windows, the view of the +courtyard from the dining-room and of attics and chimney-cowls from the +drawing-room, the closed anthracite stoves in lieu of fires, the +crockery, the wine-bottle, the mustard, the grey salt, the +unconventional gestures and smiles and exclamations of the unkempt +maid--all these strange details enchanted him, and they all set off very +vividly the intense, nice, honest, reassuring Englishness of the host +and hostess. + +It was not until after the others were seated for the meal that +Laurencine made her appearance. She was a magnificent and handsome +virgin, big-boned, physically a little awkward, candid. How exquisitely +and absurdly she flushed in shaking hands with George! With what a +delicious mock-furious setting of the teeth and tossing of the head she +frowned at her mother's reproaches for being late! This family knew the +meaning of intimacy but not of ceremony. Laurencine sat down at her +father's left; George was next to her on Mrs. Ingram's right. Lois had +the whole of the opposite side of the table. + +"Does he know?" Laurencine asked; and turning to George: "Do you know?" + +"Know what?" + +"You'd better tell him, dad. You like talking, and he ought to know. I +shan't be able to eat if he doesn't. It would be so ridiculous sitting +here and pretending." + +Mrs. Ingram looked upwards across the room at a corner of the ceiling, +and smiled faintly. + +"You might," she said, "begin by asking Mr. Cannon if he particularly +wants to be burdened with the weight of your secrets, my dear child." + +"Oh! I particularly do," said George. + +"There's no secret about it--at least there won't be soon," said +Laurencine. + +Lois spoke simultaneously: + +"My dear mother, please call George George. If we call him George, you +can't possibly call him Mr. Cannon." + +"I quite admit," Mrs. Ingram replied to her eldest, "I quite admit that +you and Laurencine are entitled to criticise my relations with my +husband, because he's your father. But I propose to carry on my affairs +with other men just according to my own ideas, and any interference will +be resented. I've had a bad night, owing to the garage again, and I +don't feel equal to calling George George. I've only known him about +twenty minutes. Moreover, I might be misunderstood, mightn't I, Mr. +Cannon?" + +"You might," said George. + +"Now, dad!" Laurencine admonished. + +Mr. Ingram, addressing George, began: + +"Laurencine suffers from a grave form of self-consciousness----" + +"I don't, dad." + +"It is a disease akin to conceit. Her sufferings are sometimes so acute +that she cannot sit up straight and is obliged to loll and curl her legs +round the legs of the chair. We are all very sorry for her. The only +treatment is brutal candour, as she herself advocates----" + +Laurencine jumped up, towered over her father, and covered his mouth +with her hand. + +"This simple hand," said Mr. Ingram, seizing it, "will soon bear a ring. +Laurencine is engaged to be married." + +"I'm not, father." She sat down again. + +"Well, you are not. But you will be, I presume, by post-time to-night. A +young man of the name of Lucas has written to Laurencine this morning in +a certain sense, and he has also written to me. Laurencine has seen my +letter, and I've seen hers. But my envelope contained only one letter. +Whether her envelope contained more than one, whether the epistle which +I saw is written in the style usually practised by the present age, +whether it was composed for the special purpose of being shown to me, I +do not know, and discretion and nice gentlemanly feeling forbid me to +inquire. However----" + +At this point, Laurencine snatched her father's napkin off his knees and +put it on her own. + +"However, my wife and I have met this Mr. Lucas, and as our opinion +about him is not wholly unfavourable, the matter was satisfactorily and +quickly arranged--even before I had had my bath; Laurencine and I will +spend the afternoon in writing suitable communications to Mr. Lucas. I +am ready to show her mine for a shilling, but I doubt if five pounds +would procure me a sight of hers. Yet she is only an amateur writer and +I'm a professional." + +There was a little silence, and then George said awkwardly: + +"I congratulate old Lucas." + +"This news must have astonished you extremely," observed Mr. Ingram. "It +must have come as a complete surprise. In fact you are doubtless in the +condition known to charwomen as capable of being knocked down with a +feather." + +"Oh! Quite!" George agreed. + +Nevertheless, in spite of his light tone, he regretted the engagement. +He did not think Lucas was worthy of the splendid girl. He felt sorry +for her. At that moment she faced him bravely, and smiled. Her face had +a tremendous deep crimson flush. There was a woman somewhere in the +girl! Strange phenomenon! And another strange phenomenon: if Laurencine +had been self-conscious, George also was self-conscious; and he avoided +Lois's eyes! Why? He wondered whether the circumstances in which he had +come to Paris and entered the Ingram home were as simple and ordinary as +they superficially appeared. + +"Laurencine," said her mother, "give your father back his serviette!" + +"Mine's fallen." + +"Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Ingram very benevolently, and he bent +down and retrieved Laurencine's napkin, which he kept. "And now," he +proceeded, "the serious operation being over and the patient out of +danger, shall we talk about something else for a few moments?" + +"I should think so indeed!" Laurencine exclaimed, suddenly gay. "George, +when _shall_ you know about the competition?" + +"Any minute, I might," said he. + +They all talked sympathetically to George on the new subject. + +After lunch, Lois disappeared. She came back resplendent for the races, +when coffee had long been finished in the drawing-room. + +"Why aren't you ready, Laure?" she demanded. + +"I'm not going, darling." + +"Lois," Mr. Ingram exhorted, "don't forget the afternoon is to be spent +in literary composition." + +"It isn't," Laurencine contradicted. "I may as well tell you I've +written all I mean to write in the way of letters for one day. But I +don't want to go, really, Lois darling." + +"No. She wants to think," Mrs. Ingram explained. + +Lois set her lips together, and then glimpsed herself in the large +mirror over the anthracite stove. She looked too rich and complicated +for that simple drawing-room. + +A performance on a horn made itself heard in the street below. + +"There he is!" said Laurencine. + +She opened a window and ran out on to the balcony and leaned over; then +glanced within the room and nodded. George had assumed that Irene +Wheeler was the author and hostess of the race-party, and he was not +mistaken. Irene's automobile had been sent round to embark him and the +girls. Mrs. Ingram urged him to come again the next day, and he said +ardently that he would. Mrs. Ingram's 'affair' with him was progressing +rapidly. + +"But I hope you'll call me George, then," he added. + +"I may!" she said. "I may! I may go even further." + +Lois and George descended the stairs in silence. He had not seen her, +nor written to her, since the night of the comedy when he had so +abruptly left the box. Once or twice at the Ingrams' he had fancied that +she might be vexed with him for that unceremonious departure. But she +was not. The frank sigh of relief which she gave on reaching the foot of +the interminable stairs, and her equally frank smile, had no reserve +whatever. + +The chauffeur's welcoming grin seemed to indicate that he was much +attached to Miss Ingram. He touched his hat, bowed, and spoke to her at +some length in French. Lois frowned. + +"It seems Miss Wheeler doesn't feel equal to going out this afternoon," +she translated to George. "But she insists that we shall use the car all +the same." + +"Is she ill?" + +"She's lying down, trying to sleep." + +"Well, then, I suppose we'd better use the car, hadn't we?" + +Lois said seriously: + +"If you don't object, I don't." + + +IV + + +At Longchamps the sun most candidly and lovingly blessed the elaborate +desecration of the English Sabbath. The delicately ornamented grand +stands, the flags, the swards, the terraces, the alleys, the booths, the +notice-boards, the vast dappled sea of hats and faces in the distant +cheaper parts of the Hippodrome, were laved in the descending, caressing +floods of voluptuous, warm sunshine. The air itself seemed luminous. The +enchantment of the sun was irresistible; it stunned apprehensions and +sad memories, obliterating for a moment all that was or might be unhappy +in the past or in the future. George yielded to it. He abandoned his +preoccupations about the unsatisfactoriness of using somebody else's car +in the absence of the owner, about Mr. and Mrs. Ingram's ignorance of +the fact that their daughter had gone off alone with him, about Lois's +perfect indifference to this fact, about the engagement of Laurencine to +a man not her equal in worth, about the strange, uncomfortable effect of +Laurencine's engagement upon his attitude towards Lois, and finally and +supremely about the competition. He gave himself up to the bright warmth +like an animal, and forgot. And he became part of the marvellous and +complicated splendour of the scene, took pride in it, took even credit +for it (Heaven knew why!), and gradually passed from insular +astonishment to a bland, calm acceptance of the miracles of sensuous +beatitude which civilization had to offer. + +After all, he was born to such experiences; they were his right; and he +was equal to them. Nevertheless his conviction of the miraculous +fortunately was not impaired. What was impaired was his conviction of +his own culture. He was constantly thinking that he knew everything or +could imagine everything, and constantly undergoing the shock of +undeception; but the shock of the Longchamps Sunday was excessive. He +had quite failed to imagine the race-meeting; he had imagined an +organism brilliant, perhaps, but barbaric and without form and style; he +had imagined grotesque contrasts of squalor, rascality, and fashion; he +had imagined an affair predominantly equine and masculine. The reality +did not correspond; it transcended his imagination; it painfully +demonstrated his jejune crudity. The Hippodrome was as formalized and +stylistic as an Italian garden; the only contrasts were those of one +elegance with another; horses were not to be seen, except occasionally +in the distance when under their riders they shot past some dark +background a flitting blur of primary colours with a rumble of muffled +thunder; and women, not men, predominated. + +On entering the Hippodrome George and Lois had met a group of +fashionably attired women, and he had thought: "There's a bunch of jolly +well-dressed ones." But as the reserved precincts opened out before him +he saw none but fashionably attired women. They were there not in +hundreds but in thousands. They sat in rows on the grand stands; they +jostled each other on the staircases; they thronged the alleys and +swards. The men were negligible beside them. And they were not only +fashionably and very fashionably attired--all their frocks and all their +hats and all their parasols and all their boots were new, glittering, +spick-and-span; were complex and expensive; not one feared the sun. The +conception of what those innumerable chromatic toilettes had cost in the +toil, stitch by stitch, of malodorous workrooms and in the fatigue of +pale, industrious creatures was really formidable. But it could not +detract from the scenic triumph. The scenic triumph dazzlingly justified +itself, and proved beyond any cavilling that earth was a grand, +intoxicating place, and Longchamps under the sun an unequalled paradise +of the senses.... Ah! These women were finished--finished to the least +detail of coiffure, sunshade-handle, hatpin, jewellery, handbag, +bootlace, glove, stocking, _lingerie_. Each was the product of many arts +in co-ordination. Each was of great price. And there were thousands of +them. They were as cheap as periwinkles. George thought: "This is +Paris." + +He said aloud: + +"Seems to be a fine lot of new clothes knocking about." + +Evidently for Lois his tone was too impressed, not sufficiently casual. +She replied in her condescending manner, which he detested: + +"My poor George, considering that this is the opening of the spring +season, and the place where all the new spring fashions are tried +out--what did you expect?" + +The dolt had not known that he was assisting at a solemnity recognized +as such by experts throughout the clothed world. But Lois knew all those +things. She herself was trying out a new toilette, for which doubtless +Irene Wheeler was partly sponsor. She could hold her own on the terraces +with the rest. She was staggeringly different now from the daughter of +the simple home in the Rue d'Athènes. + +The eyes of the splendid women aroused George's antipathy, because he +seemed to detect antipathy in them--not against himself but against the +male in him. These women, though by their glances they largely +mistrusted and despised each other, had the air of having combined +sexually against a whole sex. The situation was very contradictory. They +had beautified and ornamented themselves in order to attract a whole +sex, and yet they appeared to resent the necessity and instinct to +attract. They submitted with a secret repugnance to the mysterious and +supreme bond which kept the sexes inexorably together. And while +stooping to fascinate, while deliberately seeking attention, they still +had the assured mien of conquerors. Their eyes said that they knew they +were indispensable, that they had a transcendent role to play, that no +concealed baseness of the inimical sex was hidden from them, and that +they meant to exploit their position to the full. These Latin women +exhibited a logic, an elegance, and a frankness beyond the reach of the +Anglo-Saxon. Their eyes said not that they had been disillusioned, but +rather that they had never had illusions. They admitted the facts; they +admitted everything--economic dependence, chicane, the intention to +seize every advantage, ruthless egotism. They had no shame for a +depravity which they shared equally with the inescapable and cherished +enemy And it was the youngest who, beneath the languishing and the +softness and the invitation deceitful and irresistible, gazed outmost +triumphantly to the enemy: "You are the victims. We have tried our +strength and your infirmity." They were heroic. There was a feeling in +the bright air of melancholy and doom as the two hostile forces, +inseparable, inextricably involved together, surveyed the opponent in +the everlasting conflict. George felt its influence upon himself, upon +Lois, upon the whole scene. The eyes of the most feminine women in the +world, denying their smiles and their lure, had discovered to him +something which marked a definite change in his estimate of certain +ultimate earthly values. + +Lois said: + +"Perhaps a telegram is waiting for you at the hotel." + +"Well, I can wait till I get back," he replied stoutly. + +He thought, looking at her by his side: + +"She is just like these Frenchwomen!" And for some reason he felt proud. + +"You needn't," said Lois, "We can telephone from under the grand stand +if you like." + +"But I don't know the number." + +"We can get that out of the book, of course." + +"I don't reckon I can use these French telephones." + +"Oh! My poor boy, I'll telephone for you--unless you prefer not to risk +knowing the worst." + +Yes, her tone was the tone of a strange woman. And it was she who +thirsted for the result of the competition. + +Controlling himself, submissively he asked her to telephone for him, and +she agreed in a delightfully agreeable voice. She seemed to know the +entire geography of the Hippodrome. She secured a telephone-cabin in a +very business-like manner. As she entered the cabin she said to George: + +"I'll ask them if a telegram has come, and if it has I'll ask them to +open it and read it to me, or spell it--of course it'll be in +English.... Eh?" + +Through the half-open door of the cabin he watched her, and listened. +She rapidly turned over the foul and torn pages of the telephone-book +with her thumb. She spoke into the instrument very clearly, curtly, and +authoritatively. George could translate in his mind what she said--his +great resolve to learn French had carried him so far. + +"On the part of Monsieur Cannon, one of your clients, Monsieur Cannon of +London. Has there arrived a telegram for him?" + +She waited. The squalor of the public box increased the effect of her +young and proud stylishness and of her perfume. George waited, humbled +by her superior skill in the arts of life, and saying anxiously to +himself: "Perhaps in a moment I shall know the result," almost +trembling. + +She hung up the instrument, and, with a glance at George, shook her +head. + +"There isn't anything," she murmured. + +He said: + +"It's very queer, isn't it? However..." + +As they emerged from the arcana of the grand stand, Lois was stopped by +a tall, rather handsome Jew, who, saluting her with what George esteemed +to be French exaggeration of gesture, nevertheless addressed her in a +confidential tone in English. George, having with British restraint +acknowledged the salute, stood aside, and gazed discreetly away from the +pair. He could not hear what was being said. After several minutes Lois +rejoined George, and they went back into the crowds and the sun. She did +not speak. She did not utter one word. Only, when the numbers went up +for a certain race, she remarked: + +"This is the Prix du Cadran. It's the principal race of the afternoon." + +And when that was over, amid cheering that ran about the field like fire +through dried bush, she added: + +"I think I ought to go back now. I told the chauffeur to be here after +the Prix du Cadran. What time is it exactly?" + +They sat side by side in the long, open car, facing the chauffeur's +creaseless back. After passing the Cascade, the car swerved into the +Allée de Longchamps which led in an absolutely straight line, two miles +long, to the Port Maillot and the city. Spring decorated the magnificent +wooded thoroughfare. The side-alleys, aisles of an interminable nave, +were sprinkled with revellers and lovers and the most respectable +families half hidden amid black branches and gleams of tender green. +Automobiles and carriages threaded the main alley at varying speeds. The +number of ancient horse-cabs gradually increased until, after the +intersection of the Allée de la Reine Marguerite, they thronged the vast +road. All the humble and shabby genteel people in Paris who could +possibly afford a cab seemed to have taken a cab. Nearly every cab was +overloaded. The sight of this vast pathetic effort of the disinherited +towards gaiety and distraction and the mood of spring, intensified the +vague sadness in George due to the race-crowd, Lois's silence, and the +lack of news about the competition. + +At length Lois said, scowling--no doubt involuntarily: + +"I think I'd better tell you now. Irene Wheeler's committed suicide. +Shot herself." She pressed her lips together and looked at the road. + +George gave a startled exclamation. He could not for an instant credit +the astounding news. + +"But how do you know? Who told you?" + +"The man who spoke to me in the grand stand. He's correspondent of _The +London Courier_--friend of father's of course." + +George protested: + +"Then why on earth didn't you tell me before?... Shot herself! What +for?" + +"I didn't tell you before because I couldn't." + +All the violence of George's nature came to the surface as he said +brutally: + +"Of course you could!" + +"I tell you I couldn't!" she cried. "I knew the car wouldn't be there +for us until after the Prix du Cadran. And if I'd told you I couldn't +have borne to be walking about that place three-quarters of an hour. We +should have had to talk about it. I couldn't have borne that. And so you +needn't be cross, please." + +But her voice did not break, nor her eyes shine. + +"I was wondering whether I should tell the chauffeur at once, or let him +find it out." + +"I should let him find it out," said George. "He doesn't know that you +know. Besides, it might upset his driving." + +"Oh! I shouldn't mind about his driving," Lois murmured disdainfully. + + +V + + +When the uninformed chauffeur drove the car with a grand sweep under the +marquise of the ostentatious pale yellow block in the Avenue Hoche where +Irene Wheeler had had her flat, Mr. Ingram and a police-agent were +standing on the steps, but nobody else was near. Little Mr. Ingram came +forward anxiously, his eyes humid, and his face drawn with pain and +distress. + +"We know," said Lois. "I met Mr. Cardow at Longchamps. He knew." + +Mr. Ingram's pain and distress seemed to increase. + +He said, after a moment: + +"Alfred will drive you home, dear, at once. _Alfred, vous seriez gentil +de reconduire Mademoiselle à la rue d'Athènes."_ He had the air of +supplicating the amiable chauffeur. "Mr. Cannon, I particularly want a +few words with you." + +"But, father, I must come in!" said Lois. "I must----" + +"You will go home immediately. Please, please do not add to my +difficulties. I shall come home myself as quickly as possible. You can +do nothing here. The seals have been affixed." + +Lois raised her chin in silence. + +Then Mr. Ingram turned to the police-agent, spoke to him in French, and +pointed to the car persuasively; and the police-agent permissively +nodded. The chauffeur, with an affectation of detachment worthy of the +greatest days of valetry, drove off, leaving George behind. Mr. Ingram +descended the steps. + +"I think, perhaps, we might go to a café," said he in a tone which +dispersed George's fear of a discussion as to the propriety of the +unchaperoned visit to the races. + +They sat down on the _terrasse_ of a large café near the Place des +Ternes, a few hundred yards away from the Avenue Hoche. The café was +nearly empty, citizens being either in the Bois or on the main +boulevards. Mr. Ingram sadly ordered bocks. The waiter, flapping his +long apron, called out in a loud voice as he went within: "_Deux blonds, +deux._" George supplied cigarettes. + +"Mr. Cannon," began Mr. Ingram, "it is advisable for me to tell you a +most marvellous and painful story. I have only just heard it. It has +overwhelmed me, but I must do my duty." He paused. + +"Certainly," said George self-consciously, not knowing what to say. He +nearly blushed as, in an attempt to seem at ease, he gazed negligently +round at the rows of chairs and marble tables, and at the sparse traffic +of the somnolent Place. + +Mr. Ingram proceeded. + +"When I first knew Irene Wheeler she was an art student here. So was I. +But I was already married, of course, and older than she. Exactly what +her age was I should not care to say. I can, however, say quite +truthfully that her appearance has scarcely altered in those nineteen +years. She always affirmed that her relatives, in Indianapolis, were +wealthy--or at least had money, but that they were very mean with her. +She lived in the simplest way. As for me, I had to give up art for +something less capricious, but capricious enough in all conscience. Miss +Wheeler went to America and was away for some time--a year or two. When +she came back to Paris she told us that she had made peace with her +people, and that her uncle, whom for present purposes I will call Mr. X, +a very celebrated railway magnate of Indianapolis, had adopted her. Her +new manner of life amply confirmed these statements." + +"_Deux bocks_," cried the waiter, slapping down on the table two saucers +and two stout glass mugs filled with frothing golden liquid. + +George, unaccustomed to the ritual of cafés, began at once to sip, but +Mr. Ingram, aware that the true boulevardier always ignores his bock for +several minutes, behaved accordingly. + +"She was evidently extremely rich. I have had some experience, and I +estimate that she had the handling of at least half a million francs a +year. She seemed to be absolutely her own mistress. You have had an +opportunity of judging her style of existence. However, her attitude +towards ourselves was entirely unchanged. She remained intimate with my +wife, who, I may say, is an excellent judge of character, and she was +exceedingly kind to our girls, especially Lois--but Laurencine too--and +as they grew up she treated them like sisters. Now, Mr. Cannon, I shall +be perfectly frank with you. I shall not pretend that I was not rather +useful to Miss Wheeler--I mean in the Press. She had social ambitions. +And why not? One may condescend towards them, but do they not serve a +purpose in the structure of society? Very rich as she was, it was easy +for me to be useful to her. And at worst her pleasure in publicity was +quite innocent--indeed, it was so innocent as to be charming. Naïve, +shall we call it?" + +Here Mr. Ingram smiled sadly, tasted his bock, and threw away the end of +a cigarette. + +"Well," he resumed, "I am coming to the point. This is the point, which +I have learnt scarcely an hour ago--I was called up on the telephone +immediately after you and Lois had gone. This is the point. Mr. X was +not poor Irene's uncle, and he had not adopted her. But it was his money +that she was spending." Mr. Ingram gazed fixedly at George. + +"I see," said George calmly, rising to the rôle of man of the world. "I +see." He had strange mixed sensations of pleasure, pride, and confusion. +"And you've just found this out?" + +"I have just found it out from Mr. X himself, whom I met for the first +time to-day--in poor Irene's flat. I never assisted at such a scene. +Never! It positively unnerved me. Mr. X is a man of fifty-five, +fabulously wealthy, used to command, autocratic, famous in all the Stock +Exchanges of the world. When I tell you that he cried like a child ... +Oh! I never had such an experience. His infatuation for +Irene--indescribable! Indescribable! She had made her own terms with +him. He told me himself. Astounding terms, but for him it was those +terms or nothing. He accepted them--had to. She was to be quite free. +The most absolute discretion was to be observed. He came to Paris or +London every year, and sometimes she went to America. She utterly +refused to live in America." + +"Why didn't she marry him?" + +"He has a wife. I have no doubt in my own mind that one of his reasons +for accepting her extraordinary terms was to keep in close touch with +her at all costs in case his wife should die. Otherwise he might have +lost her altogether. He told me many things about poor Irene's family in +Indianapolis which I will not repeat. It was true that they had money, +as Irene said; but as for anything else ...! The real name was not +Wheeler." + +"Has he been over, here long?" + +"He landed at Cherbourg last night. Just arrived." + +"And she killed herself at once." + +"Whether the deed was done immediately before or immediately after his +arrival is not yet established. And I need hardly tell you that Mr. X +has already fixed up arrangements not to appear in the case at all. But +one thing is sure--she had made all the preparations for suicide, made +them with the greatest care. The girls saw her yesterday, and both Lois +and I spoke to her on the telephone this morning. Not a trace of +anything in her voice. I assume she had given a message for Lois to the +chauffeur." + +"Yes," said George. "We never dreamed----" + +"Of course not. Of course not." + +"But why did she----" + +"Another man, my dear sir! Another man! A young man named +Defourcambault, in the French Embassy in London." + +"Oh, him!" George burst out. "I know him," he added fiercely. + +"You do? Yes, I remember Laurencine saying.... Poor Irene, I fear, was +very deeply in love with him. She had written to Mr. X about +Defourcambault. He showed me the letter--most touching, really most +touching. His answer to it was to come to Europe at once. But poor +Irene's death had nothing to do with his coming. She did not know he was +coming. She shot herself as she lay in bed, and on the pillow was a +letter from this man Defourcambault--well, saying good-bye to her. I saw +the letter. Not a letter that I should wish to remember. Perhaps she had +told him something of her life. I much fear that Defourcambault will be +fetched from London, though I hope not. There would be no object.... No, +thank you. I will not smoke again. I only wanted to say this to you. All +Paris knows that my daughters were intimate with poor Irene. Now, if +anything comes out, if anything _should_ come out, if there's any +talk--you see my fear. I wish to assure you, Mr. Cannon, that I had not +the slightest suspicion, not the slightest. And yet we journalists +cannot exactly be called ingenuous! But I had not the slightest +suspicion, nor had my wife. You know the situation between Laurencine +and your friend Lucas. You and he are very intimate, I believe. May I +count on you to explain everything from my point of view to Mr. Lucas? I +could not bear that the least cloud should rest upon my little +Laurencine." + +"You needn't trouble about Lucas," said George positively. "Lucas 'll be +all right. Still, I'll talk to him." + +"Thank you very much. Thank you very much. I knew I could rely on you. +I've kept you a long time, but I'm sure you understand. I'm thinking +only of my girls. Not for anything would I have them know the truth +about the affair." + +"But aren't they bound to know it?" George asked. + +Mr. Ingram was wounded. "I hope not. I hope not," he said gravely. "It +is not right that young girls should know such things." + +"But surely, sooner or later----" + +"Ah! After they are married, conceivably. That would be quite +different," he admitted, with cheerfulness. "And now," he smiled, "I'm +afraid I've got to go and write the case up for London. I can catch the +mail, I think. If not, I must cable. But they hate me to cable when the +mail is possible. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +Simultaneously he signalled to a taxi and knocked on the window for the +attendance of the waiter. + +"Thanks. If you're going anywhere near the Place de l'Opéra," said +George. + + +VI + + +He was excited, rather than saddened, by the tragic event. He was indeed +very excited. And also he had a deep satisfaction, because it seemed to +him that he had at last been truly admitted into the great secret +fellowship of adult males. The initiation flattered his pride. He left +Mr. Ingram at the door of an English newspaper office in the Boulevard +des Italiens, and, after vainly asking for telegrams at the hotel, +walked away, aimlessly at first, along broad pavements encumbered with +the chairs and tables of vast, crowded cafés, and with bright Sunday +idlers and sinister street-vendors. But in a moment he had decided that +he must and ought to pay a call in the Rue d'Athènes. Mr. Ingram had +said nothing about his seeing Lois again, had not referred to Mrs. +Ingram's invitation to repeat his visit, might even vaguely object to an +immediate interview between him and Lois. Yet he could not, as a man of +the world, abandon Lois so unceremoniously. He owed something to Lois +and he owed something to himself. And he was a free adult. The call was +natural and necessary, and if Mr. Ingram did not like it he must, in the +Five Towns phrase, lump it. George set off to find the Rue d'Athènes +unguided. It was pleasurable to think that there was a private abode in +the city of cafés, hotels, and museums to which he had the social right +of entry. + +The watching concierge of the house nodded to him politely as he began +to mount the stairs. The Ingrams' servant smiled upon him as upon an old +and familiarly respected friend. + +"Mademoiselle Lois?" he said, with directness. + +The slatternly, benevolent girl widened her mouth still further in a +smile still more cordial, and led him to the drawing-room. As she did so +she picked up a newspaper packet that lay on a table in the tiny hall, +and, without putting it on a salver, deposited it in front of Lois, who +was alone in the drawing-room. George wondered what Lois would have +thought of such an outrage upon established ritual had it happened to +her in the home of Irene Wheeler instead of in her own; and then the +imagined vision of Irene lying dead in the sumptuous home in the Avenue +Hoche seemed to render all established ritual absurd. + +"So you've come!" exclaimed Lois harshly. "Mother's quite knocked over, +and Laurencine's looking after her. All the usual eau-de-Cologne +business. And I should say father's not much better. My poor parents! +What did dad want you for?" + +The servant had closed the door. Lois had got up from her chair and was +walking about the room, pulling aside a curtain and looking out, tapping +the mantelpiece with her hand, tapping with her feet the base of the +stove, George had the sensation of being locked in a cage with a +mysterious, incalculable, and powerful animal. He was fascinated. He +thought: "I wanted to see her alone and I am seeing her alone!" + +"Well?" she insisted. "What did dad want you for?" + +"Oh! He told me a few things about Miss Wheeler." + +"I suppose he told you about Jules, and I suppose he told you I wasn't +to know on any account! Poor old dad! Instead of feeling he's my father, +d'you know what I feel? I feel as if I was his mother. He's _so_ clever; +he's frightfully clever; but he was never meant for this world. He's +just a beautiful child. How in Heaven's name could he think that a girl +like me could be intimate with Irene, and not know about the things that +were in her mind? How could he? Why! I've talked for hours with Irene +about Jules! She'd much sooner talk with me even than with mother. She's +cried in front of me. But I never cried. I always told her she was +making a mistake about Jules. I detested the little worm. But she +couldn't see it. No, she couldn't. She'd have quarrelled with me if I'd +let her quarrel. However, I wouldn't let her. Fancy quarrelling--over a +man! She couldn't help being mad over Jules. I told her she +couldn't--that was why I bore with her. I always told her he was only +playing with her. The one thing that I didn't tell her was that she was +too old for him. She really believed she never got any older. When I say +too old for him, I mean for her sake, not for his. He didn't think she +was too old. He couldn't--with that complexion of hers. I never envied +her anything else except her complexion and her money. But he wouldn't +marry an American. His people wouldn't let him. He's got to marry into a +family like his own, and there're only about ten for him to choose from. +I know she wrote to him on Thursday. She must have had the answer this +morning. Of course she had a revolver. I've got one myself. She went to +bed and did it. She used to say to me that if ever she did it that was +how she would do it.... And father tells me not to add to his +difficulties! Don't you think it's comic?... But she never told me +everything. I knew that. I accused her of it. She admitted it. +However..." + +Lois spoke in a low, regular murmur, experimentally aware that privacy +in a Paris flat is relative. There were four doors in the walls of the +drawing-room, and a bedroom on either side. At moments George could +scarcely catch her words. He had never heard her say so much at once, +for she was taciturn by habit, even awkward in conversation. She +glowered at him darkly. The idea flashed through his mind: "There can't +be another girl like her. She's unique." He almost trembled at the +revelation. He was afraid, and yet courageous, challenging, combative. +She had grandeur. It might be moral, or not; but it was grandeur. +And--(that touch about the complexion!)--she could remember her +freckles! She might, in her hard egotism, in the rushing impulses of her +appetites--she might be an enemy, an enemy to close with whom would be +terrible rapture, and the war of the sexes was a sublime war, infinitely +superior in emotions to tame peace. (And had she not been certified an +angel? Had he not himself seen the angel in her?) She dwarfed her father +and mother. The conception, especially, of Mr. Ingram at lunch, +deliciously playful and dominating, and now with the adroit wit crushed +out of him and only a naïve sentimentality left, was comic--as she had +ruthlessly characterized it. She alone towered formidably over the +devastated ruins of Irene's earthly splendour. + +He said nothing. + +She rang the bell by the mantelpiece. He heard it ring. No answer. She +rang again. + +"_Arrivez donc, jeune fille!_" she exclaimed impatiently. + +The servant came. + +"_Apportez du thé, Séraphine._" + +"_Oui, mademoiselle._" + +Then Lois lounged towards the table and tore sharply the wrapper of the +newspaper. George was still standing. + +"He's probably got something in about her this week--about her soirée +last Tuesday. We weren't invited. Of course he went." + +George saw the name the _Sunday Journal_. The paper had come by the +afternoon mail, and had been delivered, according to weekly custom, by +messenger from Mr. Ingram's office. Lois's tone and attitude tore +fatally the whole factitious 'Parisian' tradition, as her hand had torn +the wrapper. + +"See here," she said quietly, after a few seconds, and gave the +newspaper with her thumb indicating a paragraph. + +He could hardly read the heading, because it unnerved him; nor the +opening lines. But he read this: "The following six architects have been +selected by the Assessors and will be immediately requested by the +Corporation to submit final designs for the town hall: Mr. Whinburn, +Mr.... Mr.... Mr. George E. Cannon ..." + +"What did I always tell you?" she said. + +And then she said: + +"Your telegram must have been addressed wrong, or something." + +He sat down. Once again he was afraid. He was afraid of winning in the +final competition. A vista of mayors, corporations, town clerks, +committees, contractors, clerks-of-works, frightened him. He was afraid +of his immaturity, of his inexperience. He could not carry out the +enterprise; he would reap only ignominy. His greatest desire had been +granted. He had expected, in the event, to be wildly happy. But he was +not happy. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed. + +Lois, who had resumed the paper, read out: + +"In accordance with the conditions of the competition, each of the above +named will receive a honorarium of one hundred guineas." + +She looked at him. + +"You'll get that town hall to do," she said positively. "You're bound to +get it. You'll see." + +Her incomprehensible but convincing faith passed mysteriously into him. +A holy dew relieved him. He began to feel happy. + +Lois glanced again at the paper, which with arms outstretched she held +in front of her like a man, like the men at Pickering's. Suddenly it +fell rustling to the floor, and she burst into tears. + +She murmured indistinctly: "The last thing she did was for my +pleasure--sending the car." + +George jumped up, animated by an inexpressible tenderness for her. She +had weakened. He moved towards her. He did not consider what he was +doing; he had naught to say; but his instinctive arms were about to +clasp her. He was unimaginably disturbed. She straightened and stiffened +in a second. + +"But of course you've not got it yet," she said harshly, with apparent +irrelevance. + +Séraphine entered bouncingly with the tea. Lois regarded the tray, and +remarked the absence of the strainer. + +"_Et la passoire_?" she demanded, with implacable sternness. + +Séraphine gave a careless, apologetic gesture. + + +VII + + +It was late in September, when most people had returned to London after +the holidays. John Orgreave mounted to the upper floor of the house in +Russell Square where George had his office. Underneath George's name on +the door had been newly painted the word 'Inquiries,' and on another +door, opposite, the word 'Private.' John Orgreave knocked with +exaggerated noise at this second door and went into what was now +George's private room. + +"I suppose one ought to knock," he said in his hearty voice. + +"Hallo, Mr. Orgreave!" George exclaimed, jumping up. + +"If the mountain doesn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must come to the +mountain," said John Orgreave. + +"Come in," said George. + +He noticed, and ignored, the touch of sarcasm in John Orgreave's +attitude. He had noticed a similar phenomenon in the attitude of various +people within the last four days, since architectural circles and even +the world in general had begun to resound with the echoing news that the +competition for the northern town hall had been won by a youth not +twenty-three years of age. Mr. Enwright had been almost cross, asserting +that the victory was perhaps a fluke, as the design of another +competitor was in reality superior to George's. Mr. Enwright had also +said, in his crabbed way: "You'll soon cut me out"; and, George +protesting, had gone on: "Oh! Yes, you will. I've been through this sort +of thing before. I know what I'm talking about. You're no different from +the rest." Whereupon George, impatient and genuinely annoyed, had +retorted upon him quite curtly, and had remembered what many +persons had said about Mr. Enwright's wrong-headed jealous +sensitiveness--animadversions which he, as a worshipper of Mr. Enwright, +had been accustomed to rebut. Further, Lucas himself had not erred by +the extravagance of his enthusiasm for George's earth-shaking success. +For example, Lucas had said: "Don't go and get above yourself, old chap. +They may decide not to build it after all. You never know with these +corporations." A remark extremely undeserved, for George considered that +the modesty and simplicity of his own demeanour under the stress of an +inordinate triumph were rather notable. Still, he had his dignity to +maintain against the satiric, and his position was such that he could +afford to maintain it. + +Anyhow, he preferred the sardonic bearing of his professional intimates +to the sycophancy of certain acquaintances and of eager snobs unknown to +him. Among sundry telegrams received was one composed regardless of cost +and signed 'Turnbull.' He could not discover who Turnbull might be until +John Orgreave had reminded him of the wigged, brown, conversational +gentleman whom he had met, on one occasion only, at Adela's. In addition +to telegrams he had had letters, some of which contained requests for +money (demanded even as a right by the unlucky from the lucky), and an +assortment of charity circulars, money-lenders' circulars, and +bucket-shop lures. His mother's great sprawling letter had pleased him +better than any save one. The exception was his stepfather's. Edwin +Clayhanger, duly passing on to the next generation the benevolent +Midland gibe which he had inherited, wrote: + +"DEAR GEORGE,--It's better than a bat in the eye with a burnt +stick.--Yours affectionately, NUNKS" + +As a boy George had at one period called his stepfather 'Nunks,' but he +had not used the appellation for years. He was touched now. + +The newspapers had been hot after him, and he knew not how to defend +himself. His photograph was implored. He was waylaid by journalists +shabby and by journalists spruce, and the resulting interviews made him +squirm. He became a man of mark at Pickering's. Photographers entreated +him to sit free of charge. What irritated him in the whole vast affair +was the continual insistence upon his lack of years. Nobody seemed to be +interested in his design for the town hall; everybody had the air of +regarding him as a youthful prodigy, a performing animal. Personally he +did not consider that he was so very young. (Nevertheless he did +consider that he was a youthful prodigy. He could recall no architect in +history who had done what he had done at his age.) The town clerk who +travelled from the North to see him treated his age in a different +manner, the patronizing. He did not care for the town clerk. However, +the town clerk was atoned for by the chairman of the new town hall +sub-committee, a true human being named Soulter, with a terrific accent +and a taste for architecture, pictures, and music. Mr. Soulter, though +at least forty-five, treated George, without any appearance of effort, +as a coeval. George immediately liked him, and the mere existence of Mr. +Soulter had the effect of dissipating nearly all George's horrible +qualms and apprehensions about his own competence to face the +overwhelming job of erection. Mr. Soulter was most soothing in the +matter of specifications and contractors. + +"So you've got into your new room," said John Orgreave. + +Never before had he mounted to see George either in the new room or in +the old room. The simple fact of the presence there of one of the +partners in the historic firm below compensated for much teasing sarcasm +and half-veiled jealousy. It was a sign. It was a seal authenticating +renown. + +"Yes." + +"I only wanted to give you a message from Adela. The Ingram young woman +is staying with us----" + +"Lois?" The name shot out of him unbidden. + +"Yes. You're humbly supplicated to go to tea to-day. Four o'clock. Thank +God I've not forgotten it!" + +George arrived fifty-five minutes late at Bedford Park. Throughout the +journey thither he kept repeating: "She said I should do it. And I've +done it! I've done it! I've done it!" The triumph was still so close +behind him that he was constantly realizing it afresh, and saying, +wonder-struck: "I've done it." And the miraculous phantasm of the town +hall, uplifted in solid stone, formed itself again and again in his +enchanted mind, against a background of tremendous new ambitions rising +endlessly one behind another like snowy alps. + +"Is this what you call four o'clock?" twittered Adela, between cajolery +and protest, somewhat older and facially more artificial, but eternally +blonde; still holding her fair head on one side and sinuously waving the +palm. + +"Sorry! Sorry! I was kept at the last moment by a journalist johnny." + +"Oh! Of course!" said Adela, pooh-poohing with her lips. "Of course we +expect that story nowadays!" + +"Well, it was a chap from the _Builder_, or I wouldn't have seen him. +Can't trifle with a trade paper, you know." + +He thought: + +"She's like the rest of them, as jealous as the devil." + +Then Lois came into the room, hatted and gloved, in half-mourning. She +was pale, and appreciably thinner; she looked nervous, weak, and weary. +As he shook hands with her he felt very self-conscious, as though in +winning the competition and fulfilling her prophecy he had done +something dubious for which he ought to apologize. This was exceedingly +strange, but it was so. She had been ill after the death of Irene +Wheeler. Having left Paris for London on the day following the races, he +had written to her about nothing in particular, a letter which meant +everything but what it said--and had received an answer from Laurencine, +who announced that her sister was in bed, and likely to be in bed; and +that father and mother wished to be remembered to him. Then he wrote to +Laurencine. When the result of the final competition was published he +had written again to Lois. It seemed to him that he was bound to do so, +for had she not willed and decided his victory? No reply; but there had +scarcely been time for a reply. + +"Did you get my letter?" he smiled. + +"This afternoon," she said gravely. "It followed me here. Now I have to +go to Irene's flat. I should have been gone in another minute." + +"She _will_ go alone," Adela put in anxiously. + +"I shall be back for dinner," said Lois, and to the stupefaction of +George she moved towards the door. + +But just as she opened the door she turned her head and, looking at +George with a frown, murmured: + +"You can come with me if you like." + +Adela burst out: + +"He hasn't had any tea!" + +"I'm not urging him to come, my dear. Good-bye." + +Adela and George exchanged a glance, each signalling to the other that +perhaps this sick, strange girl ought to be humoured. He abandoned the +tea.... He was in the street with Lois. He was in the train with her. +Her ticket was in his pocket. He had explained to her why he was late, +and she had smiled, amiably but enigmatically. He thought: "She's no +right to go on like this. But what does it matter?" She said nothing +about the competition--not a word of congratulation. Indeed she hardly +spoke beyond telling him that she had to choose some object at the flat. +He was aware of the principal terms of Irene's will, which indeed had +caused the last flutter of excitement before oblivion so quickly +descended upon the notoriety of the social star. Irene's renown had +survived her complexion by only a few short weeks. The will was of a +rather romantic nature. Nobody familiar with the intimate circumstances +would have been surprised if Irene had divided her fortune between Lois +and Laurencine. The bulk of it, however, went back to Indianapolis. The +gross total fell far short of popular estimates. Lois and Laurencine +received five thousand pounds apiece, and in addition they were +requested to select each an object from Irene's belongings--Lois out of +the London flat, Laurencine out of the Paris flat. Lois had come to +London to choose, and she was staying with Adela, the sole chaperon +available. Since the death of Irene, Mrs. Ingram had been excessively +strict in the matter of chaperons. + +They took a hansom at Victoria. Across the great square, whose leaves +were just yellowing, George saw the huge block of flats, and in one +story all the blinds were down. Lois marched first into the lift, +masterfully, as though she inhabited the block. She asked no one's +permission. Characteristically she had an order from the solicitors, and +the keys of the flat. She opened the door without any trouble. They were +inside, within the pale-sheeted interior. Scarcely a thing had yet been +moved, for, with the formalities of the judicatures of France, England, +and the State of Indiana to be complied with, events marched slowly +under the sticky manipulation of three different legal firms. Lois and +George walked cautiously across the dusty, dulled parquets into the vast +drawing-room. George doffed his hat. + +"I'd better draw the blinds up," he suggested. + +"No, no!" she sharply commanded. "I can see quite well. I don't want any +more light." + +There was the piano upon which Laurencine had played! The embrasure of +the window! The corner in which Irene had sat spellbound by Jules +Defourcambault! The portraits of Irene, at least one of which would +perpetuate her name! The glazed cases full of her collections!... The +chief pieces of furniture and all the chairs were draped in the pale, +ghostly sheeting. + +Suddenly Lois, rushing to the mantelpiece, cried: + +"This is what I shall take." + +It was a large photograph of Jules Defourcambault, bearing the words: +"_À Miss Irene Wheeler. Hommages respectueux de_ J.D.F." + +"You won't!" he exclaimed, incredulous, shocked. He thought: "She is +mad!" + +"Yes, I shall." + +There were hundreds of beautiful objects in the place, and she chose a +banal photograph of a despicable creature whom she detested. + +"Why don't you take one of _her_ portraits? Or even a fan. What on earth +do you want with a thing like that?" His voice was changing. + +"I shall take it and keep it for ever. He was the cause of it all. This +photograph was everything to her once." + +George revolted utterly, and said with cold, harsh displeasure: + +"You're simply being morbid. There's no sense in it." + +She dropped down into a chair, and the impress of her body dragged the +dust-sheet from its gilt arms, exposing them. She put her face in her +hands and sobbed. + +"You're awfully cruel!" she murmured thickly. + +The sobs continued, shaking her body. She was beautifully dressed. Her +shoes were adorable, and the semi-transparent hose over her fine ankles. +She made a most disturbing, an unbearable, figure of compassion. She +needed wisdom, protection, guidance, strength. Every bit of her seemed +to appeal for these qualities. But at the same time she dismayed. He +moved nearer to her. Yes, she had grandeur. All the costly and valuable +objects in the drawing-room she had rejected in favour of the +satisfaction of a morbid and terrible whim. Who could have foreseen it? +He moved still nearer. He stood over her. He seized her yielding wrists. +He lifted her veil. Tears were running down her cheeks from the yellow +eyes. She looked at him through her tears. + +"You're frightfully cruel," she feebly repeated. + +"And what if I am?" he said solemnly. Did she really think him hard, had +she always thought him hard--she, the hard one? How strange! Yet no +doubt he was hard. + +His paramount idea was: + +"She had faith in me." It was as if her faith had created the man he +was. She was passionately ambitious; so was he. + +And when he kissed her wet mouth, and stroked with incredible delicacy +those streaming cheeks, he felt himself full of foreboding. But he was +proud and confident. + +He took her back to Bedford Park. She carried the photograph, unwrapped; +but he ventured no comment. She went straight up to her room. + +"_You_ must tell Mrs. Orgreave," she said on the stairs. + +Adela made a strange remark: + +"Oh! But we always intended you to marry Lois!" + + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER I + +THE TRIUMPH + +I + + +George came into the conjugal bedroom. The hour was about three o'clock +in the afternoon. Lois lay on the sofa at the foot of the twin beds. It +was perhaps characteristic of her that she sincerely preferred the sofa +to her bed. Sometimes in the night, when she could not sleep, she would +get up and go sighing to the sofa, and, with nothing but a slippery +eiderdown to cover her, sleep perfectly till George arose in the +morning. Quite contentedly conventional in most matters of mere social +deportment, she often resisted purely physical conventions. A bed was +the recognized machine for slumber; hence she would instinctively choose +another machine. Also, the sofa was nearer to the ground. She liked to +be near the ground. She had welcomed with ardour the first beginnings of +the new fashion which now regularly permits ladies to sit on the +hearth-rug after a ceremonial dinner and prop their backs with cushions +or mantelpieces. Doubtless a trait of the 'cave-woman' that as a girl +she had called herself! + +She was now stretched on the sofa in a luxurious and expensive ribboned +muslin negligée, untidy, pale, haggard, heavy, shapeless, the expectant +mother intensely conscious of her own body and determined to maintain +all the privileges of the exacting rôle which nature had for the third +time assigned to her. Little Laurencine, aged eight, and little Lois, +aged five, in their summer white, were fondling her, tumbling about her, +burying themselves in her; she reclined careless, benignant, and +acquiescent under their tiny assaults; it was at moments as though the +three were one being. When their father appeared in the doorway, she +warned them in an apparently awed tone that father was there, and that +nursey was waiting for them and that they must run off quietly. And she +kissed them with the enormous kiss of a giantess suddenly rendered +passionate by a vast uprush of elemental feeling. And they ran off, +smiling confidently at their father, giggling, chattering about +important affairs in their intolerable, shrieking voices. George could +never understand why Lois should attempt, as she constantly did, to +instil into them awe of their father; his attitude to the children made +it impossible that she should succeed. But she kept on trying. The +cave-woman again! George would say to himself: "All women are +cave-women." + +"Have you come to pack?" she asked, with fatigued fretfulness, showing +no sign of surprise at his arrival. + +"Oh no!" he answered, and implied that in his over-charged existence +packing would have to be done when it could, if at all. "I only came in +for one second to see if I could root out that straw hat I wore last +year." + +"Do open the window," she implored grievously. + +"It is open." + +"Both sides?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, open it more." + +"It's wide open." + +"Both sides?" + +"Yes." + +"It's so stuffy in this room," she complained, expelling much breath. + +It was stuffy in the room. The room was too full of the multitudinous +belongings and furniture of wife and husband. It was too small for its +uses. The pair, unduly thrown together, needed two rooms. But the house +could not yield them two rooms, though from the outside it had an air of +spaciousness. The space was employed in complying with custom, in +imitating the disposition of larger houses, and in persuading the tenant +that he was as good as his betters. There was a basement, because the +house belonged to the basement era, and because it is simpler to burrow +than to erect. On the ground floor were the hall--narrow, and the +dining-room--narrow. To have placed the dining-room elsewhere would have +been to double the number of stairs between it and the kitchen; +moreover, the situation of the dining-room in all such correct houses is +immutably fixed by the code Thus the handiest room in the house was +occupied during four hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during the +remaining twenty. Behind the dining-room was a very small room +appointed by the code to be George's 'den.' It would never have been +used at all had not George considered it his duty to use it +occasionally, and had not Lois at intervals taken a fancy to it because +it was not hers. + +The whole of the first floor was occupied by the landing, the well of +the staircase, and the drawing-room, which last was inevitably shaped in +the resemblance of an L. The small back portion of it over George's den +was never utilized save by the grand piano and rare pianists. Still, the +code demanded that the drawing-room should have this strange appendage, +and that a grand piano should reside in it modestly, apologetically, +like a shame that cannot be entirely concealed. Nearly every house in +Elm Park Road, and every house in scores of miles of other correct +streets in the West End, had a drawing-room shaped in the semblance of +an L, and a grand piano in the hinterland thereof. The drawing-room, +like the dining-room, was occupied during about four hours of the +twenty-four, and wasted during the remaining twenty. + +The two main floors of the house being in such manner accounted for, the +family and its dependents principally lived aloft on the second and +third floors. Eight souls slept up there nightly. A miracle of +compression! + +George had had the house for ten years; he entered it as a bridegroom. +He had stayed in it for seven years because the landlord would only +confide it to him on lease, and at the end of the seven years he lacked +the initiative to leave it. An ugly house, utterly without architectural +merit! A strange house for an architect to inhabit! George, however, had +never liked it. Before his marriage he had discovered a magnificent +house in Fitzroy Square, a domestic masterpiece of the Adams period, +exquisitely designed without and within, huge rooms and many rooms, +lovely ceilings, a forged-iron stair-rail out of Paradise; a house +appreciably nearer to the centre than the one in Elm Park Road, and with +a lower rental. George would have taken the house, had not Lois pointed +out to him its fatal disadvantage, which had escaped him, namely, that +people simply did not live in Fitzroy Square. Instantly Lois entered +Fitzroy Square, George knew himself for a blind fool. Of course the +house was impossible. He was positively ashamed to show her the house. +She admitted that it was beautiful. So Elm Park Road was finally +selected, Elm Park Road being a street where people could, and in fact +did, live. It was astounding how Lois, with her small and fragmentary +knowledge of London, yet knew, precisely and infallibly, by instinct, by +the sound of the names of the thoroughfares, by magic diabolical or +celestial, what streets were inhabitable and what were not. And +something in George agreed with her. + +He now rummaged among hat-boxes beneath the beds, pulled one out, and +discovered a straw hat in it. + +"Will it do?" he questioned doubtfully. + +"Let me look at it." + +He approached her and gave her the hat, which she carefully examined, +frowning. + +"Put it on," she said. + +He put it on, and she gazed at him for what seemed to him an +unnecessarily long time. His thought was that she liked to hold him +under her gaze. + +"Well?" he exclaimed impatiently. + +"It's quite all right," she said. "What's the matter with it? It makes +you look about fourteen." He felt envy in her voice. Then she added: +"But surely you won't be able to wear that thing to-morrow?" + +"Of course not. I only want it for this afternoon.... This sun." + +"Oh!" she cried. "I do think it's a shame I can't go to the Opening! +It's just my luck." + +He considered that she arraigned her luck much too often; he considered +that on the whole her luck was decidedly good. But he knew that she had +to be humoured. It was her right to be humoured. + +"Yes," he said judicially and rather shortly. "I'm sorry too! But what +are you going to do about it? If you can't go, you can't. And you know +it's absolutely out of the question." As a fact he was glad that her +condition made such an excursion impossible for her. She would certainly +have been rather a ticklish handful for him at the Opening. + +"But I should so have _enjoyed_ it!" she insisted, with emphasis. + +There it was, the thirst for enjoyment, pleasure! The supreme, +unslakable thirst! She had always had it, and he had always hardened +himself against it--while often, nevertheless, accepting with secret +pleasure the satisfactions of her thirst. Thus, for example, in the +matter of dancing. She had shared to the full in the extraordinary craze +for dancing which had held the West End for several years. Owing to her +initiative they had belonged to two dancing clubs whose members met +weekly in the saloons of the great hotels. The majority of the members +were acutely tedious to George, but Lois was quite uncritical, save on +the main point; she divided the members into good dancers and bad +dancers. George was a pretty good dancer. He liked dancing. Membership +of these clubs involved expense, it interfered with his sleep, it made +his early mornings more like defeats than triumphs, it prevented him +from duly reading and sketching. But he liked dancing. While resenting +the compulsion to outrage his conscience, he enjoyed the sin. What +exasperated him was Lois's argument that that kind of thing "did him +good" professionally, and was indeed essential to the career of a rising +or risen young architect, and that also it was good for his health and +his mind. He wished that she would not so unconvincingly pretend that +self-indulgence was not what it was. These pretences, however, seemed to +be a necessity of her nature. She reasoned similarly about the dinners +and theatre-parties which they gave and attended. Next to dancing she +adored dinners and theatre-parties. She would sooner eat a bad dinner in +company anywhere than a good dinner quietly at home; she would far +sooner go to a bad play than to none at all; she was in fact never bored +in the theatre or in the music-hall. Never! + +Once, by misfortune--as George privately deemed--he had got a small job +(erection of a dwelling-house at Hampstead) through a dinner. Lois had +never forgotten it, and she would adduce the trifle again and again as +evidence of the sanity of her ideas about social life. George really did +not care for designing houses; they were not worth the trouble; he +habitually thought in public edifices and the palaces of kings, nobles, +and plutocrats of taste. Moreover, his commission on the house would not +have kept his own household in being for a month--and yet the owner, +while obviously proud to be the patron of the celebrated prodigy George +Cannon, had the air of doing George Cannon a favour! + +And so her ambition, rather than his, had driven them both ruthlessly +on. Both were overpressed, but George considerably more than Lois. Lois +was never, in ordinary times, really tired. Dinners, teas, even lunches, +restaurants, theatres, music-halls, other people's houses, clubs, +dancing, changing clothes, getting into autos and taxis and getting out +of autos and taxis, looking at watches, writing down engagements, going +to bed with a sigh at the lateness of the hour, waking up fatigued to +the complexities of the new day--she coped admirably with it all. She +regarded it as natural; she regarded it as inevitable and proper. She +enjoyed it. She wanted it, and that which she wanted she must have. Yet +her attitude to George was almost invariably one of deep solicitude for +him. She would look at him with eyes troubled and anxious for his +welfare. When they were driving to a dance which he had no desire to +attend, she would put her arm in his and squeeze his arm and murmur: +"Coco, I don't _like_ you working so hard." (Coco was her pet name for +him, a souvenir of Paris.) + +He acknowledged that, having chosen her rôle, she played it well. She +made him comfortable. She was a good housekeeper, and a fair organizer +generally. She knew how to be well served. He thought that her manner +to servants was often inexcusable, but she "kept" her servants, and they +would "do anything" for her. Further, except that she could not shine in +conversation, she was a good hostess. She never made mistakes, never +became muddled, never forgot. Of course she had friends to whom he was +indifferent or perhaps slightly hostile, but she was entitled to her +friends, as he to his. And she was a good mother. Stranger still, though +she understood none of the arts and had no logical taste, she possessed +a gift of guessing or of divination which, in all affairs relating to +the home, was the practical equivalent of genuine taste. George had +first noticed this faculty in her when she put a thousand pounds of her +money to a thousand pounds of his stepfather's and they began to buy +furniture. The house was beautifully furnished, and she had done her +share. And in the alterations, additions, and replacements which for +several years she had the habit of springing upon him, she rarely +offended him. Still, he knew indubitably that she had not taste,--anyhow +in his sense of the term,--and would never, never acquire it. An +astonishing creature! He had not finished being astonished at her. In +some respects he had not even come to a decision about her. For +instance, he suspected that she had "no notion of money," but he could +not be sure. She did what she liked with her own income, which was about +two hundred a year; that is to say, she clothed herself out of it. Her +household accounts were unknown to him; he had once essayed to +comprehend them, but had drawn back affrighted. + +"Well," she said plaintively. "Now you're here, I think you might sit a +bit with me. It's most awfully lonely for me." + +"I can't possibly," he said, with calm. "I have to rush off to the club +to see Davids about that business." + +She ignored his inescapable duties! It was nothing to her that he had a +hundred affairs to arrange before his night-journey to the north. She +wanted him to sit with her. Therefore she thought that he ought to sit +with her, and she would be conscious of a grievance if he did not. +'Lonely!' Because the children were going out for an hour or so! +Besides, even if it was lonely, facts were facts, and destiny was +destiny and had to be borne. + +"What business?" + +"You know." + +"Oh! That!... Well, can't you go after tea?" + +Incurable! + +"Here, lass!" he said, with a laugh. "If I stop arguing here I shall +miss him." + +He bent down, and prepared his lips to kiss her. He smiled superiorly, +indulgently. He was the stronger. She defeated him sometimes; she +gravely defeated him in the general arrangement and colour of their +joint existence; but he was the stronger. She had known it for over ten +years. They had had two tremendous, critical, highly dangerous battles. +He had won them both. Lois had wanted to be married in Paris. He had +been ready to agree until suddenly it occurred to him that French legal +formalities might necessitate an undue disclosure as to his parentage +and the bigamy of which his mother had been a victim. He refused +absolutely to be married in Paris. He said: "You're English and I'm +English, and the proper place for us to be married is England." There +were good counter-arguments, but he would not have them. Curiously, at +this very period, news came from his stepfather of his father's death in +America. He kept it to himself. Again, on the night itself of their +marriage, he had said to her: "_Now give me that revolver you've got_." +At her protesting refusal he had said: "My wife is not going about with +any revolver. Not if I know it!" He was playful but determined. He +startled her, for the altercation lasted two hours. On the other hand he +had never said a word about the photograph of Jules Defourcambault, and +had never seen it. Somewhere, in some mysterious fastness, the +mysterious woman kept it. + +His lips were close to hers, and his eyes to her eyes. Most persons +called her eyes golden, but to him they were just yellow. They had an +infinitesimal cast, to which nobody ever referred. They were voluptuous +eyes. He examined her face. She was still young; but the fine impressive +imprint of existence was upon her features, and the insipid freshness +had departed. She blinked, acquiescent. Her eyes changed, melting. He +could almost see into her brain, and watch there the impulse of +repentance for an unreasonable caprice, and the intense resolve to think +in the future only of her husband's welfare. She was like that.... She +could be an angel.... He knew that he was hard. He guessed that he might +be inordinately hard He would bear people down. Why had he not been +touched by her helpless condition? She was indeed touching as she lay. +She wanted to keep him near her and she could not. She wanted acutely to +go to the north, and she was imprisoned. She would have to pass the +night alone, and the next night alone. Danger and great suffering lay in +front of her. And she was she; she was herself, with all her terrific +instincts. She could not alter herself. Did she not merit compassion? +Still, _he must go to his club_. + +He kissed her tenderly. She half lifted her head, and kissed him exactly +as she kissed his children, like a giantess, and as though she was the +ark of wisdom from everlasting, and he a callow boy whose safety +depended upon her sagacious, loving direction. + +From the top of the flight of stairs leading from the ground floor, +George, waiting till it was over, witnessed the departure of his family +for the afternoon promenade. A prodigious affair! The parlourmaid (a +delightful creature who was, unfortunately, soon to make an excellent +match above her station) amiably helped the nursemaid to get the +perambulator down the steps. The parlourmaid wore her immutable uniform, +and the nursemaid wore her immutable uniform. Various things had to be +packed into the perambulator, and then little Lois had to be packed into +it--not because she could not walk, but because it was not desirable for +her to arrive at the playground tired. Nursey's sunshade was +undiscoverable, and little Laurencine's little sunshade had to be +retrieved from underneath little Lois in the depths of the perambulator. +Nursey's book had fallen on the steps. Then the tiny but elaborate +perambulator of Laurencine's doll had to go down the steps, and the doll +had to be therein ensconced under Laurencine's own direction, and +Laurencine's sunshade had to be opened, and Laurencine had to prove to +the maids that she could hold the sunshade in one hand and push the +doll's perambulator with the other. Finally, the procession of human +beings and vehicles moved, munitioned, provisioned, like a caravan +setting forth into the desert, the parlourmaid amiably waving adieux. + +George thought: "I support all that. It all depends on me. I have +brought it all into existence." And his reflections embraced Lois +upstairs, and the two colleagues of the parlourmaid in the kitchen, and +the endless apparatus of the house, and the people at his office and the +apparatus there, and the experiences that awaited him on the morrow, and +all his responsibilities, and all his apprehensions for the future. And +he was amazed and dismayed by the burden which almost unwittingly he +bore night and day. But he felt too that it was rather fine. He felt +that he was in the midst of life. + +As he was cranking his car, which he had left unattended at the kerb, +Mrs. Buckingham Smith's magnificent car driven by her magnificent +chauffeur, swept in silence up to the door and sweetly stopped. George's +car was a very little one, and he was his own chauffeur, and had to walk +home from the garage when he had done with it. The contemplation of Buck +Smith's career showed George that there are degrees of success. Buck +Smith received a thousand pounds for a portrait (in the French manner of +painting)--and refused commissions at that. Buck Smith had a kind of +palace in Melbury Road. By the side of Buck Smith. George was a +struggling semi-failure. Mrs. Buck Smith, the lady whom George had first +glimpsed in the foyer of a theatre, was a superb Jewess whom Buck had +enticed from the stage. George did not like her because she was apt, in +ecstasy, to froth at the mouth, and for other reasons; but she was one +of his wife's most intimate friends. Lois, usually taciturn, would +chatter with Adah for hours. + +"I thought I'd come and see Lois," said Mrs. Buck, effulgently smiling, +as George handed her out of the car. "How is the dear thing? You just +flying off?" + +"You'll do her all the good in the world," George replied. "I can't +stop. I have to leave town to-night, and I'm full up." + +"Oh yes! The Opening! How perfectly splendid!" Tiny bubbles showed +between her glorious lips. "What a shame it is poor Lois isn't able to +go!" + +"Yes," said George. "But look here! Don't you go and tell her so. That's +quite the wrong tack." + +"I see! I see!" said Mrs. Buck, gazing at him as one who was capable of +subtle comprehensions. "By the way," she added, as she turned to mount +the steps, "I ran across Everard Lucas at the Berkeley to-day. Lunching +there. I said I was coming here. He told me to tell you, if I saw you, +that old Mr. Haim or Home or some such name was dead. He said you'd be +interested." + +"By Jove!" George ejaculated. "Is he? Haven't seen him for years and +years." + + +II + + +He got into his car and drove off at speed. Beneath his off-hand words +to Mrs. Buckingham Smith he was conscious of a quickly growing, tender +sympathy for Marguerite Haim. The hardness in him was dissolved almost +instantaneously. He saw Marguerite, who had been adamantine in the +difference which separated them, as the image of pliancy, sweetness, +altruism, and devotion; and he saw her lips and the rapt glance of her +eyes as beautiful as in the past. What a soft, soothing, assuaging +contrast with the difficult Lois, so imperious and egoistic! (An +unforgettable phrase of Lois's had inhabited his mind for over a decade: +"Fancy quarrelling over a man!") He had never met Marguerite since their +separation, and for years he had heard nothing whatever about her; he +did not under-estimate the ordeal of meeting her again. Yet he at once +decided that he must meet her again. He simply could not ignore her in +her bereavement and new loneliness. To write to her would be absurd; it +would be a cowardly evasion; moreover, he could not frame a letter. He +must prove to her and to himself that he had a sense of decent +kindliness which would rise above conventional trifles when occasion +demanded. + +At the top of Elm Park Gardens, instead of turning east towards +Piccadilly he turned west in the direction of the Workhouse tower. And +thus he exposed the unreality of the grandiose pleas with which +professional men impose on their wives and on themselves. A few minutes +earlier his appointment at the club (not Pickering's, to which, however, +he still belonged, but a much greater institution, the Artists, in +Albemarle Street) had been an affair of extreme importance, upon which +might depend his future career, for did it not concern negotiations for +a London factory, which was to be revolutionary in design, and to cost +£150,000, and which, erected, would form a permanent advertisement of +the genius of George Cannon? Now he remembered that Sir Isaac Davids, +the patron of all the arts and the influencer of commissions, had said +that he would probably but not certainly be at the club that afternoon, +and he argued that in any event half an hour sooner or later would not +make or mar the business. Indeed, he went further, and persuaded himself +that between that moment and dinner he had nothing to do except sign a +few routine letters at the office. Still, it was just as well that Lois +should remain in delusion as to his being seriously pressed for time. + +As he curved, slackening and accelerating, with the perfect assurance of +long habit, through the swift, intricate, towering motor traffic of +Fulham Road, it was inevitable that he should recall the days, eleven +years ago, when through a sedate traffic of trotting horses enlivened +with a few motors and motor-buses, he used to run down on his +motor-cycle to visit Marguerite. It was inevitable that he should think +upon what had happened to him in the meantime. His body felt, honestly, +no older. The shoulders had broadened, the moustache was fiercer, there +were semicircular furrows under the eyes; but he was as slim and agile +as ever, and did his morning exercises as regularly as he took his bath. +More, he was still, somehow, the youthful prodigy who had won the +biggest competition of modern years while almost an infant. He was still +known as such, regarded as such, greeted as such, referred to as such at +intervals in the Press. His fame in his own world seemed not to have +deteriorated. But disappointment had slowly, imperceptibly, eaten into +him. He was far off the sublime heights of Sir Hugh Corver, though he +met Sir Hugh apparently as an equal on the Council of the Royal Society +of British Architects. Work had not surged in upon him. He had not been +able to pick and choose among commissions. He had never won another +competition. Again and again his hopes had been horribly defeated in +these ghastly enterprises, of which two were still pending. He was a man +of one job. And a quarter of his professional life had slipped behind +him! His dreams were changed. Formerly he had dreamed in architectural +forms; now he dreamed in percentages. His one job had been enormous and +lucrative, but he had lived on it for a decade, and it was done. And +outside it he had earned probably less than twelve hundred pounds. + +And if the job had been enormous, his responsibilities were likewise +enormous. Home expenses with an increasing family; establishment +expenses; a heavy insurance! Slavery to habits! The common story, +without the slightest originality in it. The idea recurred continually: +it was the fault of Lois, of that embodied, implacable instinct which +Lois was! And it was the fault of circumstance, of the structure of +society, of existence itself. And it was his fault too. And the whole of +the blame would be his if disaster came. Imagine those kids with the +perambulator and the doll's perambulator--imagine them in an earthquake! +He could see no future beyond, perhaps, eight months ahead. No, he could +not! Of course his stepfather was a sure resource. But he could not +conceive himself confessing failure to his stepfather or to anybody on +earth. Yet, if he did not very soon obtain more work, remunerative and +on a large scale ... if he did not ... However, he would obtain more +work. It was impossible that he should not obtain it. The matter with +Sir Isaac was as good as arranged. And the chances of winning at any +rate one of the two competitions were very favourable.... He dismissed +every apprehension. His health was too good to tolerate apprehensions +permanently. And he had a superstitious faith in his wife's +superstitious faith in him, and in his luck. The dark mood quickly +faded. It had been induced, not by the spectacle of his wife and family +and household seen somehow from a new angle, but by the recollection of +the past. Though he often went through dark moods, they were not moods +of financial pessimism; they seemed to be causeless, inexplicable, and +indescribable--abysses in which cerebration ceased. + + +III + + +She was just closing the side gate leading to the studio when he drove +up. He recognized her face over the top of the gate. At the first glance +it seemed to be absolutely unchanged--the same really beautiful lips, +the same nose, the same look in the eyes. Had a decade passed by her and +left no trace? He lost his nerve for an instant, and brought the car to +a standstill with less than his usual adroitness. She hesitated. + +"I was coming to see you," he called out hastily, boyishly, not in the +least measuring his effects. He jumped from the car, and said in a +lower, more intimate tone: "I've only this minute heard about Mr. Haim. +I'm awfully sorry. I thought I'd come along at once." + +"How nice of you!" she replied, quite simply and naturally, with a +smile. "Do come in." + +The tension was eased. + +She pulled at the gate, which creaked. He then saw plainly the whole of +her figure. She was dressed in black, and wore what the newspaper +advertisement called a 'matron's coat.' The decade had not passed by her +and left no trace. She had been appointed to a share in the mysterious +purpose. Her bust, too, was ampler; only her face, rather pale like the +face of Lois, was unaltered in its innocent contours. He felt that he +was blushing. He had no instinctive jealousy nor resentment; it did not +appear strange to him that this woman in the matron's coat was the girl +he had passionately kissed in that very house; and indeed the woman was +not the girl--the connexion between the woman and the girl had snapped. +Nevertheless, he was extremely self-conscious; but not she. And in his +astonishment he wondered at the secretiveness of London. His house and +hers were not more than half a mile apart, and yet in eleven years he +had never set eyes on her house. Nearly always, on leaving his house, he +would go up Elm Park Gardens and turn to the right. If he was not in the +car he would never turn to the left. Occasionally he had flown past the +end of the Grove in the car; not once, however, had he entered the +Grove. He lived in Chelsea and she lived in Chelsea, but not the same +Chelsea; his was not the Chelsea of the studios and the King's Road. +They had existed close together, side by side, for years and years--and +she had been hidden from him. + +As they walked towards the studio door she told him that 'they' had +buried her father a week ago and that 'they' were living in the studio, +and had already arranged to let the lower part of the house. She had the +air of assuming that he was aware of the main happenings in her life, +only a little belated in the knowledge of her father's death. She was +quite cheerful. He pretended to himself to speculate as to the identity +of her husband. He would not ask: "And who is your husband?". All the +time he knew who her husband was: it could be no other than one man. She +opened the studio door with a latchkey. He was right. At a table Mr. +Prince was putting sheets of etching-paper to soak in a porcelain bath. + +"Well! Well! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Prince warmly, not flustered, not a +bit embarrassed, and not too demonstrative. He came forward, delicately +drying the tips of his fingers on a rag, and shook hands. His hair was +almost white, his thin, benevolent face amazingly lined; his voice had a +constant little vibration. Yet George could not believe that he was an +old man. + +"He only heard to-day about father, and he's called at once," said +Marguerite. "Isn't it just like him?" + +The last phrase surprised and thrilled George. Did she mean it? Her +kind, calm, ingenuous face showed that obviously she meant it. + +"It is," said Mr. Prince seriously. "Very good of you, old man." + +After some talk about Mr. Haim, and about old times, and about changes, +during which Marguerite took off her matron's coat and Mr. Prince gently +hung it up for her, they all sat down near to one another and near the +unlighted stove. The studio seemed to be precisely as of old, except +that it was very clean. Marguerite, in a high-backed wicker-chair, began +slowly to remove her hat, which she perched behind her on the chair. Mr. +Prince produced a tin of Gold Flake cigarettes. + +"And so you're living in the studio?" said George. + +"We have the two rooms at the top of the house of course," answered Mr. +Prince, glancing at the staircase. "I don't know whether it's quite the +wisest thing, with all those stairs; you see how we're fixed"--he +glanced at Marguerite--"but we had a fine chance to let the house, and +in these days it's as well to be cautious." + +Marguerite smiled happily and patted her husband's hand. + +"Of course it's the wisest thing," she said. + +"Why! What's the matter with these days?" George demanded. "How's the +work?" + +"Oh!" said Mr. Prince, in a new tone. "I've one or two things that might +interest you." + +He displayed some prints, and chatted of his labours. He was still +etching; he would die etching. This was the etcher of European renown. +He referred to the Vienna acquisition as though it was an affair of a +few weeks ago. He had disposed of an etching to Stockholm, and mentioned +that he had exhibited at the International Show in Rome. He said that +his things were attracting attention at a gallery in Bond Street. He +displayed catalogues and press-cuttings. + +"These are jolly fine," said George enthusiastically, as he examined the +prints on his knee. + +"I'm glad you like them," said Mr. Prince, pleased. "I think I've +improved." + +But in spite of his European renown, Mr. Prince had remained practically +unknown. His name would not call forth the 'Oh yes!' of recognition from +the earnest frequenter of fashionable exhibitions who takes pride in his +familiarity with names. The etchings of Prince were not subscribed for +in advance. He could not rank with the stars--Cameron, Muirhead Bone, +Legros, Brangwyn. Probably he could command not more than two or three +guineas for a print. He had never been the subject of a profusely +laudatory illustrated article in the _Studio_. With his white hair he +was what in the mart is esteemed a failure. He knew it. Withal he had a +notable self-respect and a notable confidence. There was no timidity in +him, even if his cautiousness was excessive. He possessed sagacity and +he had used it. He knew where he was. He had something substantial up +his sleeve. There was no wistful appeal in his eye, as of a man who +hopes for the best and fears the worst. He could meet dealers with a +firm glance, for throughout life he had subjugated his desires to his +resources. His look was modest but independent; and Marguerite had the +same look. + +"Hallo!" cried George. "I see you've got that here!" He pointed to Celia +Agg's portrait of herself as Bonnie Prince Charlie. + +"Yes," said Marguerite. "She insisted on me taking it when she gave up +painting." + +"Gave up painting?" + +"Very good, isn't it?" said Mr. Prince gravely. "Pity she ever did give +up painting, I think," he added in a peculiar tone. + +"Yes, it is," George agreed insincerely, for the painting now seemed to +him rather tenth-rate. "But what on earth did she stop painting for?" + +Marguerite replied, with reserve: + +"Oh! Didn't you know? She's quite gone in for this suffragette business. +No one ever sees her now. Not even her people." + +"Been in prison," said Mr. Prince, sardonically disapproving, "I always +said she'd end in that kind of thing, didn't I, Margy?" + +"You did, dear," said Marguerite, with wifely eagerness. + +These two respected not only themselves but each other. The ensuing +conversation showed that Mr. Prince was somewhat disgusted with the +mundane movement, and that Marguerite was his disciple. They were more +and more leaving the world alone; their self-sufficiency was increasing +with the narrow regularity of their habits. They seldom went out; and +when they did, they came home the more deeply convinced that all was not +well with the world, and that they belonged to the small remnant of the +wise and the sane. George was in two minds about them, or rather about +Mr. Prince. He secretly condescended to him, but on the other hand he +envied him. The man was benevolent; he spent his life in the creation of +beauty; and he was secure. Surely an ideal existence! Yes, George wished +that he could say as much for himself. Marguerite, completely deprived +of ambition, would never have led any man into insecurity. He had +realized already that afternoon that there were different degrees of +success; he now realized that there were different kinds of success. + +"Well!" he rose suddenly. "I must be off. I'm very busy." + +"I suppose you are," said Mr. Prince. Untrue to assert that his glance +was never wistful! It was ever so slightly wistful then. + +George comprehended that Mr. Prince admired him and looked up to him +after all. + +"My town hall is being opened to-morrow." + +"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you." + +They knew a good deal about him--where he lived, the statistics of his +family, and so on. He picked up his hat. + +"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said Marguerite, gazing +straight into his eyes. + +"Rather!" said Mr. Prince. + +They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this Bird-of-paradise. +But they did not urge him to stay longer. + +As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a half-finished +book-cover design on a table. + +"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to examine. + +Husband and wife, always more interested in their own affairs than in +other people's, responded willingly to his curiosity. George praised, +and his praise was greatly esteemed. Mr. Prince talked about the changes +in trade bindings, which were all for the worse. The bright spot was +that Marguerite's price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings. +This improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to them. +To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after vicissitudes, of four +shillings in fourteen years should be capable of causing them so much +joy. He and they lived in absolutely different worlds. + +"This is the last I shall let her do for a long time," observed Mr. +Prince. "I shouldn't have let her do this one, but the doctor, who's a +friend of ours, said there wouldn't be any harm, and of course it's +always advisable to break a connexion as little as possible. You never +know...." + +George smiled, returning their flattery. + +"You aren't going to tell me that that matters to _you_!" + +Mr. Prince fixed George with his eye. + +"When the European War starts in earnest I think most of us will need +all we've been able to get together." + +"What European War?" asked George, with a touch of disdain. "You don't +mean to say that this Sarajevo business will lead to a European War!" + +"No, I don't," said Mr. Prince very firmly. "Germany's diplomatists are +much too clever for that. They're clever enough to find a better excuse. +But they will find it, and soon." + +George saw that Mr. Prince, having opened up a subject which apparently +was dear to him, had to be handled with discretion. He guessed at once, +from the certainty and the emotion of Mr. Prince's phrases, that Mr. +Prince must have talked a lot about a European War. So he mildly +replied: + +"Do you really think so?" + +"Do I think so? My dear fellow, you have only to look at the facts. +Austria undoubtedly annexed Bosnia at Germany's instigation. Look at +what led to Algeciras. Look at Agadir. Look at the increase in the +German army last July. And look at the special levy. The thing's as +clear as day." Mr. Prince now seemed to be a little angry with George, +who had moved into the doorway. + +"I'll tell you what I think," said George, with the assurance with which +as a rule he announced his opinions. "We're Germany's only serious +rival. It's us she's up against. She can only fight us on the sea. If +she fought us now on the sea she'd be wiped out. That's admitted. In ten +years, if she keeps on building, she might have a chance. But not now! +Not yet! And she knows it." George did not mention that he had borrowed +the whole weighty argument from his stepfather; but he spoke with +finality, and was rather startled when Mr. Prince blew the whole weighty +argument into the air with one scornful, pitying exhalation. + +Mr. Prince said: "Nothing in it! Nothing in it! It's our alliances that +will be the ruin of us. We shall be dragged into war. If Germany chooses +to fight on land everybody will have to fight on land. When she gets to +Paris, what are we going to do about it? We shall be dragged into war. +It's the damnable alliances that Sir Edward Grey has let us in for." Mr. +Prince fixed George afresh. "That man ought to be shot. What do we want +with alliances?... Have you heard Lord Roberts?" + +George admitted weakly, and as if ashamed, that he had not. + +"Well, you should." + +"Oh yes," Marguerite ingenuously put in. "Alfred's been very strong on +the European War ever since he heard Lord Roberts speak at Chelsea Town +Hall." + +George then understood the situation. Mr. Prince, through the hazard of +a visit to Chelsea Town Hall, had become obsessed by a single idea, an +idea which his natural apprehensions had well nourished. A common +phenomenon! George had met before the man obsessed by one idea, with his +crude reasoning, his impatience, and his flashing eye. As for himself he +did not pretend to be an expert in politics; he had no time for +politics; but he was interested in them, and held strong views about +them; and among his strongest views was the view that the crudity of the +average imperialist was noxious, and a source of real danger. 'That man +ought to be shot.' Imagine such a remark! He felt that he must soothe +Mr. Prince as he would soothe a child. And he did so, with all the tact +acquired at municipal committee meetings in the north. + +His, last impression, on departure, was that Mr. Prince was an excellent +and most lovable fellow, despite his obsession. "Glad to see you at any +time," said Mr. Prince, with genuine cordiality, critically and somewhat +inimically assessing the car, which he referred to as 'she.' Marguerite +had remained in the studio. She was wonderful. She admired her husband +too simply, and she was too content, but she had marvellous qualities of +naturalness, common sense in demeanour, realism, and placidity. Thanks +to her remarkable instinct for taking things for granted, the interview +had been totally immune from constraint. It was difficult, and she had +made it seem easy. No fuss, no false sentiment! And she looked very +nice, very interesting, quite attractive, in her mourning and in her +expectancy. A fine couple. Unassuming of course, narrow, +opinionated--(he surmised that the last days of the late Mr. Haim had +been disciplined)--but no fools either, and fundamentally decent. While +condescending to them, he somehow envied them. But he knew what the +opinion of Lois about them would be! + + +IV + + +After a period of shallow sleep he woke up in the morning factitiously +refreshed as the train was rumbling slowly over the high-level bridge. +The sun blinked full in his eyes when he looked out through the +trellis-work of the bridge. Far below, the river was tinged with the +pale blue of the sky. Big ships lay in the river as if they had never +moved and never could move; a steamer in process of painting, with her +sides lifted above the water, gleamed in irregular patches of brilliant +scarlet. A lively tug passed down-stream, proud of her early rising; +and, smaller even than the tug, a smack, running close-hauled, bowed to +the puffs of the light breeze. Farther away the lofty chimneys sent +their scarves of smoke into the air, and the vast skeletons of incipient +vessels could be descried through webs of staging. The translucent +freshness of the calm scene was miraculous; it divinely intoxicated the +soul, and left no squalor and no ugliness anywhere. + +Then, as the line curved, came the view of the city beneath its delicate +canopy of mist. The city was built on escarpments, on ridges, on hills, +and sagged here and there into great hollows. The serrated silhouette of +it wrote romance upon the sky, and the contours of the naked earth +beyond lost themselves grandly in the mystery of the north. The jutting +custom-house was a fine piece of architecture. From the eighteen-forties +it challenged grimly the modern architect. On his hasty first visit to +the city George had noticed little save that custom-house. He had seen a +slatternly provincial town, large and picturesque certainly, but with +small sense of form or dignity. He had decided that his town hall would +stand quite unique in the town. But soon the city had imposed itself +upon him and taught him the rudiments of humility. It contained an +immense quantity of interesting architecture of various periods, which +could not be appreciated at a glance. It was a hoary place. It went back +to the Romans and further. Its fragmentary walls had survived through +seven centuries, its cathedral through six, its chief churches through +five. It had the most perfect Norman keep within two hundred miles. It +had ancient halls, mansions, towers, markets, and jail. And to these the +Victorian-Edwardian age had added museums, law courts, theatres; such +astonishing modernities as swimming-baths, power-houses, joint-stock +banks, lending libraries, and art schools; and whole monumental streets +and squares from the designs of a native architect without whose +respectable name no history of British architecture could be called +complete. George's town hall was the largest building in the city; but +it did not dominate the city nor dwarf it; the city easily digested it. +Arriving in the city by train the traveller, if he knew where to look, +could just distinguish a bit of the town hall tower, amid masses of +granite and brick: which glimpse symbolized the relation between the +city and the town hall and had its due effect on the Midland conceit of +George. + +But what impressed George more than the stout, physical aspects of the +city was the sense of its huge, adventurous, corporate life, continuous +from century to century. It had known terrible battles, obstinate +sieges, famines, cholera, a general conflagration, and, in the twentieth +century, strikes that possibly were worse than pestilence. It had +fiercely survived them all. It was a city passionate and highly +vitalized. George had soon begun to be familiar with its organic +existence from the inside. The amazing delays in the construction of the +town hall were characteristic of the city, originating as they did not +from sloth or indecision but from the obduracy of the human will. At the +start a sensational municipal election had put the whole project on the +shelf for two years, and George had received a compensatory one per cent +on the estimated cost according to contract, and had abandoned his hope. +But the pertinacity of Mr. Soulter, first Councillor, then Alderman, +then Mayor, the true father of the town hall, had been victorious in the +end. Next there had been an infinity of trouble with owners of adjacent +properties and with the foundations. Next the local contractor, who had +got the work through a ruthless and ingenious conspiracy of associates +on the Council, had gone bankrupt. Next came the gigantic building +strike, in which conflicting volitions fought each other for many months +to the devastation of an entire group of trades. Finally was the +inflexible resolution of Mr. Soulter that the town hall should not be +opened and used until it was finished in every part and every detail of +furniture and decoration. + +George, by his frequent sojourns in the city, and his official connexion +with the authorities, had several opportunities to observe the cabals, +the chicane, and the personal animosities and friendships which +functioned in secret at the very heart of the city's life. He knew the +idiosyncrasies of councillors and aldermen in committee; he had learnt +more about mankind in the committee-rooms of the old town hall than he +could have learnt in ten thousand London clubs. He could divide the city +council infallibly into wire-pullers, axe-grinders, vain nincompoops, +honest mediocrities, and the handful who combined honesty with sagacity +and sagacity with strength. At beefy luncheon-tables, and in gorgeous, +stuffy bars tapestried with Lincrusta-Walton, he had listened to the +innumerable tales of the town, in which greed, crookedness, ambition, +rectitude, hatred, and sexual love were extraordinarily mixed--the last +being by far the smallest ingredient. He liked the town; he revelled in +it. It seemed to him splendid in its ineradicable, ever-changing, +changeless humanity. And as the train bored its way through the granite +bowels of the city, he thought pleasurably upon all these matters. And +with them in his mind there gradually mingled the images of Lois and +Marguerite. He cared not what their virtues were or what their faults +were. He enjoyed reflecting upon them, picturing them with their +contrasted attributes, following them into the future as they developed +blindly under the unperceived sway of the paramount instincts which had +impelled and would always impel them towards their ultimate destiny. He +thought upon himself, and about himself he was very sturdily cheerful, +because he had had a most satisfactory interview with Sir Isaac on the +previous afternoon. + +A few minutes later he walked behind a portmanteau-bearing night-porter +into the wide-corridored, sleeping hotel, whose dust glittered in the +straight shafts of early sunlight. He stopped at the big slate under the +staircase and wrote in chalk opposite the number 187: "Not to be called +till 12 o'clock, under pain of death." And the porter, a friend of some +years' standing, laughed. On the second floor that same porter dropped +the baggage on the linoleum and rattled the key in the lock with a high +disregard of sleepers. In the bedroom the porter undid the straps of the +portmanteau, and then: + +"Anything else, sir?" + +"That's all, John." + +And as he turned to leave, John stopped and remarked in a tone of +concern: + +"Sorry to say Alderman Soulter's ill in bed, sir. Won't be able to come +to the Opening. It's him as'll be madder than anybody, ill or not." + +George was shocked, and almost frightened. In his opinion the true +intelligence of the city was embodied in Mr. Soulter. Mr. Soulter had +been a father to him, had understood his aims and fought for them again +and again. Without Mr. Soulter he felt defenceless before the ordeal of +the Opening, and he wished that he might fly back to London instantly. +Nevertheless the contact of the cool, clean sheets was exquisite, and he +went to sleep at once, just as he was realizing the extremity of his +fatigue. + +He did not have his sleep out. Despite the menace of death, a courageous +creature heavily knocked at his door at ten o'clock and entered. It was +a page-boy with a telegram. George opened the envelope resentfully. + +"No answer." + +The telegram read: + +"Am told we have got it.--PONTING" + +Ponting was George's assistant. The news referred to a competition for +an enormous barracks in India--one of the two competitions pending. It +had come sooner than expected. Was it true? George was aware that +Ponting had useful acquaintanceship with a clerk in the India Office. + +He thought, trying not to believe: + +"Of course Ponting will swallow anything." + +But he made no attempt to sleep again. He was too elated. + + +V + + +Through a strange circumstance George arrived late for the Opening lunch +in the lower hall, but he was late in grave company. He had been +wandering aimlessly and quite alone about the great interiors of the +town hall when he caught sight of Mr. Phirrips, the contractor, with the +bishop and the most famous sporting peer of the north, a man who for +some mystical reason was idolized by the masses of the city. +Unfortunately Mr. Phirrips also caught sight of George. "Bishop, here is +Mr. Cannon, our architect. He will be able to explain perhaps better--" +And in an instant Mr. Phirrips had executed one of those feats of +prestidigitation for which he was renowned in contracting circles, left +George with the bishop, and gone off with his highly prized quarry, the +sporting peer. George, despite much worldliness, had never before had +speech with a bishop. However, the bishop played his part in a +soothingly conventional way, manipulated his apron and his calves with +senile dignity, stood still and gazed ardently at ceilings and vistas, +and said at intervals, explosively and hoarsely: "Ha! Very, interesting! +Very interesting! Very fine! Very fine! Noble!" He also put intelligent +questions to the youthful architect, such as: "How many bricks have been +used in this building?" He was very leisurely, as though the whole of +eternity was his. + +"I'm afraid we may be late for the luncheon," George ventured. + +The bishop looked at him blandly, leaning forward, and replied, after +holding his mouth open for a moment: + +"They will not begin without us. I say grace." His antique eye twinkled. + +After this George liked him, and understood that he was really a bishop. + +In the immense hubbub of the lower hall the bishop was seized upon by +officials, and conducted to a chair a few places to the right of His +Worship the Mayor. Though there was considerable disorder and confusion +(doubtless owing to the absence of Alderman Soulter, who had held all +the strings in his hand) everybody agreed that the luncheon scene in the +lower hall was magnificent. The Mayor, in his high chair and in his +heavy chain and glittering robe, ruled in the centre of the principal +table, from which lesser tables ran at right angles. The Aldermen and +Councillors, also chained and robed, well sustained the brilliance of +the Mayor, and the ceremonial officials of the city surpassed both Mayor +and Council in grandeur. Sundry peers and M.P.'s and illustrious +capitalists enhanced the array of renown, and the bishop was rivalled by +priestly dignitaries scarcely less grandiose than himself. And then +there were the women. The women had been let in. During ten years of +familiarity with the city's life George had hardly spoken to a woman, +except Mr. Soulter's Scotch half-sister. The men lived a life of their +own, which often extended to the evenings, and very many of them when +mentioning women employed a peculiar tone. But now the women were +disclosed in bulk, and the display startled George. He suddenly saw all +the city fathers and their sons in a new light. + +The bishop had his appointed chair, with a fine feminine hat on either +side of him, but George could not find that any particular chair had +been appointed to himself. Eventually he saw an empty chair in the +middle of a row of men at the right-hand transverse table, and he took +it. He had expected, as the sole artistic creator of the town hall whose +completion the gathering celebrated, to be the object of a great deal of +curiosity at the luncheon. But in this expectation he was deceived. If +any curiosity concerning him existed, it was admirably concealed. The +authorities, however, had not entirely forgotten him, for the Town Clerk +that morning had told him that he must reply to the toast of his health. +He had protested against the shortness of the notice, whereupon the +Town Clerk had said casually that a few words would suffice--anything, +in fact, and had hastened off. George was now getting nervous. He was +afraid of hearing his own voice in that long, low interior which he had +made. He had no desire to eat. He felt tired. Still, his case was less +acute than it would have been had the august personage originally hoped +for attended the luncheon. The august personage had not attended on +account of an objection, apropos of an extreme passage in an election +campaign speech, to the occupant of the mayoral chair (who had thus +failed to be transformed into a Lord Mayor). The whole city had then, +though the Mayor was not over-popular, rallied to its representative, +and the Council had determined that the inauguration should be a purely +municipal affair, a family party, proving to the august and to the world +that the city was self-sufficing. The episode was characteristic. + +George heard a concert of laughter, which echoed across the room. At the +end of the main table Mr. Phirrips had become a centre of gaiety. Mr. +Phirrips, whom George and the clerk-of-the-works had had severe and +constant difficulty in keeping reasonably near the narrow path of +rectitude, was a merry, sharp, smart, middle-aged man with a skin that +always looked as if he had just made use of an irritant soap. He was one +of the largest contractors in England, and his name on the hoarding of +any building in course of erection seemed to give distinction to that +building. He was very rich, and popular in municipal circles, and +especially with certain councillors, including a labour councillor. +George wondered whether Mr. Phirrips would make a speech. No toast-list +was visible in George's vicinity. + +To George the meal seemed to pass with astounding celerity. The old +bishop said grace in six words. The Toast-master bawled for silence. The +health of all classes of society who could rely upon good doctors was +proposed and heartily drunk--princes, prelates, legislators, warriors, +judges--but the catalogue was cut short before any eccentric person +could propose the health of the one-roomed poor, of whom the city was +excessively prolific. And then the Mayor addressed himself to the great +business of the town hall. George listened with throat dry; by way of +precaution he had drunk nothing during the meal; and at each toast he +had merely raised the glass to his lips and infinitesimally sipped; the +coffee was bad and cold and left a taste in his mouth; but everything +that he had eaten left a taste in his mouth. The Mayor began: +"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,--During the building of +this--er--er--_structure_...." All his speech was in that manner and +that key. Nevertheless he was an able and strong individual, and as an +old trade union leader could be fiercely eloquent with working-men. He +mentioned Alderman Soulter, and there was a tremendous cheer. He did not +mention Alderman Soulter again; a feud burned between these two. After +Alderman Soulter he mentioned finance. He said that that was not the +time to refer to finance, and then spoke of nothing else but finance +throughout the remainder of his speech, until he came to the +peroration--"success and prosperity to our new town hall, the grandest +civic monument which any city has erected to itself in this country +within living memory, aye, and beyond." The frantic applause atoned for +the lack of attention and the semi-audible chattering which had marred +the latter part of the interminable and sagacious harangue. George +thought: "Pardon me! The city has not erected this civic monument. I +have erected it." And he thought upon all the labour he had put into it, +and all the beauty and magnificence which he had evolved. Alderman +Soulter should have replied on behalf of the town hall committee, and +the Alderman who took his place apologized for his inability to fill the +role, and said little. + +Then the Toast-master bawled incomprehensibly for the twentieth time, +and a councillor arose and in timid tones said: + +"I rise to propose the toast of the architect and contractor." + +George was so astounded that he caught scarcely anything of the speech. +It was incredible to him that he, the creative artist, who was solely +responsible for the architecture and decoration of the monument, in +whose unique mind it had existed long before the second brick had been +placed upon the first, should be bracketed in a toast with the tradesman +and middleman who had merely supervised the execution of his scheme +according to rules of thumb. He flushed. He wanted to walk out. But +nobody else appeared to be disturbed. George, who had never before +attended an inauguration, was simply not aware that the toast 'architect +and contractor' was the classic British toast, invariably drunk on such +occasions, and never criticised. He thought: "What a country!" and +remembered hundreds of Mr. Enwright's remarks.... Phrases of the orator +wandered into his ear. "The competition system.... We went to Sir Hugh +Corver, the head of the architectural profession [loud applause] and Sir +Hugh Corver assured us that the design of Mr. George Cannon was the +best. [Hear, hear! Hear, hear!]... Mr. Phirrip, head of the famous firm +of Phirrips Limited [loud applause] ... fortunate, after our misfortune +with the original contractor to obtain such a leading light.... Cannot +sufficiently thank these two--er _officials_ for the intellect, energy, +and patience they have put into their work." + +As the speech was concluding, a tactless man sitting next to George, +with whom he had progressed very slowly in acquaintance during the +lunch, leaned towards him and murmured in a confidential tone: + +"Did I tell you both naval yards up here have just had orders to work +day and night? Yes. Fact." + +George's mind ran back to Mr. Prince, and Mr. Prince's prophecy of war. +Was there something in it after all? The thought passed in an instant, +but the last vestiges of his equanimity had gone. Hearing his name he +jumped up in a mist inhabited by inimical phantoms, and, amid feeble +acclamations here and there, said he knew not what in a voice now +absurdly loud and now absurdly soft, and sat down, amid more feeble +acclamations, feeling an angry fool. It was the most hideous experience. +He lit a cigarette, his first that day. + +When Mr. Phirrips rose, the warm clapping was expectant of good things. + +"When I was a little boy I remember my father telling me that this town +hall had been started. I never expected to live to see it finished--" + +Delighted guffaws, uproarious laughter, explosions of mirth, interrupted +this witty reference to the delays in construction. The speaker smiled +at ease. His eyes glinted. He knew his audience, held it consummately, +and went on. + +In the afternoon there was a conversazione, or reception, for the +lunchers and also for the outer fringe of the city's solid +respectability. The whole of the town hall from basement to roof was +open to view, and citizens of all ages wandered in it everywhere, +admiring it, quizzing it, and feeling proudly that it was theirs. George +too wandered about, feeling that it was his. He was slowly recovering +from the humiliation of the lunch. Much of the building pleased him +greatly; at the excellence of some effects and details he marvelled; the +entry into the large hall from the grand staircase was dramatic, just as +he had had intended it should be; the organ was being played, and word +went round that the acoustic (or acoostic) properties of the auditorium +were perfect, and unrivalled by any auditorium in the kingdom. On the +other hand, the crudity of certain other effects and details irritated +the creator, helping him to perceive how much he had learnt in ten +years; in ten years, for example, his ideas about mouldings had been +quite transformed. What chiefly satisfied him was the demonstration, +everywhere, that he had mastered his deep natural impatience of minutiae +--that instinct which often so violently resented the exacting +irksomeness of trifles in the realization of a splendid idea. At +intervals he met an acquaintance and talked, but nobody at all appeared +to comprehend that he alone was the creator of the mighty pile, and that +all the individuals present might be divided artistically into two +classes--himself in one class, the entire remainder in the other. And +nobody appeared to be inconvenienced by the sense of the height of his +achievement or of the splendour of his triumph that day. It is true that +the north hates to seem impressed, and will descend to any duplicity in +order not to seem impressed. + +The Town Clerk's clerk came importantly up to him and asked: + +"How many reserved seats would you like for the concert?" + +A grand ballad concert, at which the most sentimental of contraltos, +helped by other first-class throats, was to minister wholesale to the +insatiable secret sentimentality of the north, had been arranged for the +evening. + +"One will be enough," said George. + +"Are you alone?" asked the Town Clerk's clerk. + +George took the ticket. None of the city fathers or their fashionable +sons had even invited him to dinner. He went forth and had tea alone, +while reading in an evening paper about the Austro-Serbian situation, in +the tea-rooms attached to a cinema-palace. The gorgeous rooms, throbbing +to two-steps and fox-trots, were crammed with customers; but the +waitresses behaved competently. Thence he drove out in a taxi to the +residence of Alderman Soulter. He could see neither the Alderman nor +Miss Soulter; he learnt that the condition of the patient was +reassuring, and that the patient had a very good constitution. Back at +the hotel, he had to wait for dinner. In due course he ate the customary +desolating table-d'hote dinner which is served simultaneously in the +vast, odorous dining-rooms, all furnished alike, of scores and scores of +grand hotels throughout the provinces. Having filled his cigar-case, he +set out once more into the beautiful summer evening. In broad Side Gate +were massed the chief resorts of amusement. The façade of the Empire +music-hall glowed with great rubies and emeralds and amethysts and +topazes in the fading light. Its lure was more powerful than the lure of +the ballad concert. Ignoring his quasi-official duty to the greatest of +sentimental contraltos, he pushed into the splendid foyer of the Empire. +One solitary stall, half a crown, was left for the second house; he +bought it, eager in transgression; he felt that the ballad concert would +have sent him mad. + +The auditorium of the Empire was far larger than the auditorium of the +town hall, and it was covered with gold. The curving rows of +plush-covered easy chairs extended backwards until faces became +indistinguishable points in the smoke-misted gloom. Every seat was +occupied; the ballad concert had made no impression upon the music-hall. +The same stars that he could see in London appeared on the gigantic +stage in the same songs and monologues; and as in London the +indispensable revue was performed, but with a grosser and more direct +licentiousness than the West End would have permitted. And all proceeded +with inexorable exactitude according to time-table. And in scores and +scores of similar Empires, Hippodromes, Alhambras, and Pavilions +throughout the provinces, similar entertainments were proceeding with +the same exactitude--another example of the huge standardization of +life. George laughed with the best at the inventive drollery of the +knock-about comedians--Britain's sole genuine contribution to the art of +the modern stage. But there were items in the Empire programme that were +as awful in their tedium as anything at the ballad concert could +be--moments when George could not bear to look over the footlights. And +these items were applauded in ecstasy by the enchanted audience. He +thought of the stupidity, the insensibility, the sheer ignorance of the +exalted lunchers; and he compared them with these qualities in the +Empire audience, and asked himself sardonically whether all artists had +lived in vain. But the atmosphere of the Empire was comfortable, +reassuring, inspiring. The men had their pipes, cigarettes, and women; +the women had the men, the luxury, the glitter, the publicity. They had +attained, they were happy. The frightful curse of the provinces, ennui, +had been conjured away by the beneficent and sublime institution +invented, organized, and controlled by three great trusts. + +George stayed till the end of the show. The emptying of the theatre was +like a battle, like the flight of millions from a conflagration. All +humanity seemed to be crowded into the corridors and staircases. Jostled +and disordered, he emerged into the broad street, along which huge, +lighted trams slowly thundered. He walked a little, starting a fresh +cigar. The multitude had resumed its calm. A few noisy men laughed and +swore obscene oaths; and girls, either in couples or with men, trudged, +demure and unshocked, past the roysterers, as though they had neither +ears to hear nor eyes to see. In a few minutes the processions were +dissipated, dissolved into the vastness of the city, and the pavements +nearly deserted. George strolled on towards the Square. The town hall +stood up against the velvet pallor of the starry summer night, massive, +lovely, supreme, deserted. He had conceived it in an office in Russell +Square when he was a boy. And there it was, the mightiest monument of +the city which had endured through centuries of astounding corporate +adventure. He was overwhelmed, and he was inexpressibly triumphant. +Throughout the day he had had no recognition; and as regards the future, +few, while ignorantly admiring the monument, would give a thought to the +artist. Books were eternally signed, and pictures, and sculpture. But +the architect was forgotten. What did it matter? If the creators of +Gothic cathedrals had to accept oblivion, he might. The tower should be +his signature. And no artist could imprint his influence so powerfully +and so mysteriously upon the unconscious city as he was doing. And the +planet was whirling the whole city round like an atom in the icy spaces +between the stars. And perhaps Lois was lying expectant, discontented, +upon the sofa, thinking rebelliously. He was filled with the realization +of universality. + +At the hotel another telegram awaited him. + +"Good old Ponting!" he exclaimed, after reading it. The message ran: + +"We have won it.--PONTING" + +He said: + +"Why 'we,' Ponting? You didn't win it. I won it." + +He said: + +"Sir Hugh Corver is not going to be the head of the architectural +profession. I am." He felt the assurance of that in his bones. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ROLL-CALL + +I + + +The telephone rang in the principal's room of George's office in Museum +Street. He raised his head from the drawing-board with the false gesture +of fatigued impatience which, as a business man, he had long since +acquired, and took the instrument. As a fact he was not really busy; he +was only pretending to be busy; and he rather enjoyed the summons of the +telephone, with its eternal promise of some romantic new turn of +existence. Nevertheless, though he was quite alone, he had to affect +that the telephone was his bane. + +"Can Sir Isaac Davids speak to you, sir, from the Artists Club?" + +"Put him on." + +Immediately came the thick, rich voice of Sir Isaac, with its +implications of cynicism and triumphant disdain--attenuated and weakened +in the telephone, suggesting an object seen through the wrong end of a +telescope. + +"Is that you, Cannon?" + +"It is," said George shortly. Without yet knowing it, he had already +begun to hate Sir Isaac. His criticism of Sir Isaac was that the man was +too damnably sure of himself. And not all Sir Isaac's obvious power, +and influence, and vast potential usefulness to a young architect, +could prevent George from occasionally, as he put it, 'standing up to +the fellow.' + +"Well, you'd better come along here, if you can. I want to see you," +said the unruffled voice of Sir Isaac. + +"Now?" + +"Yes." + +"All right." + +As George replaced the instrument, he murmured: + +"I know what that means. It's all off." And after a moment: "I knew +jolly well it would be." + +He glanced round the very orderly room, to which, by judicious +furnishing, he had given a severe distinction at no great cost. On the +walls were a few interesting things, including a couple of his own +perspectives. A neo-impressionist oil-sketch over the mantelpiece, with +blue trees and red fields and a girl whose face was a featureless blob, +imperiously monopolized the attention of the beholder, warning him, +whoever he might be, that the inescapable revolutionary future was now +at hand. The room and everything in it, that entity upon which George +had spent so much trouble, and of which he had been so proud, seemed +futile, pointless, utterly unprofitable. + +The winning of the Indian limited competition, coupled with the firm +rumour that Sir Isaac Davids had singled him out for patronage, had +brilliantly renewed George's reputation and the jealousy which proved +its reality. The professional journals had been full of him, and +everybody assured everybody that his ultimate, complete permanent +success had never been in doubt. The fact that the barracks would be the +largest barracks in India indicated to the superstitious, and to George +himself, that destiny intended him always to break records. After the +largest town hall, the largest barracks; and it was said that Sir +Isaac's factory was to be the largest factory! But the outbreak of war +had overthrown all reputations, save the military and the political. +Every value was changed according to a fresh standard, as in a +shipwreck. For a week George had felt an actual physical weight in the +stomach. This weight was his own selfish woe, but it was also the woe of +the entire friendly world. Every architect knew and said that the +profession of architecture would be ruined for years. Then the India +Office woke George up. The attitude of the India Office was overbearing. +It implied that it had been marvellously original and virtuous in +submitting the affair of its barracks to even a limited competition, +when it might just as easily have awarded the job to any architect whom +it happened to know, or whom its wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know, +or whose wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know the India Office--and +further, that George ought therefore to be deeply grateful. It said that +in view of the war the barracks must be erected with the utmost +possible, or rather with quite impossible, dispatch, and that George +would probably have to go to India at once. Simultaneously it daily +modified George's accepted plans for the structure, exactly as though it +was a professional architect and George an amateur, and it involved him +in a seemly but intense altercation between itself and the subordinate +bureaucracy of a Presidency. It kept George employed. In due course +people discovered that business must proceed as usual, and even the +architectural profession, despite its traditional pessimism, had hopes +of municipalities and other bodies which were to inaugurate public works +in order to diminish unemployment. + +Nevertheless George had extreme difficulty in applying himself +efficiently to urgent tasks. He kept thinking: "It's come! It's come!" +He could not get over the fact that it had come--the European War which +had obsessed men's minds for so many years past. He saved the face of +his own theory as to the immediate impossibility of a great war, by +positively asserting that Germany would never have fought had she +foreseen that Britain would fight. He prophesied (to himself) Germany's +victory, German domination of Europe, and, as the grand central +phenomenon, mysterious ruin for George Edwin Cannon. But the next +instant he would be convinced that Germany would be smashed, and +quickly. Germany, he reckoned superiorly, in 'taking on England' had +'bitten off more than she could chew.' + +He knew almost naught of the progress of the fighting. He had obtained +an expensive map of Western Europe and some flagged pins, and had hung +the map up in his hall and had stuck the pins into it with exactitude. +He had moved the pins daily, until little Laurencine one morning, aloft +on a chair, decided to change all the positions of the opposing armies. +Laurencine established German army corps in Marseilles, the +Knockmillydown Mountains, and Torquay, while sending the French to +Elsinore and Aberdeen. There was trouble in the house. Laurencine +suffered, and was given to understand that war was a serious matter. +Still, George soon afterwards had ceased to manipulate the pins; they +seemed to be incapable of arousing his imagination; he could not be +bothered with them; he could not make the effort necessary to acquire a +scientific conception of the western campaign--not to mention the +eastern, as to which his ignorance was nearly perfect. + +Yet he read much about the war. Some of the recounted episodes deeply +and ineffaceably impressed him. For example, an American newspaper +correspondent had written a dramatic description of the German army +marching, marching steadily along a great Belgian high road--a +procession without beginning and without end--and of the procession +being halted for his benefit, and of a German officer therein who struck +a soldier several times in the face angrily with his cane, while the man +stood stiffly at attention. George had an ardent desire to spend a few +minutes alone with that officer; he could not get the soldier's bruised +cheek out of his memory. + +Again, he was moved and even dismayed by the recitals of the entry of +the German army into Brussels and of its breaking into the goose-step as +it reached the Grande Place, though he regarded the goose-step as too +ridiculous and contemptible for words. Then the French defence of +Dinant, and the Belgian defence of Liége, failure as it was, and the +obstinate resistance at Namur, inspired him; and the engagements between +Belgians and Uhlans, in which the clumsy Uhlans were always scattered, +destroyed for him the dread significance of the term 'Uhlan.' + +He simply did not comprehend that all these events were negligible +trifles, that no American correspondent had seen the hundredth part of +the enemy forces, that the troops which marched through Brussels were a +tiny, theatrical side-show, a circus, that the attack on Liége had been +mismanaged, that the great battle at Dinant was a mere skirmish in the +new scale of war, and the engagements with Uhlans mere scuffles, and +that behind the screen of these infinitesimal phenomena _the German +army_, unimagined in its hugeness, horror, and might, was creeping like +a fatal and monstrous caterpillar surely towards France. + +A similar screen hid from him the realities of England. He saw bunting +and recruits, and the crowds outside consulates. But he had no idea of +the ceaseless flight of innumerable crammed trains day and night +southwards, of the gathering together of Atlantic liners and excursion +steamers from all the coasts into an unprecedented Armada, of the +sighting of the vanguard of that Armada by an incredulous Boulogne, of +the landing of British regiments and guns and aeroplanes in the midst of +a Boulogne wonderstruck and delirious, and of the thrill which thereupon +ecstatically shivered through France. He knew only that 'the +Expeditionary Force had landed in safety.' + +He could not believe that a British Army could face successfully the +legendary Prussians with their Great General Staff, and yet he had a +mystic and entirely illogical belief in the invincibility of the British +Army. He had read somewhere that the German forces amounted in all to +the equivalent of over three hundred divisions; he had been reliably +told that the British forces in France amounted to three divisions and +some cavalry. It was most absurd; but his mysticism survived the +absurdity, so richly was it nourished by news from the strange, +inartistic colonies, where architecture was not understood. Revelation +came to George that the British Empire, which he had always suspected to +be an invention of those intolerable persons the Imperialists, was after +all something more than a crude pink smear across the map of the world. + +Withal he was acutely dejected as he left his office to go to the club. + + +II + + +Sir Isaac was sitting quite alone in the large smoking-room of the +Artists in Albemarle Street--a beautiful apartment terribly disfigured +by its pictures, which had been procured from fashionable members in the +fashionable taste of twenty years earlier, and were crying aloud for +some one brave enough to put them out of their misery. No interpretation +of the word 'artist' could by any ingenuity be stretched to include Sir +Isaac. Nevertheless he belonged to the club, and so did a number of +other men in like case. The difference between Sir Isaac and the rest +was that Sir Isaac did actually buy pictures, though seldom from +fashionable painters. + +He was a personage of about forty-five years, with a rather prominent +belly, but not otherwise stout; a dark man; plenty of stiff black hair +(except for one small central bald patch); a rank moustache, and a +clean-shaven chin apparently woaded in the manner of the ancient +Britons; elegantly and yet severely dressed--braided morning-coat, +striped trousers, small, skin-fitting boots, a black flowered-silk +necktie. As soon as you drew near him you became aware of his +respiratory processes; you were bound to notice continually that without +ceasing he carried on the elemental business of existence. Hair sprouted +from his nose, and the nose was enormous; it led at a pronounced slope +to his high forehead, which went on upwards at exactly the same angle +and was lost in his hair. If the chin had weakly receded, as it often +does in this type, Sir Isaac would have had a face like a spear-head, +like a ram of which the sharp point was the top of his nose; but Sir +Isaac's chin was square, and the wall of it perpendicular. + +His expression was usually inquisitive, dissatisfied, and +disdainful--the effect being produced by a slight lifting of the back of +the nostrils and a slight tipping forward of the whole head. His tone, +however, often by its bluff good-humour, contradicted the expression. He +had in an extreme degree the appearance of a Jew, and he had the names +of a Jew; and most people said he was a Jew. But he himself seriously +denied it. He asserted that he came of a Welsh Nonconformist family, +addicted to christening its infants out of the Bible, and could prove +his descent for generations--not that he minded being taken for a Jew +(he would add), was indeed rather flattered thereby, but he simply was +not a Jew. At any rate he was Welsh. A journalist had described him in a +phrase: "All the time he's talking to you in English you feel he's +thinking something different in Welsh." He was an exceedingly rich +industrial, and had made his money by organization; he seemed always to +have leisure. + +"Here," he curtly advised George, producing a magnificent Partaga, +similar to the one he was himself smoking, "you'd better have this." + +He cut the cigar carefully with a club tool, and pushed the match-stand +across the table with a brusque gesture. George would not thank him for +the cigar. + +"You're on that Indian barracks, aren't you?" + +"Yes. They're in a Hades of a hurry." + +"Well, my factory is in much more of a hurry." + +George was startled. He had heard nothing of the factory for a month, +and had assumed that the war had scotched the enterprise. + +He said: + +"Then the war won't stop you?" + +Sir Isaac shook his head slowly, with an arrogant smile. It then +occurred to George that this man differed strangely from all other +men--because the sinister spell of the war had been powerless over him +alone. All other men bore the war in their faces and in their gestures, +but this man did not. + +"I'm going to make munitions now--explosives. I'm going to have the +biggest explosives factory in the world. However, the modifications in +the general plan won't be serious. I want to talk to you about that." + +"Have you got contracts, then, already?" + +"No. Both the War Office and the Admiralty have told me they have all +the explosives they want," he sneered. "But I've made a few inquiries, +and I think that by the time my factory's up they'll be wanting more +explosives than they can get. In fact I wish I could build half a dozen +factories. Dare say I shall." + +"Then you think we're in for a long war?" + +"Not specially that. If it's a long war you English will win. If it's a +short war the Germans will win, and it will be the end of France as a +great power. That's all." + +"Won't it be the end of your factory too?" + +"Noh!" exclaimed Sir Isaac, with careless compassion in his deep, viscid +voice. "If it's a short war, there'll be another war. You English will +never leave it alone. So that whatever happens, if I take up explosives, +I can't go wrong. It's velvet." + +"It seems to me we shall bust up the whole world if we aren't careful, +soon." + +Sir Isaac smiled more compassion. + +"Not at all," he said easily. "Not at all. Things are always arranged in +the end--more or less satisfactorily, of course. It's up to the +individual to look out for himself." + +George said: + +"I was thinking of going into the Army." + +The statement was not strictly untrue, but he had never formulated it, +and he had never thought consecutively of such a project, which did +indeed appear too wild and unpractical for serious consideration. + +"This recruiting's been upsetting you." + +George's vague patriotism seemed to curdle at these half-dozen scornful +words. + +"Do you think I oughtn't to go into the Army, Sir Isaac?" + +"My dear boy, any----can go into the Army. And if you go into the Army +you'll lose your special qualities. I see you as the best factory +designer we have, architecturally. You've only just started, but you +have it in you. And your barracks is pretty good. Of course, if you +choose to indulge in sentimentality you can deprive the country of an +architect in a million and make it a present of a mediocre soldier--for +you haven't got the mind of a soldier. But if you do that, mark my +words--you'll only do it to satisfy the egotism that you call your +heart, you'll only do it in order to feel comfortable; just as a woman +gives a penny to a beggar and thinks it's charity when it's nothing of +the sort. There are fellows that go and enlist because they hear a band +play." + +"Yes," George concurred. He hated to feel himself confronted by a mind +more realistic than his own, but he was realistic enough to admit the +fact. What Sir Isaac said was unanswerable, and it appealed very +strongly to George. He cast away his sentimentality, ashamed of it. And +at the same time he felt greatly relieved in other ways. + +"You'd better put this Indian barracks on one side as much as you can, +or employ some one to help you. I shall want all your energies." + +"But I shall probably have to go to India. The thing's very urgent." + +Sir Isaac scorned him in a profound gaze. The smoke from their two +magnificent cigars mingled in a canopy above them. + +"Not it!" said Sir Isaac. "What's more, it's not wanted at all. They +think it is, because they're absolutely incapable of thought. They know +the word 'war' and they know the word 'barracks.' They put them together +and imagine it's logic. They say: 'We were going to build a barracks, +and now we're at war. Therefore we must hurry up with the barracks.' +That's how they reason, and the official mind will never get beyond it. +_Why_ do they want the barracks? If they want the barracks, what's the +meaning of what they call 'the response of the Indian Empire'? Are they +going to send troops to India or take them away from India? They're +going to take them away, of course. Mutiny of India's silent millions? +Rubbish! Not because a mutiny would contradict the far-famed 'response +of the Indian Empire,' but because India's silent millions haven't got a +rifle amongst them. You needn't tell me they've given you forty reasons +for getting on with that barracks. I know their reasons. All of 'em put +together only mean that in a dull, dim Oxford-and-Cambridge way they see +a connexion between the word 'war' and the word 'barracks.'" + +George laughed, and then, after a few seconds, Sir Isaac gave a short, +rough laugh. + +"But if they insist on me going to India--" George began, and paused. + +Sir Isaac grew meditative. + +"I say, speaking of voyages," he murmured in a tone almost dreamy. "If +you have any loose money, put it into ships, and keep it there. You'll +double it, you'll treble it.... Any ships. No matter what ships." + +"Well, I haven't got any loose money," said George curtly. "And what I +want to know is, if they insist on me going to India, what am I to do?" + +"Tell them you can't go. Tell 'em your professional engagements won't +permit it. They'll lick your boots, and ask humbly if you can suggest +any suitable person to represent you. I shall want all your energies, +and my factory will be worth more to this country in the war than all +the barracks under heaven. Now just bend your eye to these." + +He took some papers from his tail-pocket. The discussion grew technical. + + +III + + +George sailed down Piccadilly westwards on the top of a motor-bus. The +August afternoon was superb. Piccadilly showed more than its usual +splendour of traffic, for the class to whom the sacred word 'England' +signified personal dominion and a vast apparatus of personal luxury +either had not gone away for its holiday or had returned therefrom in a +hurry. The newspaper placards spoke of great feats of arms by the +Allies. Through the leafage of Hyde Park could be seen uncountable smart +troops manoeuvring in bodies. On the top of the motor-bus a student of +war was explaining to an ignorant friend that the active adhesion of +Japan, just announced, meant the beginning of the end for Germany. From +Japan he went to Namur, seeing that Namur was the 'chief bastion' of the +defensive line, and that hence the Germans would not be 'allowed' to +take it. Almost every motor-bus carried a fine specimen of this type of +philosopher, to whom the whole travelling company listened while +pretending not to listen. George despised him for his manner, but agreed +with some of his reasoning. + +George was thinking chiefly about Sir Isaac. Impressive person, Sir +Isaac, even if hateful! It was remarkable how the fellow seemed always +to have leisure. Organization, of course! Indubitably the fellow's +arguments could not be gainsaid. The firing-line was not the only or +even the most important part of the national war machine. To suppose +otherwise was to share the crude errors of the childlike populace and +its Press. Men were useless without guns, guns without shot, shot +without explosives; and explosives could not be produced without a +factory. The populace would never understand the close interdependence +of various activities; it would never see beyond the recruiting station; +it was meet only for pity. Sir Isaac had uttered a very wise saying: +"Things are always arranged in the end ... It's up to the individual to +look out for himself." Sir Isaac was freed from the thrall of +mob-sentimentality. He was a super-man. And he was converting George +into a super-man. George might have gone back to the office, but he was +going home instead, because he could think creatively just as well +outside the office as inside--so why should he accept the convention of +the ordinary professional man. (Sir Isaac assuredly did not.) He had +telephoned to the office. A single consideration appealed to him: How +could he now best serve his country? Beyond question he could now serve +his country best as an architect. If his duty marched with his +advantage, what matter? It was up to the individual to look out for +himself. And he, George, with already an immense reputation, would +steadily enhance his reputation, which in the end would surpass all +others in the profession. The war could not really touch him--no more +than it could touch Sir Isaac; by good fortune, and by virtue of the +impartiality of his intelligence, he was above the war.... Yes, Sir +Isaac, disliked and unwillingly but deeply respected, had cleared his +ideas for him. + +In Elm Park Gardens he met the white-clad son of a Tory M.P. who lived +in that dignified street. + +"The very man! Come and make a fourth, will you, Cannon?" asked the +youth, dandiacal in flannels, persuasively and flatteringly. + +George demanded with firmness: + +"Who are the other two?" + +"Miss Horton and Gladys What's-her-name." + +Why shouldn't he play at tennis? It was necessary to keep fit. + +"All right. But not for long, you know." + +"That's all right. Hurry up and get into your things." + +"Ten minutes." + +And in little more than ten minutes he was swinging a racket on the +private sward that separates Elm Park Gardens East from Elm Park Gardens +West, and is common to the residents of both. He had not encountered +Lois at home, and had not thought it necessary to seek her out. He and +she were often invited to play tennis in Elm Park Gardens. + +The grass was beautifully kept. At a little distance two gardeners were +at work, and a revolving sprinkler whirled sprays of glinting water in a +wide circle. The back windows of the two streets disclosed not the +slightest untidiness nor deshabille; rising irregularly in tier over +tier to the high roof-line, they were all open, and all neatly +curtained, and many of them had gorgeous sun-blinds. The sound of one +or two pianos emerged faintly on the warm, still afternoon. Miss Horton +and the slim Gladys were dressed in white, with short skirts, at once +elegant and athletic. Miss Horton, very tall and strong, with clear +eyes, and a complexion damaged by undue exposure to healthy fresh air, +was a fine player of many years' experience, now at the decline of her +powers. She played seriously, every stroke conscientious and calculated, +and she gave polite, good-humoured hints to the youth, her partner. +George and Gladys were together. Gladys, eighteen, was a delightful +girl, the raw material of a very sound player; she held herself well, +and knew by instinct what style was. A white belt defined her waist in +the most enchanting fashion. George appreciated her, as a specimen of +the newest generation of English girls. There were thousands of them in +London alone, an endless supply, with none of the namby-pambiness and +the sloppiness and the blowziness of their forerunners. Walking in +Piccadilly or Bond Street or the Park, you might nowadays fancy yourself +in Paris ... Why indeed should he not be playing tennis at that hour? +The month was August. The apparatus of pleasure was there. Used or +unused, it would still be there. It could not be destroyed simply +because the times were grave. And there was his health; he would work +better after the exercise. What purpose could there be in mournful +inactivity? Yet continuously, as he ran about the court, and smiled at +Gladys, and called out the score, and exclaimed upon his failures in +precision, the strange, physical weight oppressed his stomach. He +supposed that nearly everybody carried that physical weight. But did Sir +Isaac? Did the delicious Gladys? The youth on the other side of the net +was in the highest spirits because in a few days he would be entering +Sandhurst. + +A butler appeared from the French window of the ground floor of the +M.P.'s house, walked down the curving path screened by a pergola, and +came near the court with a small white paper in his solemn hand. At a +suitable moment he gave the paper to the young master, who glanced at it +and stuffed it into his pocket; the butler departed. A few minutes later +the players changed courts. While the girls chatted apart, the youth +leaped over the net, and, drawing the paper from his pocket, showed it +furtively to George. It bore the words: + +"Namur has fallen." + +The M.P.'s household received special news by telephone from a friend at +the War Office. + +The youth raised his eyebrows, and with a side-glance seemed to say that +there could be no object in telling the women immediately. The next +instant the game was resumed with full ardour. + +George missed his strokes. Like thousands of other people, untaught by +the episode of Liége, he had counted upon Namur. Namur, the bastion, the +shoulder of the newly forming line, if not impregnable, was expected to +hold out for many days. And it had tumbled like a tin church, and with +it the brave edifice of his confidence. He saw the Germans inevitably in +Paris, blowing up Paris quarter by quarter, arrondissement by +arrondissement, imposing peace, dictating peace, forcing upon Europe +unspeakable humiliations. He saw Great Britain compelled to bow; and he +saw worse than that. And the German officer, having struck across the +face with his cane the soldier standing at attention, would go back to +Germany in triumph more arrogant than ever, to ogle adoring virgins and +push cowed and fatuous citizens off the pavement into the gutter. The +solid houses of Elm Park Gardens, with their rich sun-blinds, the +perfect sward, the white-frocked girls, the respectful gardeners, the +red motor-buses flitting past behind the screen of bushes in the +distance, even the butler in his majestic and invulnerable +self-conceit--the whole systematized scene of correctness and tradition +trembled as if perceived through the quivering of hot air. Gladys, +reliant on the male and feeling that the male could no longer be relied +on, went 'off her game,' with apologies; the experience of Miss Horton +asserted itself, and the hard-fought set was lost by George and his +partner. He reminded the company that he had only come for a short time, +and left in a mood of bitter blackness. + + +IV + + +In front of his own house George saw a tradesman's coupé of the +superior, discreet sort, with a smart horse (the same being more +'distinctive' than motor-traction), a driver liveried in black, and the +initials of the firm in a restrained monogram on the doors. He thought: +"She's blueing money again. Of course it's her own, but--" He was +extremely sardonic. In the drawing-room he found not only Lois but +Laurencine and an attentive, respectful, bright-faced figure rather +stylishly dressed in black. This last was fastening a tea-gown on the +back of pale Lois, who stood up with a fatigued, brave air. Laurencine +sat critically observant on the end of a sofa. The furniture of the room +was heaped with tea-gowns, and other garments not very dissimilar, +producing a rich and exciting effect. All three women quickened to +George's entry. + +"Oh! George!" said Lois querulously. "Are you going to play tennis? I +wish I could! I'm so glad you came in; we'd no idea you were in the +house, had we, Laurencine? Laurencine's giving me a tea-gown. Which of +them do you prefer? It's no good me having one you don't like." + +He had been unjust to her, then. + +"It's really her birthday present," said Laurencine, "only a bit late. +Oh! Dear! Darling, do sit down, you're standing too long." + +Both Laurencine and the young woman in black regarded Lois with soft +compassion, and she sat down. Laurencine too was a mother. But she had +retained her girlhood. She was a splendid, powerful, erect creature, +handsome, with a frank, benevolent, sane face, at the height of her +physical perfection. George had a great fondness for her. Years earlier +he had wondered how it was that he had not fallen in love with her +instead of with Lois. But he knew the reason now. She lacked force of +individuality. She was an adorer by instinct. She adored Lois; Lois +could do no wrong. More strange, she adored her husband. Ingenuous +simpleton! Yet wise! Another thing was that her mind was too pure. +Instead of understanding, it rejected. It was a mind absolutely +impregnable to certain phenomena. And this girl still enjoyed musical +comedies and their successors in vogue, the revues! + +"The Germans have taken Namur," George announced. + +The news impressed. Even the young woman in black permitted herself by a +facial gesture to show that she was interested in the war as well as in +tea-gowns, and apart from its effect on tea-gowns. + +"Oh! Dear!" murmured Laurencine. + +"Is it serious?" Lois demanded. + +"You bet it is!" George replied. + +"But what's Sir John French doing, then? I say, Laurencine, I think I +shall have that pale blue one, after all, if you don't mind." The black +young woman went across to the piano and brought the pale blue one. +"George, don't you think so?" + +The gown was deferentially held out for his inspection. + +"Well, I can't judge if I don't see it on, can I?" he said, yielding +superciliously to their mood. Women were incurable. Namur had fallen, +but the room was full of finery, and the finery claimed attention. And +if Paris had fallen, it would have been the same. So he told himself. +Nevertheless the spectacle of the heaped finery and its absorbed +priestess was very agreeable. Lois rose. Laurencine and the priestess +helped her to remove the white gown she wore, and to put on the blue +one. The presence of the male somewhat disturbed the priestess, but the +male had signified a wish and the wish was flattering and had to be +fulfilled. George, cynically, enjoyed her constraint. He might at least +have looked out of the window, but he would not. + +"Yes, that's fine," he decided carelessly, when the operation was done. +He did not care a pin which tea-gown Lois had. + +"I knew you'd like it better," said Lois eagerly. The other two, in +words or by demeanour, applauded his august choice. + +The affair was over. The priestess began to collect her scattered stock +into a light trunk. Behind her back, Lois took hold of Laurencine and +kissed her fondly. Laurencine smiled, and persuaded Lois into a chair. + +"You will of course keep that on, madam?" the priestess suggested. + +"Oh yes, darling, you must rest, really!" said Laurencine earnestly. + +"Thank you, madam." + +In three minutes the priestess, bearing easily the trunk by a strap, had +gone, bowing. Lois's old tea-gown, flung across the head of the sofa, +alone remained to brighten the furniture. + +The drawing-room door opened again immediately, and a military officer +entered. Laurencine sprang up with a little girlish scream and ran to +him. + +"Oh! Dearest! Have you got them already? You never told me you would +have! How lovely you look!" + +Blushing with pleasure and pride, she kissed him. It was Everard Lucas. +Laurencine had come to Elm Park Road that afternoon with the first news +that Everard, through a major known to his late mother, had been offered +a commission in a Territorial line regiment. George, who saw Lucas but +seldom, had not the slightest idea of this enormous family event, and +he was astounded; he had not been so taken back by anything perhaps for +years. Lucas was rounder and his face somewhat coarser than in the past; +but the uniform had created a new Lucas. It was beautifully made and he +wore it well; it suited him; he had the fine military air of a regular; +he showed no awkwardness, only a simple vanity. + +"Don't you feel as if you must kiss him, Lois darling?" said Laurencine. + +"Oh! I certainly must!" Lois cried, forgetting her woes in the new +tea-gown and in the sudden ecstasy produced by the advent of an officer +into the family. + +Lucas bent down and kissed his sister-in-law, while Laurencine beheld +the act with delight. + +"The children must see you before you go," said Lois. + +"Madam, they shall see their uncle," Lucas answered. At any rate his +agreeable voice had not coarsened. He turned to George: "What d'you +think of it, George?" + +"My boy, I'm proud of you," said George. In his tennis-flannels he felt +like one who has arrived at an evening party in morning-dress. And +indeed he was proud of Lucas. Something profound and ingenuous in him +rose into his eyes and caused them to shine. + +Lucas related his adventures with the tailor and other purveyors, and +explained that he had to 'join his regiment' the next day, but would be +able to remain in London for the present. George questioned him about +his business affairs. + +"No difficulty about that whatever!" said Lucas lightly. "The old firm +will carry on as usual; Enwright and Orgreave will have to manage it +between them; and of course they wouldn't dream of trying to cut off the +spondulicks. Not that I should let that stop me if they did." + +"Yes, it's all very well for _you_ to talk like that!" said Lois, with a +swift change of tone. "You've got partners to do your work for you, and +you've got money.... Have you written to mother, Laurencine?" + +George objected to his wife making excuses. His gaze faltered. + +"Of course, darling!" Laurencine answered eagerly, agreeing with her +sister's differentiation between George and Everard. "No, not yet. But +I'm going to to-night. Everard, we ought to be off." + +"I've got a taxi outside," said Lucas. + +"A taxi?" she repeated in a disappointed tone. And then, as an +afterthought: "Well, I have to call at Debenham's." + +The fact was that Laurencine wanted to be seen walking with her military +officer in some well-frequented thoroughfare. They lived at Hampstead. + +Lois rang the bell. + +"Ask nurse to bring the children down, please--at once," she told the +parlourmaid. + +"So this is the new tea-gown, if I mistake not!" observed Lucas in the +pause. "_Très chic_! I suppose Laurencine's told you all about the +chauffeur being run off with against his will by a passionate virgin. +_I_ couldn't start the car this morning myself." + +"You never could start a car by yourself, my boy," said George. "What's +this about the passionate virgin?" + + +V + + +George woke up in the middle of the night. Lois slept calmly; he could +just hear her soft breathing. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms, +of the health of children, the incalculable quality in wives, the touchy +stupidity of nurses and servants. The mere human weight of the household +oppressed him terribly. And he thought of the adamant of landlords, the +shifty rapacity of tradesmen, the incompetence of clerks, the mere +pompous foolishness of Government departments, the arrogance of Jew +patrons, and the terrifying complexity of problems of architecture on a +large scale. He was the Atlas supporting a vast world a thousand times +more complex than any problem of architecture. He wondered how he did +it. But he did do it, alone; and he kept on doing it. Let him shirk the +burden, and not a world but an entire universe would crumble. If he told +Lois that he was going to leave her, she would collapse; she would do +dreadful things. He was indispensable not only at home but +professionally. All was upon his shoulders and upon nobody else's. He +was bound, he was a prisoner, he had no choice, he was performing his +highest duty, he was fulfilling the widest usefulness of which he was +capable ... Besides, supposing he did go insane and shirk the burden, +they would all say that he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform--the +mere sight of the uniform!--like a girl! He could not stand that, +because it would be true. Not that he would ever admit its truth! He +recalled Lucas's tact in refraining from any suggestion, even a jocular +suggestion, that he, George, ought also to be in uniform. Lucas was +always tactful. Be damned to his tact! And the too eager excuses made +by Lois in his behalf also grated on his susceptibility. He had no need +of excuses. The woman was taciturn by nature, and yet she was constantly +saying too much! And did any of the three of them--Lois, Laurencine, and +Lucas--really appreciate the war? They did not. They could not envisage +it. Lucas was wearing uniform solely in obedience to an instinct. + +At this point the cycle of his reflections was completed, and began +again. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms.... Thus, in the dark, +warm night the contents of his mind revolved endlessly, with extreme +tedium and extreme distress, and each moment his mood became more +morbid. + +An occasional sound of traffic penetrated into the room,--strangely +mournful, a reminder of the immense and ineffable melancholy of a city +which could not wholly lose itself in sleep. The window lightened. He +could descry his wife's portable clock on the night-table. A quarter to +four. Turning over savagely in bed, he muttered: "My night's done for. +And nearly five hours to breakfast. Good God!" The cycle resumed, and +was enlarged. + +At intervals he imagined that he dozed; he did doze, if it is possible +while you are dozing to know that you doze. His personality separated +into two personalities, if not more. He was on a vast plain, and yet he +was not there, and the essential point of the scene was that he was not +there. Thousands and tens of thousands of men stood on this plain, which +had no visible boundaries. A roll-call was proceeding. A resounding and +mysterious voice called out names, and at each name a man stepped +briskly from the crowds and saluted and walked away. But there was no +visible person to receive the salute; the voice was bodiless. George +became increasingly apprehensive; he feared a disaster, yet he could not +believe that it would occur. It did occur. Before it arrived he knew +that it was arriving. The voice cried solemnly: + +"George Edwin Cannon." + +An awful stillness and silence followed, enveloping the entire infinite +plain. George trembled. He was there, but he was not there. Men looked +at each other, raising their eyebrows. The voice did not deign to repeat +the call. After a suitable pause, the voice cried solemnly: + +"Everard Lucas." + +And Lucas in his new uniform stepped gravely forward and saluted and +walked away. + +"Was I asleep or awake?" George asked himself. He could not decide. At +any rate the scene impressed him. The bigness of the plain, the summons, +the silence, the utter absence of an expression of reproof or regret--of +any comment whatever. + +At five o'clock he arose, and sat down in his dressing-gown at Lois's +very untidy and very small writing-desk, and wrote a letter on her +notepaper. The early morning was lovely; it was celestial. + +"DEAR DAVIDS," the letter began.--That would annoy the fellow, who liked +the address respectful.--"Dear Davids, I have decided to join the Army, +and therefore cannot proceed further with your commission. However, the +general idea is complete. I advise you to get it carried out by Lucas & +Enwright. Enwright is the best architect in England. You may take this +from me. I'm his disciple. You might ring me up at the office this +afternoon.--Yours faithfully, GEORGE CANNON" + +"P.S.--Assuming you go to Lucas & Enwright, I can either make some +arrangement with them as to sharing fees myself, or you can pay me an +agreed sum for the work I've done, and start afresh elsewhere. I shall +want all the money I can get hold of." + +Yes, Sir Isaac would be very angry. George smiled. He was not +triumphant, but he was calm. In the full sanity of the morning, every +reason against his going into the Army had vanished. The material +objection was ridiculous--with Edwin Clayhanger at the back of him! +Moreover, some money would be coming in. The professional objection was +equally ridiculous. The design for the Indian barracks existed complete; +and middle-aged mediocrity could carry it out in a fashion, and Lucas & +Enwright could carry it out better than he could carry it out himself. +As for Davids, he had written. There was nothing else of importance in +his office. The other competition had not been won. If people said that +he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform, well, they must say it. They +would not say it for more than a few days. After a few days the one +interesting fact would be that he had joined. By such simple and curt +arguments did he annihilate the once overwhelming reasons against his +joining the Army. + +But he did not trouble to marshal the reasons in favour of his joining +the Army. He had only one reason: he must! He quite ignored the larger +aspects of the war--the future of civilization, freedom versus slavery, +right versus wrong, even the responsibilities of citizenship and the +implications of patriotism. His decision was the product, not of +argument, but of feeling. However, he did not feel a bit virtuous. He +had to join the Army, and 'that was all there was to it.' A beastly +nuisance, this world-war! It was interfering with his private affairs; +it might put an end to his private affairs altogether; he hated +soldiering; he looked inimically at the military caste. An unspeakable +nuisance. But there the war was, and he was going to answer to his name. +He simply could not tolerate the dreadful silence and stillness on the +plain after his name had been called. "Pooh! Sheer sentimentality!" he +said to himself, thinking of the vision--half-dream, half-fancy. "Rotten +sentimentality!" + +He asked: + +"Damn it! Am I an Englishman or am I not?" + +Like most Englishmen, he was much more an Englishman than he ever +suspected. + +"What on earth are you doing, George?" + +At the voice of his wife he gave a nervous jump, and then instantly +controlled himself and looked round. Her voice was soft, liquid, weak +with slumber. But, lying calmly on one side, her head half buried in the +pillow, and the bedclothes pushed back from her shoulders, she was +wideawake and gazed at him steadily. + +"I'm just writing a letter," he answered gruffly. + +"Now? What letter?" + +"Here! You shall read it." He walked straight across the room in his gay +pyjamas only partly hidden by the splendid dressing-gown, and handed her +the letter. Moving nothing but her hand, she took the letter and held it +in front of her eyes. He sat down between the beds, on the edge of his +own bed, facing her. + +"Whatever is it?" + +"Read it. You've got it," he said, with impatience. He was trembling, +aware that the crisis had suddenly leapt at him. + +"Oh!" + +She had read the opening phrase; she had received the first shock. But +the tone of her exclamation gave no clue at all to her attitude. It +might mean anything--anything. She shut her eyes; then glanced at him, +terror-struck, appealing, wistful, implacable. + +"Not at once?" + +"Yes, at once." + +"But surely you'll at least wait until after October." + +He shook his head. + +"But why can't you?" + +"I can't." + +"But there's no object--" + +"I've got to do it." + +"You're horribly cruel." + +"Well, that's me!" He was sullen, and as hard as a diamond. + +"George, I shall never be able to stand it. It's too much to expect. +It'll kill me." + +"Not it! What's the use of talking like that? If I'd been in the +Territorials before the war, like lots of chaps, I should have been gone +long ago, and you'd have stood it all right. Don't you understand we're +at war? Do you imagine the war can wait for things like babies?" + +She cried: + +"It's no good your going on in that strain. You can't leave me alone +with all this house on my shoulders, and so that's flat." + +"Who wants to leave you all alone in the house? You can go and stay at +Ladderedge, children and nurse and all." This scheme presented itself to +him as he spoke. + +"Of course I can't! We can't go and plant ourselves on people like that. +Besides--" + +"Can't you? You'll see!" + +He caught her eye. Why was he being so brutal to her? What conceivable +purpose was served by this harshness? He perceived that his nerves were +overstrung. And in a swift rush of insight he saw the whole situation +from her point of view. She was exhausted by gestation; she lived in a +world distorted. Could she help her temperament? She was in the gravest +need of his support; and he was an ass, a blundering fool. His severity +melted within him, and secretly he became tender as only a man can be. + +"You silly girl!" he said, slightly modifying his voice, taking care not +to disclose all at once the change in his mood. + +"You silly girl! Can't you see they'll be so proud to have you they +won't be able to contain themselves? They'll turn the whole place +upside-down for you. I know them. They'll pretend it's nothing, but +mother won't sleep at night for thinking how to arrange things for the +best, and as for my cuckoo of an uncle, if you notice something funny +about your feet, it'll be the esteemed alderman licking your boots. +You'll have the time of your life. In fact they'll ruin your character +for you. There'll be no holding you afterwards." + +She did not smile, but her eyes smiled. He had got the better of her. He +had been cleverer than she was. She was beaten. + +"But we shall have no money." + +"Read the letter, child. I'm not a fool." + +"I know you're not a fool. No one knows that better than me." + +He went on: + +"And what's uncle's money for, if it comes to that?" + +"But we can't spunge on them like that!" + +"Spunge be dashed! What's money for? It's no good till it's spent. If he +can't spend it on us, who can he spend it on? He always makes out he's +fiendishly hard, but he's the most generous idiot ever born." + +"Yes, you're awfully like him." + +"I'm not." + +He was suddenly alive to the marvellous charm of the intimacy of the +scene with his wife, in the early summer dawn, in the silent, enchanted +house of sleepers, in the disorder of the heaped bedroom. They were +alone together, shameless in front of one another, and nobody knew or +saw, or could ever know or see. Their relations were unique, the +resultant of long custom, of friction, of misunderstanding, of +affection, of incomprehensible instincts, of destiny itself. He thought: +"I have lived for this sensation, and it is worth living for." + +Without the slightest movement, she invited him with her strange eyes, +and as she did so she was as mysterious as ever she had been. He bent +down responsively. She put her hot, clammy hands on his shoulders, and +kept his head at a little distance and looked through his eyes into his +soul. The letter had dropped to the floor. + +"I knew you would!" she murmured, and then snatched him to her, and +kissed him, and kept her mouth on his. + +"You didn't," he said, as soon as she loosed him. "I didn't know +myself." + +But he privately admitted that perhaps she did know. She had every +fault, but she was intelligent. Constantly he was faced with that fact. +She did not understand the significance of the war; she lacked +imagination; but her understanding was sometimes terrible. She was +devious; but she had a religion. He was her religion. She would cast the +god underfoot--and then in a passion of repentance restore it ardently +to the sacred niche. + +She said: + +"I couldn't have borne it if Everard had gone and you hadn't. But of +course you meant to go all the time." + +That was how she saved his amour-propre. + +"I always knew you were a genius--" + +"Oh! Chuck it, kid!" + +"But you're more, somehow. This business--" + +"You don't mean joining the Army?" + +"Yes." + +"What rot! There's nothing in it. Fellows are doing it everywhere." + +She smiled superiorly, and then inquired: + +"How do you join? What are you going to do? Shall you ask Everard?" + +"Well--" he hesitated. He had no desire to consult Lucas. + +"Why don't you see Colonel Rannion?" she Suggested. + +"Jove! That's a scheme. Never thought of him!" + +Her satisfaction at the answer was childlike, and he was filled with +delight that it should be so. They launched themselves into an +interminable discussion about every possible arrangement of everything. +But in a pause of it he destroyed its tremendous importance by remarking +casually: + +"No hurry, of course. I bet you I shall be kept knocking about here for +months." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IN THE MACHINE + +I + + +Colonel Rannion was brother of the wife of the man for whom George had +built the house at Hampstead. George had met him several times at the +dinners and other reunions to which a sympathetic architect is often +invited in the dwelling that he has created. Colonel Rannion had greatly +liked his sister's house, had accordingly shown much esteem for George, +and had even spoken of ordering a house for himself. + +Just as breakfast was being served, George had the idea of ringing up +the Hampstead people for the Colonel's address, which he obtained at +once. The Colonel was staying at the Berkeley Hotel. The next moment he +got the Berkeley, and the Colonel in person. The Colonel remembered him +instantly. George said he wanted to see him. What about? Well, a +commission. The Colonel said he had to leave the hotel in twenty-five +minutes. "I can be with you in less than a quarter of an hour," said +George--or rather, not George, but some subconscious instinct within +him, acting independently of him. The children, with nurse, were in the +dining-room, waiting to breakfast with father. They were washed, they +were dressed; the dining-room had been cleaned; the pleasant smell of +breakfast-cooking wandered through the rooms; since the early talk +between George and Lois in the silent, sleeping house the house had +gradually come to life; it was now in full being--even to the girl +scrubbing the front steps--except that Lois was asleep. Exhausted after +the strange and crucial scene, she had dozed off, and had never moved +throughout George's dressing. + +Now he rushed into the dining-room--"I have to go, nurse. Fardy can't +have his breakfast with you!"--and rushed out. A minute previously he +had felt a serious need of food after the long, sleepless morning. The +need vanished. He scurried up Elm Park Gardens like a boy in the warm, +fresh air, and stopped a taxi. He was extremely excited. None but Lois +knew the great secret. He had kept it to himself. He might have burst +into the kitchen--for he was very apt to be informal--and said: "Well, +cook, I'm going into the Army!" What a household sensation the news +would cause, and what an office sensation! His action would affect the +lives of all manner of people. And the house, at present alive and +organic, would soon be dead. He was afraid. What he was doing was +tremendous. Was it madness? He had a feeling of unreality. + +At the entrance to the Berkeley Hotel lay a large automobile, with a +spurred and highly polished military chauffeur. At the door of Colonel +Rannion's room was stationed a spurred and highly polished, erect +orderly--formidable contrast to the flaccid waiters who slouched palely +in the corridors. The orderly went into the room and saluted with a +click. George followed, as into a dentist's surgery. It was a small, +elegant, private sitting-room resembling a boudoir. In the midst of +delicately tinted cushions and flower-vases stood Colonel Rannion, +grey-haired, blue-eyed, very straight, very tall, very slim--the +slimness accentuated by a close-fitted uniform which began with red tabs +and ended in light leggings and gleaming spurs. He conformed absolutely +to the traditional physical type of soldier, and the sight of him gave +pleasure. + +"Good morning. Cannon. Glad to see you." He seemed to put a secret +meaning into the last words. + +He shook hands as he spoke, firmly, decisively, efficiently. + +"I hope I'm not troubling you too much," George began. + +"Troubling me! Sit down. You want a commission. The Army wants to give +commissions to men like you. I think you would make a good officer." + +"Of course I'm absolutely ignorant of the Army. Absolutely." + +"Yes. What a pity that is! If you'd only been a pre-war Territorial you +might have done three weeks' urgent work for your country by this time." +The remark was a polite reproof. + +"I might," admitted George, to whom the notion of working for his +country had never before occurred. + +"Do you think you'd like the Artillery?" Colonel Rannion questioned +sharply. His tone was increasing in sharpness. + +With an equal sharpness George answered unhesitatingly: "Yes, I +should." + +"Can you ride?" + +"I can _ride_. In holidays and so on I get on my mother's horses." + +"Have you hunted?" + +"Never." + +"H'm!... Well, I know my friend Colonel Hullocher, who commands the +Second Brigade of--er--my Division, is short of an officer. Would you +care for that?" + +"Certainly." + +Without saying anything else Colonel Rannion took up the telephone. In +less than half a minute George heard him saying: "Colonel Hullocher.... +Ask him to be good enough to come to the telephone at once.... That you, +Hullocher?" + +George actually trembled. He no longer felt that heavy weight on his +stomach, but he felt 'all gone.' He saw himself lying wounded near a +huge gun on a battlefield. + +Colonel Rannion was continuing into the telephone: + +"I can recommend a friend of mine to you for a commission. George +Cannon--C-a-n-n-o-n--the architect. I don't know whether you know of +him.... Oh! About thirty.... No, but I think he'd suit you.... Who +recommends him? _I_ do.... Like to see him, I suppose, first?... No, no +necessity to see him. I'll tell him.... Yes, I shall see you in the +course of the day." The conversation then apparently deviated to other +subjects, and drew to a close.... "Good-bye. Thanks.... Oh! I say. Shall +he get his kit?... Cannon.... Yes, he'd better. Yes, that's understood +of course. Good-bye." + +"That will be quite all right," said Colonel Rannion to George. "Colonel +Hullocher thinks you may as well see to your kit at once, provided of +course you pass the doctor and you are ready to work for nothing until +your commission comes along." + +"Oh! Naturally!" George agreed, in a dream. He was saying to himself, +frightened, astounded, staggered, and yet uplifted: "_Get my kit! Get my +kit!_ But it's scarcely a minute since I decided to go into the Army." + +"I may get your commission ante-dated. I haven't all the papers here, +but give me an address where I can find you at once, and you shall have +them this afternoon. I'll get the Colonel to send them to the +Territorial Association to-morrow, and probably in about a month you'll +be in the _Gazette_. I don't know when Colonel Hullocher will want you +to report for duty, but I shall see him to-day. You'll get a telegram +when you're needed. Now I must go. Which way are you going?" + +"I'm going home for my breakfast," said George, writing down his two +addresses. + +Colonel Rannion said: + +"I'm off to Wimbledon. I can drop you in Fulham Road if you like." + +In the automobile George received a few useful hints, but owing to the +speed of the vehicle the time was far too short for any extensive +instruction. The car drew up. For an instant Colonel Rannion became +freely cordial. "He must rather have cottoned to me, or he wouldn't have +done what he has," thought George, proud to be seen in converse with a +staff-officer, waving a hand in adieu. And he thought: "Perhaps next +time I see him I shall be saluting him!" + +The children and nurse were still at breakfast. Nothing had changed in +the house during his absence. But the whole house was changed. It was a +house unconvincing, incredible, which might vanish at any moment. He +himself was incredible. What had happened was incredible. The screeching +voices of the children were not real voices, and the children were +apparitions. The newspaper was illegible. Its messages for the most part +had no meaning, and such as bore a meaning seemed to be utterly +unimportant. The first reality, for George was food. He discovered that +he could not eat the food--could not swallow; the nausea was acute. He +drank a little coffee, and then went upstairs to see his wife. Outside +the bedroom door he stood hesitant. A desolating sadness of +disappointment suddenly surged over him. He had destroyed his ambitions, +he had transformed all his life, by a single unreflecting and +irretrievable impulse. What he had done was terrific, and yet he had +done it as though it were naught ... The mood passed as suddenly as it +had come, and left him matter-of-fact, grim, as it were swimming +strongly on and with the mighty current which had caught him. He went +into the bedroom on the current. Lois was awake. + +"I've seen Colonel Rannion." + +"You haven't, George!" + +"Yes, I have. I've just come back." + +"Well?" + +He replied with his damnable affected casualness: "I'm in the Army. +Royal Field Artillery. And so that's that." + +"But where's your uniform?" + +"I knew you'd say that. I'm in mufti, you see." + + +II + + +He promptly received his papers and returned them. His medical +examination was quite satisfactory. Then there was no further sign from +the Army. The Army might have completely forgotten him; his enrolment in +the Army might have been an illusion. Every day and every hour he +expected a telegram of command. It was in anticipation of the telegram, +curt and inexorable, that he kept harrying his tradesmen. To be caught +unprepared by the telegram would be a disaster. But the tradesmen had +lessons to teach him, and by the time the kit was approximately +completed he had learnt the lessons. Whether the transaction concerned +his tunic, breeches, spurs, leggings, cane, sword, socks, shirts, cap, +camp field-kit, or any of the numerous other articles without which an +officer might not respectably enter the British Army, the chief lesson +was the same, namely, that the tradesmen were bearing the brunt of the +war. Those who had enrolled and made spectacular sacrifices of homes and +careers and limbs and lives were enjoying a glorious game amid the +laudations of an ecstatic populace, but the real work was being done in +the shops and in the workrooms. The mere aspect of tradesmen was enough +to restore the lost modesty of officers. Useless to argue with the +tradesmen, to expostulate, to vituperate. The facts were in their +favour; the sublime law of supply and demand was in their favour. If the +suddenly unloosed military ardour had not been kept down it might have +submerged the Island. The tradesmen kept it down, and the Island was +saved by them from militarization. Majors and colonels and even generals +had to flatter and cajole tradesmen. As for lieutenants, they cringed. +And all officers were obliged to be grateful for the opportunity to +acquire goods at prices fifty per cent higher than would have been +charged to civilians. Within a few days George, who had need of every +obtainable sovereign for family purposes, had disbursed some forty +pounds out of his own pocket in order to exercise the privilege of +defending, at the risk of ruin and death, the ideals of his country. + +At the end of the week what, as a civilian, he would have described as +his first 'suit' had not been delivered, and he spent Saturday afternoon +and Sunday in most uncomfortable apprehension of the telegraph-boy and +in studying an artillery manual now known to hundreds of thousands as +'F.A.T.' On the Monday morning he collected such portions of his kit as +had to be worn with the 'suit' (leggings, boots, spurs, cap, shirt, +collar, etc.), and took them in a taxi to the tailor's, intending to +change there and emerge a soldier. The clothes were not ready, but the +tailor, intimidated by real violence, promised them for three o'clock. +At three o'clock they were still not ready, for buttons had to be +altered on the breeches; another hour was needed. + +George went to call at Lucas & Enwright's. That office seemed to +function as usual, for Everard Lucas alone had left it for the +profession of arms. The factotum in the cubicle was a young man of the +finest military age, and there were two other good ones in the clerks' +room, including a clerk just transferred from George's own office. And +George thought of his own office, already shut up, and his glance was +sardonic. Mr. Enwright sat alone in the principals' room, John Orgreave +being abroad in London in pursuit of George's two landlords--the +landlord of his house and the landlord of his office--neither of whom +had yet been brought to see that George's caprice for a military career +entitled him in the slightest degree to slip out of contracts +remunerative to the sacred caste of landlords. Lucas & Enwright had +behaved handsomely to George, having taken everything over, assumed all +responsibilities, and allotted to George more than a fair share of +percentages. And John Orgreave, who in his rough provincial way was an +admirable negotiator, had voluntarily busied himself with the affair of +the resilition of George's leases. + +"Not gone, then?" Mr. Enwright greeted him. "Well, you'd better be +going, or I shan't get my chance of being Vice-President." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Orgreave was at a committee at the Institute this morning. It seems you +might have been the next Vice, in spite of your tender years, if you'd +stayed. You're becoming the rage, you know." + +"Am I?" said George, startled. + +He hungered for further details of this great and highly disturbing +matter, but Enwright, jealous by nature and excusably jealous by reason +of the fact that despite his immense artistic reputation he had never +succeeded in being even Vice-President of the Institute, would say no +more. Indeed he took a malicious pleasure in saying no more. + +The ageing man, more hypochondriacal, thinner, and more wrinkled than +ever, was full to the brim of one subject--India. Somebody at the India +Office had flattered him by showing a knowledge of his work. The India +Office had very graciously agreed to the transfer of the barracks +enterprise to Lucas & Enwright, and now Mr. Enwright was for going to +India himself. He had never been there. Indian scenery, Indian manners, +Indian architecture boiled in his brain. The menace of German raiders +would not prevent him from going to India. He had already revisited the +photographs of Indian buildings at South Kensington Museum. Moreover, he +had persuaded himself that the erection of the barracks formed an urgent +and vital part of British war activity. + +At the same time he was convinced that the war would soon end, and in +favour of Germany. He assumed, as being beyond doubt, that a German army +would occupy Paris, and when George, with a wave of the hand, pushed the +enemy back and magically rendered Paris impregnable, he nearly lost his +temper. This embittered Englishman would not hear a word against the +miraculous efficiency of the Germans, whom he admired as much as he +hated them. The German military reputation could not have been safer in +Potsdam than it was in Russell Square. George, impatient of his master +and inspirer, rose to depart, whereupon Mr. Enwright began to talk at +large about the terrible derangement of his daily life caused by the +sudden disappearance of his favourite barber, deemed now to have been a +spy. "But the only barber who ever really understood my chin," said Mr. +Enwright. George went, shaking hands perfunctorily. Mr. Enwright was too +preoccupied to wish him luck. + +The clothes were ready at the tailor's, and they passed the tests. +George stood up disguised as a second-lieutenant in the R.F.A., booted, +spurred, gloved, nicely managing a cane. He examined himself in the +great mirror and was well pleased with his military appearance. In +particular, his dark moustache fitted the role excellently. + +"Now you'll send the overcoat and all my civilian things down this +afternoon, without fail," he said. "I'll let you have an address for the +other suit." + +And he walked manfully out of the shop. Before he could find himself, a +superb serjeant-major strode up, saluted in the highest and strictest +perfection, and passed. The encounter was unfortunate. George, taken +aback, muddled his share of the rite. Further, the self-consciousness of +the potential Vice-President of the Royal Institute of British +Architects was so extreme in uniform that it could scarcely have been +more extreme had he been thrust by destiny into Oxford Street naked. He +returned to the shop and said: + +"I think I'll take everything home myself, to make sure. You might get +me a taxi." + +He crept into his own house furtively with his parcels, like a criminal, +though he well knew that the servants would be ready to worship him as a +new god. The children were evidently out. Lois was not in the +drawing-room. He ran to the bedroom. She lay on the sofa. + +"Here I am!" he announced, posing bravely for her inspection. + +She did not move for a few seconds. Her eyes were hard-set. Then she +gave a tremendous shattering sob, and burst into wild tears. George +stooped to pick up a telegram which was lying on the floor. It read: + +"You are to report to Adjutant Headquarters Second First West Midland +R.F.A. Wimbledon to-morrow Tuesday before noon." + +The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name upon +various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at last the order +had gone forth. + + +III + + +The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken ill. George +telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had seen the patient the +doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as soon as the doctor had +telephoned for the nurse George telephoned for Laurencine. What with +George's uniform and approaching departure, and the premature seizure of +Lois, the household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state +of intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the +children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants were +noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. The breakfast +had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with a detailed description +of the retreat from Mons, were not glanced at. George was expecting a +letter from his mother concerning the arrangements for the visit of Lois +and the children to Ladderedge, already decided upon, and no letter had +come. + +At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. Having inspected +his luggage in the hall, he went to the telephone again and ascertained +that Laurencine had actually started from home. Almost at the same +moment a taxi stopped in front of the house. "She's been jolly quick," +thought George, meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw +that his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush out +to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the perfect +reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and warmed him. They +had not written again; they had just come themselves. + +He affectionately and critically watched them as they got out of the +taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, with grey hair and +beard, was passing from middle-age into the shadow of the sixties. He +dressed well, but the flat crown of his felt hat, and the artificial, +exaggerated squareness of the broad shoulders, gave him a provincial +appearance. His gesture as he paid the driver was absolutely +characteristic--a mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the +impressive and the timid. He had descended from the vehicle with +precautions, but Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was +about as old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful; +she did not understand and never had understood how to dress herself. +But she had kept her figure; she was as slim as a girl, and as restless. + +George ran to the door, which the feverish parlourmaid had neglected to +shut. His mother, mounting the steps, was struck full in the face by the +apparition of her son in uniform. The Alderman, behind her, cried +mockingly to cover his emotion: "Hal_lo_! Hal_lo_!" + +"When did you come up?" asked George quietly, taking his mother's hand +and kissing her. She slid past him into the house. Her eyes were moist. + +"Last night," the Alderman answered. "Last train. Your mother's idea. +All of a sudden. Thought you might be leaving." + +"Well, I am," said George. "I have to report at Headquarters at +Wimbledon by twelve o'clock. It's rather a good thing you've come. Lois +is ill. Oh! Here's _my_ taxi." The parlourmaid had driven up. + +"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayhanger. + +"Yes. I've sent for the doctor, and he's sent for the nurse. I'm +expecting the nurse every minute." + +"You don't mean to say--" Mrs. Clayhanger began. + +George nodded. + +"She _must_ have had a shock. I knew what it would be for her. It's all +very well, but--" Mrs. Clayhanger again left a sentence unfinished. + +"I've sent for Laurencine too," said George. "She also may be here any +minute." + +"Oh!" said the old lady tartly. "I can stay as long as you like, you +know. Lois and I get on splendidly." + +It was true. They had had one enormous quarrel, which had mysteriously +ended by both of them denying superiorly to all males that any quarrel +had ever occurred. + +"Well, come into the dining-room." + +"I think I'll go up and see Lois at once," said Mrs. Clayhanger. + +"The doctor's there." + +"What if he is?" + +The Alderman put in: + +"Now look here, missis. Don't startle her." + +Mrs. Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went upstairs. + +"This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with his stick to +the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall floor. + +"Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it all in the +taxi, May. Come along in, uncle." + +"Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me." + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!" + +They were now within the dining-room. + +"Yes." In the presence and under the influence of his people George at +once ceased to be an expansive Londoner, and reverted to the character +of the Five Towns. + +"I suppose she'll be all _right_?" + +"Doctor seems to think so." + +"Yes. They generally are." The Alderman sighed pleasantly and dropped +rather heavily into a chair. + +"Have a cigarette?" + +"No!" The Alderman refused regretfully. "I've got a new rule now. I +don't smoke till after dinner." + +There was a pause. + +"I'm glad we came." + +"So'm I." + +"You needn't worry about anything. Your mother and I will see to +everything. I'll go up and have a talk with Johnnie about the leases." + +"Thanks." + +"What about money?" + +"I'll write you. No hurry." + +"What sort of a woman is Laurencine? I've scarcely set eyes on her." + +"She's fine." + +"She is?" + +"Yes." + +"Will she hit it off with your mother?" + +"Trust her." + +"Well, then, I think I'll have one o' them cigarettes." + +They smoked in taciturnity, nervous but relieved. They had said what +they had to say to each other. After a time George remarked: + +"I heard last night there was a chance of me being Vice-President of the +Institute this year if I hadn't gone into the Army." + +Mr. Clayhanger raised his eyebrows. + +"That'll keep all right for later." + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Clayhanger hurried into the dining-room. She had removed her hat +and gloves. + +"Lois wants to see you." + +"I was just coming up. I've got to go now." He glanced at his watch. + +"Go where?" It was like Mrs. Clayhanger to ask a question to which she +knew the answer. Her ardent eyes, set a little too close together in the +thin, lined, nervous face, burned upon him challengingly. + +"I told you! I have to report at Headquarters before noon." + +"But you don't mean to say you're going to leave your wife like this! +She's very ill." + +"I'm bound to leave her." + +"But you can't leave her." + +The Alderman said: + +"The boy's quite right. If he's got to report he's got to report." + +"And supposing she was dying?" + +"Now, missis, we needn't suppose that. She isn't." + +"It would be just the same if she was," Mrs. Clayhanger retorted +bitterly. "I don't know what men are coming to. But I know this--all +husbands are selfish. They probably don't know it, but they are." + +She wept angrily. + +"Don't you understand I'm in the machine now, mater?" said George +resentfully as he left the room. + +In the bedroom Lois lay on her back, pale, perspiring, moaning. He +kissed her, glanced at the doctor for instructions, and departed. Lois +was not in a condition to talk, and the doctor wished her not to speak. +Then George went to the kitchen and took leave of the children, and +incidentally of the servants. The nurse was arriving as he re-entered +the dining-room; he had seized his cap in the hall and put it on. + +"Better give me an address," said the Alderman. + +"You might wire during the day," George said, scribbling on a loose leaf +from his pocket-book, which he had to search for in unfamiliar pockets. + +"The idea had occurred to me," the Alderman smiled. + +"Au revoir, mater." + +"But you've got plenty of time!" she protested. + +"I know," said he. "I'm not going to be late. I haven't the slightest +notion where Headquarters are, and supposing the taxi had a break-down!" + +He divined from the way in which she kissed him good-bye that she was +excessively proud of him. + +"Mater," he said, "I see you're still a girl." + +As he was leaving, Mr. Clayhanger halted him. + +"You said something in your last letter about storing the furniture, +didn't you? Have ye made any inquiries?" + +"No. But I've told Orgreave. You might look into that, because--well, +you'll see." + +From the hall he glanced into the dining-room and up the stairs. The +furniture that filled the house had been new ten years earlier; it had +been anybody's furniture. The passage of ten years, marvellously swift, +had given character to the furniture, charged it with associations, +scarred it with the history of a family--his family, individualized it, +humanized it. It was no longer anybody's furniture. With a pang he +pictured it numbered and crowded into a warehouse, forlorn, thick with +dust, tragic, exiled from men and women. + +He drove off, waving. His stepfather waved from the door, his mother +waved from the dining-room; the cook had taken the children into the +drawing-room, where they shook their short, chubby arms at him, smiling. +On the second floor the back of the large rectangular mirror on the +dressing-table presented a flat and wooden negative to his anxious +curiosity. + +In the neighbourhood of Wimbledon the taxi-driver ascertained his +destination at the first inquiry from a strolling soldier. It was the +Blue Lion public-house. The taxi skirted the Common, parts of which were +covered with horse-lines and tents. Farther on, in vague suburban +streets, the taxi stopped at a corner building with a blatant, curved +gilt sign and a very big lamp. A sentry did something with his rifle as +George got out, and another soldier obligingly took the luggage. A +clumsy painted board stuck on a pole at the entrance to a side-passage +indicated that George had indeed arrived at his Headquarters. He was +directed to a small, frowzy apartment, which apparently had once been +the land-lord's sitting-room. Two officers, Colonel Hullocher and his +Adjutant, both with ribbons, were seated close together at a littered +deal table, behind a telephone whose cord, instead of descending +modestly to the floor, went up in sight of all men to the ceiling. In a +corner a soldier, the Colonel's confidential clerk, was writing at +another table. Everything was dirty and untidy. Neither of the officers +looked at George. The Adjutant was excitedly reading to the Colonel and +the Colonel was excitedly listening and muttering. The clerk too was in +a state of excitement. George advanced towards the table, and saluted +and stood at attention. The Adjutant continued to read and the Colonel +to murmur, but the Adjutant did manage to give a momentary surreptitious +glance at George. After some time the Colonel, who was a short, stout, +bald, restless man, interrupted the reading, and, still without having +looked at George, growled impatiently to the Adjutant: + +"Who's this fellow?" + +The Adjutant replied smoothly: + +"Mr. Cannon, sir." + +The Colonel said: + +"He's got a devilish odd way of saluting. I must go now." And jumped up +and went cyclonically as far as the door. At the door he paused and +looked George full in the face, glaring. + +"You came to me with a special recommendation?" he demanded loudly. + +"Colonel Rannion kindly recommended me, sir." + +"General Rannion, sir. Haven't you seen this morning's _Times_? You +should read your Gazette." + +"Yes, sir." + +"You're the celebrated architect?" + +"I'm an architect, sir." + +"I wish you would condescend to answer, yes or no, sir. That's the +second time. I say--you're the celebrated architect?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, remember this. When you come into the Army what you were before +you came into the Army has not the slightest importance." + +"Yes, sir." + +Colonel Hullocher glared in silence for a moment, and was gone. The +clerk slipped out after him. + +The Adjutant rose: + +"Now, Cannon, we're all very busy." + +And shook hands. + + +IV + + +The same afternoon, indeed within about two hours of his entrance into +the Army, George found himself driving back from Wimbledon to London in +a motor-bus. + +Colonel Hullocher had vanished out of his world, and he had been sent to +another and still more frowzy public-house which was the Headquarters of +No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade. He was allotted to No. 2 Battery, +subject to the approval of Major Craim, the commanding officer. Major +Craim was young and fair and benevolent, and at once approvingly +welcomed George, who thereupon became the junior subaltern of the +Battery. The other half-dozen officers, to whom he was introduced one by +one as they came in, seemed amiable and very well-mannered, if unduly +excited. When, immediately before lunch, the Major was called away to +lunch with Colonel Hullocher, the excitement of the mess seemed to boil +over. The enormous fact was that the whole Division--yeomanry, infantry, +and artillery--had been ordered to trek southward the next morning. The +Division was not ready to trek; in particular the Second Brigade of its +artillery, and quite specially Battery No. 2 of the Second Brigade, was +not ready to trek. Nevertheless it would trek. It might even trek to +France. Southward was Franceward, and there were those who joyously +believed that this First Line Territorial Division was destined to lead +the Territorial Army in France. + +All the officers had a schoolboyish demeanour; all of them called one +another by diminutives ending in 'y'; all of them were pretty young. +But George soon divided them into two distinct groups--those who worried +about the smooth working of the great trek, and those who did not. Among +the former was Captain Resmith, the second in command, a dark man with a +positive, strong voice, somewhat similar to George in appearance. +Captain Resmith took George very seriously, and promised to initiate him +personally into as many technical mysteries as could be compressed into +one afternoon. Then a Major Tumulty, middle-aged and pale, came +hurriedly into the stuffy room and said without any prologue: + +"Now I must have one of you chaps this afternoon. Otherwise I promise +you you won't get all the things you want." + +Silence fell on the mess. + +"The C.O. isn't here, sir," said Captain Resmith. + +"I can't help that. I'm not going alone." + +"Cannon, you'd better go with Major Tumulty. Major, this is Mr. Cannon, +our latest addition." + +George only knew about Major Tumulty that he was Major Tumulty and that +he did not belong to No. 2 Battery. So far as George was concerned he +was a major in the air. After drinking a glass of port with the mess, +Major Tumulty suddenly remembered that he was in a hurry, and took +George off and put him into a scarlet London-General motor-bus that was +throbbing at the door of the public-house, with an ordinary civilian +driver at the steering-wheel and a soldier on the step. George felt like +a parcel; he had no choice of movement, no responsibility, no knowledge. +The mentality of a parcel was not disagreeable to him. But at times, +vaguely uneasy, he would start out of it, and ask himself: "What is +wrong?" And then the vision of a distant, half-forgotten street called +Elm Park Road would rise in his mind and he would remember: "My wife is +very ill, and everything is upset at home." + +The motor-bus travelled a few yards and stopped; and out of yet another +office a soldier carried, staggering, a heavy bag with a brass lock, and +dropped it on the floor of the bus between the Major and George; and the +bus, after a good imitation by the soldier-conductor of a professional +double ting on the bell, went away afresh. + +"That's money," said the Major, in his mild, veiled voice, pointing to +the bag. + +Little by little George learnt that the Major had 'won' the bus 'out of' +the War Office, and had been using it daily for several days for the +purpose of buying and collecting urgent stores and equipment. The bus +had become celebrated within the Division in an astoundingly short time, +and on this, the last day preceding the trek, the various units had +burdened the good-natured Major with a multitude of commissions. + +"I try to keep accounts," said the Major. "But I know I've made a loss +every day. I've been in the T.F. ever since there was one, and it has +always cost me money. Now, I shall put you in charge of this little +book." + +The little book was a penny account-book, with pages lettered in pencil +A, B, C, D, etc., and items scribbled on each page. + +"The letters show the batteries," the Major explained. "I've got a key +to the batteries somewhere in my pocket. And here's what I call my grand +list." He produced a roll of foolscap. "I like everything orderly. It +saves so much trouble, doesn't it? I mean in the end. Now, as I buy +things I shall strike them off here, and I want you to strike them off +in your book and put down the price from the bill. I always insist on a +receipted bill. It saves so much trouble in the end. I meant to bring a +file or a clip for the bills, but I forgot. You understand, don't you?" + +George answered solemnly and sharply: + +"Yes, sir." + +The Major weakly cried: + +"Hall!" + +"Yessir!" The soldier-conductor came to attention. + +"Did you tell him to go to Harrods first?" + +"Yessir!" + +"I think we might go and sit on the top," said the Major. "It's a nice +afternoon." + +So the two officers went and sat on the top of the motor-bus. The Major +gossiped with soothing tranquillity. He said that he was a pianoforte +manufacturer; his father, from whom he had inherited, had traded under a +German name because people preferred German pianos to English; he now +regretted this piece of astuteness on the part of his father; he was +trying to sell his business--he had had enough of it. + +"Hi! You!" he called, standing up quite unexpectedly and leaning over +the front of the bus to hail the driver. "Hi! You!" But the driver did +not hear, and the bus drove forward like fate. The Major, who had +hitherto seemed to be exempt from the general perturbation of Wimbledon +troops, suddenly showed excitement. "We must stop this bus somehow! Why +the devil doesn't he stop? I've forgotten the rope-shop." + +"I'll stop it, sir," said George, maintaining an admirable presence of +mind in the crisis, and he rose and pushed down the knob of the +signal-rod at the back of the bus. The bus did actually stop. + +"Ah!" murmured the Major, calmed. + +The soldier raced upstairs. + +"Hall!" + +"Yessir." + +"Do you know a rope and string shop near the Granville Theatre of +Varieties at Walham Green?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville." + +"Yessir." + +The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw the first +contents-bill of the afternoon papers. + +"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked. + +"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons business is +serious." + +"Yes, sir." + +The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. When the rope +had been purchased and new silver brought forth from the bag, and the +receipt made out, and the item struck off and the amount entered, and +the bus had started again, George perceived that he would soon be +passing the end of Elm Park Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect +the bus into Elm Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He +dared not. The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless +unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its forehead, +rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham Road, pursued by the +disappointed glances of gesturing wayfarers who wanted it to take them +to Liverpool Street. + +After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major stopped his +bus at a Tube station in the north of London. + +"I mustn't forget my pens," said he. "I have to spend three-quarters of +my time mewed up in the office, and I don't grumble; but I'm very +particular about nibs, and if I don't have my own I cannot work. It's +useless to expect it." + +Then to the soldier: + +"Hall! You go down to Partridge & Cooper's, at the corner of Chancery +Lane and Fleet Street, and buy a sixpenny box of their 'No. 6 Velvet' +pen-nibs. You understand: 'No. 6 Velvet.'" + +"Yessir. With the bus, sir?" + +"With the bus. Here's sixpence." He took a coin out of the bag, locked +it, and gave the key to George. "And keep an eye on this bag, my boy. +You will then come back and wait for us--let me see--outside Piccadilly +Tube Station in Jermyn Street." + +"Yessir." + +The Major and George entered the North London station and proceeded to +the lift. + +"Tickets!" demanded the lift-man. + +The Major halted and gazed at him. + +"On service!" said the Major, with resentment and disdain. "A fortnight +ago you civilians were raising your hats to us. Now you ask us for +tickets! Haven't you grasped yet that there's a war on? Don't you think +you'd look better in khaki?" He showed excitement, as at every personal +encounter. + +The lift-man bowed his head, inarticulately muttering, and the officers +passed into the lift, having created a certain amount of interest among +the other passengers. The Major was tranquillized in a moment. They came +to the surface again at Piccadilly Circus, where at the lift a similar +scene occurred. + +"Do you know anything about pyjamas?" said the Major. + +"Well, sir--" + +"I never wear them myself. I'm rather old-fashioned. But I have to buy +three pairs--suits for Colonel Hullocher--at Swan & Edgar's. Oh! Bother +it! Have you any money? I forgot to take some out of the bag." + +The Major purchased the pyjamas with George's money, and his attitude +towards the shopman during the transaction was defiant, indicating to +the shopman that, though personally he, the Major, never wore pyjamas, +he was an expert in pyjamas and not to be gulled. George took the +resulting parcel and the receipted bill, and they walked across to +Jermyn Street, where surely the bus, with the sixpenny box of pens, was +waiting for them. It was perfectly magical. As the vehicle swung with +them into the Circus the Major exclaimed: + +"We're getting on very well. What do you say to some tea?" + +"Certainly, sir." + +The bus, having stopped by order at the second tea-house on the left in +Piccadilly, was immediately assaulted, without success, by several +would-be passengers. A policeman, outraged by the spectacle of a bus +stationary at a spot where buses are absolutely forbidden to be +stationary, hurried forward in fury. But the Major, instantly excited, +was ready for him. + +"This motor-bus is a military vehicle on service, and I'll thank you to +mind your own business. If you've any complaints to make, you'd better +make them to Lord Kitchener." + +The policeman touched his hat. + +"They have music here," said the Major mildly, entering the tea-house. +"I always like music. Makes things so much jollier, doesn't it?" + +During tea the Major inquired about George's individual circumstances, +and George said that he was an architect. + +"Student of bricks and mortar, eh?" said the Major benevolently. "How +long have you been in the Army?" + +"Rather less than half a day, sir." + +The Major, raising his eyebrows, was very interested and kind. +Perceiving that he had virgin material under his hands, he began to +shape the material, and talked much about the niceties of the etiquette +of saluting. George listened, yet at intervals his attention would +wander, and he would be in Elm Park Road. But the illusion of home was +very faint. His wife and family seemed to be slipping away from him. +"How is it," he thought, "that I am not more upset about Lois than I +am?" The various professional and family matters which in his haste he +had left unsettled were diminishing hourly in their apparent importance. +He came back to the tea-house with a start, hearing the Major praise his +business capacity as displayed during the afternoon. The friendly aspect +of the thin, pallid face inspired him with a sort of emotional audacity, +and in ten words he suddenly informed the Major of his domestic +situation. + +"H'm!" said the Major. "I'm a bachelor myself." + +There was a pause. + +"I'll give you a tip," said the Major, resuming the interrupted topic. +"War is a business. The more business capacity you have, the more likely +you are to succeed. I'm a business man myself." + +On leaving the tea-house they discovered the military vehicle surrounded +by an enchanted multitude who were staring through its windows at the +merchandise--blankets, pans, kettles, saddles, ropes, parcels, stoves, +baskets, and box of nibs--within, while the policeman strove in vain to +keep both the road and the pavement clear. George preceded the Major, +pushing aside with haughty military impatience the civilians so +reluctant to move. He felt as though he had been in the Army for years. +No longer did his uniform cause him the slightest self-consciousness. + +At Wimbledon in the dusk the bus was met by several military wagons each +from a different unit, and each anxious to obtain goods. This piece of +organization rather impressed George. + +"Well, my boy," said the Major, "you'd better go and report yourself. +You've been a great help to me." + +George saluted according to the Major's own doctrine, and departed. At +Battery Headquarters he met Captain Resmith. + +"How did you get on with Auntie?" asked Resmith in his loud, firm voice. + +George winked. + +Resmith gave a scarcely perceptible smile. + +"Look here," he said. "I'm just going round the horse-lines. If you'll +come with me I'll show you a thing or two, and we can choose a mount for +you. Then after dinner if you like I'll take you through the orders for +to-morrow. By the way, there's a telegram for you." + +The telegram read: + +"Girl. Everything fairly satisfactory. Don't worry too much. Laurencine +sleeps here.--NUNKS" + +The telegram was entirely characteristic of his stepfather--curt, exact, +realistic, kind. + +He thought: + +"Three girls, by Jove!" + + +V + + +The early sun, carrying into autumn the tradition of a magnificent +summer, shone on the artillery camps. The four guns of the No. 2 Battery +of the Second Brigade were ranged side by side in the vast vague space +in front of the officers' hutments. Each gun had six horses in three +pairs, and a rider for each pair. On the guns and the gun-teams +everything glittered that could glitter--leather, metal, coats of +horses, faces of men. Captain Resmith rode round, examining harness and +equipment with a microscope that he called his eye. George rode round +after him. Sometimes Captain Resmith spoke to a N.C.O., sometimes even +to a man, but for the most part the men stared straight in front of them +into eternity. Major Craim trotted up. Captain Resmith approached the +Major and saluted, saying in his best military voice: + +"The Battery is all correct and ready to move off, sir." + +The Major in his drawing-room voice replied: + +"Thank you, Captain Resmith." + +Silence reigned in No. 2 Battery, except for the faint jingling +restlessness of the horses. + +Then Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant pranced into sight. The Adjutant +saluted the Major and made an inquiry. The Major saluted, and all three +chatted a little. + +George, who had accompanied Captain Resmith into the background, +murmured to him, as cautiously as a convict talking at exercise: + +"He's got his knife into me." + +"Who?" + +"The Colonel." + +"Don't you know why?" + +"No. I was specially recommended to him." + +"Well, that's one reason, isn't it? But there was a difficulty between +him and the Major as to when you should come. The old man got the better +of him--always does. But he's a good officer." + +"Who?" + +"Hullocher. Shut up." + +These two had reached familiarity with the swiftness characteristic of +martial life. + +During the brief colloquy Resmith had sat very upright on his horse, the +chin slightly lifted, the head quite still, even the lips scarcely +moving to articulate. Colonel Hullocher seemed now to be approaching. It +was a false alarm. The Colonel and his Adjutant pranced off. After a +long time, and at a considerable distance, could just be heard the voice +of the Colonel ordering the Brigade to move. But No. 2 Battery did not +stir for another long period. Suddenly, amid a devolution of orders, No. +2 Battery moved. The Major, attended by his trumpeter, and followed by +the Battery staff of range-takers, director-men, telephonists, and the +serjeant-major, inaugurated a sinuous procession into the uneven, +rutted track leading to the side-road. Then the guns one by one wheeled +to the right, the horses' hoofs stamping into the damp ground as they +turned, and became part of the procession. Then the quartermaster and +other N.C.O.'s and men joined; and last were Captain Resmith, attended +by _his_ trumpeter, and George. Resmith looked over his shoulder at the +Third Battery which surged behind. There were nearly two hundred men and +over a hundred and fifty horses and many vehicles in the Battery. The +Major was far out of sight, and the tail of the column was equally out +of sight in the rear, for the total length of Major Craim's cavalcade +exceeded a mile; and of the Brigade three miles, and two other similar +Brigades somewhere in the region of Wimbledon were participating in the +grand Divisional trek. + +Captain Resmith cantered ahead to a bend in the track, and anxiously +watched a gun-team take the sharp curve, which was also a sharp slope. +The impression of superb, dangerous physical power was tremendous. The +distended nostrils of horses, the gliding of their muscles under the +glossy skin, the muffled thud of their hoofs in the loose soil, the +grimacing of the men as they used spur and thong, the fierce straining +of straps and chains, the creaking, the grinding, and finally the +swaying of the 90-millimetre gun, coddled and polished, as it swung +helplessly forward, stern first, and its long nose describing an arc in +the air behind--these things marvellously quickened the blood. + +"Good men!" said Captain Resmith, enthusiastic. "It's great, isn't it? +You know, there's nothing so fine as a battery--nothing in the whole +world." + +George heartily agreed with him. + +"This is the best Battery in the Division," said Resmith religiously. + +And George was religiously convinced that it was. + +He was astoundingly happy. He thought, amazed, that he had never been so +happy, or at any rate so uplifted, in all his life. He simply could not +comprehend his state of bliss, which had begun that morning at 6.30 when +the grey-headed, simple-minded servant allotted to him had wakened him, +according to instructions, with a mug of tea. Perhaps it was the far, +thin sound of bugles that produced the rapturous effect, or the fresh +air blowing in through the broken pane of the hut, or the slanting +sunlight, or the feeling that he had no responsibility and nothing to do +but blindly obey orders. + +He had gone to sleep as depressed as he was tired. A sense of futility +had got the better of him. The excursion of the afternoon had certainly +been ridiculous in a high degree. He had hoped for a more useful +evening. Captain Resmith had indeed taken him to the horse-lines, and he +had tried a mount which was very suitable, and Captain Resmith had said +that he possessed a naturally good seat and hands, and had given him a +few sagacious tips. It was plain to him that Resmith had the Major's +orders to take him in tutelage and make an officer of him. But the +satisfactoriness of the evening had suddenly ceased. Scarcely had +Resmith begun to expound the orders, and George to read the thrilling +words, 'Second Lieutenant G.E. Cannon to ride with Captain Resmith,' +when the mess had impulsively decided to celebrate the last night in +camp by a dinner at the hotel near the station, and George, fit for +nothing more important, had been detailed to run off and arrange for the +rich repast. The bulk of the mess was late to arrive, and George spent +the time in writing a descriptive and falsely gay letter on slips of +yellow Army paper to Lois. The dinner, with its facile laughter and +equally facile cynicism, had bored him; for he had joined the Army in +order to save an Empire and a world from being enslaved. He had lain +down in his truckle-bed and listened to the last echoing sounds in the +too-resonant corridor of the hutments, and thought of the wisdom of Sir +Isaac Davids, and of the peril to his wife, and of the peril to the +earth, and of his own irremediable bondage to the military machine. He, +with all his consciousness of power, had been put to school again; +deprived of the right to answer back, to argue, even to think. If one +set in authority said that black was white, his most sacred duty was to +concur and believe. And there was no escape.... + +And then, no sooner had he gone to sleep than it was bright day, and the +faint, clear call of bugles had pierced the clouds of his depression and +they had vanished! Every moment of the early morning had been exquisite. +Although he had not been across a horse for months, he rode comfortably, +and the animal was reliable. Resmith in fact had had to warn him against +fatiguing himself. But he knew that he was incapable of fatigue. The +day's trek was naught--fifteen miles or less--to Epsom Downs, at a +walk!... Lois? He had expected a letter from 'Nunks' or his mother, but +there was no letter, and no news was good news, at any rate with 'Nunks' +in charge of communications. Lois could not fail to be all right. He +recalled the wise generalization of 'Nunks' on that point ... Breakfast +was a paradisiacal meal. He had never 'fancied' a meal so much. And +Resmith had greatly enheartened him by saying sternly: "You've got +exactly the right tone with the men. Don't you go trying to alter it." +The general excitement was intense, and the solemn synchronizing of +watches increased it further. An orderly brought a newspaper, and nobody +would do more than disdainfully glance at it. The usual daily stuff +about the war!... Whereas Epsom Downs glittered in the imagination like +a Canaan. And it lay southward. Probably they were not going to France, +but probably they would have the honour of defending the coast against +invasion. George desired to master gunnery instantly, and Resmith +soothed him with the assurance that he would soon be sent away on a +gunnery course, which would give him beans. And in the meantime George +might whet his teeth on the detailed arrangements for feeding and +camping the Battery on Epsom Downs. This organization gave George pause, +especially when he remembered that the Battery was a very trifling item +in the Division, and when Resmith casually informed him that a Division +on the trek occupied fifteen miles of road. He began to perceive the +difference between the Army and a circus, and to figure the Staff as +something other than a club of haughty, aristocratic idlers in red hats. +And when the Battery was fairly under way in the side-road, with another +Battery in front and another Battery behind, and more Artillery Brigades +and uncounted Infantry Brigades and a screen of Yeomanry all invisibly +marching over the map in the direction of Epsom, and bound to reach a +certain lettered square on the map at a certain minute--when this +dynamic situation presented itself to the tentacles of his grasping +mind, he really did feel that there could be no game equal to war. + +The Battery 'rode easy,' the men were smoking, talking, and singing in +snatches, when suddenly all sounds were silenced. Captain Resmith, who +had been summoned to the Major, reined in his horse, and George did +likewise, and the Battery passed by them on the left. The Major's voice +was heard: + +"No. 2 Battery. Eyes--_right_!" + +George asked: + +"What's this?" + +"C.R.A.'s ahead," murmured Resmith. + +Then another officer cried: + +"Right section. Eyes--_right_." + +And then an N.C.O. bawled: + +"A sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +Then only did George, from the rear, see the drivers, with a +simultaneous gesture, twist their heads very sharply to the right, raise +their whips, and fling the thongs over the withers of the hand-horses, +while the section-officer saluted. + +Another N.C.O. bawled: + +"B sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +And the same action followed. + +Then another officer cried: + +"Left section. Eyes--_right_." + +So the rite proceeded. + +Resmith and George had now gone back to their proper places. George +could see the drivers of the last gun gathering up the whip thongs into +their hands preparatory to the salute. C sub-section received the +command. + +And then, not many yards ahead, the voice of an N.C.O.: + +"D sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +Heads turned; whips were raised and flung outwards; horses swerved +slightly. + +"Get ready," muttered Resmith to George. + +The figure of the C.R.A., Brigadier-General Rannion, motionless on a +charger, came into view. George's heart was beating high. Resmith and he +saluted. The General gazed hard at him and never moved. They passed +ahead. + +The officer commanding the Third Battery had already called: + +"Battery. _Eyes--right."_ + +The marvellous ceremonial slipped rearwards. George was aware of tears +in his eyes. He was aware of the sentiment of worship. He felt that he +would have done anything, accomplished any deed, died, at the bidding of +the motionless figure on the charger. It was most curious. + +There was a terrific crash of wood far behind. Resmith chuckled. + +"One of those G.S. wagons has knocked down the Automobile Club +'Cross-Roads' sign," he said. "Good thing it wasn't a lamp-post! You +see, with their eyes right, they can't look where they're going, and the +whip touches up the horses, and before you can say knife they're into +something. Jolly glad it's only the Am. Col. Jones will hear of this." +He chuckled again. Jones was the Captain commanding the Ammunition +Column. + +The order ran down the line: + +"Eyes--_front_." + +Soon afterwards they came to some policemen, and two girls in very gay +frocks with bicycles, and the cross-roads. The Battery swung into the +great high road whose sign-post said, 'To Ewell and Epsom.' Another unit +had been halted to let the Artillery pass into its definitive place in +the vast trek. It was about this time that George began to notice the +dust. Rain had fallen before dawn and made the roads perfect; but now +either all the moisture had evaporated in the blazing sun, or the +Battery had reached a zone where rain had not fallen. At first the dust +rose only in a shallow sea to the height of fetlocks; but gradually it +ascended and made clouds, and deposited a layer on the face and on the +tongue and in the throat. And the surface itself of the road, +exasperated by innumerable hoofs and wheels, seemed to be in a kind of +crawling fermentation. The smell of humanity and horses was strong. The +men were less inclined to sing. + +"Left!" yelled a voice. + +And another: + +"_Left_!" + +And still another, very close on the second one: + +"LEFT!" + +"Keep your distances there!" Resmith shouted violently. + +A horn sounded, and the next moment a motor-car, apparently full of +red-hats, rushed past the Battery, overtaking it, in a blinding storm of +dust. It was gone, like a ghost. + +"That's the Almighty himself," Resmith explained, with unconscious awe +and devotion in his powerful voice. "Gramstone, Major-General." + +George, profoundly impressed (he knew not why), noticed in his brain a +tiny embryo of a thought that it might be agreeable to ride in a car. + +A hand went up, and the Battery stopped. It was the first halt. + +"Look at your watch," said Resmith, smiling. + +"Ten to, exactly." + +"That's right. We have ten minutes in each hour." + +All dismounted, examined horses for galls, and looked at their shoes, +took pulls at water-bottles, lit cigarettes, expectorated, coughed, +flicked at flies with handkerchiefs. The two chromatic girls cycled past +slowly, laughing. A stretcher-party also went past, and shortly +afterwards returned with the stretcher laden. + + +VI + + +It was after the long halt at midday that the weather changed. The +horses, martyrized by insects, had been elaborately watered and fed with +immense labour; officers and men had eaten rations and dust from their +haversacks, and for the most part emptied their water-bottles; and the +march had been resumed in a temper captious and somewhat exacerbated. + +"Get your horse away; he's kicking mine!" said Captain Resmith +impatiently to George, reflecting the general mood. And George, who was +beginning to experience fatigue in the region of the knees, visited on +his horse the resentment he felt at Resmith's tone. + +At precisely that moment some drops of rain fell. Nobody could believe +at first that the drops were raindrops for the whole landscape was +quivering in hot sunshine. However, an examination of the firmament +showed a cloud perpendicularly overhead; the drops multiplied; the cloud +slowly obscured the sun. An almost audible sigh of relief passed down +the line. Everybody was freshened and elated. Some men with an instinct +for the apposite started to sing: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +And nearly the whole Battery joined in the tune. The rain persevered, +thickening. The sun accepted defeat. The sky lost all its blue. Orders +were given as to clothing. George had the sensation that something was +lacking to him, and found that it was an umbrella. On the outskirts of +Ewell the Battery was splashing through puddles of water; the coats of +horses and of men had darkened; guns, poles, and caps carried chaplets +of raindrops; and all those stern riders, so proud and scornful, with +chins hidden in high, upturned collars, and long garments disposed +majestically over their legs and the flanks of the horses, nevertheless +knew in secret that the conquering rain had got down the backs of their +necks, and into their boots and into their very knees but they were +still nobly maintaining the illusion of impermeability against it. The +Battery, riding now stiffly 'eyes front,' was halted unexpectedly in +Ewell, filling the whole of the village, to the village's extreme +content. Many minutes elapsed. Rumour floated down that something, was +wrong in front. Captain Resmith had much inspectorial cantering to do, +and George faithfully followed him for some time. At one end of the +village a woman was selling fruit and ginger-beer to the soldiers at +siege prices; at the other, men and women out of the little gardened +houses were eagerly distributing hot tea and hot coffee free of charge. +The two girls from the crossroads entered the village, pushing their +bicycles, one of which had apparently lost a pedal. They wore +mackintoshes, and were still laughing. + +At length George said: + +"If you don't mind I'll stick where I am for a bit." + +"Tired, eh?" Resmith asked callously. + +"Well! I shall be if I keep on." + +"Dismount, my canny boy. Didn't I tell you what would happen to you? At +your age--" + +"Why! How old d'you think I am?" + +"Well, my canny boy, you'll never see thirty again, I suppose." + +"No, I shan't. Nor you either." + +Captain Resmith said: + +"I'm twenty-four." + +George was thunder-struck. The fellow was a boy, and George had been +treating him as an equal! But then the fellow was also George's superior +officer, and immeasurably his superior in physique. Do what he would, +harden himself as he might, George at thirty-three could never hope to +rival the sinews of the boy of twenty-four, who incidentally could +instruct him on every conceivable military subject. George, standing by +his sodden horse, felt humiliated and annoyed as Resmith cantered off to +speak to the officer commanding the Ammunition Column. But on the trek +there was no outlet for such a sentiment as annoyance. He was Resmith's +junior and Resmith's inferior, and must behave, and expect to be behaved +to, as such. + +"Never mind!" he said to himself. His determination to learn the art and +craft of war was almost savage in ferocity. + +When the Battery at length departed from Ewell the rain had completed +its victory but at the same time had lost much of its prestige. The +riders, abandoning illusion, admitting frankly that they were wet to the +skin, knowing that all their clothing was soaked, and satisfied that +they could not be wetter than they were if the bottom fell out of the +sky, simply derided the rain and plodded forward. Groups of them even +disdained the weather in lusty song. But not George. George was +exhausted. He was ready to fall off his horse. The sensation of fatigue +about the knees and in the small of his back was absolute torture. +Resmith told him to ride without stirrups and dangle his legs. The +relief was real, but only temporary. And the Battery moved on at the +horribly monotonous, tiring walk. Epsom was incredibly distant. George +gave up hope of Epsom; and he was right to do so, for Epsom never came. +The Battery had taken a secondary road to the left which climbed slowly +to the Downs. At the top of this road, under the railway bridge, just +before fields ceased to be enclosed, stood the two girls. Their bicycles +leaned against the brick wall. They had taken off their mackintoshes, +and it was plain from their clinging coloured garments that they too +were utterly drenched. They laughed no more. Over the open Downs the +wind was sweeping the rain in front of it; and the wind was the night +wind, for the sky had begun to darken into dusk. The Battery debouched +into a main road which seemed full of promise, but left it again within +a couple of hundred yards, and was once more on the menacing, high, +naked Downs, with a wide and desolate view of unfeatured plains to the +north. The bugles sounded sharply in the wet air, and the Battery, now +apparently alone in the world, came to a halt. George dropped off his +horse. A multiplicity of orders followed. Amorphous confusion was +produced out of a straight line. This was the bivouacking ground. And +there was nothing--nothing but the track by which they had arrived, and +the Downs, and a distant blur to the west in the shape of the Epsom +Grand Stand, and the heavy, ceaseless rain, and the threat of the +fast-descending night. According to the theory of the Divisional Staff a +dump furnished by the Army Service Corps ought to have existed at a spot +corresponding to the final letter in the words 'Burgh Heath' on the map, +but the information quickly became general that no such dump did in +practice exist. To George the situation was merely incredible. He knew +that for himself there was only one reasonable course of conduct. He +ought to have a boiling bath, go to bed with his dressing-gown over his +pyjamas, and take a full basin of hot bread-and-milk adulterated by the +addition of brandy--and sleep. Horses and men surged perilously around +him. The anarchical disorder, however, must have been less acute than he +imagined, for a soldier appeared and took away his horse; he let the +reins slip from his dazed hand. The track had been transformed into a +morass of viscous mud. + + +VII + + +It was night. The heavy rain drove out of the dark void from every +direction at once, and baptized the chilled faces of men as though it +had been discharged from the hundred-holed rose of a full watering-can. +The right and the left sections of the Battery were disposed on either +side of the track. Fires were burning. Horse-lines had been laid down, +and by the light of flickering flames the dim forms of tethered animals +could be seen with their noses to the ground pessimistically pretending +to munch what green turf had survived in the mud. Lanterns moved +mysteriously to and fro. In the distance to the west more illuminations +showed that another unit had camped along the track. The quartermaster +of No. 2, had produced meagre tinned meats and biscuits from his +emergency stores, and had made a certain quantity of tea in dixies; he +had even found a half-feed of oats for the horses; so that both horses +and men were somewhat appeased. But the officers had had nothing, and +the Army Service Corps detachment was still undiscoverable. + +George sat on an empty box at the edge of the track, submissive to the +rain. Resmith had sent him to overlook men cutting straight branches in +a wood on Park Downs, and then he had overlooked them as, with the said +branches and with waterproofs laced together in pairs, they had erected +sleeping shelters for the officers under the imperfect shelter of the +sole tree within the precincts of the camp. From these purely ornamental +occupations he had returned in a condition approximating to collapse, +without desire and without hope. The invincible cheerfulness of unseen +men chanting music-hall songs in the drenched night made no impression +on him, nor the terrible staccato curtness of a N.C.O. mounting guard. +Volition had gone out of him; his heart was as empty as his stomach. + +Then a group of officers approached, with a mounted officer in the +middle of them, and a lantern swinging. The group was not proceeding in +any particular direction, but following the restless motions of the +uneasy horse. George, suddenly startled, recognized the voice of the +rider; it was Colonel Hullocher's voice. The Brigade-Commander had come +in person to investigate the melancholy inexcusable case of No. 2 +Battery, and he was cursing all men and all things, and especially the +Divisional Staff. It appeared that the Staff was responsible for the +hitch of organization. During the day the Staff had altered its +arrangements for No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade, and had sent an +incomplete message to the Army Service Corps Headquarters. The A.S.C. +had waited in vain for the completion of the message, and had then, at +dark, dispatched a convoy with provender for No. 2 with instructions to +find No. 2. This convoy had not merely not found No. 2--it had lost +itself, vanished in the dark universe of rain. But let not No. 2 imagine +that No. 2 was blameless! No. 2 ought to have found the convoy. By some +means, human or divine, by the exercise of second sight or the vision of +cats or the scent of hounds, it ought to have found the convoy, and +there was no excuse for it not having done so. Such was the expressed +opinion of Colonel Hullocher, and a recital by Major Craim of the +measures taken by him did nothing to shake that opinion. + +"How exactly do you stand now?" the Colonel fiercely demanded. + +"The men and the horses will manage fairly well with what they've had, +sir," said the Major; and he incautiously added: "But my officers +haven't had anything at all." + +The Colonel seized the opening with fury. + +"What the devil do I care for your officers? It's your horses and your +men that I'm thinking about. It's to-morrow morning that I'm thinking +about. I--" + +The horse, revolving, cut short his harangue. + +"Keep that d--d lantern out of his eyes!" cried the Colonel. + +George jumped up, and as he did so the water swished in his boots, and a +stream poured off his cap. The horse was being fatally attracted towards +him. The beam of the lantern fell on him, illuminating before his face +the long slants of rain. + +"Ha! Who's this?" the Colonel demanded, steadying the horse. + +George smartly saluted, forgetting his fatigue. + +"You, is it? And what are _you_ supposed to be doing? Look here--" +Colonel Hullocher stopped in full career of invective, remembering +military etiquette. "Major, I suggest you send Mr. Cannon with some men +to find the convoy." The Major having eagerly concurred, the Colonel +went on: "Take a few men and search every road and track between here +and Kingswood Station--systematically. Kingswood's the rail-head, and +somewhere between here and there that convoy is bound to be. +Systematically, mind! It's not a technical job. All that's wanted is +common sense and thoroughness." + +The Colonel's gaze was ruthlessly challenging. George met it stiffly. He +knew that the roads, if not the tracks, had already been searched. He +knew that he was being victimized by a chance impulse of the Colonel's. +But he ignored all that. He was coldly angry and resentful. Utterly +forgetting his fatigue, he inimically surveyed the Colonel's squat, +shining figure in the cavalry coat, a pyramid of which the apex was a +round head surmounted by a dripping cap. + +"Yes, sir," he snapped. + +By rights the tyrant ought to have rolled off his horse dead. But +Colonel Hullocher was not thus vulnerable. He could give glance for +glance with perhaps any human being on earth, and indeed thought little +more of subalterns than of rabbits. + +He finished, after a pause: + +"You will be good enough, Major, to let this officer report to me +personally when he has found the convoy." + +"Certainly, sir." + +The horse bounded away, scattering the group. + +Rather less than half an hour later George had five men (including his +own servant and Resmith's) and six lanterns round a cask, on the top of +which was his map. There were six possible variations of route to +Kingswood Station, and he explained them all, allotting one to each man +and keeping one for himself. He could detect the men exchanging looks, +but what the looks signified he could not tell. He gave instructions +that everybody should go forward until either discovering the convoy or +reaching Kingswood. He said with a positive air of conviction that by +this means the convoy could not fail to be discovered. The men received +the statement with strict agnosticism; they could not see things with +the eye of faith, fortified though they were with tea and tinned meats. +An offered reward of ten shillings to the man who should hit on the +convoy did not appreciably inspirit them. George himself was of course +not a bit convinced by his own argument, and had not the slightest +expectation that the convoy would be found. The map, which the breeze +lifted and upon which the rain drummed, seemed to be entirely +unconnected with the actual facts of the earth's surface. The party +mounted tired, unwilling horses and filed off. Some soldiers in the +darkness, watching the string of lanterns, gave a half-ironical +'Hurrah.' One by one, as the tracks bifurcated, George dispatched his +men, with renewed insistent advice, and at last he and his horse were +alone on the Downs. + +His clothes were exceedingly heavy with all the moisture they had +imbibed. Repose had mitigated his fatigue, but every slow, slouching +step of the horse intensified it again--and at a tremendous rate. Still, +he did not care, having mastered the great truth that he would either +fall off the horse in exhaustion or arrive at Kingswood--and which of +the alternatives happened did not appear to him to matter seriously. The +whole affair was fantastic; it was unreal, in addition to being silly. +But, real or unreal, he would finish it. If he was a phantom and +Kingswood a mirage, the phantom would reach the mirage or sink senseless +into astral mud. He had Colonel Hullocher in mind, and, quite +illogically, he envisaged the Colonel as a reality. Often he had heard +of the ways of the Army, and had scarcely credited the tales told and +printed. Well, he now credited them. Was it conceivable that that madman +of a Colonel had packed him, George, off on such a wild and idiotic +errand in the middle of the night, merely out of caprice? Were such +doings-- + +He faintly heard voices through the rain, and the horse started at this +sign of life from the black, unknown world beyond the circle of +lantern-light. George was both frightened and puzzled. He thought of +ghosts and haunted moors. Then he noticed a penumbra round about the +form of what might be a small hillock to the left of the track. He +quitted the track, and cautiously edged his horse forward, having +commendably obscured the lantern beneath his overcoat. The farther side +of the hillock had been tunnelled to a depth of perhaps three feet; a +lantern suspended somehow in the roof showed the spade which had done +the work; it also showed, within the cavity, the two girls who had +accompanied the Brigade from Wimbledon, together with two soldiers. The +soldiers were rankers, but one of the girls talked with perfect +correctness in a very refined voice; the other was silently eating. Both +were obviously tired to the limit of endurance, and very dirty and +draggled. The gay colours of their smart frocks had, however, survived +the hardships of the day. George was absolutely amazed by the spectacle. +The vagaries of autocratic Colonels were nothing when compared to this +extravagance of human nature, this glimpse of the subterranean life of +regiments, this triumphant and forlorn love-folly in the midst of the +inclement, pitiless night. And he was touched, too. The glimmer of the +lantern on the green and yellow of the short skirts half disclosed under +the mackintoshes was at once pathetic and exciting. The girl who had +been eating gave a terrible scream; she had caught sight of the figure +on horseback. The horse shied violently and stood still. George +persuaded him back into the track and rode on, guessing that already he +had become a genuine phantom for the self-absorbed group awakened out of +its ecstasy by the mysterious vision of a nightrider. + +Half a mile farther on he saw the red end of a cigarette swimming on the +sea of darkness; his lantern had expired, and he had not yet tried to +relight it. + +"Hi there!" he cried. "Who are you?" + +The cigarette approached him, in a wavy movement, and a man's figure was +vaguely discerned. + +"A.S.C. convoy, sir." + +"Where are you supposed to be going to?" + +"No. 2 Battery, Second Brigade, sir. Can't find it, sir. And we've got +off the road. The G.S. wagon fell into a hole and broke an axle, sir." + +"And what do you think you're doing?" + +"Waiting for daylight, sir." + +The man's youthful voice was quite cheerful. + +"D'you know what time it is?" + +"No, sir." + +"How many other vehicles have you got?" + +"Three altogether, sir. Six horses." + +"Well, I'm from No. 2 Battery, and I'm looking for you. You've +unharnessed, I suppose." + +"Oh yes, sir, and fed." + +"Well, you'd better harness up your other two carts like lightning and +come along with me. Show me the way. We'll see about the G.S. wagon +later on." + +"It's about a hundred yards from here, sir." + +For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue. Exultation, +though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every part of his body. +Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, he rode comfortably on hard +packages till within sight of the Battery camp, when he took saddle +again and went off alone to find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand +Stand, where Colonel Hullocher and other grandees had billeted +themselves. The Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite +ready to eat George. + +"Ah! You, is it? Found that convoy?" + +George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was conceivable: + +"Yes, sir." + +"Brought it back?" + +"Part of it, sir." + +He explained the circumstances. + +The Colonel coughed, and said: + +"Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?" + +George reflected for an instant. The Colonel seemingly had a core of +decency, but George said in his heart: "I've not done with you yet, my +fat friend." And aloud, grimly. + +"Thank you very much, sir. But I shall ask you to excuse me." + +Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by this +unparalleled response. + +The Colonel barked: + +"Why? Teetotaller?" + +"No, sir. But I've eaten nothing since lunch, and a glass of whisky +might make me drunk." + +Colonel Hullocher might have offered George some food to accompany the +whisky, but he did not. He had already done a marvel; a miracle was not +to be expected. He looked at George and George looked at him. + +"No doubt you're right. Good night." + +"Good night, sir." George saluted and marched off. + + +VIII + + +He prepared to turn in. The process was the simplest in the world. He +had only to wrap a pair of blankets round his soaked clothes, and, +holding them in place with one hand, creep under the shelter. There were +four shelters. The Major had a small one, nearest the trunk of the tree, +and the others were double shelters, to hold two officers apiece. He +glanced about. The invisible camp was silent and still, save for a +couple of lieutenants who were walking to and fro like young ducks in +the heavy rain. Faint fires here and there in the distance showed how +the troops were spread over the Downs. Heaven and earth were equally +mysterious and inscrutable. He inserted himself cautiously into the +aperture of the shelter, where Resmith already lay asleep, and, having +pushed back his cap, arranged his right arm for a pillow. The clammy +ground had been covered with dry horse-litter. As soon as he was settled +the noise of the rain ceaselessly pattering on the waterproof became +important. He could feel the chill of the wind on his feet, which, with +Resmith's, projected beyond the shelter. The conditions were certainly +astounding. Yet, despite extreme fatigue, he was not depressed. On the +contrary he was well satisfied. He had accomplished something. He had +been challenged, and had accepted the challenge, and had won. The +demeanour of the mess when he got back to the camp clearly indicated +that he had acquired prestige. He was the man who had organized an +exhaustive search for the convoy and had found the convoy in the pitchy +blackness. He was the man who had saved the unit from an undeserved +shame. The mess had greeted him with warm food. Perhaps he had been +lucky--the hazard of a lighted cigarette in the darkness! Yes, but luck +was in everything. The credit was his, and men duly gave it to him, and +he took it. He thought almost kindly of Colonel Hullocher, against whom +he had measured himself. The result of the match was a draw, but he had +provided the efficient bully with matter for reflection. After all, +Hullocher was right. When you were moving a Division, jobs had to be +done, possible or impossible; human beings had to be driven; the +supernatural had to be achieved. And it had been! That which in the +morning existed at Wimbledon now existed on the Downs. There it lay, +safe and chiefly asleep, in defiance of the weather and of accidents and +miscarriage! And the next day it would go on. + +The vast ambitions of the civilian had sunk away. He thought, exalted as +though by a wonderful discovery: + +"_There is something in this Army business_!" + +He ardently desired to pursue it further. He ardently desired sleep and +renewal so that he might rise afresh and pursue it further. What he had +done and been through was naught, less than naught. To worry about +physical discomforts was babyish. Inviting vistas of knowledge, +technical attainment, experience, and endurance stretched before him, +illuminating the night. His mind dwelt on France, on Mons, on the idea +of terror and cataclysm. And it had room too for his wife and children. +He had had no news of them for over twenty-four hours; and he had broken +his resolve to write to Lois every day; he had been compelled to break +it. But in the morning, somehow, he would send a telegram and he would +get one. + +"If it's true the French Government has left Paris--" + +The nocturnal young ducks were passing the shelter. + +"And who says it's true? Who told you, I should like to know?" + +"The Major has heard it." + +"Rats! I lay you a fiver the Allies are in Berlin before Christmas." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Roll-Call, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROLL-CALL *** + +***** This file should be named 12654-8.txt or 12654-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/5/12654/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Roll-Call + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: June 19, 2004 [EBook #12654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROLL-CALL *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + + + <hr class="full" /> + + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="pageiii" name="pageiii">[pg iii]</a> + </span> + + <h1>THE ROLL-CALL</h1> + + <h3>BY</h3> + + <h2>ARNOLD BENNETT</h2> + +<!-- Page 1 --> + <hr /> + + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page_iv" name="page_iv">[pg iv]</a> + </span> + + <h2>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h2> + + <dl> + <dt> + <b>NOVELS</b> + </dt> + + <dd> + <ul> + <li>A Man from the North</li> + + <li>Anna of the Five Towns</li> + + <li>Leonora</li> + + <li>A Great Man</li> + + <li>Sacred and Profane Love</li> + + <li>Whom God hath Joined</li> + + <li>Buried Alive</li> + + <li>The Old Wives' Tale</li> + + <li>The Glimpse</li> + + <li>Helen with the High Hand</li> + + <li>Clayhanger</li> + + <li>Hilda Lessways</li> + + <li>These Twain</li> + + <li>The Card</li> + + <li>The Regent</li> + + <li>The Price of Love</li> + + <li>The Lion's Share</li> + + <li>The Pretty Lady</li> + </ul> + </dd> + + <dt> + <b> + <br /> + + FANTASIAS</b> + </dt> + + <dd> + <ul> + <li>The Ghost</li> + + <li>The Grand Babylon Hotel</li> + + <li>The Gates of Wrath</li> + + <li>Teresa of Watling Street</li> + + <li>The Loot of Cities</li> + + <li>The City of Pleasure</li> + </ul> + </dd> + + <dt> + <b> + <br /> + + SHORT STORIES</b> + </dt> + + <dd> + <ul> + <li>Tales of the Five Towns</li> + + <li>The Grim Smile of the Five Towns</li> + + <li>The Matador of the Five Towns</li> + </ul> + </dd> + + <dt> + <b> + <br /> + + BELLES-LETTRES</b> + </dt> + + <dd> + <ul> + <li>Journalism for Women</li> + + <li>Fame and Fiction</li> + + <li>How to become an Author</li> + + <li>The Truth about an Author</li> + + <li>How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day</li> + + <li>Mental Efficiency</li> + + <li>The Human Machine</li> + + <li>Literary Taste</li> + + <li>Those United States</li> + + <li>Paris Nights</li> + + <li>Friendship and Happiness</li> + + <li>Married Life</li> + + <li>Liberty</li> + + <li>Over There</li> + + <li>The Author's Craft</li> + + <li>Books and Persons</li> + + <li>Self and Self-Management</li> + </ul> + </dd> + + <dt> + <b> + <br /> + + DRAMA</b> + </dt> + + <dd> + <ul> + <li>Polite Farces</li> + + <li>Cupid and Common Sense</li> + + <li>What the Public Wants</li> + + <li>The Honeymoon</li> + + <li>The Great Adventure</li> + + <li>The Title</li> + + <li>Judith</li> + + <li>Milestones (in collaboration with EDWARD + KNOBLOCK)</li> + </ul> + </dd> + + <dt> + <b>(In collaboration with EDEN PHILLPOTTS)</b> + </dt> + + <dd> + <ul> + <li>The Sinews of War: A Romance</li> + + <li>The Statue: A Romance</li> + </ul> + </dd> + </dl> + + <hr class="full" /> + +<!-- Page 2 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page__v" name="page__v">[pg v]</a> + </span> + + <h1>THE ROLL-CALL</h1> + + <h3>BY</h3> + + <h2>ARNOLD BENNETT</h2> + + <br /> + + <h3>THIRD EDITION</h3> + + <br /> + + <center> + <i>LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO. PATERNOSTER ROW</i> + </center> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 3 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page_vi" name="page_vi">[pg vi]</a> + </span> + + <h4>NOTE</h4> + + <center>This novel was written before "The Pretty Lady", and is + the first of the author's war-novels. + <br /> + + A.B.</center> + + <br /> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 4 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="pagevii" name="pagevii">[pg vii]</a> + </span> + + <h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + <br /> + + <table border="0" width="50%" align="center" + summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <th colspan="2" align="center">PART I</th> + </tr> + + <tr> + <th align="right" width="20%">CHAP.</th> + + <th align="right" /> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">I.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page001">THE NEW LODGING</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">II.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page016">MARGUERITE</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">III.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page042">THE CHARWOMAN</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">IV.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page054">THE LUNCHEON</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">V.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page073">THE TEA</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">VI.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page094">THE DINNER</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">VII.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page121">THE RUPTURE</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">VIII.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page149">INSPIRATION</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">IX.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page173">COMPETITION</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <th colspan="3" align="center">PART II</th> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">I.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page213">THE TRIUMPH</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">II.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page243">THE ROLL-CALL</a> + </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="right" width="20%">III.</td> + + <td align="left" width="60%"> + <a href="#page265">IN THE MACHINE</a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + +<!-- Page 5 --> + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 6 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page001" name="page001">[pg 1]</a> + </span> + + <h1>THE ROLL-CALL</h1> + + <h2>PART I</h2> + + <h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + <h3>THE NEW LODGING</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <p>In the pupils' room of the offices of Lucas & Enwright, + architects, Russell Square, Bloomsbury, George Edwin Cannon, an + articled pupil, leaned over a large drawing-board and looked up + at Mr. Enwright, the head of the firm, who with cigarette and + stick was on his way out after what he called a good day's + work. It was past six o'clock on an evening in early July 1901. + To George's right was an open door leading to the principals' + room, and to his left another open door leading to more rooms + and to the staircase. The lofty chambers were full of + lassitude; but round about George, who was working late, there + floated the tonic vapour of conscious virtue. Haim, the + factotum, could be seen and heard moving in his cubicle which + guarded the offices from the stairs. In the rooms shortly to be + deserted and locked up, and in the decline of the day, the + three men were drawn together like survivors.</p> + + <p>"I gather you're going to change your abode," said Mr. + Enwright, having stopped.</p> + + <p>"Did Mr. Orgreave tell you, then?" George asked.</p> + + <p>"Well, he didn't exactly tell me...."</p> + + <p>John Orgreave was Mr. Enwright's junior partner; and for + nearly two years, since his advent in London from the Five + Towns, George had lived with Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave at Bedford + Park. The Orgreaves, too, sprang from the Five Towns. John's + people and George's people were closely entwined in the local + annals.</p> + + <p>Pupil and principal glanced discreetly at one another, +<!-- Page 7 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page002" name="page002">[pg 2]</a> + </span> + + exchanging in silence vague, malicious, unutterable critical + verdicts upon both John Orgreave and his wife.</p> + + <p>"Well, I am!" said George at length.</p> + + <p>"Where are you going to?"</p> + + <p>"Haven't settled a bit," said George. "I wish I could live + in Paris."</p> + + <p>"Paris wouldn't be much good to you yet," Mr. Enwright + laughed benevolently.</p> + + <p>"I suppose it wouldn't. Besides, of + course——"</p> + + <p>George spoke in a tone of candid deferential acceptance, + which flattered Mr. Enwright very much, for it was the final + proof of the prestige which the grizzled and wrinkled and + peculiar Fellow and Member of the Council of the Royal + Institute of British Architects had acquired in the estimation + of that extremely independent, tossing sprig, George Edwin + Cannon. Mr. Enwright had recently been paying a visit to Paris, + and George had been sitting for the Intermediate Examination. + "You can join me here for a few days after the exam., if you + care to," Mr. Enwright had sent over. It was George's + introduction to the Continent, and the circumstances of it were + almost ideal. For a week the deeply experienced connoisseur of + all the arts had had the fine, eager, responsive virgin mind in + his power. Day after day he had watched and guided it amid + entirely new sensations. Never had Mr. Enwright enjoyed himself + more purely, and at the close he knew with satisfaction that he + had put Paris in a proper perspective for George, and perhaps + saved the youth from years of groping misapprehension. As for + George, all his preconceived notions about Paris had been + destroyed or shaken. In the quadrangles of the Louvre, for + example, Mr. Enwright, pointing to the under part of the stone + bench that foots so much of the walls, had said: "Look at that + curve." Nothing else. No ecstasies about the sculptures of Jean + Goujon and Carpeaux, or about the marvellous harmony of the + East facade! But a flick of the cane towards the half-hidden + moulding! And George had felt with a thrill what an exquisite + curve and what an original curve and what a modest curve that + curve was. Suddenly and magically his eyes had been opened. Or + it might have been that a deceitful mist had rolled away and + the real Louvre been revealed in its esoteric and sole + authentic beauty....</p> + + <p>"Why don't you try Chelsea?" said Mr. Enwright over his + shoulder, proceeding towards the stairs.</p> + + <p>"I was thinking of Chelsea."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 8 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page003" name="page003">[pg 3]</a> +</span> + + You were!" Mr. Enwright halted again for an instant. "It's the + only place in London where the structure of society is anything + like Paris. Why, dash it, in the King's Road the grocers know + each other's business!" Mr. Enwright made the last strange + remark to the outer door, and vanished.</p> + + <p>"Funny cove!" George commented tolerantly to Mr. Haim, who + passed through the room immediately afterwards to his nightly + task of collecting and inspecting the scattered instruments on + the principal's august drawing-board.</p> + + <p>But Mr. Haim, though possibly he smiled ever so little, + would not compromise himself by an endorsement of the criticism + of his employer. George was a mere incident in the eternal + career of Mr. Haim at Lucas & Enwright's.</p> + + <p>When the factotum came back into the pupils' room, George + stood up straight and smoothed his trousers and gazed + admiringly at his elegant bright socks.</p> + + <p>"Let me see," said George in a very friendly manner. " + <i>You</i> + + live somewhere in Chelsea, don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," answered Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Whereabouts, if it isn't a rude question?"</p> + + <p>"Well," said Mr. Haim, confidentially and benignantly, + captivated by George's youthful charm, "it's near the Redcliffe + Arms." He mentioned the Redcliffe Arms as he might have + mentioned the Bank, Piccadilly Circus, or Gibraltar. "Alexandra + Grove. No. 8. To tell you the truth, I own the house."</p> + + <p>"The deuce you do!"</p> + + <p>"Yes. The leasehold, that is, of course. No freeholds + knocking about loose in that district!"</p> + + <p>George saw a new and unsuspected Mr. Haim. He was impressed. + And he was glad that he had never broken the office tradition + of treating Mr. Haim with a respect not usually accorded to + factotums. He saw a property-owner, a tax-payer, and a human + being behind the spectacles of the shuffling, rather shabby, + ceremonious familiar that pervaded those rooms daily from + before ten till after six. He grew curious about a living + phenomenon that hitherto had never awakened his curiosity.</p> + + <p>"Were you really looking for accommodation?" demanded Mr. + Haim suavely.</p> + + <p>George hesitated. "Yes."</p> + + <p>"Perhaps I have something that might suit you."</p> + + <p>Events, disguised as mere words, seemed to George to be + pushing him forward.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 9 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page004" name="page004">[pg 4]</a> +</span> + + I should like to have a look at it," he said. He had to say it; + there was no alternative.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim raised a hand. "Any evening that happens to be + convenient."</p> + + <p>"What about to-night, then?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly," Mr. Haim agreed. For a moment George + apprehended that Mr. Haim was going to invite him to dinner. + But Mr. Haim was not going to invite him to dinner. "About + nine, shall we say?" he suggested, with a courtliness softer + even than usual.</p> + + <p>Later, George said that he would lock up the office himself + and leave the key with the housekeeper.</p> + + <p>"You can't miss the place," said Mr. Haim on leaving. "It's + between the Workhouse and the Redcliffe."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>At the corner dominated by the Queen's Elm, which on the + great route from Piccadilly Circus to Putney was a public-house + and halt second only in importance to the Redcliffe Arms, night + fell earlier than it ought to have done, owing to a vast + rain-cloud over Chelsea. A few drops descended, but so warm and + so gently that they were not like real rain, and + sentimentalists could not believe that they would wet. People, + arriving mysteriously out of darkness, gathered sparsely on the + pavements, lingered a few moments, and were swallowed by + omnibuses that bore them obscurely away. At intervals an + individual got out of an omnibus and adventured hurriedly forth + and was lost in the gloom. The omnibuses, all white, trotted on + an inward curve to the pavement, stopped while the conductor, + with hand raised to the bell-string, murmured apathetically the + names of streets and of public-houses, and then they jerked off + again on an outward curve to the impatient double ting of the + bell. To the east was a high defile of hospitals, and to the + west the Workhouse tower faintly imprinted itself on the sombre + sky.</p> + + <p>The drops of rain grew very large and heavy, and the + travellers, instead of waiting on the kerb, withdrew to the + shelter of the wall of the Queen's Elm. George was now among + the group, precipitated like the rest, as it were, out of the + solution of London. George was of the age which does not admit + rain or which believes that it is immune from the usual + consequences of exposure to rain. When advised, +<!-- Page 10 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page005" name="page005">[pg 5]</a> + + </span> + + especially by women, to defend himself against the treacheries + of the weather, he always protested confidently that he would + 'be all right.' Thus with a stick and a straw hat he would + affront terrible dangers. It was a species of valour which the + event often justified. Indeed he generally was all right. But + to-night, afoot on the way from South Kensington Station in a + region quite unfamiliar to him, he was intimidated by the + slapping menace of the big drops. Reality faced him. His scared + thought ran: "Unless I do something at once I shall get wet + through." Impossible to appear drenched at old Haim's! So he + had abandoned all his pretensions to a magical invulnerability, + and rushed under the eave of the Queen's Elm to join the + omnibus group.</p> + + <p>He did not harmonize with the omnibus group, being both too + elegant and too high-spirited. His proper rôle in the + circumstances would have been to 'jump into a hansom'; but + there were no empty hansoms, and moreover, for certain reasons + of finance, he had sworn off hansoms until a given date. He + regarded the situation as 'rather a lark,' and he somehow knew + that the group understood and appreciated and perhaps resented + his superior and tolerant attitude. An omnibus rolled palely + into the radiance of the Queen's Elm lamp, the horses' flanks + and the lofty driver's apron gleaming with rain. He sprang + towards the vehicle; the whole group sprang. "Full inside!" + snapped the conductor inexorably. Ting, ting! It was gone, + glimmering with its enigmatic load into the distance. George + turned again to the wall, humiliated. It seemed wrong that the + conductor should have included him with the knot of common + omnibus-travellers and late workers. The conductor ought to + have differentiated.... He put out a hand. The rain had + capriciously ceased! He departed gaily and triumphantly. He was + re-endowed with the magical invulnerability.</p> + + <p>The background of his mind was variegated. The incidents of + the tremendous motor-car race from Paris to Berlin, which had + finished nearly a week earlier, still glowed on it. And the + fact that King Edward VII had driven in a car from Pall Mall to + Windsor Castle in sixty minutes was beautifully present. Then, + he was slightly worried concerning the Mediterranean Fleet. He + knew nothing about it, but as a good citizen he suspected in + idle moments, like a number of other good citizens, that all + was not quite well with the Mediterranean Fleet. As for the + war, he had only begun to be interested in the war within the + last six months, and +<!-- Page 11 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page006" name="page006">[pg 6]</a> + + </span> + + already he was sick of it. He knew that the Boers had just + wrecked a British military train, and his attitude towards such + methods of fighting was rather severe and scornful; he did not + regard them as 'war.' However, the apparent permanence of the + war was splendidly compensated by the victory of the brothers + Doherty over the American lawn-tennis champions in the + Gentlemen's Doubles at Wimbledon. Who could have expected the + brothers to win after the defeat of R.H. by Mr. Gore in the + Singles? George had most painfully feared that the Americans + would conquer, and their overthrowing by the twin brothers + indicated to George, who took himself for a serious student of + affairs, that Britain was continuing to exist, and that the new + national self-depreciative, yearning for efficiency might + possibly be rather absurd after all.</p> + + <p>In the midst of these and similar thoughts, and of + innumerable minor thoughts about himself, in the very centre of + his mind and occupying nearly the whole of it, was the vast + thought, the obsession, of his own potential power and its + fulfilment. George's egotism was terrific, and as right as any + other natural phenomenon. He had to get on. Much money was + included in his scheme, but simply as a by-product. He had to + be a great architect, and—equally important—he had + to be publicly recognized as a great architect, and recognition + could not come without money. For him, the entire created + universe was the means to his end. He would not use it + unlawfully, but he would use it. He was using it, as well as he + yet knew how, and with an independence that was as complete as + it was unconscious. In regard to matters upon which his + instinct had not suggested a course of action, George was + always ready enough to be taught; indeed his respect for an + expert was truly deferential. But when his instinct had begun + to operate he would consult nobody and consider nobody, being + deeply sure that infallible wisdom had been granted to him. + (Nor did experience seem to teach him.) Thus, in the affair of + a London lodging, though he was still two years from his + majority and had no resources save the purse of his stepfather, + Edwin Clayhanger, he had decided to leave the Orgreaves without + asking or even informing his parents. In his next letter home + he would no doubt inform them, casually, of what he meant to do + or actually had done, and if objections followed he would + honestly resent them.</p> + + <p>A characteristic example of his independence had happened +<!-- Page 12 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page007" name="page007">[pg 7]</a> + + </span> + + when at the unripe age of seventeen he left the Five Towns for + London. Upon his mother's marriage to Edwin Clayhanger his own + name had been informally changed for him to Clayhanger. But a + few days before the day of departure he had announced that, as + Clayhanger was not his own name and that he preferred his own + name, he should henceforth be known as 'Cannon,' his father's + name. He did not invite discussion. Mr. Clayhanger had + thereupon said to him privately and as one man of the world to + another: "But you aren't really entitled to the name Cannon, + sonny." "Why?" "Because your father was what's commonly known + as a bigamist, and his marriage with your mother was not legal. + I thought I'd take this opportunity of telling you. You needn't + say anything to your mother—unless of course you feel you + must." To which George had replied: "No, I won't. But if Cannon + was my father's name I think I'll have it all the same." And he + did have it. The bigamy of his father did not apparently affect + him. Upon further inquiry he learnt that his father might be + alive or might be dead, but that if alive he was in + America.</p> + + <p>The few words from Mr. Enwright about Chelsea had sufficed + to turn Chelsea into Elysium, Paradise, almost into Paris. No + other quarter of London was inhabitable by a rising architect. + As soon as Haim had gone George had begun to look up Chelsea in + the office library, and as Mr. Enwright happened to be an + active member of the Society for the Survey of the Memorials of + Greater London, the library served him well. In an hour and a + half he had absorbed something of the historical topography of + Chelsea. He knew that the Fulham Road upon which he was now + walking was a boundary of Chelsea. He knew that the Queen's Elm + public-house had its name from the tradition that Elizabeth had + once sheltered from a shower beneath an elm tree which stood at + that very corner. He knew that Chelsea had been a 'village of + palaces,' and what was the function of the Thames in the + magnificent life of that village. The secret residence of + Turner in Chelsea, under the strange + <i>alias</i> + + of Admiral Booth, excited George's admiration; he liked the + idea of hidden retreats and splendid, fanciful pseudonyms. But + the master-figure of Chelsea for George was Sir Thomas More. He + could see Sir Thomas More walking in his majestic garden by the + river with the King's arm round his neck, and Holbein close by, + and respectful august prelates and a nagging wife in the + background. And he could see Sir Thomas More +<!-- Page 13 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page008" name="page008">[pg 8]</a> + + </span> + + taking his barge for the last journey to the Tower, and Sir + Thomas More's daughter coming back in the same barge with her + father's head on board. Curious! He envied Sir Thomas More.</p> + + <p>"Darned bad tower for a village of palaces!" he thought, not + of the Tower of London, but of the tower of the Workhouse which + he was now approaching. He thought he could design an + incomparably better tower than that. And he saw himself in the + future, the architect of vast monuments, strolling in a grand + garden of his own at evening with other distinguished and witty + persons.</p> + + <p>But there were high-sounding names in the history of Chelsea + besides those of More and Turner. Not names of people! Cremorne + and Ranelagh! Cremorne to the west and Ranelagh to the east. + The legend of these vanished resorts of pleasure and vice + stirred his longings and his sense of romantic + beauty—especially Ranelagh with its Rotunda. (He wanted, + when the time came, to be finely vicious, as he wanted to be + everything. An architect could not be great without being + everything.) He projected himself into the Rotunda, with its + sixty windows, its countless refreshment-boxes, its huge + paintings, and the orchestra in the middle, and the expensive + and naughty crowd walking round and round and round on the + matting, and the muffled footsteps and the swish of trains on + the matting, and the specious smiles and whispers, and the + blare of the band and the smell of the lamps and candles.... + Earl's Court was a poor, tawdry, unsightly thing after + that.</p> + + <p>When he had passed under the Workhouse tower he came to a + side street which, according to Haim's description of the + neighbourhood, ought to have been Alexandra Grove. The large + lamp on the corner, however, gave no indication, nor in the + darkness could any sign be seen on the blind wall of either of + the corner houses in Fulham Road. Doubtless in daytime the + street had a visible label, but the borough authorities + evidently believed that night endowed the stranger with powers + of divination. George turned hesitant down the mysterious + gorge, which had two dim lamps of its own, and which ended in a + high wall, whereat could be descried unattainable + trees—possibly the grove of Alexandra. Silence and a + charmed stillness held the gorge, while in Fulham Road not a + hundred yards away omnibuses and an occasional hansom rattled + along in an ordinary world. George soon decided that he was not + in Alexandra Grove, +<!-- Page 14 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page009" name="page009">[pg 9]</a> + + </span> + + on account of the size of the houses. He could not conceive Mr. + Haim owning one of them. They stood lofty in the gloom, in + pairs, secluded from the pavement by a stucco garden-wall and + low bushes. They were double-fronted, and their doors were at + the summits of flights of blanched steps that showed through + the bars of iron gates. They had three stories above a + basement. Still, he looked for No. 8. But just as the street + had no name, so the houses had no numbers. No. 16 alone could + be distinguished; it had figures on its faintly illuminated + fanlight. He walked back, idly counting.</p> + + <p>Then, amid the curtained and shuttered facades, he saw, + across the road, a bright beam from a basement. He crossed and + peeped through a gate, and an interior was suddenly revealed to + him. Near the window of a room sat a young woman bending over a + table. A gas-jet on a bracket in the wall, a few inches higher + than her head and a foot distant from it, threw a strong + radiance on her face and hair. The luminous living picture, + framed by the window in blackness, instantly entranced him. All + the splendid images of the past faded and were confuted and + invalidated and destroyed by this intense reality so present + and so near to him. (Nevertheless, for a moment he thought of + her as the daughter of Sir Thomas More.) She was drawing. She + was drawing with her whole mind and heart. At intervals, + scarcely moving her head, she would glance aside at a paper to + her left on the table.... She seemed to search it, to drag some + secret out of it, and then she would resume her drawing. She + was neither dark nor fair; she was comely, perhaps beautiful; + she had beautiful lips, and her nose, behind the nostrils, + joined the cheek in a lovely contour, like a tiny bulb. Yes, + she was superb. But what mastered him was less her fresh + physical charm than the rapt and extreme vitality of her + existing.... He knew from her gestures and the tools on the + table that she could be no amateur. She was a professional. He + thought: Chelsea!... Marvellous place, Chelsea! He ought to + have found that out long ago. He imagined Chelsea full of such + pictures—the only true home of beauty and romance.</p> + + <p>Then the impact of a single idea startled his blood. He went + hot. He flushed. He had tingling sensations all down his back, + and in his legs and in his arms. It was as though he had been + caught in a dubious situation. Though he was utterly innocent, + he felt as though he had something to be +<!-- Page 15 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page010" name="page010">[pg 10]</a> + + </span> + + ashamed of. The idea was: she resembled old Haim, facially! + Ridiculous idea! But she did resemble old Haim, particularly in + the lobal termination of the nose. And in the lips too. And + there was a vague, general resemblance. Absurd! It was a + fancy.... He would not have cared for anybody to be watching + him then, to surprise him watching her. He heard unmistakable + footsteps on the pavement. A policeman darkly approached. + Policemen at times can be very apposite. George moved his gaze + and looked with admirable casualness around.</p> + + <p>"Officer, is this Alexandra Grove?" (His stepfather had + taught him to address all policemen as 'officer.')</p> + + <p>"It is, sir."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Well, which is No. 8? There're no numbers."</p> + + <p>"You couldn't be much nearer to it, sir," said the policeman + dryly, and pointed to a large number, fairly visible, on the + wide gate-post. George had not inspected the gate-post.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Thanks!"</p> + + <p>He mounted the steps, and in the thick gloom of the portico + fumbled for the bell and rang it. He was tremendously excited + and expectant and apprehensive and puzzled. He heard rain + flatly spitting in big drops on the steps. He had not noticed + till then that it had begun again. The bell jangled below. The + light in the basement went out. He flushed anew. He thought, + trembling: "She's coming to the door herself!"</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>"It had occurred to me some time ago," said Mr. Haim, "that + if ever you should be wanting rooms I might be able to suit + you."</p> + + <p>"Really!" George murmured. After having been shown into the + room by the young woman, who had at once disappeared, he was + now recovering from the nervousness of that agitating entry and + resuming his normal demeanour of an experienced and + well-balanced man of the world. He felt relieved that she had + gone, and yet he regretted her departure extremely, and hoped + against fear that she would soon return.</p> + + <p>"Yes!" said Mr. Haim, as it were triumphantly, like one who + had whispered to himself during long years: "The hour will + come." The hour had come.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 16 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page011" name="page011">[pg 11]</a> + + </span> + + Mr. Haim was surprising to George. The man seemed much older in + his own parlour than at the office—his hair thinner and + greyer, and his face more wrinkled. But the surprising part of + him was that he had a home and was master in it, and possessed + interests other than those of the firm of Lucas & Enwright. + George had never until that day conceived the man apart from + Russell Square. And here he was smoking a cigarette in an + easy-chair and wearing red morocco slippers, and being called + 'father' by a really stunning creature in a thin white blouse + and a blue skirt.</p> + + <p>The young girl, opening the front door, had said: "Do you + want to see father?" And instantly the words were out George + had realized that she might have said: " + <i>Did</i> + + you want to see father?" ... in the idiom of the shop-girl or + clerk, and that if she had said 'did' he would have been + gravely disappointed and hurt. But she had not. Of course she + had not! Of course she was incapable of such a locution, and it + was silly of him to have thought otherwise, even momentarily. + She was an artist. Entirely different from the blonde and + fluffy Mrs. John Orgreave—(and a good thing too, for Mrs. + John with her eternal womanishness had got on his + nerves)—Miss Haim was without doubt just as much a lady, + and probably a jolly sight more cultured, in the true sense. + Yet Miss Haim had not in the least revealed herself to him in + the hall as she indicated the depository for his hat and stick + and opened the door of the sitting-room. She had barely smiled. + Indeed she had not smiled. She had not mentioned the weather. + On the other hand, she had not been prim or repellent. She had + revealed nothing of herself. Her one feat had been to stimulate + mightily his curiosity and his imagination concerning + her—rampant enough even before he entered the house!</p> + + <p>The house—what he saw of it—suited her and set + her off, and, as she was different from Mrs. John, so was the + house different from the polished, conventional abode of Mrs. + John at Bedford Park. To George's taste it knocked Bedford Park + to smithereens. In the parlour, for instance, an oak chest, an + oak settee, an oak gate-table, one tapestried easy chair, + several rush-bottomed chairs, a very small brass fender, a + self-coloured wall-paper of warm green, two or three old + engravings in maple-wood or tarnished gilt frames, several + small portraits in maple-wood frames, brass candlesticks on the + mantelpiece and no clock, self-coloured brown curtains across + the windows (two windows opposite each other at either +<!-- Page 17 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page012" name="page012">[pg 12]</a> + + </span> + + end of the long room), sundry rugs on the dark-stained floor, + and so on! Not too much furniture, and not too much symmetry + either. An agreeable and original higgledy-piggledyness! The + room was lighted by a fairly large oil-lamp, with a paper shade + hand-painted in a design of cupids—delightful personal + design, rough, sketchy, adorable! She had certainly done + it.</p> + + <p>George sat on the oak settle, fronting the old man in the + easy chair. It was a hard, smooth oak settle; it had no + upholstering nor cushion; but George liked it.</p> + + <p>"May I smoke?" asked George.</p> + + <p>"Please do. Please do," said Mr. Haim, who was smoking a + cigarette himself, with courteous hospitality. However, it was + a match and not a cigarette that he offered to George, who + opened his own dandiacal case.</p> + + <p>"I stayed rather late at the office to-night," said George, + as he blew out those great clouds with which young men + demonstrate to the world that the cigarette is actually + lighted. And as Mr. Haim, who was accustomed to the boastings + of articled pupils, made no comment, George proceeded, lolling + on the settle and showing his socks: "You know, I like Chelsea. + I've always had a fancy for it." He was just about to continue + cosmopolitanly: "It's the only part of London that's like + Paris. The people in the King's Road," etc., when fortunately + he remembered that Mr. Haim must have overheard these remarks + of Mr. Enwright, and ceased, rather awkwardly. Whereupon Mr. + Haim suggested that he should see the house, and George said + eagerly that he should like to see the house.</p> + + <p>"We've got one bedroom more than we want," Mr. Haim remarked + as he led George to the hall.</p> + + <p>"Oh yes!" said George politely.</p> + + <p>The hall had a small bracket-lamp, which Mr. Haim unhooked, + and then he opened a door opposite to the door of the room + which they had quitted.</p> + + <p>"Now this is a bedroom," said he, holding the lamp high.</p> + + <p>George was startled. A ground-floor bedroom would have been + unthinkable at Bedford Park. Still, in a flat.... Moreover, the + idea had piquancy. The bedroom was sparsely furnished. Instead + of a wardrobe it had a corner curtained off with cretonne.</p> + + <p>"A good-sized room," said Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Very," said George. "Two windows, too, like the + drawing-room." +<!-- Page 18 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page013" name="page013">[pg 13]</a> + + </span> + + Then they went upstairs to the first floor, and saw two more + bedrooms, each with two windows. One of them was Miss Haim's; + there was a hat hung on the looking-glass, and a table with a + few books on it. They did not go to the second floor. The + staircase to the second floor was boarded up at the point where + it turned.</p> + + <p>"That's all there is," said Mr. Haim on the landing. "The + studio people have the second floor, but they don't use my + front door." He spoke the last words rather defiantly.</p> + + <p>"I see," said George untruthfully, for he was mystified. But + the mystery did not trouble him.</p> + + <p>There was no bathroom, and this did not trouble him either, + though at Bedford Park he could never have seriously considered + a house without a bathroom.</p> + + <p>"You could have your choice of ground floor or first floor," + said Mr. Haim confidentially, still on the landing. He moved + the lamp about, and the shadows moved accordingly on the + stairs.</p> + + <p>"Oh, I don't mind in the least," George answered. "Whichever + would suit you best."</p> + + <p>"We could give you breakfast, and use of sitting-room," Mr. + Haim proceeded in a low tone. "But no other meals."</p> + + <p>"That would be all right," said George cheerfully. "I often + dine in town. Like that I can get in a bit of extra work at the + office, you see."</p> + + <p>"Except on Sundays," Mr. Haim corrected himself. "You'd want + your meals on Sundays, of course. But I expect you're out a + good deal, what with one thing or another."</p> + + <p>"Oh, I am!" George concurred.</p> + + <p>The place was perfect, and he was determined to establish + himself in it. Nothing could baulk him. A hitch would have + desolated him completely.</p> + + <p>"I may as well show you the basement while I'm about it," + said Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Do!" said George ardently.</p> + + <p>They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably + at the office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute + correctness of an educated Londoner. His deportment gave + distinction and safety even to the precipitous and mean + basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by the knees of + pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about + along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient + layers of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted + yellow, and some were painted grey, and some were not +<!-- Page 19 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page014" name="page014">[pg 14]</a> + + </span> + + painted. Mr. Haim exhibited first the kitchen. George saw a + morsel of red amber behind black bars, a white deal table and a + black cat crouched on a corner of the table, a chair, and a + tea-cloth drying over the back thereof. He liked the scene; it + reminded him of the Five Towns, and showed + reassuringly—if he needed reassurance, which he did + not—that all houses are the same at heart. Then Mr. Haim, + flashing a lamp-ray on the coal-hole and the area door as he + turned, crossed the stone passage into the other basement + room.</p> + + <p>"This is our second sitting-room," said Mr. Haim, + entering.</p> + + <p>There she was at work, rapt, exactly as George had seen her + from the outside. But now he saw the right side of her face + instead of the left. It was wonderful to him that within the + space of a few minutes he should have developed from an + absolute stranger to her into an acquaintance of the house, + walking about in it, peering into its recesses, disturbing its + secrets, which were hers. But she remained as mysterious, as + withdrawn and intangible, as ever. And then she shifted round + suddenly on the chair, and her absorbed, intent face softened + into a most beautiful, simple smile—a smile of welcome. + An astonishing and celestial change!... She was not one of + those queer girls, as perhaps she might have been. She was a + girl of natural impulses. He smiled back, uplifted.</p> + + <p>"My daughter designs bookbindings," said Mr. Haim. "Happens + to be very busy to-night on something urgent."</p> + + <p>He advanced towards her, George following.</p> + + <p>"Awfully good!" George murmured enthusiastically, and quite + sincerely, though he was not at all in a condition to judge the + design. Strange, that he should come to the basement of an + ordinary stock-size house in Alexandra Grove to see + bookbindings in the making! This was a design for a boy's book. + He had possessed many such books. But it had never occurred to + him that the gay bindings of them were each the result of + individual human thought and labour. He pulled at his + cigarette.</p> + + <p>There was a sound of pushing and rattling outside.</p> + + <p>"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"It's the area door. I bolted it. I dare say it's Mrs. + Lobley," said the girl indifferently.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim moved sharply.</p> + + <p>"Why did you bolt it, Marguerite? No, I'll go myself."</p> + + <p>He picked up the lamp, which he had put down, and shuffled + quickly out in his red morocco slippers, closing the door.</p> + + <p>Marguerite? Yes, it suited her; and it was among the +<!-- Page 20 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page015" name="page015">[pg 15]</a> + + </span> + + most romantic of names. It completed the picture. She now + seemed to be listening and waiting, her attention on the unseen + area door. He felt shy and yet very happy alone with her. + Voices were distinctly heard. Who was Mrs. Lobley? Was Mr. Haim + a little annoyed with his daughter, and was Marguerite + exquisitely defiant? Time hung. The situation was slightly + awkward, he thought. And it was obscure, alluring.... He stood + there, below the level of the street, shut in with those beings + unknown, provocative, and full of half-divined implications. + And all Chelsea was around him and all London around + Chelsea.</p> + + <p>"Father won't be a moment," said the girl. "It's only the + charwoman."</p> + + <p>"Oh! That's quite all right," he answered effusively, and + turning to the design: "The outlining of that lettering fairly + beats me, you know."</p> + + <p>"Not really!... I get that from father, of course."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim was famous in the office as a letterer.</p> + + <p>She sat idly glancing at her own design, her plump, small + hands lying in the blue lap. George compared her, unspeakably + to her advantage, with the kind, coarse young woman at the + chop-house, whom he had asked to telephone to the Orgreaves for + him, and for whom he had been conscious of a faint + penchant.</p> + + <p>"I can't colour it by gaslight," said Marguerite Haim. "I + shall have to do that in the morning."</p> + + <p>He imagined her at work again early in the morning. Within a + week or so he might be living in this house with this girl. He + would be,—watching her life! Seducing prospect, scarcely + credible! He remembered having heard when he first went to + Lucas & Enwright's that old Haim was a widower.</p> + + <p>"Do excuse me," said Mr. Haim, urgently apologetic, + reappearing.</p> + + <p>A quarter of an hour later, George had left the house, + having accepted Mr. Haim's terms without the least argument. In + five days he was to be an inmate of No. 8 Alexandra Grove. The + episode presented itself to him as a vast, romantic adventure, + staggering and enchanting. His luck continued, for the + rain-cloud was spent. He got into an Earl's Court bus. The + dimly perceived travellers in it seemed all of them in a new + sense to be romantic and mysterious.... "Yes," he thought, "I + did say good-night to her, but I didn't shake hands."</p> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 21 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page016" name="page016">[pg 16]</a> + + </span> + + <a name='CHAPTER_II'> + </a> + + <h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + + <h3>MARGUERITE</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <p>More than two months later George came into the office in + Russell Square an hour or so after his usual time. He had been + to South Kensington Museum to look up, for professional + purposes, some scale drawings of architectural detail which + were required for a restaurant then rising in Piccadilly under + the direction of Lucas & Enwright. In his room Mr. Everard + Lucas was already seated. Mr. Lucas was another articled pupil + of the firm; being a remote cousin of the late senior partner, + he had entered on special terms. Although a year older than + George he was less advanced, for whereas George had passed the + Intermediate, Mr. Lucas had not. But in manly beauty, in + stylishness, in mature tact, and especially in persuasive + charm, he could beat George.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" Lucas greeted. "How do you feel? Fit?"</p> + + <p>"Fit?" said George enthusiastically "I feel so fit I could + push in the side of a house."</p> + + <p>"What did I tell you?" said Lucas.</p> + + <p>George rubbed his hand all over Lucas's hair, and Lucas + thereupon seized George's other hand and twisted his arm, and a + struggle followed. In this way they would often lovingly salute + each other of a morning. Lucas had infected George with the + craze for physical exercises as a remedy for all ills and + indiscretions, including even late nights and excessive + smoking. The competition between them to excel in the quality + of fitness was acute, and sometimes led to strange challenges. + After a little discussion about springing from the toes, Lucas + now accused George's toes of a lack of muscularity, and upon + George denying the charge, he asserted that George could not + hang from the mantelpiece by his toes. They were both men of + the world, capable of great heights of dignity, figures in an + important business, aspirants +<!-- Page 22 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page017" name="page017">[pg 17]</a> + + </span> + + to a supreme art and profession. They were at that moment in a + beautiful late-eighteenth-century house of a stately and + renowned square, and in a room whose proportions and ornament + admittedly might serve as an exemplar to the student; and not + the least lovely feature of the room was the high carved + mantelpiece. The morning itself was historic, for it was the + very morning upon which, President McKinley having expired, + Theodore Roosevelt ascended the throne and inaugurated a new + era. Nevertheless, such was their peculiar time of life that + George, a minute later, was as a fact hanging by his toes from + the mantelpiece, while Lucas urged him to keep the blood out of + his head. George had stood on his hands on a box and lodged his + toes on the mantelpiece, and then raised his hands—and + Lucas had softly pushed the box away. George's watch was + dangling against his flushed cheek.</p> + + <p>"Put that box back, you cuckoo!" George exploded + chokingly.</p> + + <p>Then the door opened and Mr. Enwright appeared. + Simultaneously some shillings slipped out of George's pocket + and rolled about the floor. The hour was Mr. Enwright's + customary hour of arrival, but he had no fair excuse for + passing through that room instead of proceeding along the + corridor direct to the principals' room. His aspect, as he + gazed at George's hair and at the revealed sateen back of + George's waistcoat, was unusual. Mr. Enwright commonly entered + the office full of an intense and aggrieved consciousness of + his own existence—of his insomnia, of the reaction upon + himself of some client's stupidity, of the necessity of going + out again in order to have his chin lacerated by his favourite + and hated Albanian barber. But now he had actually forgotten + himself.</p> + + <p>"What + <i>is</i> + + this?" he demanded.</p> + + <p>Lucas having quickly restored the box, George subsided + dangerously thereon, and arose in a condition much disarrayed + and confused, and beheld Mr. Enwright with shame.</p> + + <p>"I—I was just looking to see if the trap of the + chimney was shut," said George. It was foolish in the extreme, + but it was the best he could do, and after all it was a rather + marvellous invention. Lucas sat down and made no remark.</p> + + <p>"You might respect the mantelpiece," said Mr. Enwright + bitterly, and went into the principals' room, where John + Orgreave could be heard dictating letters. +<!-- Page 23 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page018" name="page018">[pg 18]</a> + + </span> + + George straightened his clothes and picked up his money, and + the two men of the world giggled nervously at each other.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim next disturbed them. The shabby, respectable old + man smiled vaguely, with averted glance.</p> + + <p>"I think he's heard the result," said he.</p> + + <p>Both men knew that 'he' was Mr. Enwright, and that the + 'result' was the result of the open competition for the + £150,000 Law Courts which a proud provincial city proposed + to erect for itself. The whole office had worked very hard on + the drawings for that competition throughout the summer, while + cursing the corporation which had chosen so unusual a date for + sending-in day. Even Lucas had worked. George's ideas for + certain details, upon which he had been engaged on the evening + of his introduction to Mr. Haim's household, had been accepted + by Mr. Enwright. As for Mr. Enwright, though the exigencies of + his beard, and his regular morning habit of inveighing against + the profession at great length, and his inability to decide + where he should lunch, generally prevented him from beginning + the day until three o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Enwright had + given many highly concentrated hours of creative energy to the + design. And Mr. Haim had adorned the sheets with the finest + lettering. The design was held to be very good. The principals + knew the identity of all the other chief competitors and their + powers, and they knew also the idiosyncrasies of the Assessor; + and their expert and impartial opinion was that the Lucas & + Enwright design ought to win and would win. This view, indeed, + was widespread in the arcana of the architectural world. George + had gradually grown certain of victory. And yet, at Mr. Haim's + words, his hopes sank horribly away.</p> + + <p>"Have we won?" he asked sharply.</p> + + <p>"That I can't say, Mr. Cannon," answered Haim.</p> + + <p>"Well, then, how do you know he's heard? Has he told + you?"</p> + + <p>"No," said the factotum mysteriously. "But I think he's + heard." And upon this Mr. Haim slouched off quite calmly. Often + he had assisted at the advent of such vital news in the + office—news obtained in advance by the principals through + secret channels—and often the news had been bad. But the + firm's calamities seemed never to affect the smoothness of Mr. + Haim's earthly passage.</p> + + <p>The door into the principals' room opened, and Mr. +<!-- Page 24 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page019" name="page019">[pg 19]</a> + + </span> + + Enwright's head showed. The gloomy, resenting eyes fixed George + for an instant.</p> + + <p>"Well, you've lost that competition," said Mr. Enwright, and + he stepped into full view. His unseen partner had ceased to + dictate, and the shorthand-clerk could be heard going out by + the other door.</p> + + <p>"No!" said George, in a long, outraged murmur. The news + seemed incredible and quite disastrous; and yet at the same + time had he not, in one unvisited corner of his mind, always + foreknown it? Suddenly he was distressed, discouraged, + disillusioned about the whole of life. He thought that Everard + Lucas, screwing up a compass, was strangely unmoved. But Mr. + Enwright ignored Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Who's got it?" George asked.</p> + + <p>"Whinburn."</p> + + <p>"That chap!... Where are + <i>we</i> + + ?"</p> + + <p>"Nowhere."</p> + + <p>"Not placed?"</p> + + <p>"Not in it. Skelting's second. And Grant third. I shouldn't + have minded so much if Grant had got it. There was something to + be said for his scheme. I knew + <i>we</i> + + shouldn't get it. I knew that perfectly well—not with + Corver assessing."</p> + + <p>George wondered that his admired principal should thus state + the exact opposite of what he had so often affirmed during the + last few weeks. People were certainly very queer, even the best + of them. The perception of this fact added to his puzzled + woe.</p> + + <p>"But Whinburn's design is grotesque!" he protested borrowing + one of Mr. Enwright's adjectives.</p> + + <p>"Of course it is."</p> + + <p>"Then why does Sir Hugh Corver go and give him the award? + Surely he must know——"</p> + + <p>"Know!" Mr. Enwright growled, destroying Sir Hugh and his + reputation and his pretensions with one single + monosyllable.</p> + + <p>"Then why did they make him Assessor—that's what I + can't understand."</p> + + <p>"It's quite simple," rasped Mr. Enwright. "They made him + assessor because he's got so much work to do it takes him all + his time to trot about from one job to another on his blooming + pony. They made him assessor because his pony's a piebald pony. + Couldn't you think of that for yourself? Or have you been stone + deaf in this office for two years? It +<!-- Page 25 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page020" name="page020">[pg 20]</a> + + </span> + + stands to reason that a man who's responsible for all the + largest new eyesores in London would impress any corporation. + Clever chap, Corver! Instead of wasting his time in travel and + study, he made a speciality of learning how to talk to + committees. And he was always full of ideas like the piebald + pony, ever since I knew him."</p> + + <p>"It's that façade that did for us," broke in another + voice. John Orgreave stood behind Mr. Enwright. He spoke + easily; he was not ruffled by the immense disappointment, + though the mournful greatness of the topic had drawn him + irresistibly into the discussion. John Orgreave had grown + rather fat and coarse. At one period, in the Five Towns, he had + been George's hero. He was so no longer. George was still fond + of him, but he had torn him down from the pedestal and + established Mr. Enwright in his place. George in his heart now + somewhat patronized the placid Orgreave, regarding him as an + excellent person who comprehended naught that was worth + comprehending, and as a husband who was the dupe of his + wife.</p> + + <p>"You couldn't have any other façade," Mr. Enwright + turned on him, "unless you're absolutely going to ignore the + market on the other side of the Square. Whinburn's façade + is an outrage—an outrage. Give me a cigarette. I must run + out and get shaved."</p> + + <p>While Mr. Enwright was lighting the cigarette, George + reflected in desolation upon the slow evolving of the firm's + design for the Law Courts. Again and again in the course of the + work had he been struck into a worshipping enthusiasm by the + brilliance of Mr. Enwright's invention and the happy beauty of + his ideas. For George there was only one architect in the + world; he was convinced that nobody could possibly rival Mr. + Enwright, and that no Law Courts ever had been conceived equal + to those Law Courts. And he himself had contributed something + to the creation. He had dreamed of the building erected and of + being able to stand in front of some detail of it and say to + himself: "That was my notion, that was." And now the building + was destroyed before its birth. It would never come into + existence. It was wasted. And the prospect for the firm of + several years' remunerative and satisfying labour had vanished. + But the ridiculous, canny Whinburn would be profitably + occupied, and his grotesque building would actually arise, and + people would praise it, and it would survive for + centuries—at any rate for a century.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 26 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page021" name="page021">[pg 21]</a> + + </span> + + Mr. Enwright did not move.</p> + + <p>"It's no use regretting the façade, Orgreave," he said + suddenly. "There's such a thing as self-respect."</p> + + <p>"I don't see that self-respect's got much to do with it," + Orgreave replied lightly.</p> + + <p>("Of course you don't," George thought. "You're a decent + sort, but you don't see, and you never will see. Even Lucas + doesn't see. I alone see." And he felt savage and defiant.)</p> + + <p>"Better shove my self-respect away into this cupboard, I + suppose!" said Mr. Enwright, with the most acrid cynicism, and + he pulled open one door of a long, low cupboard whose top + formed a table for portfolios, dusty illustrated books, and + other accumulations.</p> + + <p>The gesture was dramatic, and none knew it better than Mr. + Enwright. The cupboard was the cupboard which contained the + skeleton. It was full of designs rejected in public + competitions. There they lay, piles and piles of them, the + earliest dating from the late seventies. The cupboard was + crammed with the futility of Enwright's genius. It held + monuments enough to make illustrious a score of cities. Lucas + & Enwright was a successful firm. But, confining itself + chiefly to large public works, it could not escape from the + competition system; and it had lost in far more competitions + than it had won. It was always, and always would be, at the + mercy of an Assessor. The chances had always been, and always + would be, against the acceptance of its designs, because they + had the fatal quality of originality combined with modest + adherence to the classical tradition. When they conquered, it + was by sheer force. George glanced at the skeleton, and he was + afraid. Something was very wrong with architecture. He agreed + with Mr. Enwright's tiresomely reiterated axiom that it was the + Cinderella of professions and the chosen field of ghastly + injustice. He had embraced architecture; he had determined to + follow exactly in the footsteps of Mr. Enwright; he had sworn + to succeed. But could he succeed? Suppose he failed! Yes, his + faith faltered. He was intensely, miserably afraid. He was the + most serious man in Russell Square. Astounding that only a few + minutes ago he had hung triumphantly by his feet from the + mantelpiece!</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright kicked-to the door of the cupboard.</p> + + <p>"Look here," he said to his partner, "I shan't be back just + yet. I have to go and see Bentley. I'd forgotten it."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 27 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page022" name="page022">[pg 22]</a> + + </span> + + Nobody was surprised at this remark. Whenever Mr. Enwright was + inconveniently set back he always went off to visit Bentley, + the architect of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral at + Westminster, on the plea of an urgent appointment.</p> + + <p>" + <i>You</i> + + had a look at the cathedral lately?" he demanded of George as + he left.</p> + + <p>"No, I haven't," said George, who, by reason of a series of + unaccountable omissions, and of the fullness of his life as an + architect and a man of the world, had never seen the celebrated + cathedral at all.</p> + + <p>"Well," said Mr. Enwright sarcastically, "better take just a + glance at it—some time—before they've spoilt the + thing with decorations. There's a whole lot of 'em only waiting + till Bentley's out of the way to begin and ruin it."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Before the regular closing hour of the office the two + articled pupils had left and were walking side by side through + Bloomsbury. They skirted the oval garden of Bedford Square, + which, lying off the main track to the northern termini, and + with nothing baser in it than a consulate or so, took + precedence in austerity and selectness over Russell Square, + which had consented to receive a grand hotel or 'modern + caravanserai' and a shorthand school. Indeed the aspect of + Bedford Square, where the great institution of the basement and + area still flourished in perfection, and wealthy menials with + traditional manners lived sensually in caves beneath the + spacious, calm salons of their employers and dupes,—the + aspect of Bedford Square gave the illusion that evolution was + not, and that Bloomsbury and the whole impressive structure of + British society could never change. Still, from a more dubious + Bloomsbury, demure creatures with inviting, indiscreet eyes + were already traversing the prim flags of Bedford Square on + their way to the evening's hard diplomacy. Mr. Lucas made quiet + remarks about their qualities, but George did not respond.</p> + + <p>"Look here, old man," said Lucas, "there's no use in all + this gloom. You might think Lucas & Enwright had never put + up a building in their lives. Just as well to dwell now and + then on what they have done instead of +<!-- Page 28 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page023" name="page023">[pg 23]</a> + + </span> + + on what they haven't done. We're fairly busy, you know. + Besides——"</p> + + <p>He spoke seriously, tactfully, with charm, and he had a + beautiful voice.</p> + + <p>"Quite right! Quite right!" George willingly agreed, + swinging his stick and gazing straight ahead. And he thought: + "This chap has got his head screwed on. He's miles wiser than I + am, and he's really nice. I could never be nice like that."</p> + + <p>In a moment they were at the turbulent junction of Tottenham + Court Road and Oxford Street, where crowds of Londoners, deeply + unconscious of their own vulgarity, and of the marvellous + distinction of Bedford Square, and of the moral obligation to + harmonize socks with neckties, were preoccupying themselves + with omnibuses and routes, and constituting the spectacle of + London. The high-heeled, demure creatures were lost in this + crowd, and Lucas and George were lost in it.</p> + + <p>"Well," said Lucas, halting on the pavement. "You're going + down to the cathedral."</p> + + <p>"It'll please the old cock," answered George, anxious to + disavow any higher motive. "You aren't coming?"</p> + + <p>Lucas shook his head. "I shall just go and snatch a + hasty".... 'Cup of tea' was the unuttered end of the + sentence.</p> + + <p>"Puffin's?"</p> + + <p>Lucas nodded. Puffin's was a cosy house of sustenance in a + half-new street on the site of the razed slums of St. Giles's. + He would not frequent the orthodox tea-houses, which were all + alike and which had other serious disadvantages. He adventured + into the unusual, and could always demonstrate that what he + found was subtly superior to anything else.</p> + + <p>"That affair still on?" George questioned.</p> + + <p>"It's not off."</p> + + <p>"She's a nice little thing—that I will say."</p> + + <p>"It all depends," Lucas replied sternly. "I don't mind + telling you she wasn't so jolly nice on Tuesday."</p> + + <p>"Wasn't she?" George raised his eyebrows.</p> + + <p>Lucas silently scowled, and his handsomeness vanished for an + instant.</p> + + <p>"However——" he said.</p> + + <p>As George walked alone down Charing Cross Road, he thought: + "That girl will have to look out,"—meaning that in his + opinion Lucas was not a man to be trifled with. Lucas +<!-- Page 29 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page024" name="page024">[pg 24]</a> + + </span> + + was a wise and an experienced man, and knew the world. And what + he did could not be other than right. This notion comforted + George, who had a small affair of his own, which he had not yet + even mentioned to Lucas. Delicacy as well as diffidence had + prevented him from doing so. It was a very different affair + from any of Lucas's, and he did not want Lucas to misesteem it; + neither did he want Lucas to be under the temptation to regard + him as a ninny.</p> + + <p>Not the cathedral alone had induced George to leave the + office early. The dissembler had reflected that if he called in + a certain conventional tea-shop near Cambridge Circus at a + certain hour he would probably meet Marguerite Haim. He knew + that she had an appointment with one of her customers, a firm + of bookbinders, that afternoon, and that on similar occasions + she had been to the tea-shop. In fact he had already once + deliciously taken tea with her therein. To-day he was + disappointed, to the extent of the tea, for he met her as she + was coming out of the shop. Their greetings were rather + punctilious, but beneath superficial formalities shone the + proofs of intimacy. They had had large opportunities to become + intimate, and they had become intimate. The immediate origin of + and excuse for the intimacy was a lampshade. George had needed + a lampshade for his room, and she had offered to paint one. She + submitted sketches. But George also could paint a bit. Hence + discussions, conferences, rival designs, and, lastly, an + agreement upon a composite design. Before long, the lampshade + craze increasing in virulence, they had between them + re-lampshaded the entire house. Then the charming mania + expired; but it had done its work. During the summer holiday + George had written twice to Marguerite, and he had thought + pleasurably about her the whole time. He had hoped that she + would open the door for him upon his return, and that when he + saw her again he would at length penetrate the baffling secret + of her individuality. She had opened the door for him, + exquisitely, but the secret had not yielded itself. It was + astonishing to George, how that girl could combine the candours + of honest intimacy with a profound reserve.</p> + + <p>"Were you going in there for tea?" she asked, looking up at + him gravely.</p> + + <p>"No," he said. "I don't want any tea. I have to wend my way + to the Roman Catholic Cathedral—you know, the new one, + near Victoria. I suppose you wouldn't care to see it?"</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 30 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page025" name="page025">[pg 25]</a> + + </span> + + "I should love to," she answered, with ingenuous eagerness. "I + think it might do me good."</p> + + <p>A strange phrase, he thought! What did she mean?</p> + + <p>"Would you mind walking?" she suggested.</p> + + <p>"Let me take that portfolio, then."</p> + + <p>So they walked. She had her usual serious expression, as it + were full of the consciousness of duty. It made him think how + reliable she would always be. She held herself straight and + independently, and her appearance was very simple and very + trim. He considered it wrong that a girl with such beautiful + lips should have to consult callous bookbinders and accept + whatever they chose to say. To him she was like a lovely and + valiant martyr. The spectacle of her was touching. However, he + could not have dared to hint at these sentiments. He had to + pretend that her exposure to the stresses of the labour-market + was quite natural and right. Always he was careful in his + speech with her. When he got to know people he was apt to be + impatient and ruthless; for example, to John Orgreave and his + wife, and to his mother and stepfather, and sometimes even to + Everard Lucas. He would bear them down. But he was restrained + from such freedoms with Enwright, and equally with Marguerite + Haim. She did not intimidate him, but she put him under a + spell.</p> + + <p>Crossing Piccadilly Circus he had a glimpse of the rising + walls and the scaffolding of the new restaurant. He pointed to + the building without a word. She nodded and smiled.</p> + + <p>In the Mall, where the red campanile of the cathedral was + first descried, George began to get excited. And he perceived + that Marguerite sympathetically responded to his excitement. + She had never even noticed the campanile before, and the reason + was that the cathedral happened not to be on the route between + Alexandra Grove and her principal customers. Suddenly, out of + Victoria Street, they came up against the vast form of the + Byzantine cathedral. It was hemmed in by puny six-story blocks + of flats, as ancient cathedrals also are hemmed in by the + dwellings of townsfolk. But here, instead of the houses having + gathered about the cathedral, the cathedral had excavated a + place for itself amid the houses. Tier above tier the + expensively curtained windows of dark drawing-rooms and + bedrooms inhabited by thousands of the well-to-do blinked up at + the colossal symbol that dwarfed them all. George knew that he + was late. If the watchman's gate was shut for the night he + would look a fool. But his confidence in his magic power +<!-- Page 31 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page026" name="page026">[pg 26]</a> + + </span> + + successfully to run risks sustained him in a gallant and + assured demeanour. The gate in the hoarding that screened the + west front was open. With a large gesture he tipped the + watchman a shilling, and they passed in like princes. The + transition to the calm and dusty interior was instantaneous and + almost overwhelming. Immense without, the cathedral seemed + still more immense within. On one side of the nave was a + steam-engine; on the other some sort of a mill; and everywhere + lay in heaps the wild litter of construction, among which moved + here and there little parties of aproned pygmies engaged + silently and industriously on sub-contracts; the main army of + labourers had gone. The walls rose massively clear out of the + white-powdered confusion into arches and high domes; and the + floor of the choir, and a loftier floor beyond that, also rose + clear. Perspectives ended in shadow and were illimitable, while + the afternoon light through the stone grille of the western + windows made luminous spaces in the gloom.</p> + + <p>The sensation of having the mysterious girl at his elbow in + that wonder-striking interior was magnificent.</p> + + <p>He murmured, with pride:</p> + + <p>"Do you know this place has the widest nave of any cathedral + in the world? It's a much bigger cathedral than St. Paul's. In + fact I'm not sure if it isn't the biggest in England."</p> + + <p>"You know," he said again, "in the whole of the nineteenth + century only one cathedral was built in England."</p> + + <p>"Which was that?"</p> + + <p>"Truro.... And you could put Truro inside this and leave a + margin all round. Mr. Enwright says this is the last cathedral + that ever will be built, outside America."</p> + + <p>They gazed, more and more aware of a solemn miracle.</p> + + <p>"It's marvellous—marvellous!" he breathed.</p> + + <p>After a few moments, glancing at her, a strong impulse to be + confidential mastered him. He was obliged to tell that + girl.</p> + + <p>"I say, we've lost that competition—for the Law + Courts."</p> + + <p>He smiled, but the smile had no effect.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" She positively started.</p> + + <p>He saw that her eyes had moistened, and he looked quickly + away, as though he had seen something that he ought not to have + seen. She cared! She cared a great deal! She was shocked by the + misfortune to the firm, by the injustice to transcendent merit! + She knew nothing whatever about any design in the competition. + But it was her +<!-- Page 32 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page027" name="page027">[pg 27]</a> + + </span> + + religion that the Lucas & Enwright design was the best, and + by far the best. He had implanted the dogma, and he felt that + she was ready to die for it. Mystery dropped away from her. Her + soul stood bare to him. He was so happy and so proud that the + intensity of his feeling dismayed him. But he was enheartened + too, and courage to surmount a thousand failures welled up in + him as from an unimagined spring.</p> + + <p>"I wonder who that is?" she said quietly and ordinarily, as + if a terrific event had not happened.</p> + + <p>On the highest floor, at the other extremity of the + cathedral, in front of the apse, a figure had appeared in a + frock-coat and a silk hat. The figure stood solitary, gazing + around in the dying light.</p> + + <p>"By Jove! It's Bentley! It's the architect!"</p> + + <p>George literally trembled. He literally gave a sob. The + vision of Bentley within his masterpiece, of Bentley whom + Enwright himself worshipped, was too much for him. Renewed + ambition rushed through him in electric currents. All was not + wrong with the world of architecture. Bentley had succeeded. + Bentley, beginning life as an artisan, had succeeded supremely. + And here he stood on the throne of his triumph. Genius would + not be denied. Beauty would conquer despite everything. What + completed the unbearable grandeur of the scene was that Bentley + had cancer of the tongue, and was sentenced to death. Bentley's + friends knew it; the world of architecture knew it; Bentley + knew it.... "Shall I tell her?" George thought. He looked at + her; he looked at the vessel which he had filled with emotion. + He could not speak. A highly sensitive decency, an abhorrence + of crudity, restrained him. "No," he decided, "I can't tell her + now. I'll tell her some other time."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>With no clear plan as to his dinner he took her back to + Alexandra Grove. The dusk was far advanced. Mounting the steps + quickly Marguerite rang the bell. There was no answer. She + pushed up the flap of the letter-aperture and looked + within.</p> + + <p>"Have you got your latchkey?" she asked, turning round on + George. "Father's not come home—his hat's not hanging up. + He promised me certain that he would +<!-- Page 33 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page028" name="page028">[pg 28]</a> + + </span> + + be here at six-thirty at the latest. Otherwise I should have + taken the big key."</p> + + <p>She did not show resentment against her father; nor was + there impatience in her voice. But she seemed to be firmly and + impassively judging her father, as his equal, possibly even as + somewhat his superior. And George admired the force of her + individuality. It flattered him that a being so independent and + so strong should have been so meltingly responsive to him in + the cathedral.</p> + + <p>An adventurous idea occurred to him in a flash and he + impulsively adopted it. His latchkey was in his pocket, but if + the house door was once opened he would lose her—he would + have to go forth and seek his dinner and she would remain in + the house; whereas, barred out of the house, she would be bound + to him—they would be thrust together into exquisite + contingencies, into all the deep potentialities of dark + London.</p> + + <p>"Dash it!" he said, first fumbling in one waistcoat pocket, + and then ledging the portfolio against a step and fumbling in + both waistcoat pockets simultaneously. "I must have left it in + my other clothes."</p> + + <p>It is doubtful whether his conscience troubled him. But he + had a very exciting sense of risk and of romance and of + rapture, as though he had done something wonderful and + irremediable.</p> + + <p>"Ah! Well!" she murmured, instantly acquiescent, and without + the least hesitation descended the steps.</p> + + <p>How many girls (he demanded) would or could have made up + their minds and faced the situation like that? Her faculty of + decision was simply masculine! He looked at her in the twilight + and she was inimitable, unparalleled. And yet by virtue of the + wet glistening of her eyes in the cathedral she had somehow + become mystically his! He. permitted himself the suspicion: + "Perhaps she guesses that I'm only pretending about the + latchkey." The suspicion which made her an accessory to his + crime did not lower her in his eyes. On the contrary, the + enchanting naughtiness with which it invested her only made her + variety more intoxicant and perfection more perfect. His regret + was that the suspicion was not a certainty.</p> + + <p>Before a word could be said as to the next move, a figure in + a grey suit and silk hat, and both arms filled with packages, + passed in front of the gate and then halted.</p> + + <p>"Oh! It's Mr. Buckingham Smith!" exclaimed +<!-- Page 34 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page029" name="page029">[pg 29]</a> + + </span> + + Marguerite. "Mr. Buckingham Smith, we're locked out till father + comes." She completed the tale of the mishap, to George's equal + surprise and mortification.</p> + + <p>Mr. Buckingham Smith, with Mr. Alfred Prince, was tenant of + the studio at the back of No. 8. He raised his hat as well as + an occupied arm would allow.</p> + + <p>"Come and wait in the studio, then," he suggested + bluntly.</p> + + <p>"You know Mr. Cannon, don't you?" said Marguerite, + embarrassed.</p> + + <p>George and Mr. Buckingham Smith had in fact been introduced + to one another weeks earlier in the Grove by Mr. Haim. + Thereafter Mr. Buckingham Smith had, as George imagined, + saluted George with a kind of jealous defiance and mistrust, + and the acquaintance had not progressed. Nor, by the way, had + George's dreams been realized of entering deeply into the + artistic life of Chelsea. Chelsea had been no more welcoming + than Mr. Buckingham Smith. But now Mr. Buckingham Smith grew + affable and neighbourly. Behind the man's inevitable insistence + that George should accompany Miss Haim into the studio was a + genuine, eager hospitality.</p> + + <p>The studio was lofty and large, occupying most of the garden + space of No. 8. Crimson rep curtains, hung on a thick, + blackened brass rod, divided it into two unequal parts. By the + wall nearest the house a staircase ran up to a door high in the + gable, which door communicated by a covered bridge with the + second floor of No. 8, where the artists had bedrooms. The + arrangement was a characteristic example of the manner in which + building was added to building in London contrary to the + intention of the original laying-out, and George in his expert + capacity wondered how the plans had been kept within the + by-laws of the borough, and by what chicane the consent of the + ground-landlord had been obtained.</p> + + <p>Mr. Alfred Prince, whom also George knew slightly, was + trimming a huge oil-lamp which depended by a wire from the + scarcely visible apex of the roof. When at length the natural + perversity of the lamp had been mastered and the metal shade + replaced, George got a general view of the immense and complex + disorder of the studio. It was obviously very dirty—even + in the lamplight the dust could be seen in drifts on the + moveless folds of the curtains—it was a pigsty; but it + was romantic with shadowed spaces, and gleams of copper and of + the pale arms of the etching-press, and glimpses of pictures; +<!-- Page 35 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page030" name="page030">[pg 30]</a> + + </span> + + and the fellow desired a studio of his own! He was glad, now, + that Mr. Buckingham Smith had invited them in. He had wanted to + keep Marguerite Haim to himself; but it was worth while to + visit the studio, and it was especially worth while to watch + her under the illumination of the lamp.</p> + + <p>"Lucky we have a clean tablecloth," said Mr. Buckingham + Smith, opening his packages and setting a table. "Brawn, Miss + Haim! And beer, Miss Haim! That is to say, Pilsener. From the + only place in Chelsea where you can get it."</p> + + <p>And his packages really did contain brawn and beer (four + bottles of the Pilsener); also bread and a slice of butter. The + visitors learnt that they had happened on a feast, a feast + which Mr. Buckingham Smith had conceived and ordained, a feast + to celebrate the triumph of Mr. Alfred Prince. An etching by + Mr. Prince had been bought by Vienna. Mr. Buckingham Smith did + not say that the etching had been bought by any particular + gallery in Vienna. He said 'by Vienna,' giving the idea that + all Vienna, every man, woman, and child in that distant and + enlightened city where etchings were truly understood, had + combined for the possession of a work by Mr. Prince. Mr. + Buckingham Smith opined that soon every gallery in Europe would + be purchasing examples of Alfred Prince. He snatched from a + side-table and showed the identical authentic letter from + Vienna to Mr. Alfred Prince, with its official heading, foreign + calligraphy, and stilted English. The letter was very + complimentary.</p> + + <p>In George's estimation Mr. Prince did not look the part of + an etcher of continental renown. He was a small, pale man, with + a small brown beard, very shabby, and he was full of small + nervous gestures. He had the innocently-red nose which pertains + to indigestion. His trousers bagged horribly at the knees, and + he wore indescribable slippers. He said little, in an extremely + quiet, weak voice. His eyes, however, were lively and + attractive. He was old, probably at least thirty-five. Mr. + Buckingham Smith made a marked contrast to him. Tall, with + newish clothes, a powerful voice and decisive gestures, Mr. + Buckingham Smith dominated, though he was younger than his + friend. He tried to please, and he mingled the grand + seigneurial style with the abrupt. It was he who played both + the parlourmaid and the host. He forced Marguerite to have some + brawn, serving her with a vast portion; but he could not force + her to take Pilsener.</p> + + <p>"Now, Mr. Cannon," he said, pouring beer into a glass +<!-- Page 36 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page031" name="page031">[pg 31]</a> + + </span> + + with an up-and-down motion of the bottle so as to put a + sparkling head on the beer.</p> + + <p>"No, thank you," said George decidedly. "I won't have + beer."</p> + + <p>Mr. Buckingham Smith gazed at him challengingly out of his + black eyes. "Oh! But you've got to," he said. It was as if he + had said: "I am generous. I love to be hospitable, but I am not + going to have my hospitality thwarted, and you needn't think + it."</p> + + <p>George accepted the beer and joined in the toasting of Mr. + Alfred Prince's health.</p> + + <p>"Old chap!" Mr. Buckingham Smith greeted his chum, and then + to George and Marguerite, informingly and seriously: "One of + the best."</p> + + <p>It was during the snack that Mr. Buckingham Smith began to + display the etchings of Mr. Alfred Prince, massed in a + portfolio. He extolled them with his mouth half-full of brawn, + or between two gulps of Pilsener. They impressed George + deeply—they were so rich and dark and austere.</p> + + <p>"Old Princey boy's one of the finest etchers in Europe + to-day, if you ask me," said Mr. Buckingham Smith off-handedly, + and with the air of stating the obvious. And George thought + that Mr. Prince was. The etchings were not signed 'Alfred + Prince,' but just 'Prince,' which was quietly imposing. + Everybody agreed that Vienna had chosen the best one.</p> + + <p>"It's a dry-point, isn't it?" Marguerite asked, peering into + it. George started. This single remark convinced him that she + knew all about etching, whereas he himself knew nothing. He did + not even know exactly what a dry-point was.</p> + + <p>"Mostly," said Mr. Prince. "You can only get that peculiar + quality of line in dry-point."</p> + + <p>George perceived that etching was an entrancing subject, and + he determined to learn something about it—everything + about it.</p> + + <p>Then came the turn of Mr. Buckingham Smith's paintings. + These were not signed 'Smith' as the etchings were signed + 'Prince.' By no means! They were signed 'Buckingham Smith.' + George much admired them, though less than he admired the + etchings. They were very striking and ingenious, in particular + the portraits and the still-life subjects. He had to admit that + these fellows to whom he had scarcely given a thought, these + fellows who existed darkly behind the house, were prodigiously + accomplished.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 37 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page032" name="page032">[pg 32]</a> + + </span> + + "Of course," said Mr. Buckingham Smith negligently, "you can't + get any idea of them by this light—though," he added + warningly, "it's the finest artificial light going. Better than + all your electricity."</p> + + <p>There was a pause, and Mr. Prince sighed and said:</p> + + <p>"I was thinking of going up to the Promenades to-night, but + Buck won't go."</p> + + <p>George took fire at once. "The Glazounov ballet music?"</p> + + <p>"Glazounov?" repeated Mr. Prince uncertainly. "No. I rather + wanted to hear the new Elgar."</p> + + <p>George was disappointed, for he had derived from Mr. + Enwright positive opinions about the relative importance of + Elgar and Glazounov.</p> + + <p>"Go often?" he asked.</p> + + <p>"No," said Mr. Prince. "I haven't been this season yet, but + I'm always meaning to." He smiled apologetically. "And I + thought to-night——" Despite appearances, he was not + indifferent after all to his great Viennese triumph; he had had + some mild notion of his own of celebrating the affair.</p> + + <p>"I suppose this is what etchings are printed with," said + George to Mr. Buckingham Smith, for the sake of conversation, + and he moved towards the press. The reception given to the + wonderful name of Glazounov in that studio was more than a + disappointment for George; he felt obscurely that it amounted + to a snub.</p> + + <p>Mr. Buckingham Smith instantly became the urbane and alert + showman. He explained how the pressure was regulated. He pulled + the capstan-like arms of the motive wheel and the blanketed + steel bed slid smoothly under the glittering cylinder. Although + George had often been in his stepfather's printing works he now + felt for the first time the fascination of manual work, of + artisanship, in art, and he regretted that the architect had no + such labour. He could indistinctly hear Mr. Prince talking to + Marguerite.</p> + + <p>"This is a monotype," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, picking up + a dusty print off the window-sill. "I do one occasionally."</p> + + <p>"Did you do this?" asked George, who had no idea what a + monotype was and dared not inquire.</p> + + <p>"Yes. They're rather amusing to do. You just use a match or + your finger or anything."</p> + + <p>"It's jolly good," said George. "D'you know, it reminds me a + bit of Cézanne."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 38 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page033" name="page033">[pg 33]</a> + + </span> + + Of course it was in Paris that he had heard of the great + original, the martyr and saviour of modern painting. Equally of + course it was Mr. Enwright who had inducted him into the + esoteric cult of Cézanne, and magically made him see + marvels in what at the first view had struck him as a wilful + and clumsy absurdity.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" murmured Buck, stiffening.</p> + + <p>"What do you think of Cézanne?"</p> + + <p>"Rule it out!" said Buck, with a warning cantankerous + inflection, firmly and almost brutally reproving this + conversational delinquency of George's. "Rule it out, young + man! We don't want any of that sort of mountebanking in + England. We know what it's worth."</p> + + <p>George was cowed. More, his faith in Cézanne was + shaken. He smiled sheepishly and was angry with himself. Then + he heard Mr. Prince saying calmly and easily to Miss + Haim—the little old man could not in fact be so nervous + as he seemed:</p> + + <p>"I suppose + <i>you</i> + + wouldn't come with me to the Prom?"</p> + + <p>George was staggered and indignant. It was inconceivable, + monstrous, that those two should be on such terms as would + warrant Mr. Prince's astounding proposal. He felt that he + simply could not endure them marching off together for the + evening. Her acceptance of the proposal would be an outrage. He + trembled. However, she declined, and he was lifted from the + rack.</p> + + <p>"I must really go," she said. "Father's sure to be home by + now."</p> + + <p>"May I?" demanded Mr. Buckingham Smith, stooping over + Marguerite's portfolio of designs, and glancing round at her + for permission to open it. Already his hand was on the + tape.</p> + + <p>"On no account!" she cried. "No! No!... Mr. Cannon, please + take it from him!" She was serious.</p> + + <p>"Oh! All right! All right!" Mr. Buckingham Smith rose to the + erect good-humouredly.</p> + + <p>After a decent interval George took the portfolio under his + arm. Marguerite was giving thanks for hospitality. They left. + George was singularly uplifted by the fact that she never + concealed from him those designs upon which Mr. Buckingham + Smith had not been allowed to gaze. And, certain contretemps + and disappointments notwithstanding, he was impressed by the + entity of the studio. It had made a desirable picture in his + mind: the romantic paraphernalia, the etchings, the canvases, + the lights and shadows, the informality, the warm odours of the + lamp and of the Pilsener, +<!-- Page 39 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page034" name="page034">[pg 34]</a> + + </span> + + the dazzling white of the tablecloth, the quick, positive tones + of Buckingham Smith, who had always to be convincing not only + others but himself that he was a strong man whose views were + unassailable, the eyes of Buckingham Smith like black holes in + his handsome face, the stylish gestures and coarse petulance of + Buckingham Smith, the shy assurance of little old Prince. He + envied the pair. Their existence had a cloistral quality which + appealed to something in him. They were continually in the + studio, morning, afternoon, evening. They were independent. + They had not to go forth to catch omnibuses and trains, to sit + in offices, to utilize the services of clerks, to take orders, + to consider the idiosyncrasies of superiors. They were + self-contained, they were consecrated, and they were free. No + open competitions for them! No struggles with committees and + with contractors! And no waiting for the realization of an + idea! They sat down and worked, and the idea came at once to + life, complete, without the necessity of other human + co-operation! They did not sit in front of a painting or + etching and say, as architects had too often to say in front of + their designs: "That is wasted! That will never come into + being." Architecture might be the art of arts, and indeed it + was, but there were terrible drawbacks to it....</p> + + <p>And next he was outside in the dark with Marguerite Haim, + and new, intensified sensations thrilled him. She was very + marvellous in the dark.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim had not returned.</p> + + <p>"Well!" she muttered; and then dreamily: "What a funny + little man Mr. Prince is, isn't he?" She spoke + condescendingly.</p> + + <p>"Anyhow," said George, who had been respecting Mr. Alfred + Prince, "anyhow, I'm glad you didn't go to the concert with + him."</p> + + <p>"Why?" she asked, with apparent simplicity. "I adore the + Proms. Don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Let's go, then," he suggested. "We shan't be very late, and + what else is there for you to do?"</p> + + <p>His audacity frightened him. There she stood with him in the + porch, silent, reflective. She would never go. For sundry + practical and other reasons she would refuse. She must + refuse.</p> + + <p>"I'll go," she said, as if announcing a well-meditated + decision. He could scarcely believe it. This could not be + London that he was in.</p> + + <p>They deposited the portfolio under the mat in the porch.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + +<!-- Page 40 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page035" name="page035">[pg 35]</a> + + </span> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When they got into the hall the band was sending forth a + tremendous volume of brilliant exhilarating sound. A vast + melody seemed to ride on waves of brass. The conductor was very + excited, and his dark locks shook with the violence of his + gestures as he urged onward the fingers and arms of the + executants flying madly through the maze of the music to a + climax. There were flags; there was a bank of flowers; there + was a fountain; there were the huge crimson-domed lamps that + poured down their radiance; and there was the packed crowd of + straw-hatted and floral-hatted erect figures gazing with + upturned, intent faces at the immense orchestral machine. Then + came a final crash, and for an instant the thin, silvery tinkle + of the fountain supervened in an enchanted hush; and then + terrific applause, with yells and thuds above and below the + hand-clapping, filled and inflamed the whole interior. The + conductor, recovering from a collapse, turned round and bowed + low with his hand on his shirt-front; his hair fell over his + forehead; he straightened himself and threw the hair back + again, and so he kept on, time after time casting those plumes + to and fro. At last, sated with homage, he thought of justice, + and pointed to the band and smiled with an unconvincing air of + humility, as if saying: "I am naught. Here are the true + heroes." And on the end of his stick he lifted to their feet + eighty men, whose rising drew invigorated shouts. Enthusiasm + reigned; triumph was accomplished. Even when the applause had + expired, enthusiasm still reigned; and every person present had + the illusion of a share in the triumph. It was a great night at + the Promenades.</p> + + <p>George and Marguerite looked at each other happily. They + both were inspired by the feeling that life was a grand thing, + and that they had reached suddenly one of the summits of + existence. George, observing the excitement in her eyes, + thought how wonderful it was that she too should be + excited.</p> + + <p>"What was that piece?" she asked.</p> + + <p>"I don't quite know," he said. "There don't appear to be any + programmes about." He wished he had been able to identify the + piece, but he was too content to be ashamed of his ignorance. + Moreover, his ignorance was hers also, and he liked that.</p> + + <p>The music resumed. He listened, ready to put himself +<!-- Page 41 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page036" name="page036">[pg 36]</a> + + </span> + + into the mood of admiration if it was the Glazounov item. Was + it Glazounov? He could not be certain. It sounded fine. Surely + it sounded Russian. Then he had a glimpse of a programme held + by a man standing near, and he peered at it. "No. 4. + Elgar—Sea-Pictures." No. 5 was the Glazounov.</p> + + <p>"It's only the Elgar," he said, with careless condescension, + perceiving at once, by the mere virtue of a label, that the + music was not fine and not Russian. He really loved music, but + he happened to be at that age, from which some people never + emerge, at which the judgment depends almost completely on + extraneous suggestion.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" murmured Marguerite indifferently, responding to his + tone.</p> + + <p>"Glazounov's next," he said.</p> + + <p>"I suppose we couldn't sit down," she suggested.</p> + + <p>Yet it was she who had preferred the Promenade to the Grand + Circle or the Balcony.</p> + + <p>"We'll find something," he said, with his usual assurance. + And in the corridor that surrounded the hemicycle they climbed + up on to a narrow ledge in the wall and sat side by side in + perfect luxury, not dreaming that they were doing anything + unusual or undignified. As a fact, they were not. Other couples + were perched on other ledges, and still others on the cold + steam-pipes. A girl with a big face and heavy red lips sat + alone, lounging, her head aslant. She had an open copy of + <i>Home Notes</i> + + in one hand. Elgar had sent the simple creature into an + ecstasy, and she never stirred; probably she did not know + anyone named Enwright. Promenaders promenaded in and out of the + corridor, and up and down the corridor, and nobody troubled to + glance twice either at the heavy-lipped, solitary girl or at + the ledged couples.</p> + + <p>Through an arched doorway could be seen the orchestra and + half the auditorium.</p> + + <p>"This is the best seat in the hall," George observed + proudly. Marguerite smiled at him.</p> + + <p>When the "Sea-Pictures" were finished she gave a sigh of + appreciation, having forgotten, it seemed, that persons who had + come to admire Glazounov ought not to relish Elgar. And George, + too, reflecting upon the sensations produced within him by + Elgar, was ready to admit that, though Elgar could of course + not be classed with the foreigner, there might be something to + be said for him after all.</p> + + <p>"This is just what I needed," she murmured.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 42 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page037" name="page037">[pg 37]</a> + </span> + + "Oh?"</p> + + <p>"I was very depressed this afternoon," she said.</p> + + <p>"Were you?" He had not noticed it.</p> + + <p>"Yes. They've cut down my price from a pound to seventeen + and six." 'They' were the employing bookbinders, and the price + was the fixed price for a design—side and back.</p> + + <p>He was shocked, and he felt guilty. How was it that he had + noticed nothing in her demeanour? He had been full of the + misfortune of the firm, and she had made the misfortune her + own, keeping silence about the grinding harshness of + bookbinders. He was an insensible egotist, and girls were + wondrous. At any rate this girl was wondrous. He had an intense + desire to atone for his insensibility and his egotism by + protecting her, spoiling her, soothing her into forgetfulness + of her trouble.... Ah! He understood now what she meant when + she had replied to his suggestion as to visiting the cathedral: + "It might do me good."</p> + + <p>"How rotten!" he exclaimed, expressing his sympathy by means + of disgust. "Couldn't you tell them to go to the dickens?"</p> + + <p>"You have to take what they'll give," she answered. + "Especially when they begin to talk about bad trade and that + sort of thing."</p> + + <p>"Well, it's absolutely rotten!"</p> + + <p>It was not the arbitrary reduction of her earnings that he + resented, but the fact of her victimhood. Scandalous, infamous, + that this rare and delicate creature should be defenceless + against commercial brutes!</p> + + <p>The Glazounov ballet music, "The Seasons," started. Knowing + himself justified, he surrendered himself to it, to its + exoticism, to its Russianism, to its wilful and disconcerting + beauty. And there was no composer like Glazounov. Beneath the + sensory spell of the music, his memory wandered about through + the whole of his life. He recalled days in his mother's + boarding-house at Brighton; musical evenings, at which John + Orgreave was present, at his stepfather's house in the Five + Towns; and in all kinds of scenes at the later home at + Ladderedge Hall—scenes in which his mother again + predominated, becoming young again and learning sports and + horsewomanship as a girl might have learnt them.... And they + were all beautiful beneath the music. The music softened; the + fountain was heard; the striking of matches was heard.... + Still, all was beautiful. Then he touched +<!-- Page 43 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page038" name="page038">[pg 38]</a> + </span> + + Marguerite's hand as it rested a little behind her on the + ledge. The effect of contact was surprising. With all his other + thoughts he had not ceased to think of the idea of shielding + and enveloping her. But now this idea utterly possessed him. + The music grew louder, and as it were under cover of the music + he put his hand round her hand. It was a venturesome act with + such a girl; he was afraid.... The hand lay acquiescent within + his! He tightened the pressure. The hand lay acquiescent; it + accepted. The flashing realization of her compliance + overwhelmed him. He was holding the very symbol of wild purity, + and there was no effort to be free. None guessed. None could + see. They two had the astonishing, the incredible secret + between them. He looked at her profile, taking precautions. No + sign of alarm or disturbance. Her rapt glance was fixed + steadily on the orchestra framed in the arched doorway.... + Incredible, the soft, warm delicacy of the cotton glove!</p> + + <p>The applause at the end of the number awoke them. He + released her hand. She slipped neatly down from the ledge.</p> + + <p>"I think I ought to be going back home.... Father ..." she + murmured. She met his eyes; but his embarrassed eyes would not + meet hers.</p> + + <p>"Certainly!" he agreed quickly, though they had been in the + hall little more than half an hour. He would have agreed to any + suggestion from her. It seemed to him that the least he could + do at that moment was to fulfil unquestioningly her slightest + wish. Then she looked away, and he saw that a deep blush + gradually spread over her lovely face. This was the supreme + impressive phenomenon. Before the blush he was devotional.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>They walked down Regent Street almost in silence, enjoying + simultaneously the silence and solitude of the curving + thoroughfare and the memory of the bright, crowded, triumphant + scene which they had left. At Piccadilly Circus George inquired + for the new open motor-buses which had just begun to run + between the Circus and Putney, passing the Redcliffe Arms. + Already, within a year, the time was historically distant when + a policeman had refused to allow the automobile of a Member of + Parliament to enter Palace Yard, on the ground that there was + no precedent for such a desecration. The new motor-buses, + however, did not run +<!-- Page 44 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page039" name="page039">[pg 39]</a> + </span> + + at night. Human daring had limits, and it was reported that at + least one motor-driver, succumbing to the awful nervous strain + of guiding these fast expresses through the traffic of the West + End, had been taken to the lunatic asylum. George called a + hansom, of which there were dozens idling about. Marguerite + seemed tacitly to object to this act as the germ of + extravagance; but it was the only classic thing to do, and he + did it.</p> + + <p>The hansom rolled rapidly and smoothly along upon that + well-established novelty, india-rubber tyres. Bits of the + jingling harness oscillated regularly from side to side. At + intervals the whip-thong dragged gently across the horse's + back, and the horse lifted and shook its head. The shallow and + narrow interior of the hansom was constructed with exactitude + to hold two. Neither occupant could move in any direction, and + neither desired to move. The splendidly lighted avenues, of + which every detail could be discerned as by day, flowed evenly + past the vehicle.</p> + + <p>"I've never been in a hansom before," said Marguerite + timidly—because the situation was so dismaying in its + enchantment.</p> + + <p>He, from the height of two years of hansom-using, was + touched, delighted, even impressed. The staggering fact + increased her virginal charm and its protectiveness. He thought + upon the simplicity of her existence. Of course she had never + been in a hansom! Hansoms were obviously outside her scheme. He + said nothing, but he sought for and found her hand beneath the + apron. She did not resist. He reflected "Can she resist? She + cannot." Her hand was in a living swoon. Her hand was his; it + was admittedly his. She could never deny it, now. He touched + the button of the glove, and undid it. Then, moving her passive + hand, he brought both his to it, and with infinitely delicate + and considerate gestures he slowly drew off the glove, and he + held her hand ungloved. She did not stir nor speak. Nothing so + marvellous as her exquisite and confiding stillness had ever + happened.... The hansom turned into Alexandra Grove, and when + it stopped he pushed the glove into her hand, which closed on + it. As they descended the cabman, accustomed to peer down on + loves pure and impure, gave them a beneficent look.</p> + + <p>"He's not come in," said Marguerite, glancing through the + flap of the front door. She was exceedingly self-conscious, but + beneath her self-consciousness could be noticed an indig +<!-- Page 45 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page040" name="page040">[pg 40]</a> + </span> + + nant accusation against old Haim. She had rung the bell and + knocked.</p> + + <p>"Are you sure? Can you see the hat-stand?"</p> + + <p>"I can see it enough for that."</p> + + <p>"Look here," George suggested, with false lightness, "I + expect I could get in through my window." His room was on the + ground floor, and not much agility was needed to clamber up to + its ledge from the level of the area. He might have searched + his pockets again and discovered his latchkey, but he would + not. Sooner than admit a deception he would have remained at + the door with her all night.</p> + + <p>"Think you could?"</p> + + <p>"Yes. I could slide the window-catch."</p> + + <p>He jumped down the steps and showed her how he could climb. + In two minutes he was opening the front door to her from the + inside. She moved towards him in the gloom.</p> + + <p>"Oh! My portfolio!" She stopped, and bent down to the + mat.</p> + + <p>Then she busily lighted the little hall-lamp with his + matches, and hurried down, taking the matches, to the kitchen. + After a few moments George followed her; he was obliged to + follow her. She had removed her coat; it lay on the sole chair. + The hat and blouse which she wore seemed very vivid in the + kitchen—vestiges of past glorious episodes in + concert-halls and hansoms. She had lighted the kitchen-lamp and + was standing apparently idle. The alarum-clock on the black + mantelpiece ticked noisily. The cat sat indifferently on the + corner of the clean, bare table. George hesitated in the + doorway. He was extremely excited, because the tremendous fact + of what he had done and what she had permitted, with all the + implications, had to be explicitly acknowledged between them. + Of course it had to be acknowledged! They were both fully aware + of the thing, she as well as he, but spoken words must + authenticate its existence as only spoken words could.</p> + + <p>She said, beginning sternly and finishing with a peculiar + smile:</p> + + <p>"I do think this business of father and Mrs. Lobley is going + rather far."</p> + + <p>And George had a sudden new sense of the purely feminine + adroitness of women. In those words she had clearly conceded + that their relations were utterly changed. Never before had she + made even the slightest, most distant reference to the + monstrous household actuality, unadmitted and yet patent, of + the wooing of Mrs. Lobley the charwoman by her father, +<!-- Page 46 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page041" name="page041">[pg 41]</a> + </span> + + the widower of her mother. If Mr. Haim stayed away from home of + an evening, Mrs. Lobley was the siren who deflected him from + the straight domestic path. She knew it; George surmised it; + the whole street had its suspicions. But hitherto Marguerite + had given no sign. She now created George the confidant of her + resentment. And her smile was not an earnest of some indulgence + for her father—her smile was for George alone.</p> + + <p>He went boldly up to her, put his arms round her, and kissed + her. She did not kiss. But she allowed herself to be kissed, + and she let her body loose in his embrace. She looked at him + with her eyes nearly upon his, and her eyes glittered with a + mysterious burning; he knew that she was content. That she + should be content, that it should please her to let him have + the unimaginable experience of holding that thrilled and + thrilling body close to his, seemed to him to be a marvellous + piece of sheer luck and overwhelming good fortune. She was so + sensuous and yet so serious. Her gaze stimulated not only love + but conscience. In him ambition was superlatively vigorous. + Nevertheless he felt then as though he had never really known + ambition till that moment. He thought of the new century and of + a new life. He perceived the childishness and folly of his + favourite idea that an artist ought to pass through a phase of + Don Juanism. He knew that the task of satisfying the lofty and + exacting and unique girl would be immense, and that he could + fulfil it, but on the one condition that it monopolized his + powers. Thus he was both modest and proud, anxious and divinely + elated. His mind was the scene of innumerable impulses and + sensations over which floated the banner of the male who has + won an impassioned allegiance.</p> + + <p>"Don't let's tell anyone yet," she murmured.</p> + + <p>"No."</p> + + <p>"I mean for a long time," she insisted.</p> + + <p>"No, we won't," he agreed, and added scornfully: "They'd + only say we're too young."</p> + + <p>The notion of secrecy was an enchanting notion.</p> + + <p>She cut magic cake and poured out magic milk. And they ate + and drank together, for they were hungry. And at this point the + cat began to show an interest in their doings.</p> + + <p>And after they were both in their beds, but not after they + were asleep, Mr. Haim, by the clicking of a latchkey in a lock, + reminded them of something which they had practically + forgotten—his disordered existence.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_III'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 47 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page042" name="page042">[pg 42]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + + <h3>THE CHARWOMAN</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George entered Alexandra Grove very early the next evening, + having dined inadequately and swiftly so that he might reach + the neighbourhood of Marguerite at the first moment + justifiable. He would have omitted dinner and trusted to + Marguerite's kitchen, only that, in view of the secrecy + resolved upon, appearances had to be preserved. The secrecy in + itself was delicious, but even the short experiences of the + morning had shown both of them how extremely difficult it would + be for two people who were everything to each other to behave + as though they were nothing to each other. George hoped, + however, that Mr. Haim would again be absent, and he was + anticipating exquisite hours.</p> + + <p>At the precise instant when he put his latchkey in the door + the door was pulled away from him by a hand within, and he saw + a woman of about thirty-five, plump but not stout, in a blue + sateen dress, bonneted but not gloved. She had pleasant, + commonplace features and brown hair. Several seconds elapsed + before George recognized in her Mrs. Lobley, the charwoman of + No. 8, and when he did so he was a little surprised at her + presentableness. He had met her very seldom in the house. He + was always late for breakfast, and his breakfast was always + waiting for him. On Sundays he was generally out. If he did + catch sight of her, she was invariably in a rough apron and as + a rule on her knees. Their acquaintance had scarcely progressed + far enough for him to call her 'Mrs. Lob' with any confidence. + He had never seen her at night, though upon occasion he had + heard her below in the basement, and for him she was associated + with mysterious nocturnal goings and comings by the basement + door. That she should be using the front door was as startling + as that she should be so nobly attired in blue sateen.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 48 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page043" name="page043">[pg 43]</a> + </span> + + Good evening—Mr. Cannon," she said, in her timid voice, + too thin for her body. He noticed that she was perturbed. + Hitherto she had always addressed him as 'sir.'</p> + + <p>"Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic air she + slipped past him and departed out of the house.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim was visible just within the doorway of the + sitting-room, and behind him the table with the tea-things + still on it. George had felt considerably self-conscious in Mr. + Haim's presence at the office; and he was so preoccupied by his + own secret mighty affair that his first suspicion connected the + strange apparition of a new Mrs. Lobley and the peculiar look + on Mr. Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and + dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, + though absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other + way.</p> + + <p>"Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early + to-night."</p> + + <p>"A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to + read, you know." He was using the word 'read' in the + examination sense.</p> + + <p>"If you could spare me a minute," smiled Mr. Haim</p> + + <p>"Certainly."</p> + + <p>"Have a cigarette," said Mr. Haim, as soon as George had + deposited his hat and come into the room. This quite + unprecedented offer reassured George, who in spite of reason + had continued to fear that the landlord had something on his + mind about his daughter and his lodger. Mr. Haim presented his + well-known worn cigarette-case, and then with precise and calm + gestures carefully shut the door.</p> + + <p>"The fact is," said he, "I wanted to tell you something. I + told Mr. Enwright this afternoon, as I thought was proper, and + it seems to me that you are the next person who ought to be + informed."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes?"</p> + + <p>"I am going to be married."</p> + + <p>"The deuce you are!"</p> + + <p>The light words had scarcely escaped from young George + before he perceived that his tone was a mistake, and that Mr. + Haim was in a state of considerable emotion, which would have + to be treated very carefully. And George too now suddenly + partook of the emotion. He felt himself to be astonished and + even shaken by Mr. Haim's news. The atmosphere of the interview + changed in an instant. +<!-- Page 49 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page044" name="page044">[pg 44]</a> + </span> + + Mr. Haim moved silently on slippered feet to the mantelpiece, + out of the circle of lamplight, and dropped some ash into the + empty fire-place.</p> + + <p>"I congratulate you," said George.</p> + + <p>"Thank you!" said Mr. Haim brightly, seizing gratefully on + the fustian phrase, eager to hall-mark it as genuine and put it + among his treasures. Without doubt he was flattered. "Yes," he + proceeded, as it were reflectively, "I have asked Mrs. Lobley + to be my wife, and she has done me the honour to consent." He + had the air of having invented the words specially to indicate + that Mrs. Lobley was descending from a throne in order to + espouse him. It could not have occurred to him that they had + ever been used before and that the formula was classic. He + smiled again, and went on: "Of course I've known and admired + Mrs. Lobley for a long time. What we should have done without + her valuable help in this house I don't like to think. I really + don't."</p> + + <p>"'Her help in this house,'" thought the ruthless George, + behind cigarette smoke. "Why doesn't he say right out she's the + charwoman? If I was marrying a charwoman, I should say I was + marrying a charwoman." And then he had a misgiving: "Should I? + I wonder whether I should." And he remembered that ultimately + the charwoman was going to be his own mother-in-law. He was + aware of a serious qualm.</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Lobley has had an uphill fight since her first + husband's death," said Mr. Haim. "He was an insurance + agent—the Prudential. She's come out of it splendidly. + She's always kept up her little home, though it was only two + rooms, and she'll only leave it because I can offer her a + better one. I have always admired her, and I'm sure the more + you know her the more you'll like her. She's a woman in a + thousand, Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>"I expect she is," George agreed feebly. He could not think + of anything to say.</p> + + <p>"And I'm thankful I + <i>can</i> + + offer her a better home. I don't mind telling you now that at + one time I began to fear I shouldn't have a home. I've had my + ambitions, Mr. Cannon. I was meant for a quantity surveyor. I + was one—you may say. But it was not to be. I came down in + the world, but I kept my head above water. And then in the end, + with a little money I had I bought this house. £575. It + needed some negotiation. Ground-rent £10 per annum, and + seventy years to run. You see, all along I had had the +<!-- Page 50 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page045" name="page045">[pg 45]</a> + </span> + + idea of building a studio in the garden. I was one of the first + to see the commercial possibilities of studios in Chelsea. But + of course I know Chelsea. I made the drawings for the studio + myself. Mr. Enwright kindly suggested a few improvements. With + all my experience I was in a position to get it put up as + cheaply as possible. You'd be surprised at the number of people + in the building line anxious to oblige me. It cost under + £300. I had to borrow most of it. But I've paid it off. + What's the consequence? The consequence is that the rent of the + studio and the top rooms brings me in over eight per cent on + all I spent on the house and the studio together. And I'm + living rent free myself."</p> + + <p>"Jolly good!"</p> + + <p>"Yes.... If I'd had capital, Mr. Cannon, I could have made + thousands out of studios. Thousands. I fancy I've the gift. But + I've never had the capital. And that's all there is to it." He + smacked his lips, and leaned back against the mantelpiece. "You + may tell me I've realized my ambitions. Not all of them, Mr. + Cannon. Not all of them. If I'd had money I should have had + leisure, and I should have improved myself. Reading, I mean. + Study. Literature. Music. Painting. History of architecture. + All that sort of thing. I've got the taste for it. I know I've + got the taste for it. But what could I do? I gave it up. You'll + never know how lucky you are, Mr. Cannon. I gave it up. + However, I've nothing to be ashamed of. At any rate I hope + not."</p> + + <p>George nodded appreciatively. He was touched. He was even + impressed. He admitted the + <i>naiveté</i> + + of the ageing man, his vanity, his sentimentality. But he saw + himself to be in the presence of an achievement. And though the + crown of Mr. Haim's achievement was to marry a charwoman, still + the achievement impressed. And the shabby man with the lined, + common face was looking back at the whole of his + life—there was something positively formidable in that + alone. He was at the end; George was at the beginning, and + George felt callow and deferential. The sensation of callowness + at once heightened his resolve to succeed. All George's + sensations seemed mysteriously to transform themselves into + food for this great resolve.</p> + + <p>"And what does Miss Haim say to all this?" he asked, rather + timidly and wildly. It was a venturesome remark; it might well + have been called an impertinence; but the +<!-- Page 51 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page046" name="page046">[pg 46]</a> + </span> + + image of Marguerite was involved in all the workings of his + mind, and it would not be denied expression.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim lifted his back from the mantelpiece sharply. Then + he hesitated, moving forward a little.</p> + + <p>"Mr. Cannon," he said, "it's curious you should ask that." + His voice trembled, and at the vibration George was suddenly + apprehensive. Mr. Haim had soon recovered from his original + emotion, but now he seemed to be in danger of losing control of + himself.</p> + + <p>George nervously cleared his throat and apologized.</p> + + <p>"I didn't mean——"</p> + + <p>"I'd better tell you," Mr. Haim interrupted him, rather + loudly. "We've just had a terrible scene with my daughter, a + terrible scene!" He seldom referred to Marguerite by her + Christian name, "Mr. Cannon, I had hoped to get through my life + without a scandal, and especially an open scandal. But it seems + as if I shouldn't—if I know my daughter! It was not my + intention to say anything. Far from it. Outsiders ought not to + be troubled.... I—I like you, Mr. Cannon. She left us a + few minutes ago And as she didn't put her hat on she must be + either at the studio or at Agg's...."</p> + + <p>"She went out of the house?" George questioned + awkwardly.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim nodded, and then without warning he dropped like an + inert lump on to a chair and let his head fall on to his + hand.</p> + + <p>George was frightened as well as mystified. The spectacle of + the old man—at one moment boasting ingenuously of his + career, and at the next almost hysterical with woe—roused + his pity in a very disconcerting manner, and from his sight the + Lucas & Enwright factotum vanished utterly, and was + supplanted by a tragic human being. But he had no idea how to + handle the unexampled situation with dignity; he realized + painfully his own lack of experience, and his over-mastering + impulse was to get away while it was still possible to get + away. Moreover, he desired intensely to see and hear + Marguerite.</p> + + <p>"Perhaps I had better find out where she is," he absurdly + suggested, and departed from the room feeling like a criminal + reprieved.</p> + + <p>The old man did not stir.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + +<!-- Page 52 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page047" name="page047">[pg 47]</a> + </span> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>"Can I come in?" said George, hatless, pushing open the door + of the studio, which was ajar.</p> + + <p>There were people in the bright and rather chilly studio, + and none of them moved until the figure arriving out of the + darkness was identified. Mr. Prince, who in the far corner was + apparently cleaning or adjusting his press, then came forward + with a quiet, shy, urbane welcome. Marguerite herself stood + nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg, who was seated. + The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in her + somewhat deep voice to Marguerite:</p> + + <p>"I must go."</p> + + <p>Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a + broad-minded and turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal + headship of a hard-working and successful barrister. She was a + painter, and lived and slept in semi-independence in a studio + of her own in Manresa Road, but maintained close and constant + relations with the rest of the tribe. In shape and proportions + fairly tall and fairly thin, she counted in shops among the + stock-sizes; but otherwise she was entitled to call herself + unusual. She kept her hair about as short as the hair of a boy + who has postponed going to the barber's for a month after the + proper time, and she incompletely covered the hair with the + smallest possible hat. Her coat was long and straight and her + skirt short. Her boots were high, reaching well up the calf, + but they had high heels and were laced in some hundreds of + holes. She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was + twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast + with one another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and + liked it.</p> + + <p>"Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking + hands.</p> + + <p>George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her + father's house. Having yet to learn the important truth that it + takes all sorts to make a world, he did not like her and + wondered why she existed. He could understand Agg being fond of + Marguerite, but he could not understand Marguerite being fond + of Agg; and the friendship between these two, now that he + actually for the first time saw it in being, irked him.</p> + + <p>"Is anything the matter?... Have you seen father?" asked + Marguerite in a serious, calm tone, turning to him. +<!-- Page 53 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page048" name="page048">[pg 48]</a> + </span> + + Like George, she had run into the studio without putting on any + street attire.</p> + + <p>George perceived that there was no secret in the studio as + to the crisis in the Haim family. Clearly the topic had been + under discussion. Prince as well as Agg was privy to it. He did + not quite like that. He was vaguely jealous of both Prince and + Agg. Indeed he was startled to find that Marguerite could + confide such a matter to Prince—at any rate without + consulting himself. While not definitely formulating the claim + in his own mind, he had somehow expected of Marguerite that + until she met him she would have existed absolutely sole, + without any sentimental connexions of any sort, in abeyance, + waiting for his miraculous advent. He was glad that Mr. + Buckingham Smith was not of the conclave; he felt that he could + not have tolerated Mr. Buckingham Smith.</p> + + <p>"Yes, I've seen him," George answered.</p> + + <p>"Did he tell you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince, after a little hovering, retired to his press, + and a wheel could be heard creaking.</p> + + <p>"What did he tell you?"</p> + + <p>"He told me about—the marriage.... And I gathered + there'd been a bit of a scene."</p> + + <p>"Nothing else?"</p> + + <p>"No."</p> + + <p>Agg then interjected, fixing her blue eyes on George:</p> + + <p>"Marguerite is coming to live with me in my studio."</p> + + <p>And her challenging gaze met George's.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" George could not suppress his pained inquietude at + this decision having been made without his knowledge. Both + girls misapprehended his feeling. "That's it, is it?"</p> + + <p>"Well," said Agg, "what can Mr. Haim expect? Here + Marguerite's been paying this woman two shillings a day and her + food, and letting her take a parcel home at nights. And then + all of a sudden she comes dressed up for tea, and sits down, + and Mr. Haim says she's his future wife. What + <i>does</i> + + he expect? Does he expect Marguerite to kiss her and call her + mamma? The situation's impossible."</p> + + <p>"But you can't stop people from falling in love, Agg, you + know. It's not a crime," said Mr. Prince in his weak voice + surprisingly from the press.</p> + + <p>"I know it's not a crime," said Agg sharply. "And nobody + wants to stop people from falling in love. If Mr. +<!-- Page 54 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page049" name="page049">[pg 49]</a> + </span> + + Haim chooses to go mad about a charwoman, when his wife, and + such a wife, 's been dead barely three years, that's his + concern. It's true the lady isn't much more than half his age, + and that the whole business would be screamingly funny if it + wasn't disgusting; but still he's a free agent. And + Marguerite's a free agent too, I hope. Of course he's + thunder-struck to discover that Marguerite + <i>is</i> + + a free agent. He would be!"</p> + + <p>"He certainly is in a state," said George, with an uneasy + short laugh.</p> + + <p>Agg continued:</p> + + <p>"And why is he in a state? Because Marguerite says she shall + leave the house? Not a bit. Only because of what he thinks is + the scandal of her leaving. Mr. Haim is a respectable man. He's + simply all respectability. Respectability's his + god—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Always has been. He'd + sacrifice everything to respectability—except the lovely + Lobley. It's not respectable in a respectable family for a girl + to leave home on account of her stepmother. And so he's in a + state, if you please!... If he wanted to carry on with Mrs. + Lobley, let him carry on with her. But no! That's not + respectable. He's just got to marry her!" Agg sneered.</p> + + <p>George was startled, perhaps excusably, at the monstrous + doctrine implied in Agg's remarks. He had thought himself a man + of the world, experienced, unshockable. But he blenched, and + all his presence of mind was needed to preserve a casual, cool + demeanour. The worst of the trial was Marguerite's tranquil + acceptance of the attitude of her friend. She glanced at Agg in + silent, admiring approval. He surmised that until that moment + he had been perfectly ignorant of what girls really were.</p> + + <p>"I see," said George courageously. And then, strangely, he + began to admire too. And he pulled himself together.</p> + + <p>"I think I shall leave to-morrow," Marguerite announced. + "Morning. It will be much better. She can look after him. I + don't see that I owe any duty ..."</p> + + <p>"Yes, you do, dear," Agg corrected her impressively. "You + owe a duty to your mother—to her memory. That's the duty + you owe. I'll come round for you to-morrow myself in a + four-wheeler—let me see, about eleven."</p> + + <p>George hated the sound of the word 'duty.'</p> + + <p>"Thank you, dear," Marguerite murmured, and the girls shook + hands; they did not kiss.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 55 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page050" name="page050">[pg 50]</a> + </span> + + Bye-bye, Princey."</p> + + <p>"Bye-bye, Agg."</p> + + <p>"Good night, Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>Agg departed, slightly banging the door.</p> + + <p>"I think I'll go back home now," said Marguerite, in a + sweet, firm tone. "Had they gone out?"</p> + + <p>"Who? Your father and What's-her-name? She's gone, but he + hasn't. If you don't want to meet him to-night again, hadn't + you better——"</p> + + <p>"Oh! If she's gone, he'll be gone too by this time. Trust + him!"</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince approached them, urging Marguerite soothingly to + stay as long as she liked. She shook her head, and pressed his + hand affectionately.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When George and Marguerite re-entered No. 8 by the front + door, Mr. Haim was still sitting overcome at the tea-table. + They both had sight of him through the open door of the + parlour. Marguerite was obviously disturbed to see him there, + but she went straight into the room. George moved into the + darkness of his own room. He heard the voices of the other + two.</p> + + <p>"Then you mean to go?" Haim asked accusingly.</p> + + <p>Marguerite answered in a calm, good-humoured, sweet + tone:</p> + + <p>"Of course, if you mean to marry Mrs. Lobley."</p> + + <p>"Marry Mrs. Lobley! Of course I shall marry her!" Haim's + voice rose. "What right have you to settle where I shall marry + and where I shan't?"</p> + + <p>"I've fixed everything up with Celia Agg," said Marguerite + very quietly.</p> + + <p>"You've soon arranged it!"</p> + + <p>No reply from Marguerite. The old man spoke again:</p> + + <p>"You've no right—It'll be an open scandal."</p> + + <p>Then a silence. George now thought impatiently that a great + fuss was being made about a trifle, and that a matter much more + important deserved attention. His ear caught a violent + movement. The old man came out of the parlour, and, instead of + taking his hat and rushing off to find the enchantress, he + walked slowly and heavily upstairs, preceded by his immense + shadow thrown from the hall-lamp. He dis +<!-- Page 56 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page051" name="page051">[pg 51]</a> + </span> + + appeared round the corner of the stairs. George, under the + influence of the apparition, was forced to modify his view that + all the fuss was over a trifle. He tiptoed into the parlour. + Marguerite was standing at the table. As soon as George came in + she began to gather the tea-things together on the tray.</p> + + <p>"I + <i>say</i> + + !" whispered George.</p> + + <p>Marguerite's bent, tranquil face had a pleasant look as she + handled the crockery.</p> + + <p>"I shall get him a nice breakfast to-morrow," she said, also + in a whisper. "And as soon as he's gone to the office I shall + pack. It won't take me long, really."</p> + + <p>"But won't Mrs. Lobley be here?"</p> + + <p>"What if she is? I've nothing against Mrs. Lobley. Nor, as + far as that goes, against poor father either—you see what + I mean."</p> + + <p>"He told me you'd had a terrible scene. That's what he + said'—a terrible scene."</p> + + <p>"It depends what you call a scene," she said smoothly. "I + was rather upset just at first—who wouldn't be?—but + ..." She stopped, listening, with a glance at the ceiling. + There was not the slightest sound overhead. "I wonder what he's + doing?"</p> + + <p>She picked up the tray.</p> + + <p>"I'll carry that," said George.</p> + + <p>"No! It's all right. I'm used to it. You might bring me the + tablecloth. But you won't drop the crumbs out of it, will + you?"</p> + + <p>He followed her with the bunched-up tablecloth down the + dangerous basement steps into the kitchen. She passed straight + into the little scullery, where the tray with its contents was + habitually left for the attention of Mrs. Lobley the next + morning. When she turned again, he halted her, as it were, at + the entrance from the scullery with a question.</p> + + <p>"Shall you be all right?"</p> + + <p>"With Agg?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"How do you mean—'all right'?"</p> + + <p>"Well, for money, and so on."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes!" She spoke lightly and surely, with a faint + confident smile.</p> + + <p>"I was thinking as they'd cut down your + prices——"</p> + + <p>"I shall have heaps. Agg and I—why, we can live + splendidly for next to nothing. You'll see."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 57 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page052" name="page052">[pg 52]</a> + </span> + + He was rebuffed. He felt jealous of both Agg and Prince, but + especially of Prince. It still seemed outrageous to him that + Prince should have been taken into her confidence. Prince had + known of the affair before himself. He was more than jealous; + he had a greater grievance. Marguerite appeared to have + forgotten all about love, all about the mighty event of their + betrothal. She appeared to have put it away, as casually as she + had put away the tray. Yet ought not the event to count supreme + over everything else—over no matter what? He was desolate + and unhappy.</p> + + <p>"Did you tell Agg?" he asked.</p> + + <p>"What about?"</p> + + <p>"Our being engaged—and so on."</p> + + <p>She started towards him.</p> + + <p>"Dearest!" she protested, not in the least irritated or + querulous, but kindly, affectionately. "Without asking you + first? Didn't we agree we wouldn't say anything to anybody? But + we shall have to think about telling Agg."</p> + + <p>He met her and suddenly seized her. They kissed, and she + shut her eyes. He was ecstatically happy.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she murmured in his embrace. "I'm so glad I've got + you."</p> + + <p>And she opened her eyes and tears fell from them. She cried + quietly, without excitement and without shame. She cried with + absolute naturalness. Her tears filled him with profound + delight. And in the exquisite subterranean intimacy of the + kitchen, he saw with his eyes and felt with his arms how + beautiful she was. Her face, seen close, was incredibly soft + and touching. Her nose was the most wonderful nose ever + witnessed. He gloated upon her perfection. For, literally, to + him she was perfect. With what dignity and with what a sense of + justice she had behaved, in the studio, in the parlour, and + here. He was gloriously reassured as he realized how in their + joint future he would be able to rely upon her fairness, her + conscientiousness, her mere pleasantness which nothing could + disturb. Throughout the ordeal of the evening she had not once + been ruffled. She had not said an unkind word, nor given an + unkind gesture, nor exhibited the least trace of resentment. + Then, she had taste, and she was talented. But perhaps the + greatest quality of all was her adorable beauty and charm. And + yet no! The final attraction was that she trusted him, depended + on him, cried in his embrace.... He loosed her with reluctance, + and she +<!-- Page 58 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page053" name="page053">[pg 53]</a> + </span> + + deliciously wiped her eyes on his handkerchief, and he took her + again.</p> + + <p>"I suppose I must leave here too, now," he said.</p> + + <p>"Oh, George!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't! Why should you? I + don't want you to."</p> + + <p>"Don't you? Why?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't! Truly. You'll be just as well looked after as + if I was here. I do hope you'll stay."</p> + + <p>That settled it. And Manresa Road was not far off.</p> + + <p>She sat on the table and leaned against him a long time. + Then she said she must go upstairs to her room—she had so + much to do. He could not forbid, because she was irresistible. + She extinguished the kitchen-lamp, and, side by side, they + groped up the stairs to the first floor. The cat nonchalantly + passed them in the hall.</p> + + <p>"Put the lights out here, will you, when you go to bed?" she + whispered. He felt flattered.</p> + + <p>She offered her face.... The lovely thing slipped away + upstairs with unimaginable, ravishing grace. She vanished. + There was silence. After a moment George could hear the clock + ticking in the kitchen below. He stood motionless, amid the + dizzying memories of her glance, her gestures, the softness of + her body. What had happened to him was past belief. He + completely forgot the existence of the old man in love.</p> + +<!-- Page 59 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page054" name="page054">[pg 54]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + + <h3>THE LUNCHEON</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George, having had breakfast in bed, opened his door for the + second time that morning, and duly found on the mat the can of + hot water (covered with a bit of old blanket) and the can of + cold water which comprised the material for his bath. There was + no sound in the house. The new spouse might be upstairs or she + might be downstairs—he could not tell; but the cans + proved that she was immanent and regardful; indeed, she never + forgot anything. And George's second state at No. 8 was + physically even better than his first. In the transition + through autumn from summer to winter—a transition which, + according to the experience of tens of thousands of London + lodgers, is capable of turning comparative comfort into + absolute discomfort—Mrs. Haim had behaved with + benevolence and ingenuity. For example, the bedroom fire, laid + overnight, was now burning up well from the mere touch of the + lodger's own match. Such things are apt to count, and they + counted with George.</p> + + <p>As for Mr. Haim, George knew that he was still in bed, + because, since his marriage, Mr. Haim had made a practice of + staying in bed on Sunday mornings. The scheme was his wife's; + she regarded it as his duty to himself to exercise this grand + male privilege of staying in bed; to do so gave him majesty, + magnificence, and was a sign of authority. A copy of + <i>The Referee</i> + + , fresh as fruit new-dropped from the bough, lay in the hall at + the front door. Mr. Haim had read + <i>The Referee</i> + + since + <i>The Referee</i> + + was. He began his perusal with the feature known as "Mustard + and Cress," which not only amused him greatly, but convinced + him that his own ideas on affairs were really very sagacious. + His chief and most serious admiration, however was kept for + "Our Hand-Book." "It's my Bible," he had once remarked, " +<!-- Page 60 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page055" name="page055">[pg 55]</a> + </span> + + and I'm not ashamed to say it. And there are scores and scores + of men who'd say the same." Church bells could not be heard at + No. 8. + <i>The Referee</i> + + lying in the hall was the gracious sign of Sabbath morning. + Presently Mrs. Haim would carry it upstairs, respectfully. For + her it was simply and unanalysably + <i>The Referee</i> + + . She did not dream of looking into it. Mr. Haim did not expect + her to look into it. Her mission was to solace and to charm, + his alone to supply the intellectual basis upon which their + existence reposed. George's nose caught the ascending beautiful + odour of bacon; he picked up his cans and disappeared.</p> + + <p>When he was dressed, he brought forward the grindstone to + the fire, and conscientiously put his nose to it, without even + lighting a cigarette. It had been agreed between himself and + Marguerite that there should be no more cigarettes until after + lunch. It had also been agreed that he should put his nose to + the grindstone that Sunday morning, and that she should do the + same away in Manresa Road. George's grindstone happened to be + Miers and Crosskey's + <i>The Soil in Relation to Health</i> + + . He was preparing for his Final Examination. In addition to + the vast imperial subject of Design, the Final comprised four + other subjects—Construction, Hygiene, Properties and Uses + of Building Materials, and Ordinary Practice of Architecture. + George was now busy with one branch of the second of these + subjects. Perhaps he was not following precisely the order of + tactics prescribed by the most wily tacticians, for as usual he + had his own ideas and they were arbitrary; but he was veritably + and visibly engaged in the slow but exciting process of + becoming a great architect. And he knew and felt that he was. + And the disordered bed, and the untransparent bath-water, and + the soap-tin by the side of the bath, and the breakfast-tray on + a chair, were as much a part of the inspiring spectacle as + himself tense and especially dandiacal in the midst.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless appearances deceived. On a table were the + thirteen folio and quarto glorious illustrated volumes of + Ongania's + <i>Basilica di San Marco</i> + + , which Mr. Enwright had obtained for him on loan, and which + had come down to No. 8 in a big box by Carter Paterson van. And + while George sat quite still with his eyes and his volition + centred fiercely on Miers and Crosskey, his brain would keep + making excursions across the room to the Church of St. Mark at + Venice. He brought it back again and again with a jerk +<!-- Page 61 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page056" name="page056">[pg 56]</a> + </span> + + but he could not retain it in place. The minutes passed; the + quarters passed, until an hour and a half had gone. Then he + closed Miers and Crosskey. He had sworn to study Miers and + Crosskey for an hour and a half. He had fought hard to do so, + and nobody could say that he had not done so. He was aware, + however, that the fight had not been wholly successful; he had + not won it; on the other hand neither had he lost it. Honour + was saved, and he could still sincerely assert that in regard + to the Final Examination he had got time fiercely by the + forelock. He rose and strolled over to the + <i>Basilica di San Marco</i> + + , and opened one or two of those formidable and enchanting + volumes. Then he produced a cigarette, and struck a match, and + he was about to light the cigarette, when squinting down at it + he suddenly wondered: "Now how the deuce did that cigarette + come into my mouth?" He replaced the cigarette in his case, and + in a moment he had left the house.</p> + + <p>He was invited to Mrs. John Orgreave's new abode at Bedford + Park for lunch. In the early part of the year, Mrs. John had + inherited money—again, and the result had been an + increase in the spaciousness of her existence. George had not + expected to see the new house, for he had determined to have + nothing more to do with Mrs. John. He was, it is to be feared, + rather touchy. He and Mrs. John had not openly quarrelled, but + in their hearts they had quarrelled. George had for some time + objected to her attitude towards him as a boarder. She would + hint that, as she assuredly had no need of boarders, she was + conferring a favour on him by boarding him. It was of course + true, but George considered that her references to the fact + were offensive. He did not understand and make allowances for + Adela. Moreover, he thought that a woman who had been through + the Divorce Court ought to be modest in demeanour towards + people who had not been through the Divorce Court. Further, + Adela resented his frequent lateness for meals. And she had + said, with an uncompromising glance: "I hope you'll turn over a + new leaf when we get into the new house." And he had replied, + with an uncompromising glance: "Perhaps + <i>I</i> + + shan't get into the new house." Nothing else. But that ended + it. After that both felt that mutual detestation had set in. + John Orgreave was not implicated in the discreet rupture. + Possibly he knew of it; possibly he didn't; he was not one to + look for trouble, and he accepted the theory that it was part + of George's vital scheme to inhabit Chelsea. And then +<!-- Page 62 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page057" name="page057">[pg 57]</a> + </span> + + Adela, all fluffiness and winsomeness, had called, in the + previous week, at Russell Square and behaved like a woman whose + sole aim in life is to please and cosset men of genius. "I + shall be dreadfully hurt if you don't come to one of my Sunday + lunches, George!" she had said. And also: "We + <i>miss</i> + + you, you know," and had put her head on one side.</p> + + <p>Marguerite had thoroughly approved his acceptance of the + invitation. She thought that he 'ought' to accept. He had + promised, as she had an urgent design to do, not to arrive at + the studio before 8 p.m., and he had received a note from her + that morning to insist on the hour.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The roads were covered with a very even, very thin coating + of mud; it was as though a corps of highly skilled + house-painters had laid on the mud, and just vanished. The + pavements had a kind of yellowish-brown varnish. Each of the + few trees that could be seen—and there were a + few—carried about six surviving leaves. The sky was of a + blue-black with golden rents and gleams that travelled steadily + eastwards. Except the man with newspapers at the corner of + Alexandra Grove, scarcely a sign of life showed along the + vistas of Fulham Road; but the clock over the jeweller's was + alive and bearing the usual false witness. From the upper open + galleries of the Workhouse one or two old men and old women in + uniform looked down indifferently upon the free world which + they had left for ever. Then an omnibus appeared faintly + advancing from the beautiful grey distance of the straight and + endless street. George crossed the road on his way towards + Redcliffe Gardens and Earl's Court. He was very smart, indeed + smarter than ever, having produced in himself quite naturally + and easily a fair imitation of the elegant figures which, upon + his visits to the restaurant-building in Piccadilly, he had + observed airing themselves round about Bond Street. His hair + was smooth like polished marble; his hat and stick were at the + right angle; his overcoat was new, and it indicated the + locality of his waist; the spots of colour in his attire + complied with the operative decrees. His young face had in it + nothing that obviously separated him from the average youth of + his clothes. Nobody would have said of him, at a glance, that + he might be a particularly serious individual. And most people + would have +<!-- Page 63 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page058" name="page058">[pg 58]</a> + </span> + + at once classed him as a callow pleasure-seeking person in the + act of seeking pleasure.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless he was at that moment particularly serious, and + his seriousness was growing. His secret engagement had affected + him, in part directly, and in part by the intensification of + ambitious endeavour which had resulted from contact with that + fount of seriousness, Marguerite. Although still entirely + dependent—even to cigarette money—upon the + benevolence of a couple of old individuals a hundred and fifty + miles off, he reckoned that he was advancing in the world. The + Intermediate Examination was past, and already he felt that he + had come to grips with the Final and would emerge victorious. + He felt too that his general knowledge and the force and + variety of his ideas were increasing. At times, when he and + Marguerite talked, he was convinced that both of them had + achieved absolute knowledge, and that their criticisms of the + world were and would always be unanswerable. After the Final, + he hoped, his uncle would buy him a share in the Lucas & + Enwright practice. In due season, his engagement would be + revealed, and all would be immensely impressed by his + self-restraint and his good taste, and the marriage would + occur, and he would be a London architect, an established + man—at the mature age of, say, twenty-two.</p> + + <p>No cloud would have obscured the inward radiance caused by + the lovely image of Marguerite and by his confidence in + himself, had it not been for those criticisms of the world. He + had moods of being rather gravely concerned as to the world, + and as to London. He was recovering from the first great attack + of London. He saw faults in London. He was capable of being + disturbed by, for example, the ugliness and the inefficiency of + London. He even thought that something ought to be done about + it. Upon this Sunday morning, fresh from visions of Venice, and + rendered a little complacent by the grim execution of the + morning's programme of work, he was positively pained by the + aspect of Redcliffe Gardens. The Redcliffe Arms public-house, + locked and dead, which was the daily paradise of hundreds of + human beings, and had given balm and illusion to whole + generations, seemed simply horrible to him in its Sunday + morning coma. The large and stuffy unsightliness of it could + not be borne. (However, the glimpse of a barmaid at an upper + window interested him pleasantly for a moment.) And the + Redcliffe Arms was the true gate to the stucco and areas of + Redcliffe Gardens. He +<!-- Page 64 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page059" name="page059">[pg 59]</a> + </span> + + looked down into the areas and saw therein the furtive + existence of squalor behind barred windows. All the obscene + apparatus of London life was there. And as he raised his eyes + to the drawing-room and bedroom stories he found no relief. His + eyes could discover nothing that was not mean, ugly, frowzy, + and unimaginative. He pictured the heavy, gloomy, lethargic + life within. The slatternly servants pottering about the bases + of the sooty buildings sickened and saddened him. A solitary + Earl's Court omnibus that lumbered past with its sinister, + sparse cargo seemed to be a spectacle absolutely + tragic—he did not know why. The few wayfarers were + obviously prim and smug. No joy, no elegance, anywhere! Only, + at intervals, a feeling that mysterious and repulsive wealth + was hiding itself like an ogre in the eternal twilight of + fastnesses beyond the stuccoed walls and the grimy curtains.... + The city worked six days in order to be precisely this on the + seventh. Truly it was very similar to the Five Towns, and in + essentials not a bit better.—A sociological discovery + which startled him! He wanted to destroy Redcliffe Gardens, and + to design it afresh and rebuild it under the inspiration of St. + Mark's and of the principles of hygiene as taught for the Final + Examination. He had grandiose ideas for a new design. As for + Redcliffe Square, he could do marvels with its spaces.</p> + + <p>He arrived too soon at Earl's Court Station, having + forgotten that the Underground Railway had a treaty with the + Church of England and all the Nonconformist churches not to run + trains while the city, represented by possibly two per cent of + its numbers, was at divine worship. He walked to and fro along + the platforms in the vast echoing cavern peopled with wandering + lost souls, and at last a train came in from the void, and it + had the air of a miracle, because nobody had believed that any + train ever would come in. And at last the Turnham Green train + came in, and George got into a smoking compartment, and Mr. + Enwright was in the compartment.</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright also was going to the Orgreave luncheon. He was + in what the office called 'one of his moods.' The other + occupants of the compartment had a stiff and self-conscious + air: some apparently were proud of being abroad on Sunday + morning; some apparently were ashamed. Mr. Enwright's demeanour + was as free and natural as that of a child. His lined and drawn + face showed worry and self-absorption in the frankest manner. + He began at once to explain how badly +<!-- Page 65 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page060" name="page060">[pg 60]</a> + </span> + + he had slept; indeed he asserted that he had not slept at all; + and he complained with extreme acerbity of the renewal of his + catarrh. 'Constant secretion. Constant secretion,' was the + phrase he used to describe the chief symptom. Then by a forced + transition he turned to the profession of architecture, and + restated his celebrated theory that it was the Cinderella of + professions. The firm had quite recently obtained a very + important job in a manufacturing quarter of London, without + having to compete for it; but Mr. Enwright's great leading + ideas never fluctuated with the fluctuation of facts. If the + multiplicity of his lucrative jobs had been such as to compel + him to run round from one to another on a piebald pony in the + style of Sir Hugh Corver, his view of the profession would not + have altered. He spoke with terrible sarcasm apropos of a + rumour current in architectural circles that a provincial city + intended soon to invite competitive designs for a building of + really enormous proportions, and took oath that in no case + should his firm, enter for the competition. In short, his + condition was markedly pessimistic.</p> + + <p>George loved him, and was bound to humour him; and in order + to respond sympathetically to Enwright's pessimism he attempted + to describe his sensations concerning the London Sunday, and in + particular the Sunday morning aspect of Earl's Court streets. + He animadverted with virulence, and brought forward his new + startling discovery that London was in truth as provincial as + the provinces.</p> + + <p>"Well, I don't think it is," said Enwright, instantly + becoming a judicial truth-seeker.</p> + + <p>"Why don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Simply because it's bigger—so much bigger. That's the + principal difference, and you'll never get over it. You must + appreciate size. An elephant is a noble animal, but it wouldn't + be if it was only as big as a fly. London's an elephant, and + forget it not."</p> + + <p>"It's frightfully ugly, most of it, anyhow, and especially + on Sunday morning," George persisted.</p> + + <p>"Is it? I wonder whether it is, now. The architecture's + ugly. But what's architecture? Architecture isn't everything. + If you can go up and down London and see nothing but + architecture, you'll never be an A1 architect." He spoke in a + low, kindly, and reasonable tone. "I like London on Sunday + mornings. In fact it's marvellous. You say it's untidy and all + that ... slatternly, and so on. Well, so it ought to be when it + gets up late. Jolly bad sign if it +<!-- Page 66 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page061" name="page061">[pg 61]</a> + </span> + + wasn't. And that's part of it! Why, dash it, look at a bedroom + when you trail about, getting up! Look how you leave it! The + existence of a big city while it's waking up—lethargy + business—a sort of shamelessness—it's like a great + animal! I think it's marvellous, and I always have thought + so."</p> + + <p>George would not openly agree, but his mind was illuminated + with a new light, and in his mind he agreed, very + admiringly.</p> + + <p>The train stopped; people got out; and the two were alone in + the compartment.</p> + + <p>"I thought all was over between you and Adela," said Mr. + Enwright, confidentially and quizzically.</p> + + <p>George blushed a little. "Oh no!"</p> + + <p>"I don't know what I'm going to her lunch for, I'm sure. I + suppose I have to go."</p> + + <p>"I have, too," said George.</p> + + <p>"Well, she won't do you any good, you know. I was glad when + you left there."</p> + + <p>George looked worldly. "Rum sort, isn't she?"</p> + + <p>I'll tell you what she is, now. You remember + <i>Aida</i> + + at the Paris Opéra. The procession in the second act where + you lost your head and said it was the finest music ever + written. And those girls in white, waving palms in front of the + hero—What's-his-name. There are some women who are born + to do that and nothing else. Thin lips. Fixed idiotic smile. + They don't think a bit about what they're doing. They're + thinking about themselves all the time. They simply don't care + a damn about the hero, or about the audience, or anything, and + they scarcely pretend to. Arrogance isn't the word. It's + something more terrific—it's stupendous! Mrs. John's like + that. I thought of it as I was coming along here."</p> + + <p>"Is she?" said George negligently. "Perhaps she is. I never + thought of her like that."</p> + + <p>Turnham Green Station was announced.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Despite the fresh pinky horrors of its external + architecture, and despite his own desire and firm intention to + the contrary, George was very deeply impressed by the new + Orgreave home. It was far larger than the previous house. The + entrance was spacious, and the drawing-room, with a great fire + at either +<!-- Page 67 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page062" name="page062">[pg 62]</a> + </span> + + end, immense. He had never been in an interior so splendid. He + tried to be off-hand in his attitude towards it, but did not + fully succeed. The taste shown in the decoration and furniture + was almost unexceptionable. White walls—Heppel-white; + chintz—black, crackling chintz strewn with tens of + thousands of giant roses. On the walls were a few + lithographs—John's contribution to the general effect. + John having of late years begun to take himself seriously as a + collector of lithographs.</p> + + <p>One-third of the room was divided from the rest by an arched + and fretted screen of red lacquer, and within this open cage + stood Mrs. John, surveying winsomely the expanse of little + tables, little chairs, big chairs, huge chairs, sofas, rugs, + flower-vases, and knick-knacks. She had an advantage over most + blondes nearing the forties in that she had not stoutened. She + was in fact thin as well as short; but her face was too thin. + Still, it dimpled, and she held her head knowingly on one side, + and her bright hair was wonderfully done up. Dressed richly as + she was, and assisted by the rejuvenating magic of jewels, she + produced, in the shadow of the screen, a notable effect of + youthful vivacity, which only the insult of close inspection + could destroy. With sinuous gestures she waved Mr. Enwright's + metaphorical palm before the approaching George. Her smile + flattered him; her frail, dinging hand flattered him. He had + known her in her harsh morning moods; he had seen that + persuasive, manufactured mask vanish for whole minutes, to + reveal a petty egotism, giving way, regardless of appearances, + to rage; he clearly observed now the hard, preoccupied eyes. + Nevertheless, the charm which she exercised was undeniable. Her + husband was permanently under its spell. There he stood, near + her, big, coarsening, good-natured, content, proud of her. He + mixed a cocktail and he threw a match into the fire, in exactly + the old Five Towns manner, which he would never lose. But as + for her, she had thrown off all trace of the Five Towns; she + had learnt London, deliberately, thoroughly. And even George, + with the unmerciful, ruthless judgment of his years, was + obliged to admit that she possessed a genuine pertinacity and + had marvellously accomplished an ambition. She had held John + Orgreave for considerably over a decade; she had had the + tremendous courage to Leave the heavy provincial manufacturer, + her first husband; she had passed through the Divorce Court as + a respondent without blenching; she had slowly darned her + reputation with such skill that you +<!-- Page 68 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page063" name="page063">[pg 63]</a> + </span> + + could scarcely put your finger on the place where the hole had + been; and lo! she was reigning in Bedford Park and had all she + wanted—except youth. Nor did she in the least show the + resigned, disillusioned air of women who have but recently lost + their youth. She bore herself just as though she still had no + fear of strong lights, and as though she was still the + dazzling, dashing blonde of whom John in his earliest twenties + used to say, with ingenuous enthusiasm, that she was + 'ripping'—the ripping Mrs. Chris Hamson. An epical + creature!</p> + + <p>This domestic organism created by Mrs. John inspired George, + and instantly he was rapt away in dreams of his own future. He + said to himself again, and more forcibly, that he had a natural + taste for luxury and expensiveness, and that he would have the + one and practise the other. He invented gorgeous interiors + which would be his and in which he would be paramount and at + ease. He positively yearned for them. He was impatient to get + back home and resume the long labours that would lead him to + them. Every grand adjunct of life must be his, and he could not + wait. Absurd to apprehend that Marguerite would not rise to his + dreams! Of course she would! She would fit herself perfectly + into them, completing them. She would understand all the + artistic aspects of them, because she was an artist; and in + addition she would be mistress, wife, hostess, commanding + impeccable servants, receiving friends with beauty and + unsurpassable sweet dignity, wearing costly frocks and jewels + as though she had never worn anything else. She had the calm + power, she had the individuality, to fulfil all his desires for + her. She would be the authentic queen of which Mrs. John was + merely the imitation. He wanted intensely to talk to her about + the future.... And then he had the seductive idea of making + presentable his bed-sitting-room at Mr. Haim's. He saw the room + instantaneously transformed; he at once invented each necessary + dodge for absolutely hiding during the day the inconvenient + fact that it had to serve as a bedroom at night; he refurnished + it; he found the money to refurnish it. And just as he was + impatient to get back home in order to work, so he was + impatient to get back home in order to transform his chamber + into the ideal. Delay irked him painfully. And yet he was + extremely happy in the excitement of the dreams that ached to + be fulfilled.</p> + + <p>"Now, Mr. Enwright," said Mrs. John in an accent to draw + honey out of a boulder. "You haven't told me what you think of + it."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 69 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page064" name="page064">[pg 64]</a> + </span> + + Enwright was wandering about by himself.</p> + + <p>"He's coming on with his lithographs," he replied, as if + after a decision. "One or two of these are rather + interesting."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't mean the lithographs. You know those are all + Jack's affairs. I mean—well, the room. Now do pay me a + compliment."</p> + + <p>The other guests listened.</p> + + <p>Enwright gave a little self-conscious smile, characteristic + of him in these dilemmas, half kind and half malicious.</p> + + <p>"You must have taken a great deal of trouble over it," he + said, with bright amiability; and then relapsing from the + effort: "it's all very nice and harmless."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Mr. Enwright! Is that all?" She pouted, though still + waving the palm. "And you so fond of the eighteenth century, + too!"</p> + + <p>"But I heard a rumour at the beginning of this year that + we're living in the twentieth," said Enwright.</p> + + <p>"And I thought I should please you!" sighed Adela. "What + <i>ought</i> + + I to have done?"</p> + + <p>"Well, you might have asked me to design you some furniture. + Nobody ever has asked me yet." He rubbed his eyeglasses and + blinked.</p> + + <p>"Oh! You geniuses.... Janet darling!"</p> + + <p>Mrs. John moved forward to meet Miss Orgreave, John's + appreciably elder sister, spinster, who lived with another + brother, Charles, a doctor at Ealing. Janet was a prim + emaciated creature, very straight and dignified, whose glance + always seemed to hesitate between benevolence and + fastidiousness. Janet and Charles had consented to forget the + episode of the Divorce Court. Marion, however, the eldest + Orgreave sister, mother of a family of daughters, had never + received the divorcee. On the other hand the divorcee, obeying + her own code, had obstinately ignored the wife of Jim Orgreave, + a younger brother, who, according to the universal opinion, had + married disgracefully.</p> + + <p>When the sisters-in-law had embraced, with that unconvincing + fulsomeness which is apt to result from a charitable act of + oblivion, Janet turned lovingly to George and asked after his + mother. She was his mother's most intimate friend. In the past + he had called her Auntie, and was accustomed to kiss her and be + kissed. Indeed he feared that she might want to kiss him now, + but he was spared. As with negligence of tone he answered her + fond inquiries, he was busy reconstructing quite anew his + scheme for the bed-sitting +<!-- Page 70 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page065" name="page065">[pg 65]</a> + </span> + + room—for it had actually been an eighteenth-century + scheme, and inspired by the notions of Mrs. John!</p> + + <p>At the lunch-table George found that the party consisted of + ten persons, of whom one, seated next to himself, was a + youngish, somewhat plump woman who had arrived at the last + moment. He had not been introduced to her, nor to the four + other strangers, for it had lately reached Bedford Park that + introductions were no longer the correct prelude to a meal. A + hostess who wished to be modern should throw her guests in + ignorance together and leave them to acquire knowledge by their + own initiative. This device added to the piquancy of a + gathering. Moreover, there was always a theory that each + individual was well known, and that therefore to introduce was + subtly to insult. On Mrs. John's right was a beautifully + braided gentleman of forty or so, in brown, with brown necktie + and hair to match, and the hair was so perfect and ended so + abruptly that George at first took it for a wig; but soon + afterwards he decided that he had been unkind. Mr. Enwright was + opposite to this brown gentleman.</p> + + <p>Mrs. John began by hoping that the brown gentleman had been + to church.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied, with gentle regret in + his voice.</p> + + <p>And in the course of the conversation he was frequently + afraid. Nevertheless his attitude was by no means a fearful + attitude; on the contrary it was very confident. He would grasp + the edge of the table with his hands, and narrate at length, + smiling amiably, and looking from side to side regularly like a + public speaker. He narrated in detail the difficulties which he + had in obtaining the right sort of cutlets rightly cooked at + his club, and added: "But of course there's only one club in + London that would be satisfactory in all this—shall I + say?—finesse, and I'm afraid I don't belong to it."</p> + + <p>"What club's that?" John Orgreave sent the inquiry down the + table.</p> + + <p>"The Orleans."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, the Orleans! I suppose that + <i>is</i> + + the best."</p> + + <p>And everybody seemed glad and proud that everybody had known + of the culinary supremacy of the Orleans.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid you'll all think I'm horribly greedy," said the + brown gentleman apologetically. And then at once, having + noticed that Mr. Enwright was gazing up at the great sham oak + rafters that were glued on to the white ceiling, he started + upon this new architectural picturesqueness which +<!-- Page 71 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page066" name="page066">[pg 66]</a> + </span> + + was to London and the beginning of the twentieth century what + the enamelled milking-stool had been to the provinces and the + end of the nineteenth century—namely, a reminder that + even in an industrial age romance should still survive in the + hearts of men. The brown gentleman remarked that with due + deference to 'you professional gentlemen,' he was afraid he + liked the sham rafters, because they reminded him of the good + old times and all that sort of thing.</p> + + <p>He was not only a conscientious conversationalist, but he + originated talk in others, and listened to them with his best + attention. And he invariably stepped into gaps with + praise-worthy tact and skill. Thus the chat meandered easily + from subject to subject—the Automobile Club's tour from + London to Southsea, the latest hotel, Richter, the war (which + the brown gentleman treated with tired respect, as some + venerable survival that had forgotten to die), the abnormally + early fogs, and the abnormally violent and destructive gales. + An argument arose as to whether these startling weather + phenomena were or were not a hint to mankind from some + undefined Higher Power that a new century had in truth begun + and that mankind had better mind what it was about. Mrs. John + favoured the notion, and so did Miss Orgreave, whereas John + Orgreave coarsely laughed at it. The brown gentleman held the + scales admirably; he was chivalrously sympathetic to the two + ladies, and yet he respected John's materialism. He did, + however, venture to point out the contradictions in the + character of 'our host,' who was really very responsive to + music and art, but who seemed curiously to ignore certain other + influences—etc. etc.</p> + + <p>"How true that is!" murmured Mrs. John.</p> + + <p>The brown gentleman modestly enjoyed his triumph. With only + three people had he failed—Mr. Enwright, George, and the + youngish woman next to George.</p> + + <p>"And how's Paris, Miss Ingram?" he pointedly asked the + last.</p> + + <p>George was surprised. He had certainly taken her for a + married woman, and one of his generalizations about life was + that he did not like young married women; hence he had not + liked her. He now regarded her with fresh interest. She blushed + a little, and looked very young indeed.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Paris is all right!" she answered shortly.</p> + + <p>The brown gentleman after a long, musing smile, discreetly + abandoned the opening; but George, inquiring in a low voice if + she lived in Paris, began a private talk with Miss Ingram, +<!-- Page 72 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page067" name="page067">[pg 67]</a> + </span> + + who did live in Paris. He had his doubts about her entire + agreeableness, but at any rate they got on to a natural, + brusque footing, which contrasted with the somewhat ceremonious + manner of the general conversation. She exceeded George in + brusqueness, and tended to patronize him as a youngster. He + noticed that she had yellow eyes.</p> + + <p>"What do you think of his wig?" she demanded in an + astonishing whisper, when the meal was over and chairs were + being vacated.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Is</i> + + it a wig?" George exclaimed ingenuously.</p> + + <p>"Oh, you boys!" she protested, with superiority. "Of course + it's a wig."</p> + + <p>"But how do you know it's a wig?" George insisted + stoutly.</p> + + <p>"'Is it a wig!'" she scorned him.</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm not up in wigs," said George. "Who is he, + anyhow?"</p> + + <p>"I forget his name. I've only met him once, here at tea. I + think he's a tea-merchant. He seemed to remember me all + right."</p> + + <p>"A tea-merchant! I wonder why Mrs. John put him on her + right, then, and Mr. Enwright on her left." George resented the + precedence.</p> + + <p>"Is Mr. Enwright really very great, then?"</p> + + <p>"Great! You bet he is.... I was in Paris with him in the + summer. Whereabouts do you live in Paris?"</p> + + <p>She improved, especially at the point where she said that + Mr. Enwright's face was one of the most wonderful faces that + she had ever seen. Evidently she knew Paris as well as George + knew London. Apparently she had always lived there. But their + interchanges concerning Paris, on a sofa in the drawing-room, + were stopped by a general departure. Mr. Enwright began it. The + tea-merchant instantly supported the movement. Miss Ingram + herself rose. The affair was at an end. Nothing interesting had + been said in the general talk, and little that was sincere. No + topic had been explored, no argument taken to a finish. No wit + worth mentioning had glinted. But everybody had behaved very + well, and had demonstrated that he or she was familiar with the + usages of society and with aspects of existence with which it + was proper to be familiar. And everybody—even Mr. + Enwright—thanked Mrs. John most heartily for her quite + delightful luncheon; Mrs. John insisted warmly on her own + pleasure and her appreciation of her guests' extreme good +<!-- Page 73 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page068" name="page068">[pg 68]</a> + </span> + + nature in troubling to come, and she was beyond question + joyously triumphant. And George, relieved, thought, as he tried + to rival the rest in gratitude to Mrs. John:</p> + + <p>"What was it all about? What did they all come for? + <i>I</i> + + came because she made me. But why did the others come?"</p> + + <p>The lunch had passed like a mild nightmare, and he felt as + though, with the inconsequence of dream-people, these people + had gone away without having accomplished some essential act + which had been the object of their gathering.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When George came out of the front door, he beheld Miss + Ingram on the kerb, in the act of getting into a very rich fur + coat. A chauffeur, in a very rich livery, was deferentially + helping her. Behind them stretched a long, open motor-car. This + car, existing as it did at a time when the public acutely felt + that automobiles splashed respectable foot-farers with arrogant + mud and rendered unbearable the lives of the humble in village + streets, was of the immodest kind described, abusively, as + 'powerful and luxurious.' The car of course drew attention, + because it had yet occurred to but few of anybody's friends + that they might themselves possess even a modest car, much less + an immodest one. George had not hitherto personally known a + single motor-car owner.</p> + + <p>But what struck him even more than the car was the fur coat, + and the haughty and fastidious manner in which Miss Ingram + accepted it from the chauffeur, and the disdainful, accustomed + way in which she wore it—as though it were a cheap + rag—when once it was on her back. In her gestures he + glimpsed a new world. He had been secretly scorning the affairs + of the luncheon and all that it implied, and he had been + secretly scorning himself for his pitiful lack of brilliancy at + the luncheon. These two somewhat contradictory sentiments were + suddenly shrivelled in the fire of his ambition which had + flared up anew at contact with a spark. And the spark was the + sight of the girl's costly fur coat. He must have a costly fur + coat, and a girl in it, and the girl must treat the fur coat + like a cheap rag. Otherwise he would die a disappointed + man.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" called Miss Ingram.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" +<!-- Page 74 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page069" name="page069">[pg 69]</a> + </span> + + She had climbed into the car, and turned her head to look at + him. He saw that she was younger even than he had thought. She + seemed quite mature when she was still, but when she moved she + had the lithe motions of immaturity. As a boy, he now + infallibly recognized a girl.</p> + + <p>"Which way are you going?"</p> + + <p>"Well—Chelsea more or less."</p> + + <p>"I'll give you a lift."</p> + + <p>He ought to have said: "Are you sure I shan't be taking you + out of your way?" But he said merely: "Oh! Thanks awfully!"</p> + + <p>The chauffeur held the door for him, and then arranged a fur + rug over the knees of the boy and the girl. To be in the car + gave George intense pleasure, especially when the contrivance + thrilled into life and began to travel. He was thankful that + his clothes were as smart as they ought to be. She could not + think ill of his clothes—no matter who her friends + were.</p> + + <p>"This is a great car," he said. "Had it long?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! It's not mine," answered Miss Ingram. "It's Miss + Wheeler's."</p> + + <p>"Who's Miss Wheeler, if I may ask?"</p> + + <p>"Miss Wheeler! She's a friend of mine. She lives in Paris. + But she has a flat in London too. I came over with her. We + brought the car with us. She was to have come to the + Orgreaves's to-day, but she had a headache. So I took the + car—and her furs as well. They fit me, you see.... I say, + what's your Christian name? I hate surnames, don't you?"</p> + + <p>"George. What's yours?"</p> + + <p>"Mine's Lois."</p> + + <p>"What? How do you spell it?"</p> + + <p>She spelt it, adding 'Of course.' He thought it was somehow + a very romantic name. He decidedly liked the name. He was by no + means sure, however, that he liked the girl. He liked her + appearance, though she was freckled; she was unquestionably + stylish; she had ascendancy; she imposed herself; she sat as + though the world was the instrument of her individuality. + Nevertheless he doubted if she was kind, and he knew that she + was patronizing. Further, she was not a conversationalist. At + the luncheon she had not been at ease; but here in the car she + was at ease absolutely, yet she remained taciturn.</p> + + <p>"D'you drive?" he inquired.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 75 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page070" name="page070">[pg 70]</a> + </span> + + Yes," she said. "Look here, would you like to sit in front? And + I'll drive."</p> + + <p>"Good!" he agreed vigorously. But he had a qualm about the + safety of being driven by a girl.</p> + + <p>She abruptly stopped the car, and the chauffeur swerved to + the pavement.</p> + + <p>"I'm going to drive, Cuthbert," she said.</p> + + <p>"Yes, miss," said the chauffeur willingly. "It's a bit + side-slippy, miss."</p> + + <p>She gave no answer to this remark, but got out of the car + with a preoccupied, frowning air, as if she was being obliged + to take a responsible post, which she could fill better than + anybody else, rather against her inclination. A few persons + paused to watch. She carefully ignored them; so did George.</p> + + <p>As soon as she had seized the wheel, released the brake and + started the car, she began to talk, looking negligently about + her. George thought: "She's only showing off." Still, the car + travelled beautifully, and there was a curious illusion that + she must have the credit for that. She explained the function + of handles, pedals, and switches, and George deemed it proper + to indicate that he was not without some elementary knowledge + of the subject. He leaned far back, as Lois leaned, and as the + chauffeur had leaned, enjoying the brass fittings, the + indicators, and all the signs of high mechanical + elaboration.</p> + + <p>He noticed that Lois sounded her horn constantly, and often + upon no visible provocation. But once as she approached + cross-roads at unslackened speed, she seemed to forget to sound + it and then sounded it too late. Nothing untoward happened; + Sunday traffic was thin, and she sailed through the danger-zone + with grand intrepidity.</p> + + <p>"I say, George," she remarked, looking now straight in front + of her. ("She's a bit of a caution," he reflected happily.) + "Have you got anything special on this afternoon?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing what you may call deadly special," he answered. He + wanted to call her 'Lois,' but his volition failed at the + critical moment.</p> + + <p>"Well, then, won't you come and have tea with Miss Wheeler + and me? There'll only be just a few people, and you must be + introduced to Miss Wheeler."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't think I'd better." He was timid.</p> + + <p>"Why not?" She pouted.</p> + + <p>"All right, then. Thanks. I should like to."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 76 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page071" name="page071">[pg 71]</a> + </span> + + By the way, what's your surname?"</p> + + <p>("She + <i>is</i> + + a caution," he reflected.)</p> + + <p>"I wasn't quite sure," she said, when he had told her.</p> + + <p>He was rather taken aback, but he reassured himself. No + doubt girls of her environment did behave as she behaved. After + all, why not?</p> + + <p>They entered Hammersmith. It was a grand and inspiring + sensation to swing through Hammersmith thus aristocratically + repudiating the dowdy Sunday crowd that stared in ingenuous + curiosity. And there was a wonderful quality in the spectacle + of the great, formidable car being actuated and controlled by + the little gloved hands and delicately shod feet of this frail, + pampered, wilful girl.</p> + + <p>In overtaking a cab that kept nearly to the middle of the + road, Lois hesitated in direction, appeared to defy the rule, + and then corrected her impulse.</p> + + <p>"It's rather confusing," she observed, with a laugh. "You + see, in France you keep to the right and overtake things on + their left."</p> + + <p>"Yes. But this is London," said George dryly.</p> + + <p>Half a minute later, just beyond the node of Hammersmith, + where bright hats and frocks were set off against the + dark-shuttered fronts of shops, Lois at quite a good speed + inserted the car between a tramcar and an omnibus, meeting the + tram and overtaking the omnibus. The tram went by like thunder, + all its glass and iron rattling and shaking; the noise + deafened, and the wind blew hard like a squall. There appeared + to be scarcely an inch of space on either side of the car. + George's heart stopped. For one horrible second he expected a + tremendous smash. The car emerged safe. He saw the + omnibus-driver gazing down at them with reproof. After the roar + of the tram died he heard the trotting of the omnibus horses + and Lois's nervous giggle. She tried, and did not fail, to be + jaunty; but she had had a shock, and the proof was that by mere + inadvertence she nearly charged the posts of the next + street-refuge.... George switched off the current. She herself + had shown him how to do it. She now saw him do it. The engine + stopped, and Lois, remembering in a flash that her dignity was + at stake, raised her hand and drew up fairly neatly at the + pavement.</p> + + <p>"What's the matter?" she demanded imperiously.</p> + + <p>"Are you going to drive this thing all the way into London, + Lois?" he demanded in turn.</p> + + <p>They looked at each other. The chauffeur got down. " +<!-- Page 77 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page072" name="page072">[pg 72]</a> + </span> + + Of course."</p> + + <p>"Not with me in it, anyhow!"</p> + + <p>She sneered. "Oh! You boys! You've got no pluck."</p> + + <p>"Perhaps not," he returned viciously. "Neither have you got + any sense of danger. Girls like you never have. I've noticed + that before." Even his mother with horses had no sense of + danger.</p> + + <p>"You're very rude," she replied. "And it was very rude of + you to stop the car."</p> + + <p>"I dare say. But you shouldn't have told me you could + drive."</p> + + <p>He was now angry. And she not less so. He descended, and + slammed the door.</p> + + <p>"Thanks so much," he said, raised his hat, and walked away. + She spoke, but he did not catch what she said. He was saying to + himself: "Pluck indeed!" (He did not like her accusation.) + "Pluck indeed! Of all the damned cheek!... We might all have + been killed—or worse. The least she could have done was + to apologize. But no! Pluck indeed! Women oughtn't to be + allowed to drive. It's too infernally silly for words."</p> + + <p>He glanced backward. The chauffeur had started the car + again, and was getting in by Lois's side. Doubtless he was a + fatalist by profession. She drove off.</p> + + <p>"Yes!" thought George. "And you'd drive home yourself now + even if you knew for certain you'd have an accident. You're + just that stupid kind."</p> + + <p>The car looked superb as it drew away, and she reclined in + the driver's seat with a superb effrontery. George was envious; + he was pierced by envy. He hated that other people, and + especially girls, should command luxuries which he could not + possess. He hated that violently. "You wait!" he said to + himself. "You wait! I'll have as good a car as that, and a + finer girl than you in it. And she won't want to drive either. + You wait." He was more excited than he knew by the episode.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_V'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 78 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page073" name="page073">[pg 73]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + + <h3>THE TEA</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>"Tea is ready, Mr. Cannon," said Mr. Haim in his most + courteous style, coming softly into George's room. And George + looked up at the old man's wrinkled face, and down at his + crimson slippers, with the benevolent air of a bookworm + permitting himself to be drawn away from an ideal world into + the actual. Glasses on the end of George's nose would have set + off the tableau, but George had outgrown the spectacles which + had disfigured his boyhood. As a fact, since his return that + afternoon from Mrs. John's, he had, to the detriment of modesty + and the fostering of conceit, accomplished some further study + for the Final, although most of the time had been spent in + dreaming of women and luxury.</p> + + <p>"All right," said he. "I'll come."</p> + + <p>"I don't think that lamp's been very well trimmed to-day," + said Mr. Haim apologetically, sniffing.</p> + + <p>"Does it smell?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I do notice a slight odour."</p> + + <p>"I'll open the window," said George heartily. He rose, + pulled the curtains, and opened the front French window with a + large gesture. The wild, raw, damp air of Sunday night rushed + in from the nocturnal Grove, and instantly extinguished the + lamp.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Haim, rather nervously.</p> + + <p>"Saved me the trouble," said George.</p> + + <p>As he emerged after Mr. Haim from the dark room, he was + thinking that it was ridiculous not to have electricity, and + that he must try to come to some arrangement with Mr. Haim for + the installation of electricity. Fancy oil-lamps in the middle + of London in the twentieth century! Shocks were waiting in + George's mind for Mr. Haim. He intended, if he could, to get + the room on the first floor, empty since the +<!-- Page 79 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page074" name="page074">[pg 74]</a> + </span> + + departure of Marguerite, and to use it for a bedroom, while + keeping the ground-floor room exclusively for work and society. + His project would involve shocks also for Mr. Edwin Clayhanger + in the Five Towns, who would be called upon to pay; but George + had an airy confidence in the ability of his stepfather to meet + such shocks in a satisfactory manner.</p> + + <p>To George's surprise, Mr. Alfred Prince was in the + sitting-room. Shabby and creased as usual, he looked far more + like a clerk in some establishment where clerks were not + morally compelled to imitate dandies than like an etcher of + European renown. But, also as usual, he was quietly at ease and + conversational; and George at once divined that he had been + invited with the object of relieving the social situation + created by the presence of the brilliant young lodger at tea. + This tea was the first meal to be taken by George with Mr. and + Mrs. Haim, for he was almost never at home on Sunday + afternoons, and he was not expected to be at home. The table + showed, as Mr. Haim's nervousness had shown, that the + importance of the occasion had been realized. It was an + obviously elaborate table. The repast was ready in every + detail; the teapot was under the cosy; the cover was over the + hot crumpets; Mrs. Haim alone lacked.</p> + + <p>"Where's missus?" asked George lightly. Mr. Haim had not + come into the room.</p> + + <p>"I don't know," said Mr. Prince. "She brought the tea in a + minute ago. You been working this afternoon?"</p> + + <p>At that moment Mr. Haim entered. He said:</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim isn't feeling very well. She's upstairs. She says + she's sure she'll be all right in a little while. In the + meantime she prefers us to go on with our tea."</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince and Mr. Haim looked at each other, and George + looked at Mr. Haim. The older men showed apprehension. The + strange idea of unconquerable destiny crossed George's + mind—destiny clashing ruthlessly with ambition and + desire. The three males sat down in obedience to the wish of + the woman who had hidden herself in the room above. All of them + were dominated by the thought of her. They did not want to sit + down and eat and drink, and they were obliged to do so by the + invisible volitional force of which Mr. Haim was the unwilling + channel. Mr. Haim, highly self-conscious, began to pour out the + tea. Mr. Prince, highly self-conscious, suggested that he + should make himself useful by distributing the crumpets while + they were hot. George, highly self +<!-- Page 80 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page075" name="page075">[pg 75]</a> + </span> + + conscious, accepted a crumpet. Mr. Prince chatted; George + responded in a brave worldly fashion; Mr. Haim said 'Yes,' + 'Ye-es,' very absently.</p> + + <p>And then Mrs. Haim appeared smiling in the doorway. "Ah!" + breathed everybody, assuaged. "Ah!" Mr. Haim moved from in + front of the tea-tray to the next seat. Mrs. Haim was perhaps + somewhat pale, but she gave a sincere, positive assurance that + she was perfectly well again. Reassurance spread throughout the + company. Forebodings vanished; hearts lightened; gladness + reigned; the excellence of crumpets became apparent. And all + this swift, wonderful change was brought about by the simple + entry of the woman. But beneath the genuine relief and + satisfaction of the men there stirred vaguely the thought of + the mysteriousness of women, of the entire female sex. Mrs. + Haim, charwoman, was just as mysterious as any other woman. As + for George, despite the exhilaration which he could feel rising + in him effortless and unsought, he was preoccupied by more than + women's mysteriousness; the conception of destiny lingered and + faintly troubled him. It was as though he had been walking on a + clear path through a vast and empty and safe forest, and the + eyes of a tiger had gleamed for an instant in the bush and + gone. Not a real tiger! And if a real tiger, then a tiger that + would never recur, and the only tiger in the forest!... Yet the + entire forest was transformed.</p> + + <p>Mrs. Haim was wearing the blue sateen. It was a dress + unsuited to her because it emphasized her large bulk; but it + was her best dress; it shone and glittered; it imposed. Her + duty was to wear it on that Sunday afternoon. She was shy, + without being self-conscious. To preside over a society + consisting of young bloods, etchers of European renown, and + pillars of the architectural profession was an ordeal for her. + She did not pretend that it was not an ordeal. She did not + pretend that the occasion was not extraordinary. She was quite + natural in her calm confusion. She was not even proud, being + perhaps utterly incapable of social pride. Her husband was + proud for her. He looked at her earnestly, wistfully. He could + not disguise his anxiety for her success. Was she equal to the + rôle? She was. Of course she was. He had never doubted + that she would be (he said to himself). His pride increased, + scarcely escaped being fatuous.</p> + + <p>"I must congratulate you on the new front doormat, Mrs. + Haim," said Mr. Prince, with notable conversational tact. "I + felt it at once in the dark."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 81 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page076" name="page076">[pg 76]</a> + </span> + + Mrs. Haim smiled.</p> + + <p>"I do like a good doormat," she said. "It saves so much + work, I always think. I told Mr. Haim I thought we needed a new + one, and bless me if he didn't take me straight out to buy + one."</p> + + <p>The new doormat expressed Mrs. Haim's sole and + characteristic criticism of the organism into which she had so + unassumingly entered. Secure in the adoration of Mr. Haim, she + might safely have turned the place upside-down and proved to + the Grove that she could act the mistress with the best of + them; but she changed nothing except the doormat. The kitchen + and scullery had already been hers before the eye of Mr. Haim + had fallen upon her; she was accustomed to them and had largely + fashioned their arrangements. Her own furniture, such of it as + was retained, had been put into the spare bedroom and the + kitchen, and was hardly noticeable there. The dramatic thing + for her to do would have been to engage another charwoman. But + Mrs. Haim was not dramatic; she was accommodating. She fitted + herself in. The answer to people who asked what Mr. Haim could + see in her, was that what Mr. Haim first saw was her mere way + of existing, and that in the same way she loved. At her + tea-table, as elsewhere, she exhibited no special quality; she + said little; she certainly did not shine. Nevertheless the + three men were quite happy and at ease, because her way of + existing soothed and reinspired them. George especially got + gay; and he narrated the automobile adventure of the afternoon + with amusing gusto. He was thereby a sort of hero, and he liked + that. He was bound by his position in the world and by his + clothes and his style to pretend to some extent that the + adventure was much less extraordinary to him than it seemed to + them. The others made no pretence. They were open-mouthed. + Their attitude admitted frankly that above them was a world to + which they could not climb, that they were not familiar with it + and knew nothing about it. They admired George; they put it to + his credit that he was acquainted with these lofty matters and + moved carelessly and freely among them; and George too somehow + thought that credit was due to him and that his superiority was + genuine.</p> + + <p>"And do you mean to say she'd never met you before?" + exclaimed Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"Never in this world!"</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince remarked calmly: " +<!-- Page 82 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page077" name="page077">[pg 77]</a> + </span> + + You must have had a very considerable effect on her then." His + eyes twinkled.</p> + + <p>George flushed slightly. The idea had already presented + itself to him with great force. "Oh no!" He negligently + pooh-poohed it.</p> + + <p>"Well, does she go about asking every man she meets what his + Christian name is?"</p> + + <p>"I expect she just does."</p> + + <p>There was silence for a moment. Mrs. Haim refilled a + cup.</p> + + <p>"Something will have to be done soon about these + motor-cars," observed Mr. Haim at length, sententiously, in the + vein of 'Mustard and Cress.' "That's very evident."</p> + + <p>"They cost so much," said Mr. Prince. "Why! They cost as + much as a house, some of them."</p> + + <p>"More!" said George.</p> + + <p>"Nay, nay!" Mr. Haim protested. The point had come at which + his imagination halted.</p> + + <p>"Anyhow, you had a lucky escape," said Mr. Prince. "You + might have been lamed for life—or anything."</p> + + <p>George laughed.</p> + + <p>"I am always lucky," said he. He thought: "I wonder whether + I + <i>am</i> + + !" He was afraid.</p> + + <p>Mrs. Haim was half-way towards the door before any of the + men noticed what she was about. She had risen silently and + quickly; she could manoeuvre that stout frame of hers with + surprising facility. There was a strange, silly look on her + face as she disappeared, and the face was extremely pale. Mr. + Haim showed alarm, and Mr. Prince concern. Mr. Haim's hands + clasped the arms of his chair; he bent forward + hesitatingly.</p> + + <p>"What——?"</p> + + <p>Then was heard the noise of a heavy subsidence, apparently + on the stairs. George was out of the room first. But the other + two were instantly upon him. Mrs. Haim had fallen at the turn + of the stairs; her body was distributed along the little + half-landing there.</p> + + <p>"My God! She's fainted!" muttered Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"We'd better get her into the bedroom," said Mr. Prince, + with awe.</p> + + <p>The trouble had come back, but in a far more acute form. The + prostrate and unconscious body, all crooked and heaped in the + shadow, intimidated the three men, convicting them of + helplessness and lack of ready wit. George stood aside and let + the elder pair pass him. Mr. Haim hurried up the +<!-- Page 83 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page078" name="page078">[pg 78]</a> + </span> + + stairs, bent over his wife, and seized her under the arms. Mr. + Prince took her by the legs. They could not lift her. They were + both thin little men, quite unaccustomed to physical exertion. + Mrs. Haim lay like a giantess, immovably recumbent between + their puny, straining figures.</p> + + <p>"Here, let me try," said George eagerly, springing towards + the group.</p> + + <p>With natural reluctance Mr. Haim gave way to him. George + stooped and braced himself to the effort. His face was close to + the blanched, blind face of Mrs. Haim. He thought she looked + very young, astonishingly young in comparison with either Haim + or Prince. Her complexion was damaged but not destroyed. Little + fluffy portions of her hair seemed absolutely girlish. Her body + was full of nice curves, which struck George as most + enigmatically pathetic. But indeed the whole of her was + pathetic, very touching, very precious and fragile. Even her + large, shiny, shapeless boots and the coarse sateen stuff of + her dress affected him. A lump embarrassed his throat. He + suddenly understood the feelings of Mr. Haim towards her. She + was inexpressibly romantic.... He lifted her torso easily; and + pride filled him because he could do easily what others could + not do at all. Her arms trailed limp. Mr. Haim and Mr. Prince + jointly raised her lower limbs. George staggered backwards up + the remainder of the stairs. As they steered the burden into + the bedroom, where a candle was burning, Mrs. Haim opened her + eyes and, gazing vacantly at the ceiling, murmured in a weak, + tired voice:</p> + + <p>"I'm all right. It's nothing. Please put me down."</p> + + <p>"Yes, yes, my love!" said Mr. Haim, agitated.</p> + + <p>They deposited her on the bed. She sighed; then smiled. A + slight flush showed on her cheek under the light of the candle + which Mr. Prince was holding aloft. Mysterious creature, with + the mysterious forces of life flowing and ebbing + incomprehensibly within her! To George she was marvellous, she + was beautiful, as she lay defenceless and silently + appealing.</p> + + <p>"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Thank you very much," said Mr. Haim, + turning to the strong man.</p> + + <p>It was a dismissal. George modestly departed from the + bedroom, which was no place for him. After a few minutes Mr. + Prince also descended. They stood together at the foot of the + stairs in the draught from the open window of George's + room.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 84 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page079" name="page079">[pg 79]</a> + </span> + + Hadn't I better go for a doctor?" George suggested.</p> + + <p>"That's what I said," replied Mr. Prince. "But she won't + have one."</p> + + <p>"But——"</p> + + <p>"Well, she won't."</p> + + <p>The accommodating, acquiescent dame, with scarcely strength + to speak, was defeating all three of them on that one + point.</p> + + <p>"What is it?" asked George confidentially.</p> + + <p>"Oh! I don't suppose it's anything, really."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>That George should collect the tea-things together on the + tray, and brush and fold the cloth, and carry the loaded tray + downstairs into the scullery, was sufficiently strange. But it + was very much more strange that he should have actually had the + idea of washing-up the tea-things himself. In his time, in the + domestic crises of Bursley, he had boyishly helped ladies to + wash-up, and he reckoned that he knew all about the operation. + There he stood, between the kitchen and the scullery, elegantly + attired, with an inquiring eye upon the kettle of warm water on + the stove, debating whether he should make the decisive gesture + of emptying the kettle into the large tin receptacle that lay + on the slop-stone. Such was the miraculous effect on him of + Mrs. Haim's simplicity, her weakness, and her predicament. Mrs. + Haim was a different woman for him now that he had carried her + upstairs and laid her all limp and girlish on the solemn + conjugal bed! He felt quite sure that old Haim was incapable of + washing-up. He assuredly did not want to be caught in the act + of washing-up, but he did want to be able to say in his + elaborately nonchalant manner, answering a question about the + disappearance of the tea-things: "I thought I might as well + wash-up while I was about it." And he did want Mrs. Haim to be + put in a flutter by the news that Mr. George Cannon had + washed-up for her. The affair would positively cause a + sensation.</p> + + <p>He was about to begin, taking the risks of premature + discovery, when he heard a noise above. It was Mr. Haim at last + descending the stairs to the ground floor. George started. He + had been alone in the lower parts of the house for a period + which seemed long. (Mr. Prince had gone to the +<!-- Page 85 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page080" name="page080">[pg 80]</a> + </span> + + studio, promising to return later.) The bedroom containing Mr. + and Mrs. Haim had become for him the abode of mystery. The + entity of the enchanted house had laid hold of his imagination. + He had thought of Marguerite as she used to pervade the house, + and of his approaching interview with her at the Manresa Road + studio. He had thought very benevolently of Marguerite and also + of, Mr. and Mrs. Haim. He had involved them all three, in his + mind, in a net of peace and goodwill. He saw the family quarrel + as something inevitable, touching, absurd—the work of a + maleficent destiny which he might somehow undo and exorcise by + the magic act of washing-up, to be followed by other acts of a + more diplomatic and ingenious nature. And now the dull, distant + symptoms of Mr. Haim on the stairs suddenly halted him at the + very outset of his benignant machinations. He listened. If the + peace of the world had depended upon his washing-up he could + not have permitted himself to be actually seen in the rôle + of kitchen-girl by Mr. Haim—so extreme was his lack of + logic and right reason. There was a silence, a protracted + silence, and then Mr. Haim unmistakably came down the basement + stairs, and George thanked God that he had not allowed his + impulse to wash-up run away with his discretion, to the ruin of + his dignity.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim, hesitating in the kitchen doorway, peered in front + of him as if at a loss. George had shifted the kitchen lamp + from its accustomed place.</p> + + <p>"I'm here," said George, moving slightly in the dim light. + "I thought I might as well make myself useful and clear the + table for you. How is she going on?" He spoke cheerfully, even + gaily, and he expected Mr. Haim to be courteously + appreciative—perhaps enthusiastic in gratitude.</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim is quite recovered, thank you. It was only a + passing indisposition," said Mr. Haim, using one of his + ridiculously stilted phrases. His tone was strange; it was very + strange.</p> + + <p>"Good!" exclaimed George, with a gaiety that was now forced, + a bravado of gaiety.</p> + + <p>He thought:</p> + + <p>"The old chump evidently doesn't like me interfering. Silly + old pompous ass!" Nevertheless his attitude towards the huffy + landlord, if scornful, was good-humoured and indulgent.</p> + + <p>Then he noticed that Mr. Haim held in his hand a half-sheet + of note-paper which disturbingly seemed familiar. " +<!-- Page 86 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page081" name="page081">[pg 81]</a> + </span> + + What is the meaning of this, Mr. Cannon?" Mr. Haim demanded, + advancing towards the brightness of the lamp and extending the + paper. He was excessively excited. Excitement always + intensified his age.</p> + + <p>The offered document was the letter which George had that + morning received from Marguerite. The missive was short, a mere + note, but its terms could leave no doubt as to the relations + between the writer and the recipient. Moreover, it ended with a + hieroglyphic sign, several times repeated, whose significance + is notorious throughout the civilized world.</p> + + <p>"Where did you get that?" muttered George, with a defensive + menace half formed in his voice. He faltered. His mood had not + yet become definitive.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim answered:</p> + + <p>"I have just picked it up in the hall, sir. The wind must + have blown it off the table in your room, and the door was left + open. I presume that I have the right to read papers I find + lying about in my own house."</p> + + <p>George was dashed. On returning home from Mrs. John's lunch + he had changed his suit for another one almost equally smart, + but of Angora and therefore more comfortable. He liked to + change. He had taken the letter out of a side-pocket of the + jacket and put it with his watch, money, and other kit on the + table while he changed, and he had placed everything back into + the proper pockets, everything except the letter. Carelessness! + A moment of negligence had brought about the irremediable. The + lovely secret was violated. The whole of his future life and of + Marguerite's future life seemed to have been undermined and + contaminated by that single act of omission. Marguerite wrote + seldom to him because of the risks. But precautions had been + arranged for the occasions when she had need to write, and she + possessed a small stock of envelopes addressed by himself, so + that Mr. Haim might never by chance, picking up an envelope + from the hall floor, see George's name in his daughter's hand. + And now Mr. Haim had picked up an actual letter from the hall + floor. And the fault for the disaster was George's own.</p> + + <p>"May I ask, sir, are you engaged to my daughter?" demanded + Mr. Haim, getting every instant still more excited.</p> + + <p>George had once before seen him agitated about Marguerite, + but by no means to the same degree. He trembled. He shook. His + dignity had a touch of the grotesque; yet it remained dignity, + and it enforced respect. For George, destiny seemed to dominate + the kitchen and the scullery like +<!-- Page 87 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page082" name="page082">[pg 82]</a> + </span> + + a presence. He and the old man were alone together in that + presence, and he was abashed. He was conscious of awe. The old + man's mien accused him of an odious crime, of something base + and shameful. Useless to argue with himself that he was + entirely guiltless, that he had the right to be the betrothed + of either Mr. Haim's daughter or any other girl, and to publish + or conceal the betrothal as he chose and as she chose. Yes, + useless! He felt, inexplicably, a criminal. He felt that he had + committed an enormity. It was not a matter of argument; it was + a matter of instinct. The old man's frightful and irrational + resentment was his condemnation. He could not face the old + man.</p> + + <p>He thought grievously: "I am up against this man. All + politeness and conventions have vanished. It's the real, inmost + me, and the real, inmost him." Nobody else could take a part in + the encounter. And he was sad, because he could not blame the + old man. Could he blame the old man for marrying a charwoman? + Why, he could only admire him for marrying the charwoman. In + marrying the charwoman the old man had done a most marvellous + thing. Could he blame Marguerite? Impossible. Marguerite's + behaviour was perfectly comprehensible. He understood + Marguerite and he understood her father; he sympathized with + both of them. But Marguerite could not understand her father, + and her father could not understand either his daughter or + George. Never could they understand! He alone understood. And + his understanding gave him a melancholy, hopeless feeling of + superiority, without at all lessening the strange conviction of + guilt. He had got himself gripped by destiny. Destiny had + captured all three of them. But not the fourth. The charwoman + possessed the mysterious power to defy destiny. Perhaps the + power lay in her simplicity.... Fool! An accursed negligence + had eternally botched his high plans for peace and + goodwill.</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said. "I am."</p> + + <p>"And how long have you been engaged, sir?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Since before Marguerite left here." He tried to talk + naturally and calmly.</p> + + <p>"Then you've been living here all this time like a + spy—a dirty spy. My daughter behaves to us in an infamous + manner. She makes an open scandal. And all the time + you're——"</p> + + <p>George suddenly became very angry. And his anger relieved + and delighted him. With intense pleasure he felt +<!-- Page 88 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page083" name="page083">[pg 83]</a> + </span> + + his anger surging within him. He frowned savagely. His eyes + blazed. But he did not move.</p> + + <p>"Excuse me," he interrupted, with cold and dangerous fury. + "She didn't do anything of the kind."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim went wildly on, intimidated possibly by George's + defiance, but desperate:</p> + + <p>"And all the time, I say, you stay on here, deceiving us, + spying on us. Going every night to that wicked, cruel, shameful + girl and tittle-tattling. Do you suppose that if we'd had the + slightest idea——"</p> + + <p>George walked up to him.</p> + + <p>"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you talking about + Marguerite like that."</p> + + <p>Their faces were rather close together. George forced + himself away by a terrific effort and left the kitchen.</p> + + <p>"Jackanapes!"</p> + + <p>George swung round, very pale. Then with a hard laugh he + departed. He stood in the hall, and thought of Mrs. Haim + upstairs. The next moment he had got his hat and overcoat and + was in the street. A figure appeared in the gloom. It was Mr. + Prince.</p> + + <p>"Hallo! Going out? How are things?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Fine!" He could scarcely articulate. A ghastly sob + impeded the words. Tears gushed into his eyes. The dimly + glowing oblongs in the dark façades of the Grove seemed + unbearably tragic.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>No. 6 Romney Studios, Manresa Road, Chelsea, was at the end + of the narrow alley which, running at right angles to the road, + had a blank wall on its left and Romney Studios on its right. + The studios themselves were nondescript shanties which reminded + George of nothing so much as the office of a clerk-of-the-works + nailed together anyhow on ground upon which a large building is + in course of erection. They were constructed of brick, wood, + waterproof felting, and that adaptable material, corrugated + iron. No two were alike. None had the least pretension to + permanency, comeliness, or even architectural decency. They + were all horribly hot in summer, and they all needed immense + stoves to render them habitable in winter. In putting them up, + however, cautiously and one by one, the landlord had esteemed + them to be the +<!-- Page 89 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page084" name="page084">[pg 84]</a> + </span> + + sort of thing that was good enough for artists and that artists + would willingly accept. He had not been mistaken. Though + inexpensive they were dear, but artists accepted them with + eagerness. None was ever empty. Thus it was demonstrated once + more that artists were exactly what capitalists and other + sagacious persons had always accused them of being.</p> + + <p>When George knocked on the door of No. 6, the entire studio, + and No. 5 also, vibrated. As a rule Agg, the female Cerberus of + the shanty, answered any summons from outside; but George hoped + that to-night she would be absent; he knew by experience that + on Sunday nights she usually paid a visit to her obstreperous + family in Alexandra Grove.</p> + + <p>The door was opened by a young man in a rich but torn and + soiled eighteenth-century costume, and he looked, in the + half-light of the entrance, as though he was just recovering + from a sustained debauch. The young man stared haughtily in + silence. Only after an appreciable hesitation did George see + through the disguise and recover himself sufficiently to remark + with the proper nonchalance:</p> + + <p>"Hallo, Agg! What's the meaning of this?"</p> + + <p>"You're before your time," said she, shutting the door.</p> + + <p>While he took off his overcoat Agg walked up the studio. She + made an astonishingly life-like young man. George and Agg were + now not unfriendly; but each constantly criticized the other in + silence, and both were aware of the existence of this vast body + of unspoken criticism. Agg criticized more than George, who had + begun to take the attitude that Agg ought to be philosophically + accepted as incomprehensible rather than criticized. He had not + hitherto seen her in male costume, but he would not exhibit any + surprise.</p> + + <p>"Where's Marguerite?" he inquired, advancing to the Stove + and rubbing his hands above it.</p> + + <p>"Restrain your ardour," said Agg lightly. "She'll appear in + due season. I've told you—you're before your time."</p> + + <p>George offered no retort. Despite his sharp walk, he was + still terribly agitated and preoccupied, and the phenomena of + the lamplit studio had not yet fully impressed his mind. He saw + them, including Agg, as hallucinations gradually turning to + realities. He could not be worried with Agg. His sole desire + was to be alone with Marguerite immediately, and he regarded + the fancy costume chiefly as an obstacle to the fulfilment of + that desire, because Agg could not depart until she had changed + it for something else.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 90 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page085" name="page085">[pg 85]</a> + </span> + + Then his gaze fell upon a life-size oil-sketch of Agg in the + eighteenth-century male dress. The light was bad, but it + disclosed the sketch sufficiently to enable some judgment on it + to be formed. The sketch was exceedingly clever, painted in the + broad, synthetic manner which Steer and Sickert had introduced + into England as a natural reaction from the finicking, false + exactitudes of the previous age. It showed Agg, glass in hand, + as a leering, tottering young drunkard in frills and velvet. + The face was odious, but it did strongly resemble Agg's face. + The hair was replaced by a bag wig.</p> + + <p>"Who did that?"</p> + + <p>"I did, of course," said Agg. She pointed to the large + mirror at the opposite side of the studio.</p> + + <p>"The dickens you did!" George murmured, struck. But now that + he knew the sketch to be the work of a woman he at once became + more critical, perceiving in it imitative instead of original + qualities. "What is it? I mean, what's the idea at the back of + it, if it isn't a rude question, Agg?"</p> + + <p>"Title: 'Bonnie Prince Charlie,'" said Agg, without a smile. + She was walking about, in a convincingly masculine style. + Unfortunately she could not put her hands in her pockets, as + the costume was without pockets.</p> + + <p>"Is that your notion of the gent?"</p> + + <p>"Didn't you know I'm supposed to be very like him?" cried + Agg, vain. The stern creature had frailties. Then she smiled + grimly. "Look at my cold blue eyes, my sharp chin, my + curly-curly lips, my broad forehead, my clear complexion. And I + hope I'm thin enough. Look!" She picked up the bag wig, which + was lying on a chair, and put it on, and posed. The pose was + effective.</p> + + <p>"You seem to know a lot about this Charlie."</p> + + <p>"Well, our well-beloved brother Sam is writing a monograph + on him, you see. Besides, every one——"</p> + + <p>"But what's the idea? What's the scheme? Why is he + drunk?"</p> + + <p>"He always was drunk. He was a confirmed drunkard at thirty. + Both his fair ladies had to leave him because he was just a + violent brute. And so on and so on. I thought it was about time + Charlie was shown up in his true colours. And I'm doing it!... + After all the sugar-stick Academy pictures of him, my picture + will administer a much-needed tonic to our dear public. I + expect I can get it into next year's New English Art Club, and + if I do it will be the sensation of the show.... I haven't done + with it yet. In fact I only +<!-- Page 91 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page086" name="page086">[pg 86]</a> + </span> + + started yesterday. There's going to be a lot more realism in + it. All those silly Jacobite societies will furiously rage + together.... And it's a bit of pretty good painting, you + know."</p> + + <p>"It is," George agreed. "But it's a wild scheme."</p> + + <p>"Not so wild as you think, my minstrel boy. It's very, much + needed. It's symbolic, that picture is. It's a symbolic + antidote. Shall I tell you what put me on to it? Look + here."</p> + + <p>She led him to Marguerite's special work-table, under the + curtained window. There, on a sheet of paper stretched upon a + drawing-board, was the finished design which Marguerite had + been labouring at for two days. It was a design for a + bookbinding, and the title of the book was, + <i>The Womanly Woman,</i> + + and the author of the book was Sir Amurath Onway, M.D., D.Sc., + F.R.S., a famous specialist in pathology. Marguerite, under + instruction from the bookbinders, had drawn a sweet picture, in + quiet colours, of a womanly woman in a tea-gown, sitting in a + cosy corner of a boudoir. The volume was destined to open the + spring season of a publishing firm of immense and historic + respectability.</p> + + <p>"Look at it! Look at it!" Agg insisted. "I've read the book + myself. Poor Marguerite had to go through the proofs, so that + she could be sure of getting the spirit of the binding right. + Do you know why he wrote it? He hates his wife—that's + why. His wife isn't a womanly woman, and he's put all his + hatred of her into this immortal rubbish. Read this great work, + and you will be made to see what fine, noble creatures we men + are"—she strode to and fro—"and how a woman's first + duty is to recognize her inferiority to us, and be womanly.... + Damme!... As soon as I saw what poor Marguerite had to do I + told her I should either have to go out and kill some one, or + produce an antidote. And then it occurred to me to tell the + truth about one of the leading popular heroes of history." She + bowed in the direction of the canvas. "I began to feel better + at once. I got the costume from a friend of the learned Sam's, + and I've ruined it.... I'm feeling quite bright to-night."</p> + + <p>She gazed at George with her cold blue eyes, arraigning in + his person the whole sex which she thought she despised but + which her deepest instinct it was to counterfeit. George, while + admiring, was a little dismayed. She was sarcastic. She had + brains and knowledge and ideas. There was an intellectual + foundation to her picture. And she could paint—like a + witch! Oh! She was ruthlessly clever! Well, he +<!-- Page 92 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page087" name="page087">[pg 87]</a> + </span> + + did not like her. What he wanted, though he would not admit it, + was old Onway's womanly woman. And especially in that hour he + wanted the womanly woman.</p> + + <p>"What's Marguerite up to?" he asked quietly.</p> + + <p>"After the heat and the toil of the day she's beautifying + herself for your august approval," said Agg icily. "I expect + she's hurrying all she can. But naturally you expect her to be + in a permanent state of waiting for you—fresh out of the + cotton-wool."</p> + + <p>The next instant Marguerite appeared from the cubicle or + dressing-room which had been contrived in a corner of the + studio to the left of the door. She was in her plain, everyday + attire, but she had obviously just washed, and her smooth hair + shone from the brush.</p> + + <p>"Well, George."</p> + + <p>"Well, Marguerite."</p> + + <p>Both spoke casually. Celia Agg was the only person in the + world privy to their engagement; but they permitted themselves + no freedoms in front of her. As Marguerite came near to George, + she delicately touched his arm—nothing more. She was + smiling happily, but as soon as she looked close at his face + under the lamp, her face changed completely. He thought: "She + understands there's something up."</p> + + <p>She said, not without embarrassment:</p> + + <p>"George, I really must have some fresh air. I haven't had a + breath all day. Is it raining?"</p> + + <p>"No. Would you like to go for a walk?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! I should!"</p> + + <p>He was very grateful, and also impressed by the accuracy of + her intuitions and her quick resourcefulness. She had + comprehended at a glance that he had a profound and urgent need + to be alone with her. She was marvellously comforting, precious + beyond price. All his susceptibilities, wounded by the scene at + Alexandra Grove, and further irritated by Agg, were + instantaneously salved and soothed. Her tones, her scarcely + perceptible gesture of succour, produced the assuaging miracle. + She fulfilled her role to perfection. She was a talented and + competent designer, but as the helpmeet of a man she had + genius. His mind dwelt on her with rapture.</p> + + <p>"You'll be going out as soon as you've changed, dear?" she + said affectionately to Agg.</p> + + <p>"Yes," answered Agg, who at the mirror was wiping from her + face the painted signs of alcoholism. She had thrown +<!-- Page 93 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page088" name="page088">[pg 88]</a> + </span> + + off the bag wig. "You'd better take the key with you. You'll be + back before I am." She sat down on one of the draped settees + which were beds in disguise, and Marguerite got a hat, cloak, + and gloves.</p> + + <p>While George was resuming his overcoat, which Marguerite + held for him, Agg suddenly sprang up and rushed towards + them.</p> + + <p>"Good night, Flora Macdonald," she murmured in her deep + voice in Marguerite's ear, put masculine arms round her, and + kissed her. It was a truly remarkable bit of male + impersonating, as George had to admit, though he resented + it.</p> + + <p>Then she gave a short, harsh laugh.</p> + + <p>"Good night, old Agg," said Marguerite, with sweet + responsiveness, and smiled ingenuously at George.</p> + + <p>George, impatient, opened the door, and the damp wind swept + anew into the studio.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was a fine night; the weather had cleared, and the + pavements were drying. George, looking up in a pause of the + eager conversational exchanges, drew tonic air mightily into + his lungs.</p> + + <p>"Where are we?" he asked.</p> + + <p>"Tite Street," said Marguerite. "That's the Tower House." + And she nodded towards the formidable sky-scraper which another + grade of landlord had erected for another grade of artists who + demanded studios from the capitalist. Marguerite, the Chelsea + girl, knew Chelsea, if she knew nothing else; her feet turned + corners in the dark with assurance, and she had no need to look + at street-signs. George regarded the short thoroughfare made + notorious by the dilettantism, the modishness, and the + witticisms of art. It had an impressive aspect. From the + portico of one highly illuminated house a crimson carpet + stretched across the pavement to the gutter; some dashing blade + of the brush had maliciously determined to affront the + bourgeois Sabbath. George stamped on the carpet; he hated it + because it was not his carpet; and he swore to himself to + possess that very carpet or its indistinguishable brother.</p> + + <p>"I was a most frightful ass to leave that letter lying + about!" he exclaimed.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George!" she protested lovingly. "It could so +<!-- Page 94 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page089" name="page089">[pg 89]</a> + </span> + + easily happen—a thing like that could. It was just bad + luck."</p> + + <p>A cushion! The divinest down cushion! That was what she was! + She was more. She defended a man against himself. She restored + him to perfection. Her affectionate faith was a magical + inspiration to him; it was, really, the greatest force in the + world. Most women would have agreed with him, however + tactfully, that he had been careless about the letter. An Adela + would certainly have berated him in her shrewish, thin tones. A + Lois would have been sarcastic, scornfully patronizing him as a + 'boy.' And what would Agg have done?... They might have + forgiven and even forgotten, but they would have indulged + themselves first. Marguerite was exteriorly simple. She would + not perhaps successfully dominate a drawing-room. She would cut + no figure playing with lives at the wheel of an automobile. + After all, she would no doubt be ridiculous in the costume of + Bonnie Prince Charlie. But she was finer than the other women + whose images floated in his mind. And she was worth millions of + them. He was overpowered by the sense of his good fortune in + finding her. He went cold at the thought of what he would have + missed if he had not found her. He would not try to conceive + what his existence would be without her, for it would be + unendurable. Of this he was convinced.</p> + + <p>"Do you think he'll go talking about it?" George asked, + meaning of course Mr. Haim.</p> + + <p>"More likely + <i>she</i> + + will," said Marguerite.</p> + + <p>He positively could feel her lips tightening. Futile to put + in a word for Mrs. Haim! When he had described the swoon, + Marguerite had shown neither concern nor curiosity. Not the + slightest! Antipathy to her stepmother had radiated from her + almost visibly in the night like the nimbus round a street + lamp. Well, she did not understand; she was capable of + injustice; she was quite wrong about Mrs. Haim. What matter? + Her whole being was centralized on himself. He was aware of his + superiority.</p> + + <p>He went on quietly:</p> + + <p>"If the old man gets chattering at the office, the Orgreaves + will know, and the next minute the news'll be in the Five + Towns. I can't possibly let my people hear from anybody else of + + <i>my engagement</i> + + before they hear from me. However, if it comes to the point, + we'll tell everybody. Why not?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, but dearest! It was so nice it being a secret. It was + the loveliest thing in the world."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 95 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page090" name="page090">[pg 90]</a> + </span> + + Yes, it was jolly."</p> + + <p>"Perhaps father will feel differently in the morning, and + then you can——"</p> + + <p>"He won't," said George flatly. "You don't know what a state + he's in. I didn't tell you—he called me a spy in the + house, a dirty spy. Likewise a jackanapes. Doubtless a delicate + illusion to my tender years."</p> + + <p>"He + <i>didn't</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>"He did, honestly."</p> + + <p>"So that was what upset you so!" Marguerite murmured. It was + her first admission that she had noticed his agitation.</p> + + <p>"Did I look so upset, then?"</p> + + <p>"George, you looked terrible. I felt the only thing to do + was for us to go out at once."</p> + + <p>"Oh! But surely I wasn't so upset as all that?" said George, + finding in Marguerite's statement a reflection upon his ability + to play the part of an imperturbable man of the world. "Agg + didn't seem to see anything."</p> + + <p>"Agg doesn't know you like I do."</p> + + <p>She insinuated her arm into his. He raised his hand and took + hold of hers. In the left pocket of his overcoat he could feel + the somewhat unwieldy key of the studio. He was happy. The + domestic feel of the key completed his happiness.</p> + + <p>"Of course I can't stay on there," said he.</p> + + <p>"At father's? Oh! I do wish father hadn't talked like that." + She spoke sadly, not critically.</p> + + <p>"I suppose I must sleep there to-night. But I'm not going to + have my breakfast there to-morrow morning. No fear! I'll have + it up town. Lucas'll be able to put me up to some new digs. He + always knows about that sort of thing. Then I'll drive down and + remove all my worldly in a four-wheeler."</p> + + <p>He spoke with jauntiness, in his role of male who is easily + equal to any situation. But she said in a low, tenderly + commiserating voice:</p> + + <p>"It's a shame!"</p> + + <p>"Not a bit!" he replied. Then he suddenly stood still and + brought her to a halt. Under his erratic guidance they had + turned along Dilke Street, and northwards again, past the + Botanical Garden. "And this is Paradise Row!" he said, + surveying the broad street which they had come into.</p> + + <p>"Paradise Row?" she corrected him softly. "No, dear, it's + Queen's Road. It runs into Pimlico Road."</p> + + <p>"I mean it used to be Paradise Row," he explained. " +<!-- Page 96 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page091" name="page091">[pg 91]</a> + </span> + + It was the most fashionable street in Chelsea, you know. + Everybody that was anybody lived here."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Really!" She showed an amiable desire to be interested, + but her interest did not survive more than a few seconds. "I + didn't know. I know Paradise Walk. It's that horrid little + passage down there on the right."</p> + + <p>She had not the historic sense; and she did not understand + his mood, did not in the slightest degree suspect that events + had been whipping his ambition once more, and that at that + moment he was enjoying the seventeenth and even the sixteenth + centuries, and thinking of Sir Thomas More and Miss More, and + all manner of grandiose personages and abodes, and rebelling + obstinately against the fact, that he was as yet a nonentity in + Chelsea, whereas he meant in the end to yield to nobody in + distinction and renown. He knew that she did not understand, + and he would not pretend to himself that she did. There was no + reason why she should understand. He did not particularly want + her to understand.</p> + + <p>"Let's have a look at the river, shall we?" he suggested, + and they moved towards Cheyne Walk.</p> + + <p>"Dearest," she said, "you must come and have breakfast at + the studio to-morrow morning. I shall get it myself."</p> + + <p>"But Agg won't like me poking my nose in for breakfast."</p> + + <p>"You great silly! Don't you know she simply adores you?"</p> + + <p>He was certainly startled by this remark, and he began to + like Agg.</p> + + <p>"Old Agg! Not she!" he protested, pleased, but a little + embarrassed. "Will she be up?"</p> + + <p>"You'll see whether she'll be up or not. Nine o'clock's the + time, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>They reached the gardens of Cheyne Walk. Three bridges hung + their double chaplets of lights over the dark river. On the + southern shore the shapes of high trees waved mysteriously + above the withdrawn woodland glades that in daytime were + Battersea Park. Here and there a tiny red gleam gave warning + that a pier jutted out into the stream; but nothing moved on + the water. The wind that swept clean the pavements had + unclouded ten million stars. It was a wind unlike any other + wind that ever blew, at once caressing and roughly challenging. + The two, putting it behind them, faced eastward, and began to + pass one by one the innumerable ornate gas-lamps of Chelsea + Embankment, which stretched absolutely +<!-- Page 97 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page092" name="page092">[pg 92]</a> + </span> + + rectilinear in front of them for a clear mile. No soul but + themselves was afoot. But on the left rose gigantic and + splendid houses, palaces designed by modern architects, vying + with almost any houses in London, some dark, others richly + illuminated and full of souls luxurious, successful, and + dominant. As the girl talked creatively about the breakfast, + her arm pressed his, and his fingers clasped her acquiescent + fingers, and her chaste and confiding passion ran through him + in powerful voltaic currents from some inexhaustible source of + energy in her secret heart. It seemed to him that since their + ride home in the hansom from the Promenade concert her faculty + for love had miraculously developed. He divined great deeps in + her, and deeps beyond those deeps. The tenderness which he felt + for her was inexpressible. He said not a word, keeping to + himself the terrific resolves to which she, and the wind, and + the spectacular majesty of London inspired him. He and she + would live regally in one of those very houses, and people + should kowtow to her because she was the dazzling wife of the + renowned young architect, George Cannon. And he would show her + to Mrs. John Orgreave and to Lois, and those women should + acknowledge in her a woman incomparably their superior. They + should not be able to hide their impressed astonishment when + they saw her.</p> + + <p>Nothing of all this did he impart to her as she hung + supported and inspiring on his arm. He held it all in reserve + for her. And then, thinking again for a moment of what she had + said about Agg's liking for him, he thought of Agg's picture + and of Marguerite's design which had originated the picture. It + was a special design, new for Marguerite, whose bindings were + generally of conventional patterns; it was to be paid for at a + special price because of its elaborateness; she had worked on + it for nearly two days; in particular she had stayed indoors + during the whole of Sunday to finish it; and it was efficient, + skilful, as good as it could be. It had filled her life for + nearly two days—and he had not even mentioned it to her! + In the ruthless egotism of the ambitious man he had forgotten + it, and forgotten to imagine sympathetically the contents of + her mind. Sharp remorse overcame him; she grew noble and + pathetic in his eyes.... Contrast her modest and talented + industry with the exacting, supercilious, incapable idleness of + a Lois!</p> + + <p>"That design of yours is jolly good," he said shortly + without any introductory phrases.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 98 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page093" name="page093">[pg 93]</a> + </span> + + She perceptibly started.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! I'm so glad you think so. I was afraid. You + know it was horribly difficult—they give you no + chance."</p> + + <p>"I know. I know. You've come out of it fine."</p> + + <p>She was in heaven; he also, because it was so easy for him + to put her there. He glanced backwards a few hours into the + past, and he simply could not comprehend how it was that he had + been so upset by the grotesque scene with Mr. Haim in the + basement of No. 8. Everything was all right; everything was + utterly for the best.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_VI'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 99 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page094" name="page094">[pg 94]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + + <h3>THE DINNER</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Early on the morning of a Tuesday in the second half of June + 1903, George Cannon was moving fast on a motor-bicycle + westwards down the slope of Piccadilly. At any rate he had the + sensation of earliness, and was indeed thereby quite + invigorated; it almost served instead of the breakfast which he + had not yet taken. But thousands of people travelling in the + opposite direction in horse-omnibuses and in a few motor-buses + seemed to regard the fact of their being abroad at that hour as + dully normal. They had fought, men and girls, for places in the + crammed vehicles; they had travelled from far lands such as + Putney; they had been up for hours, and the morning, which was + so new to George, had lost its freshness for them; they were + well used to the lustrous summer glories of the Green Park; + what they chiefly beheld in the Green Park was the endless + lines of wayfarers, radiating from Victoria along the various + avenues, on the way, like themselves, to offices, ware-houses, + and shops. Of the stablemen, bus-washers, drivers, mechanics, + chauffeurs, and conductors, who had left their beds much in + advance even of the travellers, let us not speak—even + they had begun the day later than their wives, mothers, or + daughters. All this flying population, urged and preoccupied by + pitiless time, gazed down upon George and saw a gay young swell + without a care in the world rushing on 'one of those + motor-bikes' to freedom.</p> + + <p>George was well aware of the popular gaze, and he supported + it with negligent pride. He had the air of having been born to + greatness; cigarette smoke and the fumes of exploded petrol and + the rattle of explosions made a fine wake behind his greatness. + In two years, since he had walked into Mr. Haim's parlour, his + body had broadened, his eyes had slightly hardened, and his + complexion and hair +<!-- Page 100 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page095" name="page095">[pg 95]</a> + </span> + + had darkened. And there was his moustache, very sprightly, and + there was a glint of gold in his teeth. He had poor teeth, but + luxuriant hair, ruthlessly cut and disciplined and subjugated. + His trousers were clipped tightly at the ankles, and his jacket + loosely buttoned by the correct button; his soft felt hat + achieved the architect's ideal of combining the perfectly + artistic with the perfectly modish. But the most remarkable and + envy-raising portion of his attire was the loose, washable, + yellow gloves, with large gauntlets, designed to protect the + delicately tended hands when they had to explore among + machinery.</p> + + <p>He had obtained the motor-bicycle in a peculiar way. On + arriving at Axe Station for the previous Christmas holidays, he + had seen two low-hung lamps brilliantly flashing instead of the + higher and less powerful lamps of the dogcart, and there had + been no light-reflecting flanks of a horse in front of the + lamps. The dark figure sitting behind the lamps proved to be + his mother. His mother herself had driven him home. He noted + calmly that as a chauffeur she had the same faults as the + contemned Lois Ingram. Still, she did drive, and they reached + Ladderedge Hall in safety. He admired, and he was a little + frightened by, his mother's terrific volition to widen her + existence. She would insist on doing everything that might be + done, and nobody could stop her. Who would have dreamt that + she, with her narrow, troubled past, and her passionate + temperament rendered somewhat harsh by strange experiences, + would at the age of forty-six or so be careering about the + country at the wheel of a motor-car? Ah! But she would! She + would be a girl. And by her individual force she successfully + carried it off! Those two plotters, she and his stepfather, had + conspired to buy a motor-car in secret from him. No letter from + home had breathed a word of the motor-car. He was + thunder-struck, and jealous. He had spent the whole of the + Christmas holidays in that car, and in four days could drive + better than his mother, and also—what was more + difficult—could convince her obstinate self-assurance + that he knew far more about the mechanism than she did. As a + fact, her notions of the mechanism, though she was convinced of + their rightness, were mainly fantastic. George of course had + had to punish his parents. He had considered it his duty to do + so. "The + <i>least</i> + + you can do," he had said discontentedly and menacingly, "the + <i>least</i> + + you can do is to give me a decent motor-bike!" The guilty pair + had made amends in the +<!-- Page 101 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page096" name="page096">[pg 96]</a> + </span> + + manner thus indicated for them. George gathered from various + signs that his stepfather was steadily and rapidly growing + richer. George had acted accordingly—not only in the + matter of the motor-bicycle, but in other matters.</p> + + <p>Now, on this June morning he had just begun to breast the + slope rising from the hollow to Hyde Park Corner when a boy + shot out from behind a huge, stationary dust-cart on the left + and dashed unregarding towards him. George shouted. The boy, + faced with sudden death, was happily so paralysed that he fell + down, thus checking his momentum by the severest form of + friction. George swerved aside, missing the small, outstretched + hands by an inch or two, but missing also by an inch or two the + front wheel of a tremendous motor-bus on his right. He gave a + nervous giggle as he flashed by the high red side of the + motor-bus; and then he deliberately looked back at the + murderous boy, who had jumped up. At the same moment George was + brought to a sense of his own foolishness in looking back by a + heavy jolt. He had gone over half a creosoted wood block which + had somehow escaped from a lozenge-shaped oasis in the road + where two workmen were indolently using picks under the magic + protection of a tiny, dirty red flag. Secure in the + guardianship of the bit of bunting, which for them was as + powerful and sacred as the flag of an empire, the two workmen + gazed with indifference at George and at the deafening traffic + which swirled affronting but harmless around them. George + slackened speed, afraid lest the jar might have snapped the + plates of his accumulator. The motor-bicycle was a wondrous + thing, but as capricious and delicate as a horse. For a trifle, + for nothing at all, it would cease to function. The + high-tension magneto and the float-feed carburetter, whose + invention was to transform the motor-bicycle from an + everlasting harassment into a means of loco-motion, were yet + years away in the future. However, the jar had done no harm. + The episode, having occupied less than ten seconds, was closed. + George felt his heart thumping. He thought suddenly of the + recent Paris-Madrid automobile race, in which the elite of the + world had perished. He saw himself beneath the motor-bus, and a + futile staring crowd round about. Simply by a miracle was he + alive. But this miracle was only one of a score of miracles. He + believed strongly in luck. He had always believed in it. The + smoke of the cigarette displayed his confidence to all + Piccadilly. Still, his heart was thumping.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 102 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page097" name="page097">[pg 97]</a> + </span> + + And it had not ceased to thump when a few minutes later he + turned into Manresa Road. Opposite the entrance to the alley of + Romney Studios, there happened to be a small hiatus in the + kerbstone. George curved the machine largely round and, + mounting the pavement through this hiatus, rode gingerly up the + alley, in defiance of the regulations of a great city, and + stopped precisely at the door of No. 6. It was a matter of + honour with him to arrive thus. Not for a million would he have + walked the machine up the alley. He got off, sounded a + peremptory call on the horn, and tattooed with the knocker. No + answer came. An apprehension visited him. By the last post on + the previous night he had received a special invitation to + breakfast from Marguerite. Never had he been kept waiting at + the door. He knocked again. Then he heard a voice from the side + of the studio:</p> + + <p>"Come round here, George."</p> + + <p>In the side of the studio was a very small window from which + the girls, when unpresentable, would parley with early + tradesmen. Agg was at the window. He could see only her head + and neck, framed by the window. Her short hair was tousled, and + she held a dressing-gown tight about her neck. For the first + time she seemed to him like a real feminine girl, and her tones + were soft as they never were when Marguerite was present with + her.</p> + + <p>"I'm very sorry," she said. "You woke me. I was fast asleep. + You can't come in."</p> + + <p>"Anything up?" he questioned, rather anxiously. "Where's + Marguerite?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, George! A dreadful night!" she answered, almost + plaintively, almost demanding sympathy from the male—she, + Agg! "We were wakened up at two o'clock. Mr. Prince came round + to fetch Marguerite to go to No. 8."</p> + + <p>"To go to No. 8?" he repeated, frightened, and wondered why + he should be frightened. "What on earth for?"</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim very ill!" Agg paused. "Something about a + baby."</p> + + <p>"And did she go?"</p> + + <p>"Yes; she put on her things and went off at once."</p> + + <p>He was silent. He felt the rough grip of destiny, of some + strange power irresistible and unescapable, just as he had + momentarily felt it in the basement of No. 8 more than eighteen + months before, when the outraged Mr. Haim had quarrelled with + him. The mere idea of Marguerite being at No. 8 made him feel + sick. He no longer believed in his luck. " +<!-- Page 103 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page098" name="page098">[pg 98]</a> + </span> + + How soon d'ye think she'll be back?"</p> + + <p>"I—I don't know, George. I should have thought she'd + have been back before this."</p> + + <p>"I'll run round there," he said curtly.</p> + + <p>Agg was disconcertingly, astoundingly sympathetic. Her + attitude increased his disturbance.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When George rang the bell at No. 8 Alexandra Grove his + mysterious qualms were intensified. He dreaded the moment when + the door should open, even though it should be opened by + Marguerite herself. And yet he had a tremendous desire to see + Marguerite—merely to look at her face, to examine it, to + read it. His summons was not answered. He glanced about. The + steps were dirty. The brass knob and the letter-flap had not + been polished. After a time he pushed up the flap and gazed + within, and saw the interior which he knew so well and which he + had not entered for so many months. Nothing was changed in it, + but it also had a dusty and neglected air. Every detail roused + his memory. The door of what had once been his room was shut; + he wondered what the room was now. This house held the greatest + part of his history. It lived in his mind as vitally as even + the boarding-house kept by his mother in a side-street in + Brighton, romantic and miserable scene of his sensitive + childhood. It was a solemn house for him. Through the basement + window on a dark night he had first glimpsed Marguerite. + Unforgettable event! Unlike anything else that had ever + happened to anybody!... He heard a creak, and caught sight + through the letter-aperture of a pair of red slippers, and then + the lower half of a pair of trousers, descending the stairs. + And he dropped the flap hurriedly. Mr. Haim was coming to open + the door. Mr. Haim did open the door, started at the apparition + of George, and stood defensively and forbiddingly in the very + centre of the doorway.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said George nervously. "How is Mrs. Haim?"</p> + + <p>"Mrs. Haim is very ill indeed." The reply was emphatic and + inimical.</p> + + <p>"I'm sorry."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim said nothing further. George had not seen him since + the previous Saturday, having been excused by Mr. Enwright from + the office on Monday on account of +<!-- Page 104 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page099" name="page099">[pg 99]</a> + </span> + + examination work. He did not know that Mr. Haim had not been to + the office on Monday either. In the interval the man had + shockingly changed. He seemed much older, and weaker too; he + seemed worn out by acute anxiety. Nevertheless he so evidently + resented sympathy that George was not sympathetic, and regarded + him coldly as a tiresome old man. The official relations + between the two had been rigorously polite and formal. No + reference had ever been made by either to the quarrel in the + basement or to the cause of it. And for the world in general + George's engagement had remained as secret as before. + Marguerite had not seen her father in the long interval, and + George had seen only the factotum of Lucas & Enwright. But + he now saw Marguerite's father again—a quite different + person from the factotum.... Strange, how the house seemed + forlorn! 'Something about a baby,' Agg had said vaguely. And it + was as though something that Mr. Haim and his wife had + concealed had burst from its concealment and horrified and put + a curse on the whole Grove. Something not at all nice! What in + the name of decent propriety was that slippered old man doing + with a baby? George would not picture to himself Mrs. Haim + lying upstairs. He did not care to think of Marguerite secretly + active somewhere in one of those rooms. But she was there; she + was initiated. He did not criticize her.</p> + + <p>"I should like to see Marguerite," he said at length. + Despite himself he had a guilty feeling.</p> + + <p>"My daughter!" Mr. Haim took up the heavy rôle.</p> + + <p>"Only for a minute," said George boyishly, and irritated by + his own boyishness.</p> + + <p>"You can't see her, sir."</p> + + <p>"But if she knows I'm here, she'll come to me," George + insisted. He saw that the old man's hatred of him was + undiminished. Indeed, time had probably strengthened it.</p> + + <p>"You can't see her, sir. This is my house."</p> + + <p>George considered himself infinitely more mature than in the + November of 1901 when the old man had worsted him. And yet he + was no more equal to this situation than he had been to the + former one.</p> + + <p>"But what am I to do, then?" he demanded, not fiercely, but + crossly.</p> + + <p>"What are you to do? Don't ask me, sir. My wife is very ill + indeed, and you come down the Grove making noise enough to wake + the dead"—he indicated the motor-bicycle, +<!-- Page 105 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page100" name="page100">[pg 100]</a> + </span> + + of which the silencer was admittedly defective—"and you + want to see my daughter. My daughter has more important work to + do than to see you. I never heard of such callousness. If you + want to communicate with my daughter you had better + write—so long as she stays in this house."</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim shut the door, which rendered his advantage over + George complete.</p> + + <p>From the post office nearly opposite the end of the Grove + George dispatched a reply-paid telegram to Marguerite:</p> + + <p>"Where and when can I see you?—GEORGE. Russell + Square."</p> + + <p>It seemed a feeble retort to Mr. Haim, but he could think of + nothing better.</p> + + <p>On the way up town he suddenly felt, not hungry, but empty, + and he called in at a tea-shop. He was the only customer, in a + great expanse of marble-topped tables. He sat down at a + marble-topped table. On the marble-topped table next to him + were twenty-four sugar-basins, and on the next to that a large + number of brass bells, and on another one an infinity of + cruets. A very slatternly woman was washing the linoleum in a + corner of the floor. Two thin, wrinkled girls in shabby black + were whispering together behind the counter. The cash-den was + empty. Through the open door he could keep an eye on his + motor-bicycle, which was being surreptitiously regarded by a + boy theoretically engaged in cleaning the window. A big van + drove up, and a man entered with pastry on a wooden tray and + bantered one of the girls in black. She made no reply, being + preoccupied with the responsibility of counting cakes. The man + departed and the van disappeared. Nobody took the least notice + of George. He might have been a customer invisible and + inaudible. After the fiasco of his interview with Mr. Haim, he + had not the courage to protest. He framed withering sentences + to the girls in black, such as: "Is this place supposed to be + open for business, or isn't it?" but they were not uttered. + Then a girl in black with a plain, ugly white apron and a dowdy + white cap appeared on the stairs leading from the basement, and + removed for her passage a bar of stained wood lettered in gilt: + 'Closed,' and she halted at George's table. She spoke no word. + She just stood over him, unsmiling, placid, flaccid, immensely + indifferent. She was pale, a poor sort of a girl, without + vigour. But she had a decent, honest face. She was not aware + that she ought to be bright, welcoming, provocative, for a + penny farthing an hour. She had +<!-- Page 106 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page101" name="page101">[pg 101]</a> + </span> + + never heard of Hebe. George thought of the long, desolating day + that lay before her. He looked at her seriously. His eyes did + not challenge hers as they were accustomed to challenge Hebe's. + He said in a friendly, matter-of-fact tone:</p> + + <p>"A meat-pie, please, and a large coffee."</p> + + <p>And she repeated in a thin voice:</p> + + <p>"Meat-pie. Large coffee."</p> + + <p>A minute later she dropped the order on the table, as it + might have been refuse, and with it a bit of white paper. The + sadness of the city, and the inexplicable sadness of June + mornings, overwhelmed George as he munched at the meat-pie and + drank the coffee, and reached over for the sugar and reached + over for the mustard. And he kept saying to himself:</p> + + <p>"She doesn't see her father at all for nearly two years, and + then she goes off to him like that in the middle of the + night—at a word."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The office was not at its normal. The empty cubicle of the + factotum looked strange enough. But there was more than that in + the abnormality. There were currents of excitement in the + office. The door of the principals' room was open, and George + saw John Orgreave and Everard Lucas within, leaning over one of + the great flat desks. The hour was early for Lucas, and + self-satisfaction was on Lucas's face as he raised it to look + at the entering of George.</p> + + <p>"I say," he remarked quietly through the doorway, "that town + hall scheme is on again."</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said George, depositing his hat and gloves and + strolling into the principals' room. "Good morning, Mr. + Orgreave. Got the conditions there?" For a moment his attitude + of interest was a pose, but very quickly it became sincere. + Astonishing how at sight of a drawing-board and a problem he + could forget all that lay beyond them! He was genuinely and + extremely disturbed by the course of affairs at Chelsea; + nevertheless he now approached Mr. Orgreave and Lucas with + eagerness, and Chelsea slipped away into another dimension.</p> + + <p>"No," said John Orgreave, "the conditions aren't out yet. + But it's all right this time. I know for a fact."</p> + + <p>The offices of all the regular architectural competitors in + London were excited that morning. For the conception of +<!-- Page 107 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page102" name="page102">[pg 102]</a> + </span> + + the northern town hall was a vast one. Indeed, journalists had + announced, from their mysterious founts of information, that + the town hall would be the largest public building erected in + England during half a century. The scheme had been the sport of + municipal politics for many months, for years. Apparently it + could not get itself definitely born. And now the Town Clerk's + wife had brought about the august parturition. It is true that + her agency was unintentional. The Town Clerk had belonged to a + powerful provincial dynasty of town clerks. He had the illusion + that without him a great town would cease to exist. There was + nothing uncommon in this illusion, which indeed is rife among + town clerks; but the Town Clerk in question had the precious + faculty of being able to communicate it to mayors, aldermen, + and councillors. He was a force in the municipal council. + Voteless, he exercised a moral influence over votes. And he + happened to be opposed to the scheme for the new town hall. He + gave various admirable reasons for the postponement of the + scheme, but he never gave the true reasons, even to himself. + The true reasons were, first, that he hated and detested the + idea of moving office, and, second, that he wanted acutely to + be able to say in the fullness of years that he had completed + half a century of municipal work in one and the same room. If + the pro-scheme party had had the wit to invent a pretext for + allowing the Town Clerk to remain in the old municipal + buildings, the scheme would instantly have taken life. The Town + Clerk, being widowed, had consoled himself with a young second + wife. This girl adored dancing; the Town Clerk adored her; and + therefore where she danced he deemed it prudent to attend. + Driving home from a January ball at 4 a.m. the Town Clerk had + caught pneumonia. In a week he was dead, and his dynasty with + him. In a couple of months the pro-scheme party had carried the + council off its feet. Such are the realities, never printed in + newspapers, of municipal politics in the grim north.</p> + + <p>Sketches of the site had appeared in the architectural + press. John Orgreave and Lucas were pencilling in turn upon one + of these, a page torn out of a weekly. George inserted himself + between them, roughly towards Lucas and deferentially towards + Mr. John.</p> + + <p>"But you've got the main axis wrong!" he exclaimed.</p> + + <p>"How, wrong?" John Orgreave demanded.</p> + + <p>"See here—give me the pencil, Looc."</p> + + <p>George felt with a little thrill of satisfaction the respect + +<!-- Page 108 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page103" name="page103">[pg 103]</a> + </span> + + for him which underlay John Orgreave's curt tone of a + principal—and a principal from the Midlands. He did not + miss, either, Lucas's quick, obedient, expectant gesture in + surrendering the pencil. Ideas for the plan of the building + sprang up multitudinously in his mind. He called; they came. He + snatched towards him a blank sheet of tracing-paper, and + scrawled it over with significant lines.</p> + + <p>"That's my notion. I thought of it long ago," he said. "Or + if you prefer—"</p> + + <p>The other two were impressed. He himself was impressed. His + notion, which he was modifying and improving every moment, + seemed to him perfect and ever more perfect. He was intensely + and happily stimulated in the act of creation; and they were + all three absorbed.</p> + + <p>"Why hasn't my desk been arranged?" said a discontented + voice behind them. Mr. Enwright had arrived by the farther door + from the corridor.</p> + + <p>Lucas glanced up.</p> + + <p>"I expect Haim hasn't come again to-day," he answered + urbanely, placatingly.</p> + + <p>"Why hasn't he come?"</p> + + <p>"I hear his wife's very ill," said George.</p> + + <p>"Who told you?"</p> + + <p>"I happened to be round that way this morning."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I thought all was over between you two."</p> + + <p>George flushed. Nothing had ever been said in the office as + to his relations with Haim, though it was of course known that + George no longer lodged with the factotum. Mr. Enwright, + however, often had disconcerting intuitions concerning matters + to which Mr. Orgreave and Lucas were utterly insensible.</p> + + <p>"Oh no!" George haltingly murmured.</p> + + <p>"Well, this is all very well, this is——!" Mr. + Enwright ruthlessly proceeded, beginning to marshal the + instruments on his desk.</p> + + <p>He had been a somewhat spectacular martyr for some time + past. A mysterious facial neuralgia had harried his nights and + days. For the greater part of a week he had dozed in an + arm-chair in the office under the spell of eight tabloids of + aspirin per diem. Then a specialist had decided that seven of + his side teeth, already studded with gold, must leave him. + Those teeth were not like any other person's teeth, and in Mr. + Enwright's mind the extracting of them had become a major + operation, as, for example, the taking off of a limb. He had +<!-- Page 109 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page104" name="page104">[pg 104]</a> + </span> + + spent three days in a nursing home in Welbeck Street. His life + was now saved, and he was a convalescent, and passed several + hours daily in giving to friends tragi-farcical accounts of + existence in a nursing home. Mr. Enwright's career was one + unending romance.</p> + + <p>"I was just looking at that town hall affair," said John + Orgreave.</p> + + <p>"What town hall?" his partner snapped.</p> + + <p>" + <i>The</i> + + town hall," answered the imperturbable John. "George here has + got an idea."</p> + + <p>"I suppose you know Sir Hugh Corver, Bart., is to be the + assessor," said Mr. Enwright in a devastating tone.</p> + + <p>Sir Hugh Corver, formerly a mere knight, had received a + baronetcy, to Mr. Enwright's deep disgust. Mr. Enwright had + remarked that any decent-minded man who had been a husband and + childless for twenty-four years would have regarded the + supplementary honour as an insult, but that Sir Hugh was not + decent-minded and, moreover, was not capable of knowing an + insult when he got one. This theory of Mr. Enwright's, however, + did not a bit lessen his disgust.</p> + + <p>"Oh yes," John Orgreave admitted lamely.</p> + + <p>"I for one am not going in for any more competitions with + Corver as assessor," said Mr. Enwright. "I won't do it."</p> + + <p>Faces fell. Mr. Enwright had previously published this + resolve, but it had not been taken quite seriously. It was + entirely serious. Neuralgia and a baronetcy had given it the + consistency of steel.</p> + + <p>"It isn't as if we hadn't got plenty of work in the office," + said Mr. Enwright.</p> + + <p>This was true. The firm was exceedingly prosperous.</p> + + <p>Nobody else spoke.</p> + + <p>"What + <i>can</i> + + you expect from a fellow like Corver?" Mr. Enwright cried, with + a special glance at George. "He's the upas-tree of decent + architecture."</p> + + <p>George's mood changed immediately. Profound discouragement + succeeded to his creative stimulation. Mr. Enwright had reason + on his side. What + <i>could</i> + + you expect from a fellow like Corver? With all the ardour of a + disciple George dismissed the town hall scheme, and + simultaneously his private woes surged up and took full + possession of him. He walked silently out of the room, and + Lucas followed. As a fact, Mr. Enwright ought not to have + talked in such a way before the pupils. A question of general + policy should +<!-- Page 110 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page105" name="page105">[pg 105]</a> + </span> + + first have been discussed in private between the partners, and + the result then formally announced to the staff. Mr. Enwright + was not treating his partner with proper consideration. But Mr. + Enwright, as every one said at intervals, was 'like that'; and + his partner did not seem to care greatly.</p> + + <p>Lucas shut the door between the principals' room and the + pupils' room.</p> + + <p>"I say," said Lucas importantly. "I've got a show on + to-night. Women. Café Royal. I want a fourth. You must + come."</p> + + <p>"Yes," sneered George. "And what about my exam., I should + like to know.... Besides, I can't."</p> + + <p>The Final was due to begin on Thursday.</p> + + <p>"That's all right," Lucas answered, with tact. "That's all + right. I'd thought of the exam., of course. You'll have + to-morrow to recover. It'll do you all the good in the world. + And you know you're more than ready for the thing. You don't + want to be overtrained, my son. Besides, you'll sail through + it. As for 'can't,' 'can't' be damned. You've got to."</p> + + <p>A telegraph boy, after hesitating at the empty cubicle, came + straight into the room.</p> + + <p>"Name of Cannon?"</p> + + <p>George nodded, trembling.</p> + + <p>The telegram read:</p> + + <p>"Impossible to-day.—MARGUERITE."</p> + + <p>It was an incredible telegram, as much by what it said as by + what it didn't say. It overthrew George.</p> + + <p>"Seven forty-five, and I'll drive you round," said + Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Tis well," said George.</p> + + <p>Immediately afterwards Mr. Enwright summoned Lucas.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The two young men of fashion were silent that evening as + they drove to the Café Royal in the car which Lucas + loosely called 'my car,' but which was his mother's and only to + be obtained by him upon his own conditions after delicate + diplomacies. The chief of his conditions was that the chauffeur + should not accompany the car. Lucas, having been engaged upon + outdoor work for the firm, had not seen George throughout the + day. Further, he was late in calling for George, and therefore + rather exacerbated in secret; and if George had +<!-- Page 111 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page106" name="page106">[pg 106]</a> + </span> + + not been ready and waiting for him at the club trouble might + have arisen. George understood his host's mood and respected + it. Lucas drove rapidly and fiercely, with appropriate frowns + and settings of cruel teeth; his mien indeed had the arrogance + of the performer who, having given only a fraction of his time + to the acquirement of skill, reckons that he can beat the + professional who has given the whole of his time. Lucas's + glances at chauffeurs who hindered his swiftness were + masterpieces of high disdain, and he would accelerate, after + circumventing them, with positive ferocity.</p> + + <p>George himself, an implacable critic, could not find fault + with the technique of Lucas's driving. But exacerbation tells, + even in the young, and at Piccadilly Circus, Lucas, in obeying + a too suddenly uplifted hand of a policeman, stopped his + engine. The situation, horribly humiliating for Lucas and also + for George, provided pleasure for half the chauffeurs and + drivers in Piccadilly Circus, and was the origin of much + jocularity of a kind then fairly new. Lucas cursed the innocent + engine, and George leapt down to wield the crank. But the + engine, apparently resenting curses, refused to start again. + No, it would not start. Lucas leapt down too. "Get out of the + way," he muttered savagely to George, and scowled at the bonnet + as if saying to the engine: "I'm not going to stand any of your + infernal nonsense!" But still the engine refused to start.</p> + + <p>The situation, humiliating before, was now appalling. Two + entirely correct young gentlemen, in evening dress, with light + overcoats and opera hats, struggling with a refractory car that + in its obstinacy was far more dignified than + themselves—and the car obstructing traffic at the very + centre of the world in the very hour when the elect of Britain + were driving by on the way to + <i>Tristan</i> + + at the Opera! Sebastians both, they were martyrized by the + poisoned arrows of vulgar wit, shot at them from all sides and + especially from the lofty thrones of hansom-cab drivers. The + policeman ordered them to shove the car to the kerb, and with + the aid of a boy and the policeman himself they did so, + opposite the shuttered front of Swan & Edgar's.</p> + + <p>The two experts then examined the engine in a professional + manner; they did everything but take it down; they tried in + vain all known devices to conquer the recalcitrancy of engines; + and when they had reached despair and fury George, startlingly + visited by an idea, demanded:</p> + + <p>"Any petrol in the tank?..." +<!-- Page 112 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page107" name="page107">[pg 107]</a> + </span> + + In those days men of fashion were apt to forget, at moments of + crisis, that the first necessity of the engine was petrol. + George behaved magnanimously. He might have extinguished Lucas + with a single inflection as Lucas, shamed to the uttermost, + poured a spare half-tin of petrol into the tank. He + refrained.</p> + + <p>In one minute, in less than one minute, they were at the + side entrance to the Café Royal, which less than a minute + earlier had been inconceivably distant and unattainable. Lucas + dashed first into the restaurant. To keep ladies waiting in a + public place was for him the very worst crime, surpassing in + turpitude arson, embezzlement, and the murder of innocents. The + ladies must have been waiting for a quarter of an hour, half an + hour! His reputation was destroyed!</p> + + <p>However, the ladies had not arrived.</p> + + <p>"That's all right," Lucas breathed, at ease at last. The + terrible scowl had vanished from his face, which was perfectly + recomposed into its urbane, bland charm.</p> + + <p>"Now perhaps you'll inform me who they are, old man," George + suggested, relinquishing his overcoat to a flunkey, and + following Lucas into the cloister set apart for the cleansing + of hands which have meddled with machinery.</p> + + <p>"The Wheeler woman is one—didn't I tell you?" Lucas + answered, unsuccessfully concealing his pride.</p> + + <p>"Wheeler?"</p> + + <p>"Irene Wheeler. You know."</p> + + <p>George was really impressed. Lucas had hitherto said no word + as to his acquaintance with this celebrated woman. It was true + that recently Lucas had been spreading himself in various + ways—he had even passed his Intermediate—but George + had not anticipated such a height of achievement as the feat of + entertaining at a restaurant a cynosure like Irene Wheeler. + George had expected quite another sort of company at dinner, + for he had publicly dined with Lucas before. All day he had + been abstracted, listless, and utterly desolate. All day he had + gone over again and again the details of the interview with Mr. + Haim, his telegram to Marguerite and her unspeakable telegram + to him, hugging close a terrific grievance. Only from pique + against Marguerite had he accepted Lucas's invitation. The + adventure in Piccadilly Circus had somewhat enlivened him, and + now the fluttering prospect of acquaintance with the legendary + Irene Wheeler pushed Marguerite into the background of his + mind, and excitement became quite pleasant. " +<!-- Page 113 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page108" name="page108">[pg 108]</a> + </span> + + And a Miss Ingram," Lucas added.</p> + + <p>"Not Lois Ingram?" exclaimed George, suddenly dragging the + names of Ingram and Wheeler out of the same drawer of his + memory.</p> + + <p>"No. Laurencine. But she has a sister named Lois. What do + <i>you</i> + + know about her?" Lucas spoke challengingly, as if George had + trespassed on preserves sacred to himself alone. He had not yet + admitted that it was merely Mrs. John Orgreave who had put him + in the way of Irene Wheeler.</p> + + <p>George was surprised and shocked that it had never occurred + to him to identify Lois Ingram's wealthy friend Miss Wheeler + with the Irene Wheeler of society columns of newspapers. And + Lois Ingram rose in his esteem, not because of the distinction + of her friend, but because she had laid no boastful stress on + the distinction of her friend.</p> + + <p>"Don't you remember?" he said. "I told you once about a girl + who jolly nearly got me into a motor accident all through her + fancying herself as a chauffeur. That was Lois Ingram. Paris + girl. Same lot, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Was + <i>that</i> + + Lois?" Lucas murmured. "Well, I'm dashed!"</p> + + <p>They returned in a hurry to the entrance-hall, fearful lest + the ladies might have arrived. However, the ladies had not + arrived. Lucas had the inexpressible satisfaction of finding in + an illustrated weekly a full-page portrait of Miss Irene + Wheeler.</p> + + <p>"Here you are!" he ejaculated, with an air of use, as though + he was habitually picking up from the tables of fashionable + restaurants high-class illustrated papers containing portraits + of renowned beauties to whom he said "Come!" and they came. It + was a great moment for Lucas.</p> + + <p>Ten minutes later the ladies very calmly arrived, seeming + perfectly unaware that they were three-quarters of an hour + behind time. Lucas felt that, much as he already knew about + life, he had learned something fresh.</p> + + <p>To George, Irene Wheeler was not immediately recognizable as + the original of her portrait. He saw the resemblance when he + looked for it, but if after seeing the photograph he had met + the woman in the street he would have passed her by unknowing. + At first he was disappointed in her. He had never before + encountered celebrated people—except architects, who, + Enwright always said, never could be really + celebrated—and he had to learn that celebrated people + seldom differ in appearance from uncelebrated people. + Nevertheless it was +<!-- Page 114 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page109" name="page109">[pg 109]</a> + </span> + + not to be expected that George should escape where the most + experienced and the most wary of two capitals had not escaped. + He did not agree that she was beautiful, but her complexion + enthralled him. He had never seen such a complexion; nobody had + ever seen such a complexion. It combined extremely marvellous + whites and extremely marvellous pinks, and the skin had the + exquisite, incredible softness of a baby's. Next he was struck + by her candid, ingenuous, inquiring gaze, and by her thin voice + with the slight occasional lisp. The splendid magnificence of + her frock and jewels came into play later. Lastly her demeanour + imposed itself. That simple gaze showed not the slightest + diffidence, scarcely even modesty; it was more brazen than + effrontery. She preceded the other three into the restaurant, + where electricity had finally conquered the expiring daylight, + and her entry obviously excited the whole room; yet, guided by + two waving and fawning waiters, and a hundred glances upon her, + she walked to the appointed table without a trace of + self-consciousness—as naturally as a policeman down a + street. When she sat down, George on her right, Lucas on her + left, and the tall, virginal Laurencine Ingram opposite, she + was the principal person in the restaurant. George had already + passed from disappointment to an impressed nervousness. The + inquisitive diners might all have been quizzing him instead of + Irene Wheeler. He envied Lucas, who was talking freely to both + Miss Wheeler and Laurencine about what he had ordered for + dinner. That morning over a drawing-board and an architectural + problem, Lucas had been humble enough to George, and George by + natural right had laid the law down to Lucas; but now Lucas, + who—George was obliged to admit—never said anything + brilliant or original, was outshining him.... It was + unquestionable that in getting Irene Wheeler to dinner, Lucas, + by some mysterious talent which he possessed, had performed a + feat greater even than George had at first imagined—a + prodigious feat.</p> + + <p>George waited for Irene Wheeler to begin to talk. She did + not begin to talk. She was content with the grand function of + existing. Lucas showed her the portrait in the illustrated + paper, which he had kept. She said that it was comparatively an + old one, and had been taken at the Durbar in January. "Were you + at the Durbar?" asked the simpleton George. Irene Wheeler + looked at him. "Yes. I was in the Viceroy's house-party," she + answered mildly. And then she said to Lucas that she had sat + three times to photographers +<!-- Page 115 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page110" name="page110">[pg 110]</a> + </span> + + that week—"They won't leave me alone"—but that the + proofs were none of them satisfactory. At this Laurencine + Ingram boldly and blushingly protested, maintaining that one of + them was lovely. George was attracted to Laurencine, in whom he + saw no likeness to her sister Lois. She could not long have + left school. She was the product finished for the world; she + had been taught everything that was considered + desirable—even to the art of talking easily and yet + virginally on all subjects at table; and she was a nice, + honest, handsome girl, entirely unspoilt by the mysterious + operations practised upon her. She related how she had been + present when a famous photographer arrived at Miss Wheeler's + flat with his apparatus, and what the famous photographer had + said. The boys laughed. Miss Wheeler smiled faintly. "I'm glad + we didn't have to go to that play to-night," she remarked, + quitting photography. "However, I shall have to go to-morrow + night. And I don't care for first nights in London, only they + will have me go." In this last phrase, and in the intonation of + it, was the first sign she had given of her American origin; + her speech was usually indistinguishable from English English, + which language she had in fact carefully acquired years + earlier. George gathered that Lucas's success in getting Miss + Wheeler to dinner was due to the accident of a first night + being postponed at the last moment and Miss Wheeler thus + finding herself with an empty evening. He covertly examined + her. Why was the feat of getting Miss Wheeler to dinner + enormous? Why would photographers not leave her alone? Why + would theatrical managers have her accept boxes gratis which + they could sell for money? Why was she asked to join the + Viceregal party for the Durbar? Why was the restaurant agog? + Why was he himself proud and flattered—yes, proud and + flattered—to be seen at the same table with her?... She + was excessively rich, no doubt; she was reputed to be the niece + of a railway man in Indianapolis who was one of the major + rivals of Harriman. She dressed superbly, perhaps too superbly. + But there were innumerable rich and well-dressed women on + earth. After all, she put her gold bag and her gloves down on + the table with just the same gesture as other women did; and + little big Laurencine had a gold bag too. She was not witty. He + questioned whether she was essentially kind. She was not young; + her age was an enigma. She had not a remarkable figure, nor + unforgettable hair, nor incendiary eyes. She seemed too placid + and self-centred for +<!-- Page 116 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page111" name="page111">[pg 111]</a> + </span> + + love. If she had loved, it must have been as she sat to + photographers or occupied boxes on first nights—because + 'they' would have it so. George was baffled to discover the + origin of her prestige. He had to seek it in her complexion. + Her complexion was indubitably miraculous. He enjoyed looking + at it, though he lacked the experience to know that he was + looking at a complexion held by connoisseurs who do naught else + but look at complexions to be a complexion unique in Europe. + George, unsophisticated, thought that the unaffected + simplicity—far exceeding self-confidence—with which + she acquiesced in her prestige was perhaps more miraculous than + her complexion. It staggered him.</p> + + <p>The dinner was a social success. Irene Wheeler listened + adroitly, if without brilliance, and after one glass of wine + George found himself quite able to talk in the Enwright manner + about architecture and the profession of architecture, and also + to talk about automobiles. The casualness with which he + mentioned his Final Examination was superb—the examiners + might have been respectfully waiting for him to arrive and + discomfit them. But of course the main subject was automobiles. + Even Laurencine knew the names of all the leading makers, and + when the names of all the leading makers had been enumerated + and their products discussed, the party seemed to think that it + had accomplished something that was both necessary and stylish. + When the tablecloth had been renewed, and the solemn moment + came for Everard Lucas to order liqueurs, George felt almost + gay. He glanced round the gilded and mirrored apartment, now + alluringly animated by the subdued yet vivacious intimacies of + a score of white tables, and decided that the institution of + restaurants was a laudable and agreeable institution. + Marguerite had receded further than ever into the background of + his mind; and as for the Final, it had diminished to a + formality.</p> + + <p>"And you?" Everard asked Laurencine, after Miss Wheeler.</p> + + <p>George had thought that Laurencine was too young for + liqueurs. She had had no wine. He expected her to say 'Nothing, + thanks,' as conventionally as if her late head mistress had + been present. But she hesitated, smiling, and then, obedient + to the profound and universal instinct which seems to guide all + young women to the same liqueur, she said:</p> + + <p>"May I have a + <i>crême de menthe</i> + + ? I've never had + <i>crême de menthe</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>George was certainly shocked for an instant. But no +<!-- Page 117 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page112" name="page112">[pg 112]</a> + </span> + + one else appeared to be shocked. Miss Wheeler, in charge of + Laurencine, offered no protest. And then George reflected: "And + why not? Why shouldn't she have a + <i>crême de menthe</i> + + ?" When Laurencine raised the tiny glass to her firm, large + mouth, George thought that the sight of the young virginal + thing tasting a liqueur was a fine and a beautiful sight.</p> + + <p>"It's just heavenly!" murmured Laurencine ecstatically.</p> + + <p>Miss Wheeler was gazing at George.</p> + + <p>"What's the matter?" he demanded, smiling, and rested one + elbow on the table and looked enigmatically through the smoke + of his cigar.</p> + + <p>"I was just wondering about you," said Miss Wheeler. Her + voice, always faint, had dropped to a murmur which seemed to + expire as it reached George's ear.</p> + + <p>"Why?" He was flattered.</p> + + <p>"I've been wanting to see you."</p> + + <p>"Really!" he laughed, rather too loudly. "What a pity I + didn't know earlier!" He was disturbed as well as flattered, + for such a remark from such a person as Irene Wheeler to such a + person as himself was bound to be disturbing. His eyes sought + audaciously to commune with hers, but hers were not responsive; + they were entirely non-committal.</p> + + <p>"You + <i>are</i> + + the man that wouldn't let my friend Lois drive him in my car, + aren't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said defiantly, but rather guiltily. "Did she tell + you about that? It's an awful long time ago."</p> + + <p>"She told me something about it."</p> + + <p>"And you've remembered it all this long while!"</p> + + <p>"Yes," she answered, and her thin, queer tone and her tepid, + impartial glance had the effect of a challenge to him to + justify himself.</p> + + <p>"And don't you think I was quite right?" he ventured.</p> + + <p>"She drives very well." It was not the sort of answer he was + expecting. His desire was to argue.</p> + + <p>"She didn't drive very well then," he said, with + conviction.</p> + + <p>"Was that a reason for your leaving her to drive home + alone?"</p> + + <p>Women were astounding!</p> + + <p>"She ought to have let the chauffeur drive," he + maintained.</p> + + <p>"Ah! A man mustn't expect too much from a woman."</p> + + <p>"But I was risking my life in that car! Do you mean to say I + ought to have kept on risking it?"</p> + + <p>"I don't express any opinion on that. That was for you +<!-- Page 118 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page113" name="page113">[pg 113]</a> + </span> + + to decide.... You must admit it was very humiliating for poor + Lois."</p> + + <p>He felt himself cornered, but whether justly or unjustly he + was uncertain.</p> + + <p>"Was she vexed?"</p> + + <p>"No, she wasn't vexed. Lois isn't the woman to be vexed. But + I have an idea she was a little hurt."</p> + + <p>"Did she say so?"</p> + + <p>"Say so? Lois? She'd never say anything against anybody. + Lois is a perfect angel.... Isn't she, Laurencine?"</p> + + <p>Laurencine was being monopolized by Everard.</p> + + <p>"What did you say?" the girl asked, collecting herself.</p> + + <p>"I was just saying what an angel Lois is."</p> + + <p>"Oh, she + <i>is</i> + + !" the younger sister agreed, with immense and sincere + emphasis.</p> + + <p>George, startled, said to himself suddenly:</p> + + <p>"Was I mistaken in her? Some girls you + <i>are</i> + + mistaken in! They're regular bricks, but they keep it from you + at first."</p> + + <p>Somehow, in spite of a slight superficial mortification, he + was very pleased by the episode of the conversation, and his + curiosity was titillated.</p> + + <p>"Lois would have come to-night instead of Laurencine," Miss + Wheeler went on, "only she wasn't feeling very well."</p> + + <p>"Is she in London? I've only seen her once from that day to + this, and then we didn't get near each other owing to the + crush. So we didn't speak. It was at Mrs. Orgreave's."</p> + + <p>"Yes, I know."</p> + + <p>"Did she tell you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Is she at your flat?"</p> + + <p>"Yes; but she's not well."</p> + + <p>"Not in bed, I hope, or anything like that?"</p> + + <p>"Oh no! She's not in bed."</p> + + <p>Laurencine threw laughingly across the table:</p> + + <p>"She's as well as I am."</p> + + <p>It was another aspect of the younger sister.</p> + + <p>When they left the restaurant it was nearly empty. They left + easily, slowly, magnificently. The largesse of Everard + Lucas—his hat slightly raked—in the foyer and at + the portico was magnificent in both quantity and manner. There + was no need to hurry; the hour, though late for the end of + dinner, was early for separation. They moved and talked without + the slightest diffidence, familiar and confident; the whole +<!-- Page 119 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page114" name="page114">[pg 114]</a> + </span> + + world was reformed and improved for them by the stimulus of + food and alcohol. The night was sultry and dark. The two women + threw their cloaks back from their shoulders, revealing the + whiteness of toilettes. At the door the head-lights of Miss + Wheeler's automobile shot horizontally right across Regent + Street. The chauffeur recognized George, and George recognized + the car; he was rather surprised that Miss Wheeler had not had + a new car in eighteen months. Lucas spoke of his own car, which + lay beyond in the middle of the side-street like a ship at + anchor. He spoke in such a strain that Miss Wheeler deigned to + ask him to drive her home in it. The two young men went to + light the head-lights. George noticed the angry scowl on + Everard's face when three matches had been blown out in the + capricious breeze. The success of the fourth match restored his + face to perfect benignity. He made the engine roar + triumphantly, imperiously sounded his horn, plunged forward, + and drew the car up in front of Miss Wheeler's. His bliss, when + Miss Wheeler had delicately inserted herself into the space by + his side, was stern and yet radiant. The big car, with George + and Laurencine on board, followed the little one like a cat + following a mouse, and Laurencine girlishly interested herself + in the chase. George, with his mind on Lois, kept saying to + himself: "She's been thinking about that little affair ever + since last November but one. They've all been thinking about + it." He felt apprehensive, but his satisfaction amounted to + excitement. His attitude was: "At any rate I gave them + something to think about!" Also he breathed appreciatively the + atmosphere of the three women—two seen and one unseen. + How extraordinarily different all of them were from Agg! They + reminded him acutely of his deep need of luxury. After all, the + life lived by those two men about town, George and Everard, was + rather humdrum and monotonous. In spite of Everard's dash, and + in spite of George's secret engagement, neither of them met + enough women or enough sorts of women. George said to himself: + "I shall see her to-night. We shall go up to the flat. She + isn't in bed. I shall see her to-night." He wanted to see her + because he had hurt her, and because she had remembered and had + talked about him and had raised curiosity about him in others. + Was she really unwell? Or had she been excusing herself! Was + she an angel? He wanted to see her again in order to judge for + himself whether she was an angel. If Laurencine said she was an + angel she must be an +<!-- Page 120 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page115" name="page115">[pg 115]</a> + </span> + + angel. Laurencine was a jolly, honest girl. To be in the car + with her was agreeable. But she was insipid. So he assessed the + splendidly budding Laurencine, patronizing her a little. Miss + Wheeler gave him pause. Her simple phrases had mysterious + intonations. He did not understand her glance. He could not + settle the first question about her—her age. She might be + very wicked; certainly she could be very ruthless. And he had + no hold over her. He could give her nothing that she wanted. He + doubted whether any man could.</p> + + <p>"Have you been in London long?" he asked Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"A week," she said. "I came over with Miss Wheeler. I didn't + think mother would let me, but she did."</p> + + <p>"And did your sister come with you?"</p> + + <p>"No; Lois only came yesterday."</p> + + <p>"By herself?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"I suppose you go about a lot?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, we + <i>do</i> + + It's such a change from Paris."</p> + + <p>"Well, I should prefer Paris."</p> + + <p>"You wouldn't! London's much more romantic. Paris is so hard + and matter-of-fact."</p> + + <p>"So's London."</p> + + <p>She squirmed about lissomly on the seat.</p> + + <p>"You don't know what I mean," she said. "I never + <i>can</i> + + make people see what I mean—about anything."</p> + + <p>He smiled indulgently and dropped the point.</p> + + <p>"Miss Wheeler taken you to Mrs. Orgreave's yet?"</p> + + <p>"Yes; we were there on Saturday afternoon."</p> + + <p>"Well, what do you think of Mrs. Orgreave?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! She's very nice," Laurencine answered, with polite + tepidity; and added eagerly: "Mr. Orgreave's a dear."</p> + + <p>George was glad that she had not been enthusiastic about + Mrs. Orgreave. Her reserve showed that she could discriminate. + Ecstasy was not altogether a habit. If she said that Lois was + an angel, Lois probably was an angel.</p> + + <p>The cars stopped at the foot of a huge block of masonry in a + vast leafy square. George suddenly became very nervous. He + thought: "I shall be seeing her in a minute."</p> + + <p>Then, as he got out of the car, he heard Miss Wheeler saying + to Lucas:</p> + + <p>"Well, good night. And thank you so much. It's been most + delightful.... We expect you soon, of course."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 121 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page116" name="page116">[pg 116]</a> + </span> + + She actually was not asking them to go up! George was + excessively disappointed. He watched Miss Wheeler and + Laurencine disappear into the rich and guarded interior with + envy, as though they had entered a delectable paradise to which + he could not aspire; and the fact that Miss Wheeler had vaguely + invited him to call did not brighten him very much. He had + assumed that he would see Lois the angel that night.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The young men finished the evening at Pickering's. + Pickering's was George's club. George considered, rightly, that + in the matter of his club he had had great luck. Pickering's + was a small club, and it had had vicissitudes. Most men whose + worldly education had been completed in St. James's were + familiar with its historical name, but few could say off-hand + where it was. Its address was Candle Court, and Candle Court + lay at the end of Candle Alley (a very short passage), between + Duke Street and Bury Street. The Court was in fact a tiny + square of several houses, chiefly used by traders and agents of + respectability—as respectability is understood in St. + James's; it had a lamp-post of its own. The report ran, and was + believed by persons entitled to an opinion, that the Duke of + Wellington had for some years hidden there the lovely desire of + his heart from an inquisitive West End. Pickering's had, of + course, originally been a coffee-house; later, like many other + coffee-houses in the neighbourhood, it had developed into a + proprietary club. Misfortunes due to the caprices of taste and + to competition had brought about an arrangement by which the + ownership was vested in a representative committee. The + misfortunes had continued, and at the beginning of the century + a crisis was reached, and Pickering's tried hard to popularize + itself, thereby doing violence to its feelings. Rules were + abated, and the entrance-fee fell. It was in this period that + Everard Lucas, whose ears were always open for useful items, + heard of it and suggested it to George. George wanted to join + Lucas's club, which was in St. James's Street itself, but Lucas + wisely pointed out that if they belonged to different clubs + each would in practice have two clubs. Moreover, he said that + George might conceivably get a permanent bedroom there. The + first sight of the prim, picturesque square, the first hint of + scandal about the Duke of Wellington, de +<!-- Page 122 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page117" name="page117">[pg 117]</a> + </span> + + cided George. It was impossible for a man about town to refuse + the chance of belonging to a club in a Court where the Duke of + Wellington had committed follies.</p> + + <p>George was proposed, seconded, and duly elected, together + with other new blood. Some of the old blood naturally objected, + but the feud was never acute. Solely owing to the impression + which his young face made on the powerful and aged hall-porter, + George obtained a bedroom. It was small, and at the top of the + house; but it was cheap, it solved the even more tiresome and + uncomfortable problem of lodging; and further it was a bedroom + at Pickering's, and George could say that he lived at his + club—an imposing social advantage. He soon learnt how to + employ the resources of the club for his own utmost benefit. + Nobody could surpass him in choosing a meal inexpensively. He + could have his breakfast in his bedroom for tenpence, or even + sixpence when his appetite was poor. He was well served by a + valet who apparently passed his whole life on stairs and + landings. This valet, courteous rather in the style of old + Haim, had a brain just equal to the problems presented by his + vocation. Every morning George would say: "Now, Downs, how soon + can I have my bath?" or "Now, Downs, what can I have for + breakfast?" And Downs would conscientiously cerebrate, and come + forth after some seconds with sound solutions, such as: "I'll + see if I can put you in before Mr. de Gales if you're in a + hurry, sir," or "Scrambled eggs, sir—it'll make a bit of + a change." And when George agreed, Downs would exhibit a + restrained but real satisfaction. Yes, George had been very + lucky. The club too was lucky. The oldest member, who being + paralysed had not visited the club for eleven years, died and + bequeathed ten thousand pounds to the institution where he had + happily played cards for several decades. Pickering's was + refurnished, and the stringency of its rules re-established. + The right wing of the committee wished that the oldest member + could have managed to die a year or two earlier and so obviated + the crisis. It was recognized, however, by the more reasonable, + that you cannot have everything in this world.</p> + + <p>Pickering's was very dull; but it was still Pickering's. + George was often bored at Pickering's. He soon reached the + stage at which a club member asserts gloomily that the club + cookery is simply damnable. Nevertheless he would have been + desolated to leave Pickering's. The place was useful to him in + another respect than the purely material. +<!-- Page 123 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page118" name="page118">[pg 118]</a> + </span> + + He learnt there the code which governs the familiar relations + of men about town.</p> + + <p>On the night of the Café Royal dinner, George and Lucas + reclined in two easy chairs in the inner smoking-room of + Pickering's. They were alone. Through the wide archway that + marked the division between the inner and the outer + smoking-rooms they could see one solitary old gentleman dozing + in an attitude of abandonment, a magazine on his knees. + Ash-trays were full of ash and cigarette ends and matches. + Newspapers were scattered around, some folded inside out, some + not folded, some whose component sheets had been divided for + ever like the members of a ruined family. The windows were + open, and one gave a view of the Court's watchful lamp-post, + and the other of the house—now occupied by an art dealer + and a commission agent—where the Duke had known both + illusion and disillusion. The delicate sound of the collision + of billiard-balls came from somewhere, and the rat-tatting of a + tape-machine from somewhere else. The two friends had arrived + at the condition of absolute wisdom and sagacity and tolerance + which is apt to be achieved at a late hour in clubs by young + and old men who have discussed at length the phenomena of + society.</p> + + <p>"Well, I must be toddling," said Lucas, yawning as he looked + idly at the coloured horses on each wall who were for ever + passing winning-posts or soaring over bullfinches or throwing + riders into brooks.</p> + + <p>"Here! Hold on!" George protested. "It's early."</p> + + <p>"Is it?"</p> + + <p>They began again to smoke and talk.</p> + + <p>"Nice little thing, What's-her-name! What's her funny + name?"</p> + + <p>"Laurencine, do you mean? Yes." Lucas spoke coldly, with a + careful indifference. George, to whom insight had not been + denied, understood that Everard did not altogether care for + Laurencine to be referred to as a little thing, that he had + rendered Laurencine sacred by his secret approval.</p> + + <p>"I say," said George, sitting up slightly, and increasing + the intimacy of his tone, "devilish odd, wasn't it, that the + Wheeler woman didn't ask us up?"</p> + + <p>Hitherto they had avoided this question in their profound + gossip. It had lain between them untouched, like a substance + possibly dangerous and explosive. Yet they could not have + parted without touching it, and George, with char +<!-- Page 124 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page119" name="page119">[pg 119]</a> + </span> + + acteristic moral courage or rashness, had touched it first. + Lucas was of a mind to reply succinctly that the Wheeler + woman's conduct was not a bit devilish odd. But sincerity won. + The dismissal at the entrance to the Mansions had affected him + somewhat deeply. It had impaired the perfection of his most + notable triumph. The temptation to release his feelings was too + strong.</p> + + <p>"Well, if you ask me," he answered, it was. After a little + pause he went on:</p> + + <p>"Especially seeing that she practically asked me to ask them + to dinner." His nice features loosened to dissatisfaction. "The + deuce she did!"</p> + + <p>"Yes! Practically asked me! Anyhow, gave me the tip What can + you do?" He implied that, far from deriving unique and + unhoped-for glory from the condescension of Irene Wheeler in + consenting to dine with him, he had conferred a favour on her + by his invitation. He implied that brilliant women all over + London competed for his invitations. His manner was entirely + serious; it probably deceived even himself. George's manner + corresponded, instinctively, chivalrously; but George was not + deceived—at any rate in the subconscious depth of his + mind.</p> + + <p>"Exactly!" murmured George.</p> + + <p>"Yes" said Lucas. "She said: 'I could bring Laurencine with + me, if you can get another man. That would make a four.' She + said she wanted to wake Laurencine up."</p> + + <p>"Did you tell her you should ask me?" George questioned.</p> + + <p>"Oh! She seemed to know all about you, my boy."</p> + + <p>"Well, but she couldn't know all about me," said George + insincerely. "Well, if you want to know then, she suggested I + should ask you."</p> + + <p>"But she'd never seen me!"</p> + + <p>"She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect."</p> + + <p>"Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically + assessing an announcement that had no intrinsic interest for + him. In reality he was greatly excited.</p> + + <p>"Well you know what those sort of women are!" Lucas summed + up wisely, as if referring to truths of knowledge common among + men of their kidney.</p> + + <p>"Oh, of course!"</p> + + <p>The magazine slid from the knees of the sleeper. The sleeper + snorted and woke up. The spell was broken. Lucas rose suddenly. + " +<!-- Page 125 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page120" name="page120">[pg 120]</a> + </span> + + Bye-bye!" He was giving an ultimatum as to his departure.</p> + + <p>George rose also, but slowly.</p> + + <p>"All that doesn't explain why she didn't ask us up," said + he.</p> + + <p>But in his heart he thought he knew why Miss Wheeler hadn't + asked them up. The reason was that she maliciously wanted to + tantalize him, George. She had roused his curiosity about Lois, + and then she had said to herself: "You think you're going to + see her to-night, but you just aren't." Such, according to + George, was Irene Wheeler the illustrious. He reflected on the + exasperating affair until he had undressed and got into bed. + But as soon as he had put out the light Marguerite appeared + before him, and at the back of her were the examiners for the + Final. He slept ill.</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_VII'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 126 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page121" name="page121">[pg 121]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + + <h3>THE RUPTURE</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>During the whole of the next day George waited for a letter + from Marguerite. There was nothing at the club by the first + post; he went to the office, hoping that as he had addressed + his telegram from Russell Square she might have written to + Russell Square; there was nothing at Russell Square. At + lunch-time no word had arrived at the club; when the office + closed no word had arrived at the office; the last post brought + nothing to the club. He might have sent another telegram to + Alexandra Grove, but he was too proud to do so. He dined alone + and most miserably at the club. Inspired by unhappiness and + resentment, he resolved to go to bed; in bed he might read + himself to sleep. But in the hall of the club his feet + faltered. Perhaps it was the sight of hats and sticks that made + him vacillate, or a glimpse of reluctantly dying silver in the + firmament over Candle Court. He wavered; he stood still at the + foot of the stairs. The next moment he was in the street. He + had decided to call on Agg at the studio. Agg might have the + clue to Marguerite's astounding conduct, though he had it not. + He took a hansom, after saying he would walk; he was too + impatient for walking. Possibly Marguerite would be at the + studio; possibly a letter of hers had miscarried; letters did + miscarry. He was in a state of peculiar excitement as he paid + the cabman—an enigma to himself.</p> + + <p>The studio was quite dark. Other studios showed lights, but + not Agg's. From one studio came the sound of a + mandolin—he thought it was a mandolin—and the sound + seemed pathetic, tragic, to his ears. Agg was perhaps in bed; + he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But no! He + would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for + him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know + anything about Marguerite?" The +<!-- Page 127 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page122" name="page122">[pg 122]</a> + </span> + + affianced ought to be the leading authority as to the doings of + Marguerite. He turned away, walked a little, and perceived the + cabman swinging himself cautiously down from his perch in order + to enter a public-house. He turned back. Marguerite too might + be in bed at the studio. Or the girls might be sitting in the + dark, talking—a habit of theirs.... Fanciful + suppositions! At any rate he would not knock at the door of the + studio, would not even enter the alley again. What carried him + into the Fulham Road and westwards as far as the Workhouse + tower and the corner of Alexandra Grove? Feet! But surely the + feet of another person, over which he had no control! He went + in the lamplit dimness of Alexandra Grove like a thief; he + crept into it. The silver had not yet died out of the sky; he + could see it across the spaces between the dark houses; it was + sad in exactly the same way as the sound of the mandolin had + been sad.</p> + + <p>What did he mean to do in the Grove? Nothing! He was just + walking in it by chance. He could indeed do nothing. For if he + rang at No. 8 old Haim would again confront him in the portico. + He passed by No. 8 on the opposite side of the road. No light + showed, except a very dim glow through the blind of the + basement window to the left of the front door. Those feet + beneath him strolled across the road. The basement window was + wide open. The blind being narrower than the window-frame, he + could see, through the railings, into the room within. He saw + Marguerite. She was sitting, in an uncomfortable posture, in + the rather high-seated arm-chair in which formerly, when the + room was her studio, she used to sit at her work. Her head had + dropped, on one shoulder. She was asleep. On the table a candle + burned. His heart behaved strangely. He flushed. All his flesh + tingled. The gate creaked horribly as he tiptoed into the patch + of garden. He leaned over the little chasm between the level of + the garden and the window, and supported himself with a hand on + the lower sash. He pushed the blind sideways with the other + hand.</p> + + <p>"Marguerite!" in a whisper. Then louder: "Marguerite!"</p> + + <p>She did not stir. She was in a deep sleep. Her hands hung + limp. Her face was very pale and very fatigued. She liberated + the same sadness as the sound of the mandolin and the gleam of + silver in the June sky, but it was far more poignant. At the + spectacle of those weary and unconscious +<!-- Page 128 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page123" name="page123">[pg 123]</a> + </span> + + features and of the soft, bodily form, George's resentment was + annihilated. He wondered at his resentment. He was aware of + nothing in himself but warm, protective love. Tenderness surged + out from the impenetrable secrecy of his heart, filled him, + overflowed, and floated in waves towards the sleeper. In the + intense sadness, and in the uncertainty of events, he was + happy.</p> + + <p>An older man might have paused, but without hesitancy George + put his foot on the window-sill, pushed down the window + farther, and clambered into the room in which he had first seen + Marguerite. His hat, pressing backward the blind, fell off and + bounced its hard felt on the floor, which at the edges was + uncarpeted. The noise of the hat and the general stir of + George's infraction disturbed Marguerite, who awoke and looked + up. The melancholy which she was exhaling suddenly vanished. + Her steady composure in the alarm delighted George.</p> + + <p>"Couldn't wake you," he murmured lightly. It was part of his + Five Towns upbringing to conceal excitement. "Saw you through + the window."</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! Was I asleep?"</p> + + <p>Pleasure shone on her face. He deposited his stick and + sprang to her. He sat on the arm of the chair. He bent her head + back and examined her face. He sat on her knee and held her. + She did not kiss; she was kissed; he liked that. Her fatigue + was adorable.</p> + + <p>"I came here for something, and I just sat down for a second + because I was so tired, and I must have gone right off.... No! + No!"</p> + + <p>The admonishing negative was to stop him from getting up off + her knee. She was exhausted, yet she had vast resources of + strength to bear him on her knee. She was wearing her oldest + frock. It was shabby. But it exquisitely suited her then. It + was the frock of her capability, of her great labours, of her + vigil, of her fatigue. It covered, but did not hide, her + beautiful contours. He thought she was marvellously + beautiful—and very young, far younger than himself. As + for him, he was the dandy, in striking contrast to her. His + dandyism as he sat on her knee pleased both of them. He looked + older than his years, his shoulders had broadened, his dark + moustache thickened. In his own view he was utterly adult, as + she was in hers. But their young faces so close together, so + confident, were touchingly immature. As he observed her grave + satisfaction at his presence, +<!-- Page 129 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page124" name="page124">[pg 124]</a> + </span> + + the comfort which he gave her, he felt sure of her, and the + memory of his just resentment came to him, and he was tenderly + reproachful.</p> + + <p>"I expected to hear from you," he said. The male in him + relished the delicate accusation of his tone.</p> + + <p>Marguerite answered with a little startled intake of + breath:</p> + + <p>"She's dead!"</p> + + <p>"Dead?"</p> + + <p>"She died this afternoon. The layer-out left about half an + hour ago."</p> + + <p>Death parted them. He rose from her knee, and Marguerite did + not try to prevent him. He was profoundly shocked. With + desolating vividness he recalled the Sunday afternoon when he + had carried upstairs the plump, living woman now dead. He had + always liked Mrs. Lob—it was as Mrs. Lob that he thought + of her. He had seen not much of her. Only on that Sunday + afternoon had he and she reached a sort of + intimacy—unspoken but real. He had liked her. He had even + admired her. She was no ordinary being. And he had sympathized + with her for Marguerite's quite explicable defection. He had + often wished that those two, the charwoman and his beloved, + could somehow have been brought together. The menaces of death + had brought them together. Mrs. Lob was laid out in the bedroom + which he had once entered. Mrs. Lob had been dying while he + dined richly with Miss Wheeler and Laurencine, and while he + talked cynically with Everard Lucas. And while he had been + resenting Marguerite's neglect Marguerite was watching by the + dying bed. Oh! The despicable superficialities of restaurants + and clubs! He was ashamed. The mere receding shadow of death + shamed him.</p> + + <p>"The baby's dead too, of course," Marguerite added. "She + ought never to have had a baby. It seems she had had two + miscarriages."</p> + + <p>There were tears in Marguerite's eyes and in her voice. + Nevertheless her tone was rather matter-of-fact as she related + these recondite and sinister things. George thought that women + were very strange. Imagine Marguerite quietly talking to him in + this strain! Then the sense of the formidable secrets that lie + hidden in the history of families, and the sense of the + continuity of individual destinies, overwhelmed him. There was + silence.</p> + + <p>"And your exam. begins to-morrow," whispered the astonishing + Marguerite.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 130 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page125" name="page125">[pg 125]</a> + </span> + + Where's the old gentleman?"</p> + + <p>"He's sitting in the parlour in the dark."</p> + + <p>It was a terrible house: they two intimidated and mournful + in the basement; the widower solitary on the ground floor; the + dead bodies, the wastage and futility of conception and long + bearing, up in the bedroom. And in all the house the light of + one candle! George suddenly noticed, then, that Marguerite was + not wearing the thin, delicate ring which he had long ago given + her. Had she removed it because of her manual duties? He wanted + to ask the question, but, even unspoken, it seemed too trivial + for the hour....</p> + + <p>There was a shuffling sound beyond the door, and a groping + on the outer face of the door. Marguerite jumped up. Mr. Haim + stumbled into the room. He had incredibly aged; he looked + incredibly feeble. But as he pointed a finger at George he was + in a fury of anger, and his anger was senile, ridiculous, + awful.</p> + + <p>"I thought I heard voices," he said, half squeaking. "How + did you get in? You didn't come in by the door. Out of my + house! My wife lying dead upstairs, and you choose this night + to break in!" He was implacable against George, absolutely; and + George recoiled.</p> + + <p>The opening of the door had created a draught in which the + candle-flame trembled, and the shadow of the old man trembled + on the door.</p> + + <p>"You'd better go. I'll write. I'll write," Marguerite + murmured to George very calmly, very gently, very persuasively. + She stood between the two men. Her manner was perfect. It + eternally impressed itself on George. "Father, come and sit + down."</p> + + <p>The old man obeyed her. So did George. He snatched his hat + and stick. By the familiar stone steps of the basement, and + along the familiar hall, he felt his way to the door, turned + the familiar knob, and departed.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <p>The examination began the next day. Despite his + preoccupation about Marguerite, George's performances during + the first days were quite satisfactory to himself. Indeed, + after a few minutes in the examination-room, after the + preliminary critical assessing of the difficulty of the + problems in design, and the questions, and of his ability to + deal with +<!-- Page 131 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page126" name="page126">[pg 126]</a> + </span> + + them, George successfully forgot everything except the great + seven-day duel between the self-constituted autocratic + authorities backed by prestige and force, and the aspirants who + had naught but their wits to help them. He was neither a son, + nor a friend, nor a lover; he ceased to have human ties; he had + become an examinee. Marguerite wrote him two short letters + which were perfect, save that he always regarded her + handwriting as a little too clerical, too like her father's. + She made no reference whatever to the scene in the basement + room. She said that she could not easily arrange to see him + immediately, and that for the sake of his exam. he ought not to + be distracted. She would have seen him on the Saturday, but on + Saturday George learnt that her father was a little unwell and + required, even if he did not need, constant attention. The + funeral, unduly late, occurred by Mr. Haim's special desire on + the Sunday, most of which day George spent with Everard Lucas. + On the Monday he had a rendezvous at eight o'clock with + Marguerite at the studio.</p> + + <p>She opened the door herself; and her welcome was divine. Her + gestures spoke, delicate, and yet robust in their candour. But + she was in deep mourning.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" he said, holding her. "You're wearing black, + then."</p> + + <p>"Of course!" she answered sweetly. "You see, I had to be + there all through the funeral. And father would have been + frightfully shocked if I hadn't been in + black—naturally."</p> + + <p>"Of course!" he agreed. It was ridiculous that he should be + surprised and somewhat aggrieved to find her in mourning; + still, he was surprised and somewhat aggrieved.</p> + + <p>"Besides——" she added vaguely.</p> + + <p>And that 'besides' disquieted him, and confirmed his + grievance. Why should she wear mourning for a woman to whom she + was not related, whom she had known simply as a charwoman, and + who had forced her to leave her father's house? There was no + tie between Marguerite and her stepmother. George, for his + part, had liked the dead woman, but Marguerite had not even + liked her. No, she was not wearing black in honour of the dead, + but to humour the living. And why should her father be + humoured? George privately admitted the unreasonableness, the + unsoundness, of these considerations—obviously mourning + wear was imperative for Marguerite—nevertheless they were + present in his mind.</p> + + <p>"That frock's a bit tight, but it suits you," he said, + advancing with her into the studio.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 132 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page127" name="page127">[pg 127]</a> + </span> + + It's an old one," she smiled.</p> + + <p>"An old one?"</p> + + <p>"It's one I had for mother."</p> + + <p>He had forgotten that she had had a mother, that she had + known what grief was, only a very few years earlier. He + resented these bereavements and the atmosphere which they + disengaged. He wanted a different atmosphere.</p> + + <p>"Is the exam. really all right?" she appealed to him, taking + both his hands and leaning against him and looking up into his + face.</p> + + <p>"What did I tell you in my letter?"</p> + + <p>"Yes, I know."</p> + + <p>"The exam. is as right as rain."</p> + + <p>"I knew it would be."</p> + + <p>"You didn't," he laughed. He imitated her: "'Is the exam. + really all right?'" She just smiled. He went on confidently: + "Of course you never know your luck, you know. There's the viva + to-morrow.... Where's old Agg?"</p> + + <p>"She's gone home."</p> + + <p>"Thoughtful child! How soon will she be back?"</p> + + <p>"About nine," said Marguerite, apparently unaware that + George was being funny.</p> + + <p>"Nine!"</p> + + <p>"Oh, George!" Marguerite exclaimed, breaking away from him. + "I'm awfully sorry, but I must get on with my packing."</p> + + <p>"What packing?"</p> + + <p>"I have to take my things home."</p> + + <p>"What home?"</p> + + <p>"Father's, I mean."</p> + + <p>She was going to live with her father, who would not + willingly allow him, George, to enter the house! How astounding + girls were! She had written to him twice without giving the + least hint of her resolve. He had to learn it as it were + incidentally, through the urgency of packing. She did not tell + him she was going—she said she must get on with her + packing! And there, lying on the floor, was an open trunk; and + two of her drawing-boards already had string round them.</p> + + <p>George inquired:</p> + + <p>"How is the old man—to-day?"</p> + + <p>"He's very nervy," said Marguerite briefly and + significantly. "I'd better light the lamp; I shall see better." + She seemed to be speaking to herself. She stood on a chair and + lifted +<!-- Page 133 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page128" name="page128">[pg 128]</a> + </span> + + the chimney off the central lamp. George absently passed her + his box of matches.</p> + + <p>As she, was replacing the chimney, he said suddenly in a + very resolute tone:</p> + + <p>"This is all very well, Marguerite. But it's going to be + jolly awkward for me."</p> + + <p>She jumped lightly down from the chair, like a little + girl.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! I know!" she cried. "It will be awkward for + both of us. But we shall arrange something." She might have + resented his tone. She might have impulsively defended herself. + But she did not. She accepted his attitude with unreserved + benevolence. Her gaze was marvellously sympathetic.</p> + + <p>"I can't make out what your father's got against me," said + George angrily, building his vexation on her benevolence. "What + have I done, I should like to know."</p> + + <p>"It's simply because you lived there all that time without + him knowing we were engaged. He says if he'd known he would + never have let you stay there a day." She smiled, mournfully, + forgivingly, excusingly.</p> + + <p>"But it's preposterous!"</p> + + <p>"Oh! It is."</p> + + <p>"And how does he behave to + <i>you</i> + + ? Is he treating you decently?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Fairly. You see, he's got a lot to get over. And he's + most frightfully upset about—his wife. Well, you saw him + yourself, didn't you?"</p> + + <p>"That's no reason why he should treat you badly."</p> + + <p>"But he doesn't, George!"</p> + + <p>"Oh! I know! I know! Do you think I don't know? He's not + even decent to you. I can hear it in your voice. Why should you + go back and live with him if he isn't prepared to appreciate + it?"</p> + + <p>"But he expects it, George. And what am I to do? He's all + alone. I can't leave him all alone, can I?"</p> + + <p>George burst out:</p> + + <p>"I tell you what it is. Marguerite. You're too good-natured. + That's what it is. You're too good-natured. And it's a very bad + thing."</p> + + <p>Tears came into her eyes; she could not control them. She + was grieved by his remark.</p> + + <p>"I'm not, George, truly. You must remember father's been + through a lot this last week. So have I."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 134 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page129" name="page129">[pg 129]</a> + </span> + + "I know! I know! I admit all that. But you're too good-natured, + and I'll stick to it."</p> + + <p>She was smiling again.</p> + + <p>"You only think that because you're fond of me. Nobody else + would say it, and I'm not. Help me to lift this trunk on to the + chest."</p> + + <p>While the daylight withdrew, and the smell of the lamp + strengthened and then faded, and the shadows cast by the + lamp-rays grew blacker, she went on rapidly with her packing, + he serving her at intervals. They said little. His lower lip + fell lower and lower. The evening was immensely, horribly + different from what he had expected and hoped for. He felt once + more the inescapable grip of destiny fastening upon him.</p> + + <p>"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, after a long + time.</p> + + <p>"I told father I should be back at a quarter-past nine."</p> + + <p>This statement threw George into a condition of total dark + disgust. He made no remark. But what remarks he could have + made—sarcastic, bitter, unanswerable! Why indeed in the + name of heaven should she promise her father to be back at a + quarter-past nine, or at a quarter-past anything? Was she a + servant? Had she no rights? Had he himself, George, no + rights?</p> + + <p>A little before nine Agg arrived. Marguerite was fastening + the trunk.</p> + + <p>"Now be sure, Agg," said Marguerite. "Don't forget to hang + out the Carter Paterson card at the end of the alley to-morrow + morning. I must have these things at home to-morrow night for + certain. The labels are on. And here's twopence for the + man."</p> + + <p>"Do I forget?" retorted Agg cheerfully. "By the way, George, + I want to talk to you." She turned to Marguerite and repeated + in quite a different voice: "I want to talk to him, dear, + to-night. Do, let him stay. Will you?"</p> + + <p>Marguerite gave a puzzled assent.</p> + + <p>"I'll call after I've taken Marguerite to Alexandra Grove, + Agg—on my way back to the club."</p> + + <p>"Oh no, you won't!" said Agg. "I shall be gone to bed then. + Look at that portrait and see how I've worked. My family's + concerned about me. It wants me to go away for a holiday."</p> + + <p>George had not till then noticed the portrait at all.</p> + + <p>"But I must take Marguerite along to the Grove," he + insisted. "She can't go alone."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 135 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page130" name="page130">[pg 130]</a> + </span> + + And why can't she go alone? What sort of a conventional world + do you think you live in? Don't girls go home alone? Don't they + come in alone? Don't I? Anybody would think, to listen to some + people, that the purdah flourished in Chelsea. But it's all + pretence. I don't ask for the honour of a private interview + with you every night. You've both of you got all your lives + before you. And for once in a way Marguerite's going out alone. + At least, you can take her to the street, I don't mind that. + But don't be outside more than a minute."</p> + + <p>Agg, who had sat down, rose and slowly removed her small + hat. With pins in her mouth she said something about the + luggage to Marguerite.</p> + + <p>"All right! All right!" George surrendered gloomily. In + truth he was not sorry to let Marguerite depart solitary. And + Agg's demeanour was very peculiar; he would have been almost + afraid to be too obstinate in denying her request. He had never + seen her hysterical, but a suspicion took him that she might be + capable of hysteria.... You never knew, with that kind of girl, + he thought sagaciously.</p> + + <p>In the darkness of the alley George said to Marguerite, + feigning irritation:</p> + + <p>"What on earth does she want?"</p> + + <p>"Agg? Oh! It's probably nothing. She does get excited + sometimes, you know."</p> + + <p>The two girls had parted with strange, hard demonstrations + of affection from Agg.</p> + + <p>"I suppose you'll write," said George coldly.</p> + + <p>"To-morrow, darling," she replied quite simply and + gravely.</p> + + <p>Her kiss was warm, complete, faithful, very loving, very + sympathetic. Nothing in her demeanour as she left him showed + that George had received it in a non-committal manner. Yet she + must have noticed his wounded reserve. He did not like such + duplicity. He would have preferred her to be less miraculously + angelic.</p> + + <p>When he re-entered the studio, Agg, who very seldom smoked, + was puffing violently at a cigarette. She reclined on one elbow + on the settee, her eyes fixed on the portrait of herself. + George was really perturbed by the baffling queerness of the + scenes through which he was passing.</p> + + <p>"Look here, infant-in-arms," she began immediately. "I only + wanted to say two words to you about Marguerite. Can you stand + it?"</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 136 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page131" name="page131">[pg 131]</a> + </span> + + There was a pause. George walked in front of her, hiding the + easel.</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said gruffly.</p> + + <p>"Well, Marguerite's a magnificent girl. She's + extraordinarily capable. You'd think she could look after + herself as well as anyone. But she can't. I know her far better + than you do. She needs looking after. She'll make a fool of + herself if she isn't handled."</p> + + <p>"How do you mean?"</p> + + <p>"You know how I mean."</p> + + <p>"D'you mean about the old man?"</p> + + <p>"I mean about the perfectly horrid old man.... Ah! If I was + in your place, if I was a man," she said passionately, "do you + know what I should do with Marguerite? I should carry her off. + I should run away with her. I should drag her out of the house, + and she should know what a real man was. I'm not going to + discuss her with you. I'm not going to say any more at all. I'm + off to bed. But before you go, I do think you might tell me my + portrait's a pretty good thing."</p> + + <p>And she did not say any more.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The written part of the examination lasted four days; and + then there was an interval of one day in which the harassed and + harried aspirants might restore themselves for the two days' + ordeal of the viva voce. George had continued to be well + satisfied with his work up to the interval. He considered that + he had perfectly succeeded in separating the lover and the + examinee, and that nothing foreign to the examination could + vitiate his activity therein. It was on the day of repose, a + Wednesday, that a doubt suddenly occurred to him as to the + correctness of his answer, in the "Construction" paper, to a + question which began with the following formidable words: "A + girder, freely supported at each end and forty feet long, + carries a load of six tons at a distance of six feet from one + end and another load of ten tons——" Thus it went on + for ten lines. He had always been impatient of detail, and he + hated every kind of calculation. Nevertheless he held that + calculations were relatively easy, and that he could do them as + well as the driest duffer in the profession when he set his + mind to them. But the doubt as to the +<!-- Page 137 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page132" name="page132">[pg 132]</a> + </span> + + correctness of his answer developed into a certainty. Facing + the question in private again, he obtained four different + solutions in an hour; it was John Orgreave who ultimately set + him right, convicting him of a most elementary misconception. + Forthwith his faith in his whole "Construction" paper vanished. + He grumbled that it was monstrous to give candidates an + unbroken stretch of four hours' work at the end of a four-day + effort. Yet earlier he had been boasting that he had not felt + the slightest fatigue. He had expected to see Marguerite on the + day of repose. He did not see her. She had offered no + appointment, and he said to himself that he had not the + slightest intention of running after her. Such had become the + attitude of the lover to the beloved.</p> + + <p>On the Thursday morning, however, he felt fit enough to face + a dozen oral examiners, and he performed his morning exercises + in the club bedroom with a positive ferocity of vigour. And + then he was gradually overtaken by a black moodiness which he + could not explain. He had passed through similar though less + acute moods as a boy; but this was the first of the + inexplicable sombre humours which at moments darkened his + manhood. He had not the least suspicion that prolonged nervous + tension due to two distinct causes had nearly worn him out. He + was melancholy, and his melancholy increased. But he was proud; + he was defiant. His self-confidence, as he looked back at the + years of genuine hard study behind him, was complete. He + disdained examiners. He knew that with all their damnable + ingenuity they could not floor him.</p> + + <p>The crisis arrived in the afternoon of the first of the two + days. His brain was quite clear. Thousands of details about + drainage, ventilation, shoring, architectural practice, + lighting, subsoils, specifications, iron and steel + construction, under-pinning, the properties of building + materials, strains, thrusts, water-supply; thousands of details + about his designs—the designs in his 'testimonies of + study,' the design for his Thesis, and the designs produced + during the examination itself—all these peopled his + brain; but they were in order; they were under control; they + were his slaves. For four and a half hours, off and on, he had + admirably displayed the reality of his knowledge, and then he + was sent into a fresh room to meet a fresh examiner. There he + stood in the room alone with his designs for a small provincial + town hall—a key-plan, several one-eighth scale-plans, a + piece of half-inch detail, and two rough perspective sketches + which he knew were brilliant. The room was hot; through the + open window came the +<!-- Page 138 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page133" name="page133">[pg 133]</a> + </span> + + distant sound of the traffic of Regent Street. The strange + melancholy of a city in summer floated towards him from the + outside and reinforced his own.</p> + + <p>The examiner, who had been snatching tea, entered briskly + and sternly. He was a small, dapper, fair man of about fifty, + with wonderfully tended finger-nails. George despised him + because Mr. Enwright despised him, but he had met him once in + the way of the firm's business and found him urbane.</p> + + <p>"Good afternoon," said George politely.</p> + + <p>The examiner replied, trotting along the length of the desk + with quick, short steps:</p> + + <p>"Now about this work of yours. I've looked at it with some + care——" His speech was like his demeanour and his + finger-nails.</p> + + <p>"Boor!" thought George. But he could not actively resent the + slight. He glanced round at the walls; he was in a prison. He + was at the mercy of a tyrant invested with omnipotence.</p> + + <p>The little tyrant, however, was superficially affable. Only + now and then in his prim, courteous voice was there a hint of + hostility and cruelty. He put a number of questions, the + answers to which had to be George's justification. He said + "H'm!" and "Ah!" and "Really?" He came to the matter of + spouting.</p> + + <p>"Now, I object to hopper-heads," he said. "I regard them as + unhygienic."</p> + + <p>And he looked coldly at George with eyebrows lifted. George + returned the gaze.</p> + + <p>"I know you do, sir," George replied.</p> + + <p>Indeed it was notorious that hopper-heads to vertical + spouting were a special antipathy of the examiner's; he was a + famous faddist. But the reply was a mistake. The examiner, + secure in his attributes, ignored the sally. A little later, + taking up the general plan of the town hall, he said:</p> + + <p>"The fact is, I do—not—care for this kind of + thing. The whole tendency——-"</p> + + <p>"Excuse me, sir," George interrupted, with conscious and + elaborate respectfulness. "But surely the question isn't one of + personal preferences. Is the design good or is it bad?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I call it bad," said the examiner, showing testiness. + The examiner too could be impulsive, was indeed apt to be + short-tempered. The next instant he seized one of the brilliant + perspective sketches, and by his mere manner of +<!-- Page 139 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page134" name="page134">[pg 134]</a> + </span> + + holding it between his thumb and finger he sneered at it and + condemned it.</p> + + <p>He snapped out, not angrily—rather pityingly:</p> + + <p>"And what the devil's this?"</p> + + <p>George, furious, retorted:</p> + + <p>"What the hell do you think it is?"</p> + + <p>He had not foreseen that he was going to say such a thing. + The traffic in Regent Street, which had been inaudible to both + of them, was loud in their ears.</p> + + <p>The examiner had committed a peccadillo, George a terrible + crime. The next morning the episode, in various forms, was + somehow common knowledge and a source of immense diversion. + George went through the second day, but lifelessly. He was sure + he had failed. Apart from the significance of the fact that the + viva voce counted for 550 marks out of a total of 1200, he felt + that the Royal Institute of British Architects would know how + to defend its dignity. On the Saturday morning John Orgreave + had positive secret information that George would be + plucked.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>On that same Saturday afternoon George and Marguerite went + out together. She had given him a rendezvous in Brompton + Cemetery, choosing this spot partly because it was conveniently + near and partly in unconscious obedience to the traditional + instinct of lovers for the society of the undisturbing dead. + Each of them had a roofed habitation, but neither could employ + it for the ends of love. No. 8 was barred to George as much by + his own dignity as by the invisible sword of the old man; and + of course he could not break the immemorial savage taboo of a + club by introducing a girl into it. The Duke of Wellington + himself, though Candle Court was his purdah, could never have + broken the taboo of even so modest a club as Pickering's. Owing + to the absence of Agg, who had gone to Wales with part of her + family, the studio in Manresa Road was equally closed to the + pair.</p> + + <p>Marguerite was first at the rendezvous. George saw her + walking sedately near the entrance. Despite her sedateness she + had unmistakably the air of waiting at a tryst. Anybody at a + glance would have said that she was expecting a man. She had + the classical demure innocency of her situation. George did not + care for that. Why? She in fact was ex +<!-- Page 140 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page135" name="page135">[pg 135]</a> + </span> + + pecting a man, and in expecting him she had nothing to be + ashamed of. Well, he did not care for it. He did not care for + her being like other girls of her class. In his pocket he had + an invitation from Miss Wheeler for the next evening. Would + Miss Wheeler wait for a man in a public place, especially a + cemetery? Would Lois Ingram? Would Laurencine? He could not + picture them so waiting. Oh, simpleton, unlearned in the world! + A snob too, no doubt! (He actually thought that Hyde Park would + have been 'better' than the cemetery for their rendezvous.) And + illogical! If No. 8 had been open to them, and the studio, and + the club, he would have accepted with gusto the idea of an + open-air rendezvous. But since there was no alternative to an + open-air rendezvous the idea of it humiliated and repelled + him.</p> + + <p>Further, in addition to her culpable demure innocency, + Marguerite was wearing black. Of course she was. She had no + choice. Still, he hated her mourning. Moreover, she was too + modest; she did not impose herself. Some girls wore mourning + with splendid defiance. Marguerite seemed to apologize; seemed + to turn the other cheek to death.... He arrived critical, and + naturally he found matter to criticize.</p> + + <p>Her greeting showed quite candidly the pleasure she had in + the sight of him. Her heart was in the hand she gave him; he + felt its mystic throbbings there.</p> + + <p>"How are things?" he began. "I rather thought I should have + been hearing from you." He softened his voice to match the + tenderness of her smile, but he did it consciously.</p> + + <p>She replied:</p> + + <p>"I thought you'd have enough to worry about with the exam. + without me."</p> + + <p>It was not a wise speech, because it implied that he was + capable of being worried, of being disturbed in the effort of + absorption necessary for the examination. He laughed a little + harshly.</p> + + <p>"Well, you see the result!"</p> + + <p>He had written to tell her of the disastrous incident and + that failure was a certainty; a sort of shame had made him + recoil from telling her to her face; it was easier to be casual + in writing than in talking; the letter had at any rate tempered + for both of them the shock of communication. Now, he was out of + humour with her because he had played the ass with an ass of an + examiner—not because she was directly or indirectly + responsible for his doing so; simply because he had done so. + She was the woman. It was true that she in part +<!-- Page 141 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page136" name="page136">[pg 136]</a> + </span> + + was indirectly responsible for the calamity, but he did not + believe it, and anyhow would never have admitted it.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! What a shame it was!" As usual, not a trace of + reproach from her: an absolute conviction that he was entirely + blameless. "What shall you do? You'll have to sit again."</p> + + <p>"Sit again? Me?" he exclaimed haughtily. "I never shall! + I've done with exams." He meant it.</p> + + <p>"But—shall you give up architecture, then?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly not! My dear girl, what are you thinking of? Of + course I shan't give up architecture. But you needn't pass any + exams, to be an architect. Anybody can call himself an + architect, and be an architect, without passing exams. Exams. + are optional. That's what makes old Enwright so cross with our + beautiful profession."</p> + + <p>He laughed again harshly. All the time, beneath his quite + genuine defiance, he was thinking what an idiot he had been to + cheek the examiner, and how staggeringly simple it was to ruin + years of industry by one impulsive moment's folly, and how + iniquitous was a world in which such injustice could be.</p> + + <p>Marguerite was puzzled. In her ignorance she had imagined + that professions were inseparably connected with examinations. + However, she had to find faith to accept his dictum, and she + found it.</p> + + <p>"Now about this afternoon," he said. "I vote we take a + steamboat down the river. I've made up my mind I must have a + look at Greenwich again from the water. And we both need a + blow."</p> + + <p>"But won't it take a long time?" she mildly objected.</p> + + <p>He turned on her violently, and spoke as he had never + spoken:</p> + + <p>"What if it does?"</p> + + <p>He knew that she was thinking of her infernal father, and he + would not have it. He remembered all that Agg had said. + Assuredly Agg had shown nerve, too much nerve, to tackle him in + the way she did, and the more he reflected upon Agg's + interference the more he resented it as impertinent. Still, Agg + had happened to talk sense.</p> + + <p>"Oh, nothing!" Marguerite agreed quickly, fearfully. "I + should like to go. I've never been. Do we go to Chelsea Pier? + Down Fernshaw Road will be the nearest."</p> + + <p>"We'll go down Beaufort Street," he decided. He divined that + she had suggested Fernshaw Road in order to avoid passing the + end of the Grove, where her father might con +<!-- Page 142 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page137" name="page137">[pg 137]</a> + </span> + + ceivably see them. Well, he was not going out of his way to + avoid her father. Nay, he was going slightly out of his way in + order to give her father every chance of beholding them + together.</p> + + <p>Although the day was Saturday there was no stir on Chelsea + Pier. The pier-keeper, indeed, was alone on the pier, which + rose high on the urgent flood-tide, so that the gangway to it + sloped unusually upwards. No steamer was in sight, and it + seemed impossible that any steamer should ever call at that + forlorn and decrepit platform that trembled under the straining + of the water. Nevertheless, a steamer did after a little while + appear round the bend, in Battersea Reach; she dropped her + funnel, aimed her sharp nose at an arch of Battersea Bridge, + and finally, poising herself against the strong stream, bumped + very gently and neatly into contact with the pier. The + pier-keeper went through all the classic motions of mooring, + unbarring, barring, and casting off, and in a few seconds the + throbbing steamer, which was named with the name of a great + Londoner, left the pier again with George and Marguerite on + board. Nobody had disembarked. The shallow and handsome craft, + flying its gay flags, crossed and recrossed the river, calling + at three piers in the space of a few minutes; but all the piers + were like Chelsea Pier; all the pier-keepers had the air of + castaways upon shaking islets. The passengers on the steamer + would not have filled a motor-bus, and they carried themselves + like melancholy adventurers who have begun to doubt the + authenticity of the inspiration which sent them on a mysterious + quest. Such was travel on the Thames in the years immediately + before Londoners came to a final decision that the Thames was + meet to be ignored by the genteel town which it had + begotten.</p> + + <p>George and Marguerite sat close together near the prow, + saying little, the one waiting to spring, the other to suffer + onslaught. It was in Lambeth Reach that the broad, brimming + river challenged and seized George's imagination. A gusty, + warm, south-west wind met the rushing tide and blew it up into + foamy waves. The wind was powerful, but the tide was + irresistible. Far away, Land's End having divided the Atlantic + surge, that same wind was furiously driving vast waters up the + English Channel and round the Forelands, and also vast waters + up the west coast of Britain. The twin surges had met again in + the outer estuary of the Thames and joined their terrific + impulses to defy the very wind which had given them strength, + and the mighty flux swept with +<!-- Page 143 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page138" name="page138">[pg 138]</a> + </span> + + unregarding power through the mushroom city whose existence on + its banks was a transient episode in the everlasting life of + the river.</p> + + <p>The river seemed to threaten the city that had confined it + in stone. And George, in the background of his mind, which was + obsessed by the tormenting enigma of the girl by his side, also + threatened the city. With the uncompromising arrogance of the + student who has newly acquired critical ideas, he estimated and + judged it. He cursed the Tate Gallery and utterly damned + Doulton's works. He sternly approved Lambeth Palace, the Houses + of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Somerset House, Waterloo + Bridge, and St. Paul's. He cursed St. Thomas's Hospital and the + hotels. He patronized New Scotland Yard. The "Isambard Brunel" + penetrated more and more into the heart of the city, fighting + for every yard of her progress. Flags stood out straight in the + blue sky traversed by swift white clouds. Huge rudder-less + barges, each with a dwarf in the stern struggling at a giant's + oar, were borne westwards broadside on like straws upon the + surface of a hurrying brook. A launch with an orchestra on + board flew gaily past. Tugs with a serpentine tail of craft + threaded perilously through the increasing traffic. Railway + trains, cabs, coloured omnibuses, cyclists, and footfarers + mingled in and complicated the scene. Then the first + ocean-going steamer appeared, belittling all else. And then the + calm, pale beauty of the custom-house at last humbled George, + and for an instant made him think that he could never do + anything worth doing. His pride leapt up, unconquerable. The + ocean-going steamers, as they multiplied on the river, roused + in him wild and painful longings to rush to the ends of the + earth and gorge himself on the immense feast which the great + romantic earth had to offer.</p> + + <p>"By Jove!" he exclaimed passionately. "I'd give something to + go to Japan."</p> + + <p>"Would you?" Marguerite answered with mildness. She had not + the least notion of what he was feeling. Her voice responded to + him, but her imagination did not respond. True, as he had + always known, she had no ambition! The critical quality of his + mood developed. The imperious impulse came to take her to + task.</p> + + <p>"What's the latest about your father?" he asked, with a + touch of impatient, aggrieved disdain. Both were aware that the + words had opened a crucial interview between them. She moved + nervously on the seat. The benches +<!-- Page 144 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page139" name="page139">[pg 139]</a> + </span> + + that ran along the deck-rails met in an acute angle at the stem + of the steamer, so that the pair sat opposite each other with + their knees almost touching. He went on: "I hear he hasn't gone + back to the office yet."</p> + + <p>"No," said Marguerite. "But he'll start again on Monday, I + think."</p> + + <p>"But is he fit to go back? I thought he looked awful."</p> + + <p>She flushed slightly—at the indirect reference to the + episode in the basement on the night of the death.</p> + + <p>"It will do him good to go back," said Marguerite. "I'm sure + he misses the office dreadfully."</p> + + <p>George gazed at her person. Under the thin glove he suddenly + detected the form of her ring. She was wearing it again, then. + (He could not remember whether she had worn it at their last + meeting, in Agg's studio. The very curious fact was that at + their last meeting he had forgotten to look for the ring.) Not + only was she wearing the ring, but she carried a stylish little + handbag which he had given her. When he bought that bag, in the + Burlington Arcade, it had been a bag like any other bag. But + now it had become part of her, individualized by her + personality, a mysterious and provocative bag. Everything she + wore, down to her boots and even her bootlaces so neatly + threaded and knotted, was mysterious and provocative. He + examined her face. It was marvellously beautiful; it was + ordinary; it was marvellously beautiful. He knew her to the + depths; he did not know her at all; she was a chance + acquaintance; she was a complete stranger.</p> + + <p>"How are you getting on with him? You know you really ought + to tell me."</p> + + <p>"Oh, George!" she said, earnestly vivacious. "You're wrong + in thinking he's not nice to me. He is. He's quite forgiven + me."</p> + + <p>"Forgiven you!" George took her up. "I should like to know + what he had to forgive."</p> + + <p>"Well," she murmured timorously. "You understand what I + mean."</p> + + <p>He drummed his elegant feet on the striated deck. Out of the + corner of his left eye he saw the mediaeval shape of the Tower + rapidly disappearing. In front were the variegated funnels and + masts of fleets gathered together in St. Katherine's Dock and + London Dock. The steamer gained speed as she headed from Cherry + Gardens Pier towards the middle of the river. She was a frail + trifle compared with the big boats that +<!-- Page 145 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page140" name="page140">[pg 140]</a> + </span> + + lined the wharves; but in herself she had size and irresistible + force, travelling quite smoothly over the short, riotous, + sparkling waves which her cut-water divided and spurned away on + either side. Only a tremor faintly vibrated throughout her + being.</p> + + <p>"Has he forgiven you for being engaged?" George demanded, + with rough sarcasm.</p> + + <p>She showed no resentment of his tone, but replied + gently:</p> + + <p>"I did try to mention it once, but it was no use—he + wasn't in a condition. He made me quite afraid—not for me + of course, but for him."</p> + + <p>"Well, I give it up!" said George. "I simply give it up! + It's past me. How soon's he going to + <i>be</i> + + in condition? He can't keep us walking about the streets for + ever."</p> + + <p>"No, of course not!" She smiled to placate him.</p> + + <p>There was a pause, and then George, his eyes fixed on her + hand, remarked:</p> + + <p>"I see you've got your ring on."</p> + + <p>She too looked at her hand.</p> + + <p>"My ring? Naturally. What do you mean?"</p> + + <p>He proceeded cruelly:</p> + + <p>"I suppose you don't wear it in the house, so that the sight + of it shan't annoy him."</p> + + <p>She flushed once more.</p> + + <p>"Oh, George, dear!" Her glance asked for mercy, for + magnanimity.</p> + + <p>"Do you wear it when you're in the house, or don't you?"</p> + + <p>Her eyes fell.</p> + + <p>"I daren't excite him. Truly, I daren't. It wouldn't do. It + wouldn't be right."</p> + + <p>She was admitting George's haphazard charge against her. He + was astounded. But he merely flung back his head and raised his + eyebrows. He thought:</p> + + <p>"And yet she sticks to it he's nice to her! My God!"</p> + + <p>He said nothing aloud. The Royal Hospital, Greenwich, showed + itself in the distance like a domed island rising fabulously + out of the blue-green water. Even far off, before he could + decipher the main contours of the gigantic quadruple pile, the + vision excited him. His mind, darkened by the most dreadful + apprehensions concerning Marguerite, dwelt on it darkly, + sardonically, and yet with pleasure. And he proudly compared + his own disillusions with those of his greatest forerunners. + His studies, and the example of Mr. Enwright, had inspired him + with an extremely enthusiastic +<!-- Page 146 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page141" name="page141">[pg 141]</a> + </span> + + worship of Inigo Jones, whom he classed, not without reason, + among the great creative artists of Europe. He snorted when he + heard the Royal Hospital referred to as the largest and finest + charitable institution in the world. For him it was the supreme + English architectural work. He snorted at the thought of that + pompous and absurd monarch James I ordering Inigo Jones to + design him a palace surpassing all palaces and choosing a + sublime site therefor, and then doing nothing. He snorted at + the thought of that deluded monarch Charles I ordering Inigo + Jones to design him a palace surpassing all palaces, and + receiving from Inigo Jones the plans of a structure which would + have equalled in beauty and eclipsed in grandeur any European + structure of the Christian era—even Chambord, even the + Escurial, even Versailles—and then accomplishing nothing + beyond a tiny fragment of the sublime dream. He snorted at the + thought that Inigo Jones had died at the age of nearly eighty + ere the foundations of the Greenwich palace had begun to be + dug, and without having seen more than the fragment of his + unique Whitehall—after a youth spent in arranging masques + for a stupid court, and an old age spent in disappointment. But + then no English monarch had ever begun and finished a palace. + George wished, rather venturesomely, that he had lived under + Francis I!...</p> + + <p>The largest and finest charitable institution! The ineffable + William and Mary had merely turned it into a charitable + institution because they did not know what else to do with it. + The mighty halls which ought to have resounded to the laughter + of the mistresses of Charles II were diverted to the inevitable + squalor of almsgiving. The mutilated victims of the egotism and + the fatuity of kings were imprisoned there together under the + rules and regulations of charity, the cruellest of all rules + and regulations. And all was done meanly—that is, all + that interested George. Christopher Wren, who was building St. + Paul's and fighting libels and slanders at a salary of two + hundred a year, came down to Greenwich and for years worked + immortally for nothing amid material difficulties that never + ceased to multiply; and he too was beaten by the huge monster. + Then Vanbrugh arrived and blithely finished in corrupt brick + and flaming manifestations of decadence that which the pure and + monumental genius of Inigo Jones had first conceived. The north + frontages were marvels of beauty; the final erections to the + south amounted to an outrage upon Jones and Wren. Still, the + affair was +<!-- Page 147 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page142" name="page142">[pg 142]</a> + </span> + + the largest and finest charitable institution on earth! What a + country, thought George, hugging injustice! So it had treated + Jones and Wren and many another. So it had treated Enwright. + And so it would treat, was already treating, him, George. He + did not care. As the steamer approached Greenwich, and the + details of the aborted palace grew clearer, and he could + distinguish between the genius of Jones and the genius of Wren, + he felt grimly and victoriously sure that both Jones and Wren + had had the best of the struggle against indifference and + philistinism—as he too would have the best of the + struggle, though he should die obscure and in penury. He was + miserable and resentful, and yet he was triumphant. The steamer + stopped at the town-pier.</p> + + <p>"Are we there?" said Marguerite. "Already?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said he. "And I think we may as well go back by the + same steamer."</p> + + <p>She concurred. However, an official insisted on them + disembarking, even if they meant to re-embark at once. They, + went ashore. The facade of the palace-hospital stretched + majestically to the left of them, in sharp perspective, a + sensational spectacle.</p> + + <p>"It's very large," Marguerite commented. Her voice was + nervous.</p> + + <p>"Yes, it's rather more than large," he said dryly.</p> + + <p>He would not share his thoughts with her. He knew that she + had some inklings of taste, but in that moment he preferred to + pretend that her artistic perception was on a level with that + of William and Mary. They boarded the steamer again, and took + their old places; and the menacing problem of their predicament + was still between them.</p> + + <p>"We can have some tea downstairs if you like," he said, + after the steamer had turned round and started upstream.</p> + + <p>She answered in tones imperfectly controlled:</p> + + <p>"No, thank you. I feel as if I couldn't swallow anything." + And she looked up at him very quickly; with the embryo of a + smile, and then looked down again very quickly, because she + could not bring the smile to maturity.</p> + + <p>George thought:</p> + + <p>"Am I going to have a scene with her—on the steamer?" + It would not matter much if a scene did occur. There was nobody + else on deck forward of the bridge. They were alone—they + were more solitary than they might have been in the studio, or + in any room at No. 8. The steamer was +<!-- Page 148 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page143" name="page143">[pg 143]</a> + </span> + + now nearly heading the wind, but she travelled more smoothly, + for she had the last of the flood-tide under her.</p> + + <p>George said kindly and persuasively:</p> + + <p>"Upon my soul, I don't know what the old gentleman's got + against me."</p> + + <p>She eagerly accepted his advance, which seemed to give her + courage.</p> + + <p>"But there's nothing to know, dear. We both know that. + There's nothing at all. And yet of course I can understand it. + So can you. In fact it was you who first explained it to me. If + you'd left No. 8 when I did and he'd heard of our engagement + afterwards, he wouldn't have thought anything of it. But it was + you staying on in the house that did it, and him not knowing of + the engagement. He thought you used to come to see me at nights + at the studio, me and Agg, and make fun of everything at No. + 8—especially of his wife. He's evidently got some such + idea in his head, and there's no getting it out again."</p> + + <p>"But it's childish."</p> + + <p>"I know. However, we've said all this before, haven't + we?"</p> + + <p>"But the idea's + <i>got</i> + + to be got out of his head again!" said George + vigorously—more dictatorially and less persuasively than + before.</p> + + <p>Marguerite offered no remark.</p> + + <p>"And after all," George continued, "he couldn't have been so + desperately keen on—your stepmother. When he married her + your mother hadn't been dead so very long, had she?"</p> + + <p>"No. But he never cared for mother anything like so much as + he cared for Mrs. Lobley—at least not as far back as I + can remember. It was a different sort of thing altogether. I + think he was perfectly mad about Mrs. Lobley. Oh! He stood + mother's death much—much better than hers! You've no + idea—"</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, I have. We know all about that sort of thing," said + George the man of the world impatiently.</p> + + <p>Marguerite said tenderly:</p> + + <p>"It's broken him."</p> + + <p>"Nonsense!"</p> + + <p>"It has, George." Her voice was very soft.</p> + + <p>But George would not listen to the softness of her + voice.</p> + + <p>"Well," he objected firmly and strongly, "supposing it has! + What then? We're sorry for him. What then? That affair has + nothing to do with our affair. Is all that +<!-- Page 149 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page144" name="page144">[pg 144]</a> + </span> + + reason why I shouldn't see you in your own home? Or are we to + depend on Agg—when she happens to be at her studio? Or + are we always to see each other in the street, or in museums + and things—or steamers—just as if you were a + shop-girl? We may just as well look facts in the face, you + know."</p> + + <p>She flushed. Her features changed under emotion.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George! I don't know what to do."</p> + + <p>"Then you think he's determined not to have anything to do + with me?"</p> + + <p>She was silent.</p> + + <p>"You think he's determined not to have anything to do with + me, I say?"</p> + + <p>"He may change," Marguerite murmured.</p> + + <p>"'May change' be dashed! We've got to know where we + stand."</p> + + <p>He most surprisingly stood up, staring at her. She did not + speak, but she lifted her eyes to his with timid courage. They + were wet. George abruptly walked away along the deck. The + steamer was passing the custom-house again. The tide had now + almost slacked. Fresh and heavier clouds had overcast the sky. + All the varied thoughts of the afternoon were active in + George's head at once: architecture, architects, beauty, + professional injustices, girls—his girl. Each affected + the others, for they were deeply entangled. It is a fact that + he could not put Inigo Jones and Christopher Wren out of his + head; he wondered what had been their experiences with women, + histories and textbooks of architecture did not treat of this + surely important aspect of architecture! He glanced at + Marguerite from the distance. He remembered what Agg had said + to him about her; but what Agg had said did not appear to help + him practically.... Why had he left Marguerite? Why was he + standing thirty feet from her and observing her inimically? He + walked back to her, sat down, and said calmly:</p> + + <p>"Listen to me, darling. Suppose we arrange now, definitely, + to get married in two years' time. How will that do for + you?"</p> + + <p>"But, George, can you be sure that you'll be able to marry + in two years?"</p> + + <p>He put his chin forward.</p> + + <p>"You needn't worry about that," said he. "You needn't think + because I've failed in an exam. I don't know what I'm about. + You leave all that to me. In two years I +<!-- Page 150 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page145" name="page145">[pg 145]</a> + </span> + + shall be able enough to keep a wife— + <i>and</i> + + well! Now, shall we arrange to get married in two years' + time?"</p> + + <p>"It might be a fearful drag for you," she said. "Because, + you know, I don't really earn very much."</p> + + <p>"That's not the point. I don't care what you earn. I shan't + want you to earn anything—so far as that goes. Any + earning that's wanted I shall be prepared to do. I'll put it + like this: Supposing I'm in a position to keep you, shall we + arrange to get married in two years' time?" He found a fierce + pleasure in reiterating the phrase. "So long as that's + understood, I don't mind the rest. If we have to depend on Agg, + or meet in the streets—never mind. It'll be an infernal + nuisance, but I expect I can stand it as well as you can. + Moreover, I quite see your difficulty—quite. And let's + hope the old gentleman will begin to have a little sense."</p> + + <p>"Oh, George! If he only would!"</p> + + <p>He did not like her habit of "Oh, George! Oh! George!"</p> + + <p>"Well?" He waited, ignoring her pious aspiration.</p> + + <p>"I don't know what to say, George."</p> + + <p>He restrained himself.</p> + + <p>"We're engaged, aren't we?" She gave no answer, and he + repeated: "We're engaged, aren't we?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"That's all right. Well, will you give me your absolute + promise to marry me in two years' time—if I'm in a + position to keep you? It's quite simple. You say you don't know + what to say. But you've got to know what to say." As he looked + at her averted face, his calmness began to leave him.</p> + + <p>"Oh, George! I can't promise that!" she burst out, showing + at length her emotion. The observant skipper on the bridge + noted that there were a boy and a girl forward having a bit of + a tiff.</p> + + <p>George trembled. All that Agg had said recurred to him once + more. But what could he do to act on it? Anger was gaining, on + him.</p> + + <p>"Why not?" he menaced.</p> + + <p>"It would have to depend on how father was. Surely you must + see that!"</p> + + <p>"Indeed I don't see it. I see quite the contrary. We're + engaged. You've got the first call on me, and I've got the + first call on you—not your father." The skin over his + nose +<!-- Page 151 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page146" name="page146">[pg 146]</a> + </span> + + was tight, owing to the sudden swelling of two points, one on + either side of the bone.</p> + + <p>"George, I couldn't leave him—again. I think now I may + have been wrong to leave him before. However, that's over. I + couldn't leave him again. It would be very wrong. He'd be all + alone."</p> + + <p>"Well, then, let him be friends with me."</p> + + <p>"I do wish he would."</p> + + <p>"Yes. Well, wishing won't do much good. If there's any + trouble it's entirely your father's fault. And what I want to + know is—will you give me your absolute promise to marry + me in two years' time?"</p> + + <p>"I can't, George. It wouldn't be honest. I can't! I can't! + How can you ask me to throw over my duty to father?"</p> + + <p>He rose and walked away again. She was profoundly moved, but + no sympathy for her mitigated his resentment. He considered + that her attitude was utterly monstrous—monstrous! He + could not find a word adequate for it. He was furious; his fury + increased with each moment. He returned to the prow, but did + not sit down.</p> + + <p>"Don't you think, then, you ought to choose between your + father and me?" he said in a low, hard voice, standing over + her.</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?" she faltered.</p> + + <p>"What do I mean? It's plain enough what I mean, isn't it? + Your father may live twenty years yet. Nobody knows. The older + he gets the more obstinate he'll be. We may be kept hanging + about for years and years and years. Indefinitely. What's the + sense of it? You say you've got your duty, but what's the + object of being engaged?</p> + + <p>"Do you want to break it off, George?"</p> + + <p>"Now don't put it like that. You know I don't want to break + it off. You know I want to marry you. Only you won't, and I'm + not going to be made a fool of. I'm absolutely innocent."</p> + + <p>"Of course you are!" she agreed eagerly.</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm not going to be made a fool of by your father. If + we're engaged, you know what it means. Marriage. If it doesn't + mean that, then I say we've no right to be engaged."</p> + + <p>Marguerite seemed to recoil at the last words, but she + recovered herself. And then, heedless of being in a public + place, she drew off her glove, and drew the engagement ring + from her finger, and held it out to George. She could not +<!-- Page 152 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page147" name="page147">[pg 147]</a> + </span> + + speak. The gesture was her language. George was extremely + staggered. He was stupefied for an instant. Then he took the + ring, and under an uncontrollable savage impulse he threw it + into the river. He did not move for a considerable time, + staring at the river in front. Neither did she move. At length + he said in a cold voice, without moving his head:</p> + + <p>"Here's Chelsea Pier."</p> + + <p>She got up and walked to the rail amidships. He followed. + The steamer moored. A section of rail slid aside. The + pier-keeper gave a hand to Marguerite, who jumped on to the + pier. George hesitated. The pier-keeper challenged him + testily:</p> + + <p>"Now then, are ye coming ashore or aren't ye?"</p> + + <p>George could not move. The pier-keeper banged the rail to + close the gap, and cast off the ropes, and the steamer resumed + her voyage.</p> + + <p>A minute later George saw Marguerite slowly crossing the + gangway from the pier to the embankment. There she went! She + was about to be swallowed up in the waste of human dwellings, + in the measureless and tragic expanse of the indifferent + town.... She was gone. Curse her, with her reliability! She was + too reliable. He knew that. Her father could rely on her. Curse + her, with her outrageous, incredibly cruel, and unjust sense of + duty! She had held him once. Once the sight of her had made him + turn hot and cold. Once the prospect of life without her had + seemed unbearable. He had loved her instinctively and + intensely. He now judged and condemned her. Her beauty, her + sweetness, her belief in him, her reliability—these + qualities were neutralized by her sense of duty, awful, + uncompromising, blind to fundamental justice. The affair was + over. If he knew her, he knew also himself. The affair was + over. He was in despair. His mind went round and round like a + life-prisoner exercising in an enclosed yard. No escape! Till + then, he had always believed in his luck. Infantile delusion! + He was now aware that destiny had struck him a blow once for + all. But of course he did not perceive that he was too young, + not ripe, for such a blow. The mark of destiny was on his + features, and it was out of place there.... He had lost + Marguerite. And what had he lost? What was there in her? She + was not brilliant; she had no position; she had neither + learning nor wit. He could remember nothing remarkable that + they had ever said to each other. Indeed, their conversations + had generally been rather banal. But +<!-- Page 153 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page148" name="page148">[pg 148]</a> + </span> + + he could remember how they had felt, how he had felt, in their + hours together.... The sensation communicated to him by her + hand when he had drawn off her glove in the tremendous silence + of the hansom! Marvellous, exquisite, magical sensation that no + words of his could render! And there had been others as rare. + These scenes were love; they were Marguerite; they were what he + had lost.... Strange, that he should throw the ring into the + river! Nevertheless it was a right gesture. She deserved it. + She was absolutely wrong; he was absolutely right—she had + admitted it. Towards him she had no excuse. Logically her + attitude was absurd. Yet no argument would change it. + Stupid—that was what she was! Stupid! And ruthless! She + would be capable of martyrizing the whole world to her sense of + duty, her damnable, insane sense of duty.... She was gone. He + was ruined; she had ruined him. But he respected her. He hated + to respect her, but he respected her.</p> + + <p>A thought leapt up in his mind—and who could have + guessed it? It was the thought that the secrecy of the + engagement would save him from a great deal of public + humiliation. He would have loathed saying: "We've broken it + off."</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_VIII'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 154 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page149" name="page149">[pg 149]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + + <h3>INSPIRATION</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George, despite his own dispositions, as he went up in the + lift, to obviate the danger of such a mishap, was put out of + countenance by the overwhelming splendour of Miss Irene + Wheeler's flat. And he did not quite recover his aplomb until + the dinner was nearly finished. The rooms were very large and + lofty; they blazed with electric light, though the day had not + yet gone; they gleamed with the polish of furniture, enamel, + bookbindings, marble, ivory, and precious metals; they were + ennobled by magnificent pictures, and purified by immense + quantities of lovely flowers. George had made the mistake of + arriving last. He found in the vast drawing-room five people + who had the air of being at home and intimate together. There + were, in addition to the hostess, Lois and Laurencine Ingram, + Everard Lucas, and a Frenchman from the French Embassy whose + name he did not catch. Miss Wheeler wore an elaborate Oriental + costume, and apologized for its simplicity on the grounds that + she was fatigued by a crowded and tiresome reception which she + had held that afternoon, and that the dinner was to be without + ceremony. This said, her conversation seemed to fail, but she + remained by George's side, apart from the others. George saw + not the least vestige of the ruinous disorder which, in the + society to which he was accustomed, usually accompanied a big + afternoon tea, or any sign of a lack of ceremony. He had + encountered two male servants in the hall, and had also + glimpsed a mulatto woman in a black dress and a white apron, + and a Frenchwoman in a black dress and a black apron. Now a + third man-servant entered, bearing an enormous silver-gilt tray + on which were multitudinous bottles, glasses, decanters, and + jugs. George comprehended that + <i>apéritifs</i> + + were being offered. The tray contained enough cocktails and + other combinations, some already mingled and some +<!-- Page 155 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page150" name="page150">[pg 150]</a> + </span> + + not, to produce a factitious appetite in the stomachs of a + whole platoon. The girls declined, Miss Wheeler declined, the + Frenchman declined, George declined (from prudence and + diffidence); only Lucas took an + <i>apéritif</i> + + , and he took it, as George admitted, in style. The + man-servant, superbly indifferent to refusals, marched + processionally off with the loaded tray. The great principle of + conspicuous ritualistic waste had been illustrated in a manner + to satisfy the most exacting standard of the leisured class; + and incidentally a subject of talk was provided.</p> + + <p>George observed the name of 'Renoir' on the gorgeous frame + of a gorgeous portrait in oils of the hostess.</p> + + <p>"Is that a Renoir?" he asked the taciturn Miss Wheeler, who + seemed to jump at the opening with relief.</p> + + <p>"Yes," she said, with her slight lisp. "I'm glad you noticed + it. Come and look at it. Do you think it's a good one? Do you + like Renoir?"</p> + + <p>By good fortune George had seen a Renoir or two in Paris + under the guidance of Mr. Enwright. They stared at the portrait + together.</p> + + <p>"It's awfully distinguished," he decided, employing a useful + adjective which he had borrowed from Mr. Enwright.</p> + + <p>"Isn't it!" she said, turning her wondrous complexion + towards him, and admiring his adjective. "I have a Boldini + too."</p> + + <p>He followed her across the room to the Boldini portrait of + herself, which was dazzling in its malicious flattery.</p> + + <p>"And here's a Nicholson," she said.</p> + + <p>Those three portraits were the most striking pictures in the + + <i>salon</i> + + , but there were others of at least equal value.</p> + + <p>"Are you interested in fans?" she demanded, and pulled down + a switch which illuminated the interior of a large cabinet full + of fans. She pointed out fans painted by Lami, Glaize, + Jacquemart. "That one is supposed to be a Lancret," she said. + "But I'm not sure about it, and I don't know anybody that is. + Here's the latest book on the subject." She indicated Lady + Charlotte Schreiber's work in two volumes which, bound in + vellum and gold, lay on a table. "But of course it only deals + with English fans. However, Conder is going to do me a couple. + He was here yesterday to see me about them. Of course you know + him. What a wonderful man! The only really cosmopolitan artist + in England, I say, now Beardsley's dead. I've got a Siegfried + drawing by Beardsley. He was a great friend of mine. I adored + him."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 156 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page151" name="page151">[pg 151]</a> + </span> + + This is a fine thing," said George, touching a bronze of a + young girl on the same table as the books.</p> + + <p>"You think so?" Miss Wheeler responded uncertainly. "I + suppose it + <i>is</i> + + . It's a Gilbert. He gave it me. But do you really think it + compares with this Barye? It doesn't, does it?" She directed + him to another bronze of a crouching cheetah.</p> + + <p>So she moved him about. He was dazed. His modest supply of + adjectives proved inadequate. When she paused, he murmured:</p> + + <p>"It's a great room you've managed to get here."</p> + + <p>"Ah!" she cried thinly. "But you've no idea of the trouble + I've had over this room. Do you know it's really two rooms. I + had to take two flats in order to fix this room."</p> + + <p>She was launched on a supreme topic, and George heard a full + history. She would not have a house. She would have a flat. She + instructed house-agents to find for her the best flat in + London. There was no best flat in London. London landlords did + not understand flats, which were comprehended only in Paris. + The least imperfect flats in London were two on a floor, and as + their drawing-rooms happened to be contiguous on their longer + sides, she had the idea of leasing two intolerable flats so as + to obtain one flat that was tolerable. She had had terrible + difficulties about the central heating. No flats in London were + centrally heated except in the corridors and on the staircases. + However, she had imposed her will on the landlord, and + radiators had appeared in every room. George had a vision of + excessive wealth subjugating the greatest artists and riding + with implacable egotism over the customs and institutions of a + city obstinately conservative. The cost and the complexity of + Irene Wheeler's existence amazed and intimidated + George—for this double flat was only one of her + residences. He wondered what his parents would say if they + could see him casually treading the oak parquetry and the heavy + rugs of the resplendent abode. And then he thought, the humble + and suspicious upstart: "There must be something funny about + her, or she wouldn't be asking + <i>me</i> + + here!"</p> + + <p>They went in to dinner, without ceremony. George was last, + the hostess close to his side.</p> + + <p>"Who's the Frenchman?" he inquired casually, with the sudden + boldness that often breaks out of timidity. "I didn't + catch."</p> + + <p>"It's Monsieur Defourcambault," said Miss Wheeler in a +<!-- Page 157 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page152" name="page152">[pg 152]</a> + </span> + + low voice of sincere admiration. "He's from the Embassy. A most + interesting man. Been everywhere. Seen everything. Read + everything. Done everything."</p> + + <p>George could not but be struck by the ingenuous earnestness + of her tone, so different from the perfunctory accents in which + she had catalogued her objects of art.</p> + + <p>The dining-room, the dinner, and the service of the dinner + were equally superb. The broad table seemed small in the midst + of the great mysterious chamber, of which the illumination was + confined by shades to the centre. The glance wandering round + the obscurity of the walls could rest on nothing that was not + obviously in good taste and very costly. The three + men-servants, moving soundless as phantoms, brought burdens + from a hidden country behind a gigantic screen, and at + intervals in the twilight near the screen could be detected the + transient gleam of the white apron of the mulatto, whose sex + clashed delicately and piquantly with the grave, priest-like + performances of the male menials. The table was of mahogany + covered with a sheet of plate-glass. A large gold épergne + glittered in the middle. Suitably dispersed about the rim of + the board were six rectangular islands of pale lace, and on + each island lay a complete set of the innumerable instruments + and condiments necessary to the proper consumption of the meal. + Thus, every diner dined independently, cut off from his + fellows, but able to communicate with them across expanses of + plate-glass over mahogany. George was confused by the + multiplicity of metal tools and crystal receptacles—he + alone had four wine-glasses—but in the handling of the + tools he was saved from shame by remembering the maxim—a + masterpiece of terse clarity worthy of a class which has given + its best brains to the perfecting of the formalities + preliminary to deglutition: "Take always from the outside."</p> + + <p>The man from the French Embassy sat on the right of the + hostess, and George on her left. George had Lois Ingram on his + left. Laurencine was opposite her sister. Everard Lucas, by + command of the hostess, had taken the foot of the table and was + a sort of 'Mr. Vice.' The six people were soon divided into two + equal groups, one silent and the other talkative, the talkative + three being M. Defourcambault, Laurencine and Lucas. The + diplomatist, though he could speak diplomatic English, + persisted in speaking French. Laurencine spoke French quite + perfectly, with exactly the same idiomatic ease as the + Frenchman. Lucas neither spoke nor understood +<!-- Page 158 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page153" name="page153">[pg 153]</a> + </span> + + French—he had been to a great public school. Nevertheless + these three attained positive loquacity. Lucas guessed at + words, or the Frenchman obliged with bits of English, or + Laurencine interpreted. Laurencine was far less prim and far + more girlish than at the Café Royal. She kept all the + freshness of her intensely virginal quality, but she was at + ease. Her rather large body was at ease, continually restless + in awkward and exquisite gestures; she laughed at ease, and + made fun at ease. She appeared to have no sex-consciousness, + nor even to suspect that she was a most delightful creature. + The conversation was disjointed in its gaiety, and had no claim + to the attention of the serious. Laurencine said that Lucas + ought really to know French. Lucas said he would learn if she + would teach him. Laurencine said that she would teach him if he + would have his first lesson instantly, during dinner. Lucas + said that wasn't fair. Laurencine said that it was. Both of + them appealed to M. Defourcambault. M. Defourcambault said that + it was fair. Lucas said that there was a plot between them, but + that he would consent to learn at once if Laurencine would play + the piano for him after dinner. Laurencine said she didn't + play. Lucas said she did. M. Defourcambault, invoked once + again, said that she played magnificently. Laurencine blushed, + and asked M. Defourcambault how he could!... And so on, + indefinitely. It was all naught; yet the taciturn three, + smiling indulgently and glancing from one to another of the + talkers, as taciturn and constrained persons must, envied that + peculiar ability to maintain a rush and gush of chatter.</p> + + <p>George was greatly disappointed in Lois. In the period + before dinner his eyes had avoided her, and now, since they sat + side by side, he could not properly see her without + deliberately looking at her: which he would not do. She gave no + manifestation. She was almost glum. Her French, though free, + was markedly inferior to Laurencine's. She denied any interest + in music. George decided, with self-condemnation, that he had + been deliberately creating in his own mind an illusion about + her; on no other hypothesis could either his impatience to meet + her to-night, or his disappointment at not meeting her on the + night of the Café Royal dinner, be explained. She was + nothing, after all. And he did not deeply care for Miss Irene + Wheeler, whom he could watch at will. She might be concealing + something very marvellous, but she was dull, and she ignored + the finer responsibilities of a hostess. She collected many + beautiful things; she had some +<!-- Page 159 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page154" name="page154">[pg 154]</a> + </span> + + knowledge of what they were; she must be interested in + them—or why should she trouble to possess them? She must + have taste. And yet had she taste? Was she interested in her + environment? A tone, a word, will create suspicion that the + exhibition of expertise for hours cannot allay. George did not + like the Frenchman. The Frenchman was about thirty—small, + thin, fair, with the worn face of the man who lives several + lives at once. He did not look kind; he did not look reliable; + and he offered little evidence in support of Miss Wheeler's + ardent assertion that he had been everywhere, seen everything, + read everything, done everything. He assuredly had not, for + example, read Verlaine, who was mentioned by Miss Wheeler. Now + George had read one or two poems of Verlaine, and thought them + unique; hence he despised M. Defourcambault. He could read + French, in a way, but he was incapable of speaking a single + word of it in the presence of compatriots; the least + mono-syllable would have died on his lips. He was absurdly + envious of those who could speak two languages; he thought + sometimes that he would prefer to be able to speak two + languages than to do anything else in the world; not to be able + to speak two languages humiliated him intensely; he decided to + 'take up French seriously' on the morrow; but he had several + times arrived at a similar decision.</p> + + <p>If Lois was glum, George too was glum. He wished he had not + come to the dinner; he wished he could be magically transported + to the solitude of his room at the club. He slipped into a + reverie about the Marguerite affair. Nobody could have divined + that scarcely twenty-four hours earlier he had played a + principal part in a tragedy affecting his whole life. He had + borne the stroke better than he otherwise would have done for + the simple reason that nobody knew of his trouble. He had not + to arrange his countenance for the benefit of people who were + aware what was behind the countenance. But also he was + philosophical. He recognized that the Marguerite affair was + over. She would never give way, and he would never give way. + She was wrong. He had been victimized. He had behaved with + wisdom and with correctness (save for the detail of throwing + the ring into the Thames). Agg's warnings and injunctions were + ridiculous. What could he have done that he had not done? Run + away with Marguerite, carry her off? Silly! No, he was well out + of the affair. He perceived the limitations of the world in + which Marguerite lived. It was a world too small and +<!-- Page 160 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page155" name="page155">[pg 155]</a> + </span> + + too austere for him. He required the spaciousness and the + splendour of the new world in which Irene Wheeler and the + Ingrams lived. Yea, though it was a world that excited the + sardonic in him, he liked it. It flattered authentic, if + unsuspected, appetites in him. Still, the image of Marguerite + inhabited his memory. He saw her as she stood between himself + and old Haim in the basement of No. 8. He heard her.... She was + absolutely unlike any other girl; she was so gentle, so + acquiescent. Only she put her lover second to her father.... + What would Miss Wheeler think of the basement of No. 8?</p> + + <p>The chatterers, apropos of songs in musical comedies, were + talking about a French popular song concerning Boulanger.</p> + + <p>"You knew Boulanger, didn't you, Jules?" Miss Wheeler + suggested.</p> + + <p>M. Defourcambault looked round, content. He related in + English how his father had been in the very centre of the + Boulangist movement, and had predicted disaster to the + General's cause from the instant that Madame de Bonnemain came + on the scene. (Out of consideration for the girls, M. + Defourcambault phrased his narrative with neat discretion.) His + grandfather also had been of his father's opinion, and his + grandfather was in the Senate, and had been Minister at + Brussels.... He affirmed that Madame de Bonnemain had + telegraphed to Boulanger to leave Paris at the very moment when + his presence in Paris was essential, and Boulanger had + obediently gone. He said that he always remembered what his + mother had said to him: a clever woman irregularly in love with + a man may make his fortune, but a stupid woman is certain to + ruin it. Finally he related how he, Jules Defourcambault, had + driven the General's carriage on a famous occasion through + Paris, and how the populace in its frenzy of idolatry had even + climbed on to the roof of the carriage.</p> + + <p>"And what did you do, then?" George demanded in the hard + tone of a cross-examiner.</p> + + <p>"I drove straight on," said M. Defourcambault, returning + George's cold stare.</p> + + <p>This close glimpse into history—into politics and + passion—excited George considerably. He was furiously + envious of M. Defourcambault, who had been in the middle of + things all his life, whose father, mother, and grandfather were + all in the middle of things. M. Defourcambault had an immense + and unfair advantage over him. To whatever heights he +<!-- Page 161 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page156" name="page156">[pg 156]</a> + </span> + + might rise, George would never be in a position to talk as M. + Defourcambault talked of his forbears. He would always have to + stand alone, and to fight for all he wanted. He could not even + refer to his father. He scorned M. Defourcambault because M. + Defourcambault was not worthy of his heritage. M. + Defourcambault was a little rotter, yet he had driven the + carriage of Boulanger in a crisis of the history of France! + Miss Wheeler, however, did not scorn M. Defourcambault. On the + contrary, she looked at him with admiration, as though he had + now proved that he had been everywhere, seen everything, and + done everything. George's mood was black. He was a nobody; he + would always be a nobody; why should he be wasting his time and + looking a fool in this new world?</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>After dinner, in the drawing-room which had cost Irene + Wheeler an extra flat, there was, during coffee, a certain + amount of general dullness, slackness, and self-consciousness + which demonstrated once more Miss Wheeler's defects as a + hostess. Miss Wheeler would not or could not act as shepherdess + and inspirer to her guests. She reclined, and charmingly left + them to manufacture the evening for her. George was still + disappointed and disgusted; for he had imagined, very absurdly + as he admitted, that artistic luxuriousness always implied + social dexterity and the ability to energize and reinvigorate + diversion without apparent effort. There were moments during + coffee which reminded him of the maladroit hospitalities of the + Five Towns.</p> + + <p>Then Everard Lucas opened the piano, and the duel between + him and Laurencine was resumed. The girl yielded. Electric + lights were adjusted. She began to play, while Lucas, smoking, + leaned over the piano. George was standing by himself at a + little distance behind the piano. He had perhaps been on his + way to a chair when suddenly caught and immobilized by one of + those hazards which do notoriously occur—the victim never + remembers how—in drawing-rooms. Hands in pockets, he + looked aimlessly about, smiling perfunctorily, and wondering + where he should settle or whether he should remain where he + was. In the deep embrasure of the large east bow-window Lois + was lounging. She beckoned to him, not with her hand but with a + brief, bright smile—she smiled rarely—and with a + lifting of the chin. He re +<!-- Page 162 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page157" name="page157">[pg 157]</a> + </span> + + sponded alertly and pleasurably, and went to sit beside her. + Such invitations from young women holding themselves apart in + obscurity are never received without excitement and never + unanswered.</p> + + <p>Crimson curtains of brocaded silk would have cut off the + embrasure entirely from the room had they been fully drawn, but + they were not fully drawn; one was not drawn at all, and the + other was only half drawn. Still, the mere fact of the + curtains, drawn or undrawn, did morally separate the embrasure + from the + <i>salon</i> + + ; and the shadows thickened in front of the window. The smile + had gone from Lois's face, but it had been there. Sequins + glittered on her dark dress, the line of the low neck of which + was distinct against the pallor of the flesh. George could + follow the outlines of her slanted, plump body from the hair + and freckled face down to the elaborate shoes. The eyes were + half closed. She did not speak. The figure of Laurencine, whose + back was towards the window, received an aura from the electric + light immediately over the music-stand of the piano. She played + brilliantly. She played with a brilliance that astonished + George.... She was exceedingly clever, was this awkward girl + who had not long since left school Her body might be awkward, + but not her hands. The music radiated from the piano and filled + the room with brightness, with the illusion of the joy of life, + and with a sense of triumph. To George it was an + intoxication.</p> + + <p>A man-servant entered with a priceless collection of + bon-bons, some of which he deferentially placed on a small + table in the embrasure. To do so he had to come into the + embrasure, disturbing the solitude, which had already begun to + exist, of Lois and George. He ignored the pair. His sublime + indifference seemed to say: "I am beyond good and evil." But at + the same time it left them more sensitively awake to themselves + than before. The hostess indolently muttered an order to the + man, and in passing the door on his way out he extinguished + several lights. The place and the hour grew romantic. George + was impressed by the scene, and he eagerly allowed it to + impress him. It was, to him, a marvellous scene; the splendour + of the apartment, the richly attired girls, the gay, exciting + music, the spots of high light, the glooms, the glimpses + everywhere of lovely objects. He said to himself: "I was born + for this."</p> + + <p>Lois turned her head slowly and looked out of the + window.</p> + + <p>"Wonderful view from here," she murmured.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 163 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page158" name="page158">[pg 158]</a> + </span> + + George turned his head. The flat was on the sixth story. The + slope of central London lay beneath. There was no moon, but + there were stars in a clear night. Roofs; lighted windows; + lines of lighted traffic; lines of lamps patterning the + invisible meadows of a park; hiatuses of blackness; beyond, + several towers scarcely discernible against the sky—the + towers of Parliament, and the high tower of the Roman Catholic + Cathedral: these were London.</p> + + <p>"You haven't seen it in daytime, have you?" said Lois.</p> + + <p>"No. I'd sooner see it at night."</p> + + <p>"So would I."</p> + + <p>The reply, the sympathy in it, the soft, thrilled tone of + It, startled him. His curiosity about Lois was being justified, + after all. And he was startled too at the extraordinary + surprises of his own being. Yesterday he had parted from + Marguerite; not ten years ago, but yesterday. And now already + he was conscious of pleasure, both physical and spiritual, in + the voice of another girl heard in the withdrawn obscurity of + the embrasure. Yes, and a girl whom he had despised! Yesterday + he had seriously believed himself to be a celibate for life; he + had dismissed for ever the hope of happiness. He had seen + naught but a dogged and eternal infelicity. And now he was, if + not finding happiness, expecting it. He felt + disloyal—less precisely to Marguerite than to a vanished + ideal. He felt that he ought to be ashamed. For Marguerite + still existed; she was existing at that moment less than three + miles off—somewhere over there in the dark.</p> + + <p>"See the Cathedral tower?" he said.</p> + + <p>"Yes," she answered. "What a shame Bentley died, wasn't + it?"</p> + + <p>He was more than startled, now—he was amazed and + enchanted. Something touching and strange in her voice usually + hard; something in the elegant fragility of her slipper! + Everybody knew that Bentley was the architect of the Cathedral + and that he had died of cancer on the tongue. The knowledge was + not esoteric; it did not by itself indicate a passion for + architecture or a comprehension of architecture. Yet when she + said the exclamatory words, leaning far back in the seat, her + throat emerging from the sequined frock, her tapping slipper + peeping out beneath the skirt, she cast a spell on him. He + perceived in her a woman gifted and endowed. This was the girl + whom he had bullied in the automobile. She must have bowed in + secret to his bullying; though he knew she had been hurt by it, + she had given no +<!-- Page 164 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page159" name="page159">[pg 159]</a> + </span> + + sign of resentment, and her voice was acquiescent. Above all, + she had remembered him.</p> + + <p>"You only like doing very large buildings, don't you?" she + suggested.</p> + + <p>"Who told you?"</p> + + <p>"Everard."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Did old Lucas tell you? Well, he's quite right."</p> + + <p>He had a sudden desire to talk to her about the great + municipal building in the north that was soon to be competed + for. He yielded to the desire. She listened, motionless. He + gave vent to his regret that Mr. Enwright absolutely declined + to enter for the competition. He said he had had ideas for it, + and would have liked to work for it.</p> + + <p>"But why don't you go in for it yourself, George?" she + murmured gravely.</p> + + <p>"Me!" he exclaimed, almost frightened. "It wouldn't be any + good. I'm too young. Besides——"</p> + + <p>"How old are you?"</p> + + <p>"Twenty-one."</p> + + <p>"Good heavens! You look twenty-five at least! I know I + should go in for it if I were you—if I were a man."</p> + + <p>He understood her. She could not talk well. She could not + easily be agreeable; she could easily be rude; she could not + play the piano like the delightful Laurencine. But she was + passionate. And she knew the force of ambition. He admired + ambition perhaps more than anything. Ambition roused him. She + was ambitious when she drove the automobile and endangered his + life.... She had called him by his Christian name quite + naturally. There was absolutely no nonsense about her. Now + Marguerite was not in the slightest degree ambitious. The word + had no significance for her.</p> + + <p>"I couldn't!" he insisted humbly. "I don't know enough. It's + a terrific affair."</p> + + <p>She made no response. But she looked at him, and suddenly he + saw the angel that Irene Wheeler and Laurencine had so + enthusiastically spoken of at the Cafe Royal!</p> + + <p>"I couldn't!" he murmured.</p> + + <p>He was insisting too much. He was insisting against himself. + She had implanted the idea in his mind. Why had he not thought + of it? Certainly he had not thought of it. Had he lacked + courage to think of it? He beheld the idea as though it was an + utterly original discovery, revolutionary, dismaying, and + seductive. His inchoate plans for +<!-- Page 165 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page160" name="page160">[pg 160]</a> + </span> + + the building took form afresh in his brain. And the luxury by + which he was surrounded whipped his ambition till it + writhed.</p> + + <p>Curious, she said no more! After a moment she sat up and + took a sweet.</p> + + <p>George saw, in a far corner, Jules Defourcambault talking + very quietly to Irene Wheeler, whose lackadaisical face had + become ingenuous and ardent as she listened to him under the + shelter of the dazzling music. George felt himself to be within + the sphere of unguessed and highly perturbing forces.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He left early. Lucas seemed to regard his departure as the + act of a traitor, but he insisted on leaving. And in spite of + Lucas's great social success he inwardly condescended to Lucas. + Lucas was not a serious man and could not comprehend + seriousness. George went because he had to go, because the + power of an idea drove him forth. He had no intention of + sleeping. He walked automatically through dark London, and his + eyes, turned within, saw nothing of the city. He did not walk + quickly—he was too preoccupied to walk quickly—yet + in his brain he was hurrying, he had not a moment to lose. The + goal was immensely far off. His haste was as absurd and as fine + as that of a man who, starting to cross Europe on foot, must + needs run in order to get out of Calais and be fairly on his + way.</p> + + <p>At Russell Square he wondered whether he would be able to + get into the office. However, there was still a light in the + basement, and he rang the house-bell. The housekeeper's + daughter, a girl who played at being parlourmaid in the + afternoons and brought bad tea and thick bread-and-butter to + the privileged in the office, opened the front door with + bridling exclamations of astonishment. She had her best frock + on; her hair was in curling-pins; she smelt delicately of beer; + the excitement of the Sunday League excursion and of the + evening's dalliance had not quite cooled in this respectable + and experienced young creature of central London. She was very + feminine and provocative and unparlourmaidish, standing there + in the hall, and George passed by her as callously as though + she had been a real parlourmaid on duty. She had to fly to her + mother for the key of the office. Taking the key from the + breathless, ardent little thing, he said that he +<!-- Page 166 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page161" name="page161">[pg 161]</a> + </span> + + would see to the front door being properly shut when he went + out. That was all. Her legitimate curiosity about his visit had + to go to bed hungry.</p> + + <p>In the office he switched on the lights in Haim's cubicle, + in the pupils' room, and in the principals' room. He enjoyed + the illumination and the solitude. He took deep breaths. He + walked about. After rummaging for the sketches and the printed + site-plan of the town hall projected by the northern city, he + discovered them under John Orgreave's desk. He moved them to + Mr. Enwright's desk, which was the best one, and he bent over + them rapturously. Yes, the idea of entering for the competition + himself was a magnificent idea. Strange that it should have + occurred not to him, but to Lois! A disconcerting girl, Lois! + She had said that he looked twenty-five. He liked that. Why + should he not enter for the competition himself? He would enter + for it. The decision was made, as usual without consulting + anybody; instinct was his sole guide. Failure in the final + examination was beside the point. Moreover, though he had sworn + never to sit again, he could easily sit again in December; he + could pass the exam, on his head. He might win the competition; + to be even in the selected first six or ten would rank as a + glorious achievement. But why should he not win outright? He + was lucky, always had been lucky. It was essential that he + should win outright. It was essential that he should create + vast and grandiose structures, that he should have both + artistic fame and worldly success. He could not wait long for + success. He required luxury. He required a position enabling + him to meet anybody and everybody on equal terms, and to fulfil + all his desires.</p> + + <p>He would not admit that he was too young for the enterprise. + He was not too young. He refused to be too young. And indeed he + felt that he had that very night become adult, and that a new + impulse, reducing all previous impulses to unimportance, had + inspired his life. He owed the impulse to the baffling Lois. + Marguerite would never have given him such an impulse. + Marguerite had no ambition either for herself or for him. She + was profoundly the wrong girl for him. He admitted his error + candidly, with the eagerness of youth. He had no shame about + the blunder. And the girl's environment was wrong for him also. + What had he to do with Chelsea? Chelsea was a parish; it was + not the world. He had been gravely disappointed in Chelsea. + Marguerite had no shimmer of romance. She was homely. +<!-- Page 167 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page162" name="page162">[pg 162]</a> + </span> + + And she was content with her sphere. And she was not elegant; + she had no kind of smartness; who would look twice at her? And + she was unjust, she was unfair. She had lacerated his highly + sensitive pride. She had dealt his conceit a frightful wound. + He would not think of it.</p> + + <p>And in fact he could ignore the wound in the exquisite + activity of creating town halls for mighty municipalities. He + drew plans with passion and with fury; he had scores of + alternative schemes; he was a god fashioning worlds. Having + drawn plans, he drew elevations and perspectives; he rushed to + the files (rushed—because he was in haste to reach the + goal) and studied afresh the schedules of accommodation for + other municipal buildings that had been competed for in the + past. Much as he hated detail, he stooped rather humbly to + detail that night, and contended with it in all honesty. He + worked for hours before he thought of lighting a cigarette.</p> + + <p>It was something uncanny beyond the large windows that first + gently and perceptibly began to draw away his mind from the + profusion of town halls on the desk, and so indirectly reminded + him of the existence of cigarettes. When he lighted a cigarette + he stretched himself and glanced at the dark windows, of which + the blinds had not been pulled down. He understood then what + was the matter. Dawn was the matter. The windows were no longer + quite dark. He looked out. A faint pallor in the sky, and some + stars sickening therein, and underneath the silent square with + its patient trees and indefatigable lamps! The cigarette tasted + bad in his mouth, but he would not give it up. He yawned + heavily. The melancholy of the square, awaiting without hope + the slow, hard dawn, overcame him suddenly.... Marguerite was a + beautiful girl; her nose was marvellous; he could never forget + it. He could never forget her gesture as she intervened between + him and her father in the basement at Alexandra Grove. They had + painted lamp-shades together. She was angelically kind; she + could not be ruffled; she would never criticize, never grasp, + never exhibit selfishness. She was a unique combination of the + serious and the sensuous. He felt the passionate, ecstatic + clinging of her arm as they walked under the interminable chain + of lamp-posts on Chelsea Embankment. Magical hours!... And how + she could absorb herself in her work! And what a damned shame + it was that rascally employers should have cut down her prices! + It was intolerable; it +<!-- Page 168 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page163" name="page163">[pg 163]</a> + </span> + + would not bear thinking about. He dropped the cigarette and + stamped on it angrily. Then he returned to the desk, and put + his head in his hands and shut his eyes.</p> + + <p>He awakened with a start of misgiving. He was alone in the + huge house (for the basement was under the house and, somehow, + did not count). Something was astir in the house. He could hear + it through the doors ajar. His flesh crept. It was exactly like + the flap of a washing-cloth on the stone stairs; it stopped; it + came nearer. He thought inevitably of the dead Mrs. Haim, once + charwoman and step cleaner. In an instant he believed fully in + all that he had ever heard about ghosts and spirit + manifestations. An icy wave passed down his spine. He felt that + if the phantom of Mrs. Haim was approaching him he simply could + not bear to meet it. The ordeal would kill him. Then he decided + that the sounds were not those of a washing-cloth, but of + slippered feet. Odd that he should have been so deluded. + Somebody was coming down the long stairs from the upper + stories, uninhabited at night. Burglars? He was still very + perturbed, but differently perturbed. He could not move a + muscle. The suspense as the footsteps hesitated at the cubicle + was awful. George stood up straight and called out in a rough + voice—louder than he expected it to be:</p> + + <p>"Who's there?"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright appeared. He was wearing beautiful blue pyjamas + and a plum-coloured silk dressing-gown and doe-skin slippers. + His hair was extremely deranged; he blinked rapidly, and his + lined face seemed very old.</p> + + <p>"Well, I like this, I like this!" he said in a quiet, + sardonic tone. "Sitting at my desk and blazing my electricity + away! I happened to get up, and I looked out of the window and + noticed the glare below. So I came to see what was afoot. Do + you know you frightened me?—and I don't like being + frightened."</p> + + <p>"I hadn't the slightest notion you ever slept here," George + feebly stammered.</p> + + <p>"Didn't you know I'd decided to keep a couple of rooms here + for myself?"</p> + + <p>"I had heard something about it, but I didn't know you'd + really moved in. I—I've been away so much."</p> + + <p>"I moved in, as you call it, to-day—yesterday, and a + nice night you're giving me! And even supposing I hadn't moved + in, what's that got to do with your being here? Give me a + cigarette."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 169 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page164" name="page164">[pg 164]</a> + </span> + + With hurrying deference George gave the cigarette, and struck a + match for it, and as he held the match he had a near view of Mr + Enwright's prosaic unshaved chin. The house was no longer the + haunt of lurking phantoms; it was a common worldly house + without any mystery or any menace. George's skin was no longer + the field of abnormal phenomena. Dawn was conquering Russell + Square. On the other hand, George was no longer a giant of + energy, initiating out of ample experience a tremendous and + superb enterprise. He was suddenly diminished to a boy, or at + best a lad. He really felt that it was ridiculous for him to be + sketching and scratching away there in the middle of the night + in his dress-clothes. Even his overcoat, hat, and fancy muffler + cast on a chair seemed ridiculous. He was a child, pretending + to be an adult. He glanced like a child at Mr. Enwright; he + roughened his hair with his hand like a child. He had the most + wistful and apologetic air.</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"I just came along here for a bit instead of going to bed. I + didn't know it was so late."</p> + + <p>"Do you often just come along here?"</p> + + <p>"No. I never did it before. But to-night——"</p> + + <p>"What is it you're + <i>at</i> + + ?"</p> + + <p>"I'd been thinking a bit about that new town hall."</p> + + <p>"What new town hall?"</p> + + <p>"You know——"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright did know.</p> + + <p>"But haven't I even yet succeeded in making it clear that + this firm is not going in for that particular competition?"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright's sarcastic and discontented tone challenged + George, who stiffened.</p> + + <p>"Oh! I know the firm isn't going in for it. But what's the + matter with me going in for it?"</p> + + <p>He forced himself to meet Mr. Enwright's eyes, but he could + not help blushing. He was scarcely out of his articles; he had + failed in the Final; and he aspired to create the largest + English public building of the last half-century.</p> + + <p>"Are you quite mad?" Mr. Enwright turned away from the desk + to the farther window, hiding his countenance.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George firmly. "Quite!"</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright, after a pause, came back to the desk.</p> + + <p>"Well, it's something to admit that," he sneered. "At +<!-- Page 170 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page165" name="page165">[pg 165]</a> + </span> + + any rate, we know where we are. Let's have a look at the horrid + mess."</p> + + <p>He made a number of curt observations as he handled the + sheets of sketches.</p> + + <p>"I see you've got that Saracenic touch in again."</p> + + <p>"What's the scale here?"</p> + + <p>"Is this really a town hall, or are you trying to beat the + Temple at Karnak?"</p> + + <p>"If that's meant for an Ionic capital, no assessor would + stand it. It's against all the textbooks to have Ionic capitals + where there's a side-view of them. Not that it matters to + me."</p> + + <p>"Have you made the slightest attempt to cube it up? You'd + never get out of this under half a million, you know."</p> + + <p>Shaking his head, he retired once more to the window. George + began to breathe more freely, as one who has fronted danger and + still lives. Mr. Enwright addressed the window:</p> + + <p>"It's absolute folly to start on a thing like that before + the conditions are out. Absolute folly. Have you done all that + to-night?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Well, you've shifted the stuff.... But you haven't the + slightest notion what accommodation they want. You simply don't + know."</p> + + <p>"I know what accommodation they + <i>ought</i> + + to want with four hundred thousand inhabitants," George + retorted pugnaciously.</p> + + <p>"Is it four hundred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with + bland innocence. He generally left statistics to his + partner.</p> + + <p>"Four hundred and twenty-five."</p> + + <p>"You've looked it up?"</p> + + <p>"I have."</p> + + <p>Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again.</p> + + <p>"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the + principal sheet and blinking.</p> + + <p>" + <i>I shall go in for it</i> + + !" The thought swept through George's brain like a fierce + flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and + incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those + produced by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught + admiration and benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was + intensely happy, encouraged, and proud. He began to talk + eagerly; he babbled, entrusting himself to Mr. Enwright's + benevolence.</p> + + <p>"Of course there's the Final. If they give six months +<!-- Page 171 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page166" name="page166">[pg 166]</a> + </span> + + for the thing I could easily get through the Final before + sending-in day. I could take a room somewhere. I shouldn't + really want any assistance—clerk, I mean. I could do it + all myself...." He ran on until Mr. Enwright stopped him.</p> + + <p>"You could have a room here—upstairs."</p> + + <p>"Could I?"</p> + + <p>"But you would want some help. And you needn't think they'll + give six months, because they won't. They might give five."</p> + + <p>"That's no good."</p> + + <p>"Why isn't it any good?" snapped Mr. Enwright. "You don't + suppose they're going to issue the conditions just yet, do you? + Not a day before September, not a day. And you can take it from + me!"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Hurrah!"</p> + + <p>"But look here, my boy, let's be clear about one thing."</p> + + <p>"Yes?"</p> + + <p>"You're quite mad."</p> + + <p>They looked at each other.</p> + + <p>"The harmless kind, though," said George confidently, well + aware that Mr. Enwright doted upon him.</p> + + <p>In another minute the principal had gone to bed, without + having uttered one word as to his health. George had announced + that he should tidy the sacred desk before departing. When he + had done that he wrote a letter, in pencil. "It's the least I + can do," he said to himself seriously. He began:</p> + + <p>"DEAR MISS INGRAM."—"Dash it!—She calls me + 'George,'" he thought, and tore up the sheet.—"DEAR + LOIS,—I think after what you said it's only due to you to + tell you that I've decided to go in for that competition on my + own. Thanks for the tip.—Yours, GEORGE CANNON"</p> + + <p>He surveyed the message.</p> + + <p>"That's about right," he murmured.</p> + + <p>Then he looked at his watch. It showed 3.15, but it had + ceased to beat. He added at the foot of the letter: "Monday, + 3.30 a.m." He stole one of John Orgreave's ready-stamped + envelopes.</p> + + <p>In quitting the house he inadvertently banged the heavy + front door.</p> + + <p>"Do 'em good!" he said, thinking of awakened sleepers.</p> + + <p>It was now quite light. He dropped the letter into the +<!-- Page 172 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page167" name="page167">[pg 167]</a> + </span> + + pillar-box round the corner, and as soon as he had + irretrievably done so, the thought occurred to him: "I wish I + hadn't put '3.30 a.m.' There's something rottenly sentimental + about it." The chill fresh air was bracing him to a more + perfect sanity. He raised the collar of his overcoat.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>At the club on Tuesday morning Downs brought to his bedside + a letter addressed in a large, striking, and untidy hand. Not + until he had generally examined the letter did he realize that + it was from Lois Ingram. He remembered having mentioned to her + that he lived at his club—Pickering's; but he had laid no + stress on the detail, nor had she seemed to notice it. Yet she + must have noticed it.</p> + + <p>"DEAR GEORGE,—I am so glad. Miss Wheeler is going to + her bootmaker's in Conduit Street to-morrow afternoon. She's + always such a long time there. Come and have tea with me at the + new Prosser's in Regent Street, four sharp. I shall have half + an hour.—L.I."</p> + + <p>In his heart he pretended to jeer at this letter. He said it + was 'like' Lois. She calmly assumed that at a sign from her he, + a busy man, would arrange to be free in the middle of the + afternoon! Doubtless the letter was the consequence of putting + '3.30 a.m.' on his own letter. What could a fellow + expect?...</p> + + <p>All pretence! In reality the letter flattered and excited + him. He thought upon the necktie he would wear.</p> + + <p>By the same post arrived a small parcel: it contained a + ring, a few other bits of jewellery, and all the letters and + notes that he had ever written or scribbled to Marguerite. He + did not want the jewellery back; he did not want the letters + back. To receive them somehow humiliated him. Surely she might + have omitted this nauseous conventionality! She was so + exasperatingly conscientious. Her neat, clerk-like calligraphy, + on the label of the parcel, exasperated him. She had carefully + kept every scrap of a missive from him. He hated to look at the + letters. What could he do with them except rip them up? And the + miserable trinkets—which she had worn, which had been + part of her? As for him, he had not kept all her + letters—not by any means. +<!-- Page 173 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page168" name="page168">[pg 168]</a> + </span> + + There might be a few, lying about in drawers. He would have to + collect and return them. Odious job! And he could not ask + anybody else to do it for him.</p> + + <p>He was obliged to question Lucas about the Regent Street + Prosser's, of which, regrettably, he had never heard. He did + not, in so many words, request John Orgreave for the favour of + an hour off. He was now out of his articles, though still by + the force of inertia at the office, and therefore he informed + John Orgreave that unless Mr. John had any objection he + proposed to take an hour off. Mr. Enwright was not in. Lucas + knew vaguely of the rendezvous, having somewhere met + Laurencine.</p> + + <p>From the outside Prosser's was not distinguishable from any + other part of Regent Street. But George could not mistake it, + because Miss Wheeler's car was drawn up in front of the + establishment, and Lois was waiting for him therein. Strange + procedure! She smiled and then frowned, and got out sternly. + She said scarcely anything, and he found that he could make + only such silly remarks as: "Hope I'm not late, am I?"</p> + + <p>The new Prosser's was a grandiose by-product of chocolate. + The firm had taken the leading ideas of the chief tea-shop + companies catering for the million in hundreds of + establishments arranged according to pattern, and elaborated + them with what is called in its advertisements 'cachet.' Its + prices were not as cheap as those of the popular houses, but + they could not be called dear. George and Lois pushed through a + crowded lane of chocolate and confectionery, past a staircase + which bore a large notice: "Please keep to the right." This + notice was needed. They came at length to the main hall, under + a dome, with a gallery between the dome and the ground. The + floor was carpeted. The multitudinous small tables had cloths, + flowers, silver, and menus knotted with red satin ribbon. The + place was full of people, people seated at the tables and + people walking about. Above the rail of the gallery could be + seen the hats and heads of more people. People were entering + all the time and leaving all the time. Scores of waitresses, in + pale green and white, moved to and fro like an alien and + mercenary population. The heat, the stir, the hum, and the + clatter were terrific. And from on high descended thin, + strident music in a rapid and monotonous rhythm.</p> + + <p>"No room!" said George, feeling that he had at last got into + the true arena of the struggle for life.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 174 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page169" name="page169">[pg 169]</a> + </span> + + Oh yes!" said Lois, with superior confidence.</p> + + <p>She bore mercilessly across the floor. Round the edge of the + huge room, beneath the gallery, were a number of little alcoves + framed in fretted Moorish arches of white-enamelled wood. Three + persons were just emerging from one of these. She sprang + within, and sank into a wicker arm-chair.</p> + + <p>"There is always a table," she breathed, surveying the whole + scene with a smile of conquest.</p> + + <p>George sat down opposite to her with his back to the hall; + he could survey nothing but Lois, and the world of the mirror + behind her.</p> + + <p>"That's one of father's maxims," she said.</p> + + <p>"What is?"</p> + + <p>"'There is always a table.' Well, you know, there always + is."</p> + + <p>"He must be a very wise man."</p> + + <p>"He is."</p> + + <p>"What's his special line?"</p> + + <p>She exclaimed:</p> + + <p>"Don't you know father? Hasn't Miss Wheeler told you? Or + Mrs. Orgreave?"</p> + + <p>"No."</p> + + <p>"But you must know father. Father's 'Parisian' in + <i>The Sunday Journal</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Despite the mention of this ancient and very dignified + newspaper, George felt a sense of disappointment. He had little + esteem for journalists, whom Mr. Enwright was continually + scoffing at, and whom he imagined to be all poor. He had + conceived Mr. Ingram as perhaps a rich cosmopolitan financier, + or a rich idler—but at any rate rich, whatever he might + be.</p> + + <p>"Of course he does lots of other work besides that. He + writes for the + <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> + + and the + <i>St. James's Gazette.</i> + + In fact it's his proud boast that he writes for all the + gazettes, and he's the only man who does. That's because he's + so liked. Everybody adores him. I adore him myself. He's a + great pal of mine. But he's very strict."</p> + + <p>"Strict?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," she insisted, rather defensively. "Why not? I should + like a strawberry ice, and a lemon-squash, and a millefeuille + cake. Don't be alarmed, please. I'm a cave-woman. You've got to + get used to it."</p> + + <p>"What's a cave-woman?"</p> + + <p>"It's something primitive. You must come over to +<!-- Page 175 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page170" name="page170">[pg 170]</a> + </span> + + Paris. If father likes you, he'll take you to one of the weekly + lunches of the Anglo-American Press Circle. He always does that + when he likes anyone. He's the Treasurer.... Haven't you got + any millefeuille cakes?" she demanded of the waitress, who had + come to renew the table and had deposited a basket of various + cakes.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid we haven't, miss," answered the waitress, not + comprehending the strange word any better than George did.</p> + + <p>"Bit rowdy, isn't it?" George observed, looking round, when + the waitress had gone.</p> + + <p>Lois said with earnestness:</p> + + <p>"I simply love these big, noisy places. They make me feel + alive."</p> + + <br /> + + <p>He looked at her. She was very well dressed—more + stylistic than any girl that he could see in the mirror. He + could not be sure whether or not her yellow eyes had a slight + cast; if they had, it was so slight as to be almost + imperceptible. There was no trace of diffidence in them; they + commanded. She was not a girl whom you could masculinely + protect. On the contrary, she would protect not only herself + but others.</p> + + <p>"Haven't you cream?" she curtly challenged the waitress, + arriving with ice, lemon-squash, and George's tea.</p> + + <p>The alien mercenary met her glance inimically for a second, + and then, shutting her lips together, walked off with the milk. + At Prosser's the waitresses did not wear caps, and were, in + theory, ladies. Lois would have none of the theory; the + waitress was ready to die for it and carried it away with her + intact. George preferred milk to cream, but he said + nothing.</p> + + <p>"Yes," Lois went on. "You ought to come to Paris. You have + been, haven't you? I remember you told me. We're supposed to go + back next week, but if Irene doesn't go, I shan't." She + frowned.</p> + + <p>George said that positively he would come to Paris.</p> + + <p>When they had fairly begun the rich, barbaric meal, Lois + asked abruptly:</p> + + <p>"Why did you write in the middle of the night?"</p> + + <p>Sometimes her voice was veiled.</p> + + <p>"Why did I write in the middle of the night? Because I + thought I would." He spoke masterfully. He didn't mean to stand + any of her cheek.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she laughed nicely. " + <i>I</i> + + didn't mind. I liked it— +<!-- Page 176 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page171" name="page171">[pg 171]</a> + </span> + + awfully. It was just the sort of thing I should have done + myself. But you might tell me all about it. I think I deserve + that much, don't you?"</p> + + <p>Thus he told her all about it—how he had arranged + everything, got a room, meant to have his name painted on the + door, meant to make his parents take their holiday on the + north-east coast for a change, so that he could study the site, + meant to work like a hundred devils, etc. He saw with + satisfaction that the arrogant, wilful creature was + impressed.</p> + + <p>She said:</p> + + <p>"Now listen to me. You'll win that competition."</p> + + <p>"I shan't," he said. "But it's worth trying, for the + experience—that's what Enwright says."</p> + + <p>She said:</p> + + <p>"I don't care a fig what Enwright says. You'll win that + competition. I'm always right when I sort of feel—you + know."</p> + + <p>For the moment he believed in the miraculous, inexplicable + intuitions of women.</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she cried, as the invisible orchestra started a new + tune. "Do you know that? It's the first time I've heard it in + London. It's the + <i>machiche</i> + + . It's all over Paris. I think it's the most wonderful tune in + the world." Her body swayed; her foot tapped.</p> + + <p>George listened. Yes, it was a maddening tune.</p> + + <p>"It is," he agreed eagerly.</p> + + <p>She cried:</p> + + <p>"Oh! I do love pleasure! And success! And money! Don't + you?"</p> + + <p>Her eyes had softened; they were liquid with yearning; but + there was something frankly sensual in them. This quality, + swiftly revealed, attracted George intensely for an + instant.</p> + + <p>Immediately afterwards she asked the time, and said she must + go.</p> + + <p>"I daren't keep Irene waiting," she said. Her eyes now had a + hard glitter.</p> + + <p>In full Regent Street he put the haughty girl into Irene's + automobile, which had turned round; he was proud to be seen in + the act; he privately enjoyed the glances of common, + unsuccessful persons. As he walked away he smiled to himself, + to hide from himself his own nervous excitement. She was a + handful, she was. Within her life burned and blazed. He + remembered Mr. Prince's remark: "You must have +<!-- Page 177 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page172" name="page172">[pg 172]</a> + </span> + + made a considerable impression on her," or words to that + effect. The startling thought visited him: "I shall marry that + woman." Then another thought: "Not if I know it! I don't like + her. I do not like her. I don't like her eyes."</p> + + <p>She had, however, tremendously intensified in him the desire + for success. He hurried off to work. The days passed too + slowly, and yet they were too short for his task. He could not + wait for the fullness of time. His life had become a breathless + race. "I shall win. I can't possibly win. The thing's idiotic. + I might.... Enwright's rather struck." Yes, it was Mr. + Enwright's attitude that inspired him. To have impressed Mr. + Enwright—by Jove, it was something!</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_IX'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 178 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page173" name="page173">[pg 173]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + + <h3>COMPETITION</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>On the face of the door on the third floor of the house in + Russell Square the words 'G.E. Cannon' appeared in dirty white + paint and the freshly added initials 'A.R.I.B.A.' in clean + white paint. The addition of the triumphant initials + (indicating that George had kissed the rod of the Royal + Institute of British Architects in order to conquer) had put + the sign as a whole out of centre, throwing it considerably to + the right on the green door-face. Within the small and bare + room, on an evening in earliest spring in 1904, sat George at + the customary large flat desk of the architect. He had just + switched on the electric light over his head. He looked sterner + and older; he looked very worried, fretful, exhausted. He was + thin and pale; his eyes burned, and there were dark patches + under the eyes; the discipline of the hair had been rather + gravely neglected. In front of George lay a number of large + plans, mounted on thick cardboard, whose upper surface had a + slight convex curve. There were plans of the basement of the + projected town hall, of the ground floor, of the building at a + height of twelve feet from the ground, of the mezzanine floor, + of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth floors; these + plans were coloured. Further, in plain black and white, there + were a plan of the roof (with tower), a longitudinal section on + the central axis, two other sections, three elevations, and a + perspective view of the entire edifice. Seventeen sheets in + all.</p> + + <p>The sum of work seemed tremendous; it made the mind dizzy; + it made George smile with terrible satisfaction at his own + industry. For he had engaged very little help. He would have + been compelled to engage more, had not the Corporation extended + by one month the time for sending in. The Corporation had + behaved with singular enlighten +<!-- Page 179 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page174" name="page174">[pg 174]</a> + </span> + + ment. Its schedules of required accommodation (George's copy + was scored over everywhere in pencil and ink and seriously + torn) were held to be admirably drawn, and its supplementary + circular of answers to questions from competitors had displayed + a clarity and a breadth of mind unusual in corporations. Still + more to the point, the Corporation had appointed a second + assessor to act with Sir Hugh Corver. In short, it had shown + that it was under no mandarin's thumb, and that what it really + and seriously wanted was the best design that the profession + could produce. Mr. Enwright, indeed, had nearly admitted regret + at having kept out of the immense affair. John Orgreave had + expressed regret with vigour and candour. They had in the main + left George alone, though occasionally at night Mr. Enwright, + in the little room, had suggested valuable solutions of certain + problems. In detail he was severely critical of George's + design, and he would pour delicate satires upon the + idiosyncrasy which caused the wilful boy to 'impurify' (a word + from Enwright's private vocabulary) a Renaissance creation with + Saracenic tendencies in the treatment of arches and + wall-spaces.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless Mr. Enwright greatly respected the design in + its entirety, and both he and John Orgreave (who had collected + by the subterranean channels of the profession a large amount + of fact and rumour about the efforts of various competitors) + opined that it stood a fair chance of being among the selected + six or ten whose authors would be invited to submit final + designs for the final award. George tried to be hopeful; but he + could not be hopeful by trying. It was impossible to believe + that he would succeed; the notion was preposterous; yet at + moments, when he was not cultivating optimism, optimism would + impregnate all his being, and he would be convinced that it was + impossible not to win. How inconceivably grand! His chief + rallying thought was that he had undertaken a gigantic task and + had accomplished it. Well or ill, he had accomplished it. He + said to himself aloud:</p> + + <p>"I've done it! I've done it!"</p> + + <p>And that he actually had done it was almost incredible. The + very sheets of drawings were almost incredible. But they + existed there. All was complete. The declaration that the + design was G.E. Cannon's personal work, drawn in his own office + by his ordinary staff, was there, in the printed envelope + officially supplied by the Corporation. The estimate of cost + and the cubing was there. The explanatory +<!-- Page 180 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page175" name="page175">[pg 175]</a> + </span> + + report on the design, duly typewritten, was there. Nothing + lacked.</p> + + <p>"I've done it! I've done it!"</p> + + <p>And then, tired as he was, the conscience of the creative + artist and of the competitor began to annoy him and spur him. + The perspective drawing did not quite satisfy—and there + was still time. The point of view for the perspective drawing + was too high up, and the result was a certain marring of the + nobility of the lines, and certainly a diminishment of the + effect of the tower. He had previously started another + perspective drawing with a lower view-point, but he had + mistakenly cast it aside. He ought to finish the first one and + substitute it for the second one. 'The perspective drawing had + a moral importance; it had a special influence on the assessors + and committees. Horrid, tiresome labour! Three, four, five, or + six hours of highly concentrated tedium. Was it worth while? It + was not. Mr. Enwright liked the finished drawing. He, George, + could not face a further strain. And yet he was not content.... + Pooh! Who said he could not face a further strain? Of course he + could face it. If he did not face it, his conscience would + accuse him of cowardice during the rest of his life, and he + would never be able to say honestly: "I did my level best with + the thing." He snapped his fingers lightly, and in one second + had decided to finish the original perspective drawing, and in + his very finest style. He would complete it some time during + the night. In the morning it could be mounted. The drawings + were to go to the north in a case on the morrow by passenger + train, and to be met at their destination by a commissionaire + common to several competitors; this commissionaire would + deliver them to the Town Clerk in accordance with the + conditions. In a few minutes George was at work, excited, + having forgotten all fatigue. He was saying to himself that he + would run out towards eight o'clock for a chop or a steak. As + he worked he perceived that he had been quite right to throw + over the second drawing; he wondered that he could have felt + any hesitation; the new drawing would be immeasurably + superior.</p> + + <p>Mr. Haim 'stepped up,' discreetly knocking, entering with + dignity. The relations between these two had little by little + resumed their old, purely formal quality. Both seemed to have + forgotten that passionate anger had ever separated them and + joined them together. George was young, and capable of + oblivion. Mr. Haim had beaten him in the struggle +<!-- Page 181 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page176" name="page176">[pg 176]</a> + </span> + + and could afford to forget. They conversed politely, as though + the old man had no daughter and the youth had never had a + lover. Mr. Haim had even assisted with the lettering of the + sheets—not because George needed his help, but because + Mr. Haim's calligraphic pride needed to help. To refuse the + stately offer would have been to insult. Mr. Haim had aged, but + not greatly.</p> + + <p>"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Dash it!... Thanks!"</p> + + <p>After all George was no longer on the staff of Lucas & + Enwright, and Mr. Haim was conferring a favour.</p> + + <p>Down below in the big office everybody had gone except the + factotum.</p> + + <p>George seized the telephone receiver and called brusquely + for attention.</p> + + <p>"Is that Mr. Cannon?"</p> + + <p>"Yes. Who is it?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! It's you, George! How nice to hear your voice + again!"</p> + + <p>He recognized, but not instantly, the voice of Lois Ingram. + He was not surprised. Indeed he had suspected that the + disturber of work must be either Lois or Miss Wheeler, or + possibly Laurencine. The three had been in London again for + several days, and he had known from Lucas that a theatre-party + had been arranged for that night to witness the irresistible + musical comedy, + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + , Lucas and M. Defourcambault were to be of the party. George + had not yet seen Lois since her latest return to London; he had + only seen her twice since the previous summer; he had not + visited Paris in the interval. The tone of her voice, even as + transformed by the telephone, was caressing. He had to think of + some suitable response to her startling amiability, and to + utter it with conviction. He tried to hold fast in his mind to + the image of the perspective with its countless complexities + and the co-ordination of them all; the thing seemed to be + retreating from him, and he dared not let it go.</p> + + <p>"Do you know," said Lois, "I only came to London to + celebrate the sending-in of your design. I hear it's + marvellous. Aren't you glad you've finished it?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I haven't finished it," said George. "I'm on it + now."</p> + + <p>What did the girl mean by saying she'd only come to London + to celebrate the end of his work? An invention on her part! + Still, it flattered him. She was very strange.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 182 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page177" name="page177">[pg 177]</a> + </span> + + But Everard's told us you'd finished a bit earlier than you'd + expected. We counted on seeing your lordship to-morrow. But now + we've got to see you to-night."</p> + + <p>"Awfully sorry I can't."</p> + + <p>"But look here, George. You must really. The party's all + broken up. Miss Wheeler's had to go back to Paris to-night, and + Jules can't come. Everything's upset. The flat's going to be + closed, and Laurencine and, I will have to leave to-morrow. + It's most frightfully annoying. We've got the box all right, + and Everard's coming, and you must make the fourth. We must + have a fourth. Laurencine's here at the phone, and she says the + same as me."</p> + + <p>"Wish I could!" George answered shortly. "Look here! What + train are you going by to-morrow? I'll come and see you off. I + shall be free then."</p> + + <p>"But, George. We + <i>want</i> + + you to come to-night." There seemed positively to be tears in + the faint voice. "Why can't you come? You must come."</p> + + <p>"I haven't finished one of the drawings. I tell you I'm on + it now. It'll take me half the night, or more. I'm just in the + thick of it, you see." He spoke with a slight resentful + impatience—less at her over-persuasiveness than at the + fact that his mind and the drawing were being more and more + separated. Soon he would have lost the right mood, and he would + be compelled to re-create it before he could resume the work. + The forcible, gradual dragging away of his mind from its + passionately gripped objective was torture. He had an impulse + to throw down the receiver and run off.</p> + + <p>The distant squeaking voice changed to the petulant:</p> + + <p>"You are horrid. You could come right enough if you wanted + to."</p> + + <p>"But don't you understand? It's awfully important for + me."</p> + + <p>He was astounded, absolutely astounded. She would not + understand. She had decided that he must go to the musical + comedy and nothing else mattered. His whole future did not + matter.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Very well, then," Lois said, undisguisedly vexed. "Of + course, if you won't, you won't. But really when two girls + <i>implore</i> + + you like that.... And we have to leave to-morrow, and + everything's upset!... I do think it's ... However, good + night."</p> + + <p>"Here! Hold hard a sec. I'll come for an hour or so. What's + the number of the box?"</p> + + <p>"Fourteen," said the voice brokenly.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 183 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page178" name="page178">[pg 178]</a> + </span> + + Immediately afterwards she rang off. George was hurt and + bewildered. The girl was incredibly ruthless. She was mad. Why + had he yielded? Only a silly conventional feeling had made him + yield. And yet he was a great scorner of convention. He went + upstairs again to the perspective drawing. He looked at his + watch. He might work for half an hour before leaving to dress. + No, he could not. The mood had vanished. The perspective had + slipped into another universe. He could not even pick up a pen. + He despised himself terribly, despairingly, for yielding.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>In spite of all this he anticipated with pleasure the + theatre-party. He wanted to go; he was glad he was going; the + memory of Lois in the tea-palace excited him. And he could + refuse a hearing to his conscience, and could prevent himself + from thinking uncomfortably of the future, as well as most + young men. His secret, unadmitted voluptuous eagerness was + alloyed only by an apprehension that after the scene over the + telephone Lois might be peevish and ungracious. The fear proved + to be baseless.</p> + + <p>Owing to the imperfections of the club laundry and the + erring humanity of Downs, he arrived late. + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + had begun. He found a darkened auditorium and a glowing stage. + In the dim box Lois and Laurencine were sitting in front on + gilt chairs. Lucas sat behind Laurencine, and there was an + empty chair behind Lois. Her gesture, her smile, her glance, as + she turned to George and looked up, were touching. She was + delighted to see him; she had the mien of a child who has got + what it wanted and has absolutely forgotten that it ever + pouted, shrieked, and stamped its foot. She was determined to + charm her uttermost. Her eye in the gloom was soft with + mysterious invitations. George looked about the interior of the + box; he saw the rich cloaks of the girls hanging up next to + glossy masculine hats, the large mirror on the wall, and + mother-of-pearl opera-glasses, chocolates, and flowers on the + crimson ledge. He was very close to the powerfully built and + yet plastic Lois. He could watch her changing curves as she + breathed; the faint scent she used rose to his nostrils. He + thought, with contained rapture: "Nothing in the world is equal + to this." He did not care a fig for the effect of perspective + drawings or the +<!-- Page 184 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page179" name="page179">[pg 179]</a> + </span> + + result of the competition. Lois, her head half-turned towards + him, her gaze lost in the sombre distances of the auditorium, + talked in a low tone, ignoring the performance. He gathered + that the sudden departure of Irene Wheeler had unusually + impressed and disconcerted and, to a certain extent, mortified + the sisters, who could not explain it, and who resented the + compulsion to go back to Paris at once. And he detected in + Lois, not for the first time, a grievance that Irene kept her, + Lois, apart from the main current of her apparently gorgeous + social career. Obviously an evening at which the sole guests + were two girls and a youth all quite unknown to newspapers + could not be a major item in the life of a woman such as Irene + Wheeler. She had left them unceremoniously to themselves at the + last moment, as it were permitting them to do what they liked + within the limits of goodness for one night, and commanding + them to return sagely home on the morrow. A red-nosed actor, + hands in pockets, waddled self-consciously on to the stage, and + the packed audience, emitting murmurs of satisfaction, + applauded. Conversations were interrupted. George, expectant, + gave his attention to the show. He knew little or nothing of + musical comedy, having come under influences which had taught + him to despise it. His stepfather, for example, could be very + sarcastic about musical comedy, and through both Enwright and + John Orgreave George had further cultivated the habit of + classical music, already acquired in boyhood at home in the + Five Towns. In the previous year, despite the calls upon his + time of study for examinations, George had attended the Covent + Garden performances of the Wagnerian "Ring" as he might have + attended High Mass. He knew by name a considerable percentage + of the hundred odd themes in "The Ring," and it was his boast + that he could identify practically all the forty-seven themes + in + <i>The Meistersingers</i> + + . He raved about Ternina in + <i>Tristan</i> + + . He had worshipped the Joachim quartet. He was acquainted with + all the popular symphonies of Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, + Mozart, Glazounov, and Tschaikovsky. He even frequented the + Philharmonic Concerts, which were then conducted by a composer + of sentimental drawing-room ballads, and though he would not + class this conductor with Richter or Henry J. Wood, he yet + believed that somehow, by the magic of the sacred name of the + Philharmonic Society, the balladmonger in the man expired in + the act of raising the baton and was replaced by a serious and + sensitive artist. He was accustomed to hear the same +<!-- Page 185 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page180" name="page180">[pg 180]</a> + </span> + + pieces of music again and again and again, and they were all or + nearly all very fine, indisputably great. It never occurred to + him that once they had been unfamiliar and had had to fight for + the notice of persons who indulged in music exactly as he + indulged in music. He had no traffic with the unfamiliar. + Unfamiliar items on a programme displeased him. He had heard + compositions by Richard Strauss, but he could make nothing of + them, and his timid, untravelled taste feared to like them. Mr. + Enwright himself was mainly inimical to Strauss, as to most of + modern Germany, perhaps because of the new architecture in + Berlin. George knew that there existed young English composers + with such names as Cyril Scott, Balfour Gardiner, Donald + Tovey—for he had seen these names recently on the front + page of + <i>The Daily Telegraph</i> + + —but he had never gone to the extent of listening to + their works. He was entirely sure that they could not hold a + candle to Wagner, and his sub-conscious idea was that it was + rather like their cheek to compose at all. He had not noticed + that Hugo Wolf had just died, nor indeed had he noticed that + Hugo Wolf had ever lived.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless this lofty and exclusive adherent of the 'best' + music was not prejudiced in advance against + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + . He was anxious to enjoy it and he expected to enjoy it. + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + had already an enormous prestige; it bore the agreeable, + captivating label of Vienna; and immense sums were being made + out of it in all the capitals of the world. George did not hope + for immortal strains, but he anticipated a distinguished, + lilting gaiety, and in the 'book' a witty and cosmopolitan + flavour that would lift the thing high above such English + musical comedies as he had seen. It was impossible that a work + of so universal and prodigious a vogue should not have + unquestionable virtues.</p> + + <p>The sight of the red-nosed comedian rather shocked George, + who had supposed that red-nosed comedians belonged to the past. + However, the man was atoned for by three extremely beautiful + and graceful young girls who followed him. Round about the + small group was ranged a semicircle of handsome creatures in + long skirts, behind whom was another semicircle of young men in + white flannels; the scene was a street in Mandalay. The + red-nosed comedian began by making a joke concerning his + mother-in-law, and another concerning mendacious statements to + his wife to explain his nocturnal absences from home, and + another concerning his intoxicated condition. The three + extremely +<!-- Page 186 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page181" name="page181">[pg 181]</a> + </span> + + beautiful and graceful young girls laughed deliriously at the + red-nosed comedian; they replied in a similar vein. They + clasped his neck and kissed him rapturously, and thereupon he + sang a song, of which the message was that all three extremely + beautiful and graceful girls practised professionally the most + ancient and stable of feminine vocations; the girls, by means + of many refrains, confirmed this definition of their status in + society. Then the four of them danced, and there was + enthusiastic applause from every part of the house except the + semicircle of European odalisques lost, for some unexplained + reason, in Mandalay. These ladies, the indubitable physical + attractions of each of whom were known by the management to + fill five or six stalls every night, took no pains whatever to + hide that they were acutely bored by the whole proceedings. + Self-sufficient in their beauty, deeply aware of the power of + their beauty, they deigned to move a lackadaisical arm or leg + at intervals in accordance with the respectful suggestions of + the conductor.</p> + + <p>Soon afterwards the gay spark herself appeared, amid a + hysteria of applause. She played the part of the wife of a + military officer, and displayed therein a marvellous, a + terrifying vitality of tongue, leg, and arm. The young men in + white flannels surrounded her, and she could flirt with all of + them; she was on intimate terms with the red-nosed comedian, + and also with the trio of delightful wantons, and her ideals in + life seemed to be identical with theirs. When, through the + arrival of certain dandies twirling canes, and the mysterious + transformation of the Burmese street into a Parisian cafe, + these ideals were on the point of realization, there was a + great burst of brass in the orchestra, succeeded by a violent + chorus, some kicking, and a general wassail, and the curtain + fell on the first act. It had to be raised four times before + the gratefully appreciative clapping would cease.</p> + + <p>The auditorium shone with light; it grew murmurous with + ecstatic approval. The virginal face of Laurencine shot its + rapture to Lucas as she turned to shake hands with George.</p> + + <p>"Jolly well done, isn't it?" said Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George.</p> + + <p>Lucas, too content to notice the perfunctoriness of George's + affirmative, went on:</p> + + <p>"When you think that they're performing it this very night + in St. Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, Brussels, and, I fancy, Rome, + but I'm not sure—marvellous, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>"It is," said George ambiguously.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 187 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page182" name="page182">[pg 182]</a> + </span> + + Though continuing to like him, he now definitely despised + Everard. The fellow had no artistic perceptions; he was a + child. By some means he had got through his Final, and was soon + to be a junior partner in Enwright & Lucas. George, + however, did not envy Everard the soft situation; he only + pitied Enwright & Lucas. Everard had often urged George to + go to musical comedies more frequently, hinting that they were + frightfully better than George could conceive. + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + gave Lucas away entirely; it gave away his method of + existence.</p> + + <p>"I don't believe you like it," said sharp Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"I adore it," George protested. "Don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! + <i>I</i> + + do, of course," said Laurencine. "I knew I should."</p> + + <p>Lucas, instinctively on the defence, said:</p> + + <p>"The second act's much better than the first."</p> + + <p>George's hopes, dashed but not broken, recovered somewhat. + After all there had been one or two gleams of real jokes, and a + catchiness in certain airs; and the spark possessed temperament + in profusion. It was possible that the next act might be + diverting.</p> + + <p>"You do look tired," said Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"Oh no, darling!" Lois objected. "I think he looks + splendid."</p> + + <p>She was intensely happy in the theatre. The box was very + well placed—since Irene had bought it—with a view + equally good of the stage and of the semicircle of boxes. Lois' + glance wandered blissfully round the boxes, all occupied by gay + parties, and over the vivacious stalls. She gazed, and she + enjoyed being gazed at. She bathed herself in the glitter and + the gaudiness and the opulence and the humanity, as in tonic + fluid. She seemed to float sinuously and voluptuously immersed + in it, as in tepid water lit with sunshine.</p> + + <p>"Do have a choc.," she invited eagerly.</p> + + <p>George took a chocolate. She took one. They all took one. + They all had the unconscious pride of youth that does not know + itself young. Each was different from the others. George showed + the reserve of the artist; Lucas the ease of the connoisseur of + mundane spectacles; Laurencine the sturdy, catholic, girlish + innocence that nothing can corrupt. And the sovereign was Lois. + She straightened her shoulders; she leaned languorously; she + looked up, she looked down; she spoke softly and loudly; she + laughed and smiled. And in every movement and in every gesture + and tone she sym +<!-- Page 188 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page183" name="page183">[pg 183]</a> + </span> + + bolized the ecstasy of life. She sought pleasure, and she had + found it, and she had no afterthought. She was infectious; she + was irresistible, and terrible too. For it was dismaying, at + any rate to George, to dwell on the fierceness of her instinct + and on the fierceness of its satisfaction. To George her + burning eyes were wistful, pathetic, in their simplicity. He + felt a sort of fearful pity for her. And he admired + her—she was something definite; she was something + magnificently outright; she did live. Also he liked her; the + implications in her glance appealed to him. The peculiar + accents in which she referred to the enigma of Irene Wheeler + were extraordinarily attractive to that part of his nature + which was perverse and sophisticated. "At least she is not a + simpleton," he thought. "And she doesn't pretend to be. Some + day I shall talk to her."</p> + + <p>The orchestra resumed; the lights went out. Lois settled + herself to fresh enchantment as the curtain rolled up to + disclose the bright halls and staircases of a supper-club. The + second act was an amplification and inflammation of the themes + of the first. As for the music, George listened in vain for an + original tune, even for a tune of which he could not foretell + the end from the beginning; the one or two engaging bits of + melody which enlivened the first act were employed again in the + second. The disdainful, lethargic chorus was the same; the same + trio of delicious wantons fondled and kissed the same red-nosed + comedian, who was still in the same state of inebriety, and the + gay spark flitted roysteringly through the same evolutions, in + pursuit of the same simple ideals. The jocularity pivoted + unendingly on the same twin centres of alcohol and + concupiscence. Gradually the latter grew to more and more + importance, and the piece became a high and candid homage to + the impulse by force of which alone one generation succeeds + another. No beautiful and graceful young girl on the stage + blenched before the salacious witticisms of the tireless + comedian; on the contrary he remained the darling of the stage. + And as he was the darling of the stage, so was he the darling + of the audience.</p> + + <p>And if no beautiful and graceful young girl blenched on the + stage, neither did the beautiful and graceful young girls in + the audience blench. You could see them sitting happily with + their fathers and mothers and cousins and uncles and aunts, + savouring the spectacle from dim stalls and boxes in the most + perfect respectability. Laurencine leaning her +<!-- Page 189 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page184" name="page184">[pg 184]</a> + </span> + + elbows on the ledge of the box, watched with eager, parted + lips, and never showed the slightest sign of uneasiness.</p> + + <p>George was uneasy; he was distressed. The extraordinary + juxtaposition of respectability and a ribald sexual display + startled but did not distress him. If the whole audience was + ready to stand it he certainly was. He had no desire to protect + people from themselves, nor to blush on behalf of + others—whoever they might be. Had anybody accused him of + saintliness he would have resented the charge, quite + justifiably, and if the wit of + <i>The Gay Spark</i> + + had been witty, he would have enjoyed it without a qualm. What + distressed him, what utterly desolated him, was the grossness, + the poorness, the cheapness, the dullness, and the uninventive + monotony of the interminable entertainment. He yawned, he could + not help yawning; he yawned his soul away. Lois must have heard + him yawning, but she did not move. He looked at her curiously, + pitifully, speculating how much of her luxury was due to Irene + Wheeler, and how little to 'Parisian' of + <i>The Sunday Journal</i> + + —for he had been inquiring about the fruits of + journalism. The vision of his own office and of the perspective + drawing rose seductively and irresistibly in his mind. He could + not stay in the theatre; he felt that if he stayed he would be + in danger of dropping down dead, suffocated by tedium; and the + drawing must be finished; it would not wait; it was the most + urgent thing in the world. And not a syllable had any person in + the box said to him about his great task. Lois's forearm, + braceleted, lay on the front of the box. Unceremoniously he + took her hand.</p> + + <p>"Bye-bye."</p> + + <p>"You aren't going?" Her whisper was incredulous.</p> + + <p>"Must."</p> + + <p>He gave her no chance to expostulate. With one movement he + had seized his hat and coat and slid from the box, just as the + finale of the act was imminent and the red-nosed comedian was + measuring the gay spark for new + <i>lingerie</i> + + with a giant property-cigar. He had not said good-bye to + Laurencine. He had not asked about their departure on the + morrow. But he was free.</p> + + <p>In the foyer a couple—a woman in a rose plush + <i>sortie de bal</i> + + , and a blade—were mysteriously talking. The blade looked + at him, smiled, and left the lady.</p> + + <p>"Hal<i>lo</i>, + old fellow!" It was Buckingham Smith, who had been getting on + in the world.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 190 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page185" name="page185">[pg 185]</a> + </span> + + They shook hands.</p> + + <p>"You've left Chelsea, haven't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George.</p> + + <p>"So've I. Don't see much of the old gang nowadays. Heard + anything of old Princey lately?"</p> + + <p>George replied that he had not. The colloquy was over in a + moment.</p> + + <p>"You must come and see my show—next week," Buck Smith + called out after the departing George.</p> + + <p>"I will," cried George.</p> + + <p>He walked quickly up to Russell Square, impatient to steep + himself anew in his work. All sense of fatigue had left him. + Time seemed to be flying past him, and he rushing towards an + unknown fate. On the previous day he had received an + enheartening, challenging, sardonic letter from his stepfather, + who referred to politics and envisaged a new epoch for the + country. Edwin Clayhanger was a Radical of a type found only in + the Midlands and the North. For many years Clayhanger's party, + to which he was passionately faithful, had had no war-cry and + no programme worthy of its traditions. The increasing success + of the campaign against Protection, and certain signs that the + introduction of Chinese labour into South Africa could be + effectively resisted, had excited the middle-aged + provincial—now an Alderman—and he had managed to + communicate fire to George. But in George, though he sturdily + shared his stepfather's views, the resulting righteous energy + was diverted to architectural creation.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The circumstances in which, about a month later, George + lunched with the Ingram family at their flat in the Rue + d'Athènes, near the Gare St. Lazare, Paris, had an + appearance of the utmost simplicity and ordinariness. He had + been down to Staffordshire for a rest, and had returned + unrested. And then Mr. Enwright had suggested that it would do + him good to go to Paris, even to go alone. He went, with no + plan, but having made careful arrangements for the telegraphing + to him of the result of the competition, which was daily + expected. By this time he was very seriously convinced that + there was no hope of him being among the selected six or ten, + and he preferred to get the news away from London rather than + in it; he felt that he could not face London +<!-- Page 191 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page186" name="page186">[pg 186]</a> + </span> + + on the day or the morrow of a defeat which would of course + render his youthful audacity ridiculous.</p> + + <p>He arrived in Paris on a Wednesday evening, and took a room + in a + <i>maison meublée</i> + + of the Rue de Sèze. Every inexperienced traveller in Paris + has a friend who knows a lodging in Paris which he alleges is + better and cheaper than any other lodging—and which is + not. The house in the Rue de Sèze was the economical + paradise of Buckingham Smith, whom George had encountered again + at the Buckingham Smith exhibition. Buckingham Smith, with over + half his pictures bearing the red seal that indicates 'Sold,' + felt justified in posing to the younger George as a + cosmopolitan expert—especially as his opinions on modern + French art were changing. George spent three solitary and + dejected days in Paris, affecting an interest in museums and + architecture and French opera, and committing follies. Near the + end of the third day, a Saturday, he suddenly sent a threepenny + express note to Lois Ingram. He would have telephoned had he + dared to use the French telephone. On Sunday morning, an + aproned valet having informed him that Monsieur was demanded at + the telephone, he had to use the telephone. Lois told him that + he must come to lunch, and that afterwards he would be escorted + to the races. Dejection was instantly transformed into a gay + excitation. Proud of having spoken through a French telephone, + he began to conceive romantically the interior of a Paris + home—he had seen naught but a studio or so with Mr. + Enwright—and to thrill at the prospect of Sunday races. + Not merely had he never seen a horse-race on a Sunday—he + had never seen a horse-race at all. He perhaps was conscious of + a genuine interest in Lois and her environment, but what most + satisfied and flattered him, after his loneliness, was the bare + fact of possessing social relations in Paris at all.</p> + + <p>The Ingram home was up four flights of naked oaken stairs, + fairly swept, in a plain, flat-fronted house. The door of the + home was opened by a dark, untidy, dishevelled, uncapped, fat + girl, with a full apron, dazzling white and rectangularly + creased, that had obviously just been taken out of a drawer. + Familiarly and amicably smiling, she led him into a small, + modest drawing-room where were Lois and her father and mother. + Lois was enigmatic and taciturn. Mr. and Mrs. Ingram were + ingenuous, loquacious, and at ease. Both of them had twinkling + eyes. Mrs. Ingram was rather stout and grey and small, and wore + a quiet, inexpensive blue dress, +<!-- Page 192 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page187" name="page187">[pg 187]</a> + </span> + + embroidered at the neck in the Morrisian manner, of no kind of + fashionableness. She spoke in a low voice, smiled to herself + with a benevolence that was not without a touch of the + sardonic, and often looked at the floor or at the ceiling. Mr. + Ingram, very slim and neat, was quite as small as his wife, and + seemed smaller. He talked much and rather amusingly, in a + somewhat mincing tone, as it were apologetically, truly anxious + to please. He had an extremely fair complexion, and his + youthfulness was quite startling. His golden hair and perfect + teeth might have belonged to a boy. George leapt immediately + into familiarity with these two. But nobody could have less + resembled his preconceived image of 'Parisian' than Mr. Ingram. + And he could not understand a bit whence or how such a pair had + produced their daughter Lois. Laurencine was a far more + comprehensible offspring for them.</p> + + <p>The dining-room was even less spacious than the + drawing-room, and as unpretentious. The furniture everywhere + was sparse, but there were one or two rich knick-knacks, and an + abundance of signed photographs. The few pictures, too, were + signed, and they drew attention. On the table the napkins, save + George's, were in rings, and each ring different from the + others. George's napkin had the air of a wealthy, stiff, shiny + relative of the rest. Evidently in that home the long art of + making both ends meet was daily practised. George grew + light-hearted and happy, despite the supreme preoccupation + which only a telegram could allay. He had keenly the sensation + of being abroad. The multiplicity of doors, the panelling of + the doors, the narrow planking of the oaken floor, the moulding + of the cornices, the shape of the windows, the view of the + courtyard from the dining-room and of attics and chimney-cowls + from the drawing-room, the closed anthracite stoves in lieu of + fires, the crockery, the wine-bottle, the mustard, the grey + salt, the unconventional gestures and smiles and exclamations + of the unkempt maid—all these strange details enchanted + him, and they all set off very vividly the intense, nice, + honest, reassuring Englishness of the host and hostess.</p> + + <p>It was not until after the others were seated for the meal + that Laurencine made her appearance. She was a magnificent and + handsome virgin, big-boned, physically a little awkward, + candid. How exquisitely and absurdly she flushed in shaking + hands with George! With what a delicious mock-furious setting + of the teeth and tossing of the head she frowned +<!-- Page 193 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page188" name="page188">[pg 188]</a> + </span> + + at her mother's reproaches for being late! This family knew the + meaning of intimacy but not of ceremony. Laurencine sat down at + her father's left; George was next to her on Mrs. Ingram's + right. Lois had the whole of the opposite side of the + table.</p> + + <p>"Does he know?" Laurencine asked; and turning to George: "Do + you know?"</p> + + <p>"Know what?"</p> + + <p>"You'd better tell him, dad. You like talking, and he ought + to know. I shan't be able to eat if he doesn't. It would be so + ridiculous sitting here and pretending."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Ingram looked upwards across the room at a corner of + the ceiling, and smiled faintly.</p> + + <p>"You might," she said, "begin by asking Mr. Cannon if he + particularly wants to be burdened with the weight of your + secrets, my dear child."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I particularly do," said George.</p> + + <p>"There's no secret about it—at least there won't be + soon," said Laurencine.</p> + + <p>Lois spoke simultaneously:</p> + + <p>"My dear mother, please call George George. If we call him + George, you can't possibly call him Mr. Cannon."</p> + + <p>"I quite admit," Mrs. Ingram replied to her eldest, "I quite + admit that you and Laurencine are entitled to criticise my + relations with my husband, because he's your father. But I + propose to carry on my affairs with other men just according to + my own ideas, and any interference will be resented. I've had a + bad night, owing to the garage again, and I don't feel equal to + calling George George. I've only known him about twenty + minutes. Moreover, I might be misunderstood, mightn't I, Mr. + Cannon?"</p> + + <p>"You might," said George.</p> + + <p>"Now, dad!" Laurencine admonished.</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram, addressing George, began:</p> + + <p>"Laurencine suffers from a grave form of + self-consciousness——"</p> + + <p>"I don't, dad."</p> + + <p>"It is a disease akin to conceit. Her sufferings are + sometimes so acute that she cannot sit up straight and is + obliged to loll and curl her legs round the legs of the chair. + We are all very sorry for her. The only treatment is brutal + candour, as she herself advocates——"</p> + + <p>Laurencine jumped up, towered over her father, and covered + his mouth with her hand.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 194 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page189" name="page189">[pg 189]</a> + </span> + + This simple hand," said Mr. Ingram, seizing it, "will soon bear + a ring. Laurencine is engaged to be married."</p> + + <p>"I'm not, father." She sat down again.</p> + + <p>"Well, you are not. But you will be, I presume, by post-time + to-night. A young man of the name of Lucas has written to + Laurencine this morning in a certain sense, and he has also + written to me. Laurencine has seen my letter, and I've seen + hers. But my envelope contained only one letter. Whether her + envelope contained more than one, whether the epistle which I + saw is written in the style usually practised by the present + age, whether it was composed for the special purpose of being + shown to me, I do not know, and discretion and nice gentlemanly + feeling forbid me to inquire. However——"</p> + + <p>At this point, Laurencine snatched her father's napkin off + his knees and put it on her own.</p> + + <p>"However, my wife and I have met this Mr. Lucas, and as our + opinion about him is not wholly unfavourable, the matter was + satisfactorily and quickly arranged—even before I had had + my bath; Laurencine and I will spend the afternoon in writing + suitable communications to Mr. Lucas. I am ready to show her + mine for a shilling, but I doubt if five pounds would procure + me a sight of hers. Yet she is only an amateur writer and I'm a + professional."</p> + + <p>There was a little silence, and then George said + awkwardly:</p> + + <p>"I congratulate old Lucas."</p> + + <p>"This news must have astonished you extremely," observed Mr. + Ingram. "It must have come as a complete surprise. In fact you + are doubtless in the condition known to charwomen as capable of + being knocked down with a feather."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Quite!" George agreed.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless, in spite of his light tone, he regretted the + engagement. He did not think Lucas was worthy of the splendid + girl. He felt sorry for her. At that moment she faced him + bravely, and smiled. Her face had a tremendous deep crimson + flush. There was a woman somewhere in the girl! Strange + phenomenon! And another strange phenomenon: if Laurencine had + been self-conscious, George also was self-conscious; and he + avoided Lois's eyes! Why? He wondered whether the circumstances + in which he had come to Paris and entered the Ingram home were + as simple and ordinary as they superficially appeared.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 195 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page190" name="page190">[pg 190]</a> + </span> + + Laurencine," said her mother, "give your father back his + serviette!"</p> + + <p>"Mine's fallen."</p> + + <p>"Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Ingram very benevolently, + and he bent down and retrieved Laurencine's napkin, which he + kept. "And now," he proceeded, "the serious operation being + over and the patient out of danger, shall we talk about + something else for a few moments?"</p> + + <p>"I should think so indeed!" Laurencine exclaimed, suddenly + gay. "George, when + <i>shall</i> + + you know about the competition?"</p> + + <p>"Any minute, I might," said he.</p> + + <p>They all talked sympathetically to George on the new + subject.</p> + + <p>After lunch, Lois disappeared. She came back resplendent for + the races, when coffee had long been finished in the + drawing-room.</p> + + <p>"Why aren't you ready, Laure?" she demanded.</p> + + <p>"I'm not going, darling."</p> + + <p>"Lois," Mr. Ingram exhorted, "don't forget the afternoon is + to be spent in literary composition."</p> + + <p>"It isn't," Laurencine contradicted. "I may as well tell you + I've written all I mean to write in the way of letters for one + day. But I don't want to go, really, Lois darling."</p> + + <p>"No. She wants to think," Mrs. Ingram explained.</p> + + <p>Lois set her lips together, and then glimpsed herself in the + large mirror over the anthracite stove. She looked too rich and + complicated for that simple drawing-room.</p> + + <p>A performance on a horn made itself heard in the street + below.</p> + + <p>"There he is!" said Laurencine.</p> + + <p>She opened a window and ran out on to the balcony and leaned + over; then glanced within the room and nodded. George had + assumed that Irene Wheeler was the author and hostess of the + race-party, and he was not mistaken. Irene's automobile had + been sent round to embark him and the girls. Mrs. Ingram urged + him to come again the next day, and he said ardently that he + would. Mrs. Ingram's 'affair' with him was progressing + rapidly.</p> + + <p>"But I hope you'll call me George, then," he added.</p> + + <p>"I may!" she said. "I may! I may go even further."</p> + + <p>Lois and George descended the stairs in silence. He had not + seen her, nor written to her, since the night of the comedy + when he had so abruptly left the box. Once or twice at the +<!-- Page 196 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page191" name="page191">[pg 191]</a> + </span> + + Ingrams' he had fancied that she might be vexed with him for + that unceremonious departure. But she was not. The frank sigh + of relief which she gave on reaching the foot of the + interminable stairs, and her equally frank smile, had no + reserve whatever.</p> + + <p>The chauffeur's welcoming grin seemed to indicate that he + was much attached to Miss Ingram. He touched his hat, bowed, + and spoke to her at some length in French. Lois frowned.</p> + + <p>"It seems Miss Wheeler doesn't feel equal to going out this + afternoon," she translated to George. "But she insists that we + shall use the car all the same."</p> + + <p>"Is she ill?"</p> + + <p>"She's lying down, trying to sleep."</p> + + <p>"Well, then, I suppose we'd better use the car, hadn't + we?"</p> + + <p>Lois said seriously:</p> + + <p>"If you don't object, I don't."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>At Longchamps the sun most candidly and lovingly blessed the + elaborate desecration of the English Sabbath. The delicately + ornamented grand stands, the flags, the swards, the terraces, + the alleys, the booths, the notice-boards, the vast dappled sea + of hats and faces in the distant cheaper parts of the + Hippodrome, were laved in the descending, caressing floods of + voluptuous, warm sunshine. The air itself seemed luminous. The + enchantment of the sun was irresistible; it stunned + apprehensions and sad memories, obliterating for a moment all + that was or might be unhappy in the past or in the future. + George yielded to it. He abandoned his preoccupations about the + unsatisfactoriness of using somebody else's car in the absence + of the owner, about Mr. and Mrs. Ingram's ignorance of the fact + that their daughter had gone off alone with him, about Lois's + perfect indifference to this fact, about the engagement of + Laurencine to a man not her equal in worth, about the strange, + uncomfortable effect of Laurencine's engagement upon his + attitude towards Lois, and finally and supremely about the + competition. He gave himself up to the bright warmth like an + animal, and forgot. And he became part of the marvellous and + complicated splendour of the scene, took pride in it, took even + credit for +<!-- Page 197 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page192" name="page192">[pg 192]</a> + </span> + + it (Heaven knew why!), and gradually passed from insular + astonishment to a bland, calm acceptance of the miracles of + sensuous beatitude which civilization had to offer.</p> + + <p>After all, he was born to such experiences; they were his + right; and he was equal to them. Nevertheless his conviction of + the miraculous fortunately was not impaired. What was impaired + was his conviction of his own culture. He was constantly + thinking that he knew everything or could imagine everything, + and constantly undergoing the shock of undeception; but the + shock of the Longchamps Sunday was excessive. He had quite + failed to imagine the race-meeting; he had imagined an organism + brilliant, perhaps, but barbaric and without form and style; he + had imagined grotesque contrasts of squalor, rascality, and + fashion; he had imagined an affair predominantly equine and + masculine. The reality did not correspond; it transcended his + imagination; it painfully demonstrated his jejune crudity. The + Hippodrome was as formalized and stylistic as an Italian + garden; the only contrasts were those of one elegance with + another; horses were not to be seen, except occasionally in the + distance when under their riders they shot past some dark + background a flitting blur of primary colours with a rumble of + muffled thunder; and women, not men, predominated.</p> + + <p>On entering the Hippodrome George and Lois had met a group + of fashionably attired women, and he had thought: "There's a + bunch of jolly well-dressed ones." But as the reserved + precincts opened out before him he saw none but fashionably + attired women. They were there not in hundreds but in + thousands. They sat in rows on the grand stands; they jostled + each other on the staircases; they thronged the alleys and + swards. The men were negligible beside them. And they were not + only fashionably and very fashionably attired—all their + frocks and all their hats and all their parasols and all their + boots were new, glittering, spick-and-span; were complex and + expensive; not one feared the sun. The conception of what those + innumerable chromatic toilettes had cost in the toil, stitch by + stitch, of malodorous workrooms and in the fatigue of pale, + industrious creatures was really formidable. But it could not + detract from the scenic triumph. The scenic triumph dazzlingly + justified itself, and proved beyond any cavilling that earth + was a grand, intoxicating place, and Longchamps under the sun + an unequalled paradise of the senses.... Ah! These women were + finished—finished to the least detail of coiffure, + sunshade-handle, +<!-- Page 198 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page193" name="page193">[pg 193]</a> + </span> + + hatpin, jewellery, handbag, bootlace, glove, stocking, + <i>lingerie</i> + + . Each was the product of many arts in co-ordination. Each was + of great price. And there were thousands of them. They were as + cheap as periwinkles. George thought: "This is Paris."</p> + + <p>He said aloud:</p> + + <p>"Seems to be a fine lot of new clothes knocking about."</p> + + <p>Evidently for Lois his tone was too impressed, not + sufficiently casual. She replied in her condescending manner, + which he detested:</p> + + <p>"My poor George, considering that this is the opening of the + spring season, and the place where all the new spring fashions + are tried out—what did you expect?"</p> + + <p>The dolt had not known that he was assisting at a solemnity + recognized as such by experts throughout the clothed world. But + Lois knew all those things. She herself was trying out a new + toilette, for which doubtless Irene Wheeler was partly sponsor. + She could hold her own on the terraces with the rest. She was + staggeringly different now from the daughter of the simple home + in the Rue d'Athènes.</p> + + <p>The eyes of the splendid women aroused George's antipathy, + because he seemed to detect antipathy in them—not against + himself but against the male in him. These women, though by + their glances they largely mistrusted and despised each other, + had the air of having combined sexually against a whole sex. + The situation was very contradictory. They had beautified and + ornamented themselves in order to attract a whole sex, and yet + they appeared to resent the necessity and instinct to attract. + They submitted with a secret repugnance to the mysterious and + supreme bond which kept the sexes inexorably together. And + while stooping to fascinate, while deliberately seeking + attention, they still had the assured mien of conquerors. Their + eyes said that they knew they were indispensable, that they had + a transcendent role to play, that no concealed baseness of the + inimical sex was hidden from them, and that they meant to + exploit their position to the full. These Latin women exhibited + a logic, an elegance, and a frankness beyond the reach of the + Anglo-Saxon. Their eyes said not that they had been + disillusioned, but rather that they had never had illusions. + They admitted the facts; they admitted + everything—economic dependence, chicane, the intention to + seize every advantage, ruthless egotism. They had no shame for + a depravity which they shared equally with the inescapable and + cherished enemy +<!-- Page 199 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page194" name="page194">[pg 194]</a> + </span> + + And it was the youngest who, beneath the languishing and the + softness and the invitation deceitful and irresistible, gazed + outmost triumphantly to the enemy: "You are the victims. We + have tried our strength and your infirmity." They were heroic. + There was a feeling in the bright air of melancholy and doom as + the two hostile forces, inseparable, inextricably involved + together, surveyed the opponent in the everlasting conflict. + George felt its influence upon himself, upon Lois, upon the + whole scene. The eyes of the most feminine women in the world, + denying their smiles and their lure, had discovered to him + something which marked a definite change in his estimate of + certain ultimate earthly values.</p> + + <p>Lois said:</p> + + <p>"Perhaps a telegram is waiting for you at the hotel."</p> + + <p>"Well, I can wait till I get back," he replied stoutly.</p> + + <p>He thought, looking at her by his side:</p> + + <p>"She is just like these Frenchwomen!" And for some reason he + felt proud.</p> + + <p>"You needn't," said Lois, "We can telephone from under the + grand stand if you like."</p> + + <p>"But I don't know the number."</p> + + <p>"We can get that out of the book, of course."</p> + + <p>"I don't reckon I can use these French telephones."</p> + + <p>"Oh! My poor boy, I'll telephone for you—unless you + prefer not to risk knowing the worst."</p> + + <p>Yes, her tone was the tone of a strange woman. And it was + she who thirsted for the result of the competition.</p> + + <p>Controlling himself, submissively he asked her to telephone + for him, and she agreed in a delightfully agreeable voice. She + seemed to know the entire geography of the Hippodrome. She + secured a telephone-cabin in a very business-like manner. As + she entered the cabin she said to George:</p> + + <p>"I'll ask them if a telegram has come, and if it has I'll + ask them to open it and read it to me, or spell it—of + course it'll be in English.... Eh?"</p> + + <p>Through the half-open door of the cabin he watched her, and + listened. She rapidly turned over the foul and torn pages of + the telephone-book with her thumb. She spoke into the + instrument very clearly, curtly, and authoritatively. George + could translate in his mind what she said—his great + resolve to learn French had carried him so far.</p> + + <p>"On the part of Monsieur Cannon, one of your clients, + Monsieur Cannon of London. Has there arrived a telegram for + him?"</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 200 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page195" name="page195">[pg 195]</a> + </span> + + She waited. The squalor of the public box increased the effect + of her young and proud stylishness and of her perfume. George + waited, humbled by her superior skill in the arts of life, and + saying anxiously to himself: "Perhaps in a moment I shall know + the result," almost trembling.</p> + + <p>She hung up the instrument, and, with a glance at George, + shook her head.</p> + + <p>"There isn't anything," she murmured.</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"It's very queer, isn't it? However ..."</p> + + <p>As they emerged from the arcana of the grand stand, Lois was + stopped by a tall, rather handsome Jew, who, saluting her with + what George esteemed to be French exaggeration of gesture, + nevertheless addressed her in a confidential tone in English. + George, having with British restraint acknowledged the salute, + stood aside, and gazed discreetly away from the pair. He could + not hear what was being said. After several minutes Lois + rejoined George, and they went back into the crowds and the + sun. She did not speak. She did not utter one word. Only, when + the numbers went up for a certain race, she remarked:</p> + + <p>"This is the Prix du Cadran. It's the principal race of the + afternoon."</p> + + <p>And when that was over, amid cheering that ran about the + field like fire through dried bush, she added:</p> + + <p>"I think I ought to go back now. I told the chauffeur to be + here after the Prix du Cadran. What time is it exactly?"</p> + + <p>They sat side by side in the long, open car, facing the + chauffeur's creaseless back. After passing the Cascade, the car + swerved into the Allée de Longchamps which led in an + absolutely straight line, two miles long, to the Port Maillot + and the city. Spring decorated the magnificent wooded + thoroughfare. The side-alleys, aisles of an interminable nave, + were sprinkled with revellers and lovers and the most + respectable families half hidden amid black branches and gleams + of tender green. Automobiles and carriages threaded the main + alley at varying speeds. The number of ancient horse-cabs + gradually increased until, after the intersection of the + Allée de la Reine Marguerite, they thronged the vast road. + All the humble and shabby genteel people in Paris who could + possibly afford a cab seemed to have taken a cab. Nearly every + cab was overloaded. The sight of this vast pathetic effort of + the disinherited towards gaiety and distraction and +<!-- Page 201 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page196" name="page196">[pg 196]</a> + </span> + + the mood of spring, intensified the vague sadness in George due + to the race-crowd, Lois's silence, and the lack of news about + the competition.</p> + + <p>At length Lois said, scowling—no doubt + involuntarily:</p> + + <p>"I think I'd better tell you now. Irene Wheeler's committed + suicide. Shot herself." She pressed her lips together and + looked at the road.</p> + + <p>George gave a startled exclamation. He could not for an + instant credit the astounding news.</p> + + <p>"But how do you know? Who told you?"</p> + + <p>"The man who spoke to me in the grand stand. He's + correspondent of + <i>The London Courier</i> + + —friend of father's of course."</p> + + <p>George protested:</p> + + <p>"Then why on earth didn't you tell me before?... Shot + herself! What for?"</p> + + <p>"I didn't tell you before because I couldn't."</p> + + <p>All the violence of George's nature came to the surface as + he said brutally:</p> + + <p>"Of course you could!"</p> + + <p>"I tell you I couldn't!" she cried. "I knew the car wouldn't + be there for us until after the Prix du Cadran. And if I'd told + you I couldn't have borne to be walking about that place + three-quarters of an hour. We should have had to talk about it. + I couldn't have borne that. And so you needn't be cross, + please."</p> + + <p>But her voice did not break, nor her eyes shine.</p> + + <p>"I was wondering whether I should tell the chauffeur at + once, or let him find it out."</p> + + <p>"I should let him find it out," said George. "He doesn't + know that you know. Besides, it might upset his driving."</p> + + <p>"Oh! I shouldn't mind about his driving," Lois murmured + disdainfully.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>When the uninformed chauffeur drove the car with a grand + sweep under the marquise of the ostentatious pale yellow block + in the Avenue Hoche where Irene Wheeler had had her flat, Mr. + Ingram and a police-agent were standing on the steps, but + nobody else was near. Little Mr. Ingram came forward anxiously, + his eyes humid, and his face drawn with pain and distress.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 202 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page197" name="page197">[pg 197]</a> + </span> + + We know," said Lois. "I met Mr. Cardow at Longchamps. He + knew."</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram's pain and distress seemed to increase.</p> + + <p>He said, after a moment:</p> + + <p>"Alfred will drive you home, dear, at once. + <i>Alfred, vous seriez gentil de reconduire Mademoiselle à + la rue d'Athènes."</i> + + He had the air of supplicating the amiable chauffeur. "Mr. + Cannon, I particularly want a few words with you."</p> + + <p>"But, father, I must come in!" said Lois. "I + must——"</p> + + <p>"You will go home immediately. Please, please do not add to + my difficulties. I shall come home myself as quickly as + possible. You can do nothing here. The seals have been + affixed."</p> + + <p>Lois raised her chin in silence.</p> + + <p>Then Mr. Ingram turned to the police-agent, spoke to him in + French, and pointed to the car persuasively; and the + police-agent permissively nodded. The chauffeur, with an + affectation of detachment worthy of the greatest days of + valetry, drove off, leaving George behind. Mr. Ingram descended + the steps.</p> + + <p>"I think, perhaps, we might go to a café," said he in a + tone which dispersed George's fear of a discussion as to the + propriety of the unchaperoned visit to the races.</p> + + <p>They sat down on the + <i>terrasse</i> + + of a large café near the Place des Ternes, a few hundred + yards away from the Avenue Hoche. The café was nearly + empty, citizens being either in the Bois or on the main + boulevards. Mr. Ingram sadly ordered bocks. The waiter, + flapping his long apron, called out in a loud voice as he went + within: " + <i>Deux blonds, deux.</i> + + " George supplied cigarettes.</p> + + <p>"Mr. Cannon," began Mr. Ingram, "it is advisable for me to + tell you a most marvellous and painful story. I have only just + heard it. It has overwhelmed me, but I must do my duty." He + paused.</p> + + <p>"Certainly," said George self-consciously, not knowing what + to say. He nearly blushed as, in an attempt to seem at ease, he + gazed negligently round at the rows of chairs and marble + tables, and at the sparse traffic of the somnolent Place.</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram proceeded.</p> + + <p>"When I first knew Irene Wheeler she was an art student + here. So was I. But I was already married, of course, and older + than she. Exactly what her age was I should not care +<!-- Page 203 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page198" name="page198">[pg 198]</a> + </span> + + to say. I can, however, say quite truthfully that her + appearance has scarcely altered in those nineteen years. She + always affirmed that her relatives, in Indianapolis, were + wealthy—or at least had money, but that they were very + mean with her. She lived in the simplest way. As for me, I had + to give up art for something less capricious, but capricious + enough in all conscience. Miss Wheeler went to America and was + away for some time—a year or two. When she came back to + Paris she told us that she had made peace with her people, and + that her uncle, whom for present purposes I will call Mr. X, a + very celebrated railway magnate of Indianapolis, had adopted + her. Her new manner of life amply confirmed these + statements."</p> + + <p>" + <i>Deux bocks</i> + + ," cried the waiter, slapping down on the table two saucers and + two stout glass mugs filled with frothing golden liquid.</p> + + <p>George, unaccustomed to the ritual of cafés, began at + once to sip, but Mr. Ingram, aware that the true boulevardier + always ignores his bock for several minutes, behaved + accordingly.</p> + + <p>"She was evidently extremely rich. I have had some + experience, and I estimate that she had the handling of at + least half a million francs a year. She seemed to be absolutely + her own mistress. You have had an opportunity of judging her + style of existence. However, her attitude towards ourselves was + entirely unchanged. She remained intimate with my wife, who, I + may say, is an excellent judge of character, and she was + exceedingly kind to our girls, especially Lois—but + Laurencine too—and as they grew up she treated them like + sisters. Now, Mr. Cannon, I shall be perfectly frank with you. + I shall not pretend that I was not rather useful to Miss + Wheeler—I mean in the Press. She had social ambitions. + And why not? One may condescend towards them, but do they not + serve a purpose in the structure of society? Very rich as she + was, it was easy for me to be useful to her. And at worst her + pleasure in publicity was quite innocent—indeed, it was + so innocent as to be charming. Naïve, shall we call + it?"</p> + + <p>Here Mr. Ingram smiled sadly, tasted his bock, and threw + away the end of a cigarette.</p> + + <p>"Well," he resumed, "I am coming to the point. This is the + point, which I have learnt scarcely an hour ago—I was + called up on the telephone immediately after you and Lois had + gone. This is the point. Mr. X was not poor Irene's +<!-- Page 204 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page199" name="page199">[pg 199]</a> + </span> + + uncle, and he had not adopted her. But it was his money that + she was spending." Mr. Ingram gazed fixedly at George.</p> + + <p>"I see," said George calmly, rising to the rôle of man + of the world. "I see." He had strange mixed sensations of + pleasure, pride, and confusion. "And you've just found this + out?"</p> + + <p>"I have just found it out from Mr. X himself, whom I met for + the first time to-day—in poor Irene's flat. I never + assisted at such a scene. Never! It positively unnerved me. Mr. + X is a man of fifty-five, fabulously wealthy, used to command, + autocratic, famous in all the Stock Exchanges of the world. + When I tell you that he cried like a child ... Oh! I never had + such an experience. His infatuation for + Irene—indescribable! Indescribable! She had made her own + terms with him. He told me himself. Astounding terms, but for + him it was those terms or nothing. He accepted them—had + to. She was to be quite free. The most absolute discretion was + to be observed. He came to Paris or London every year, and + sometimes she went to America. She utterly refused to live in + America."</p> + + <p>"Why didn't she marry him?"</p> + + <p>"He has a wife. I have no doubt in my own mind that one of + his reasons for accepting her extraordinary terms was to keep + in close touch with her at all costs in case his wife should + die. Otherwise he might have lost her altogether. He told me + many things about poor Irene's family in Indianapolis which I + will not repeat. It was true that they had money, as Irene + said; but as for anything else ...! The real name was not + Wheeler."</p> + + <p>"Has he been over, here long?"</p> + + <p>"He landed at Cherbourg last night. Just arrived."</p> + + <p>"And she killed herself at once."</p> + + <p>"Whether the deed was done immediately before or immediately + after his arrival is not yet established. And I need hardly + tell you that Mr. X has already fixed up arrangements not to + appear in the case at all. But one thing is sure—she had + made all the preparations for suicide, made them with the + greatest care. The girls saw her yesterday, and both Lois and I + spoke to her on the telephone this morning. Not a trace of + anything in her voice. I assume she had given a message for + Lois to the chauffeur."</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George. "We never dreamed——"</p> + + <p>"Of course not. Of course not."</p> + + <p>"But why did she——"</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 205 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page200" name="page200">[pg 200]</a> + </span> + + Another man, my dear sir! Another man! A young man named + Defourcambault, in the French Embassy in London."</p> + + <p>"Oh, him!" George burst out. "I know him," he added + fiercely.</p> + + <p>"You do? Yes, I remember Laurencine saying.... Poor Irene, I + fear, was very deeply in love with him. She had written to Mr. + X about Defourcambault. He showed me the letter—most + touching, really most touching. His answer to it was to come to + Europe at once. But poor Irene's death had nothing to do with + his coming. She did not know he was coming. She shot herself as + she lay in bed, and on the pillow was a letter from this man + Defourcambault—well, saying good-bye to her. I saw the + letter. Not a letter that I should wish to remember. Perhaps + she had told him something of her life. I much fear that + Defourcambault will be fetched from London, though I hope not. + There would be no object.... No, thank you. I will not smoke + again. I only wanted to say this to you. All Paris knows that + my daughters were intimate with poor Irene. Now, if anything + comes out, if anything + <i>should</i> + + come out, if there's any talk—you see my fear. I wish to + assure you, Mr. Cannon, that I had not the slightest suspicion, + not the slightest. And yet we journalists cannot exactly be + called ingenuous! But I had not the slightest suspicion, nor + had my wife. You know the situation between Laurencine and your + friend Lucas. You and he are very intimate, I believe. May I + count on you to explain everything from my point of view to Mr. + Lucas? I could not bear that the least cloud should rest upon + my little Laurencine."</p> + + <p>"You needn't trouble about Lucas," said George positively. + "Lucas 'll be all right. Still, I'll talk to him."</p> + + <p>"Thank you very much. Thank you very much. I knew I could + rely on you. I've kept you a long time, but I'm sure you + understand. I'm thinking only of my girls. Not for anything + would I have them know the truth about the affair."</p> + + <p>"But aren't they bound to know it?" George asked.</p> + + <p>Mr. Ingram was wounded. "I hope not. I hope not," he said + gravely. "It is not right that young girls should know such + things."</p> + + <p>"But surely, sooner or later——"</p> + + <p>"Ah! After they are married, conceivably. That would be + quite different," he admitted, with cheerfulness. "And +<!-- Page 206 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page201" name="page201">[pg 201]</a> + </span> + + now," he smiled, "I'm afraid I've got to go and write the case + up for London. I can catch the mail, I think. If not, I must + cable. But they hate me to cable when the mail is possible. Can + I drop you anywhere?"</p> + + <p>Simultaneously he signalled to a taxi and knocked on the + window for the attendance of the waiter.</p> + + <p>"Thanks. If you're going anywhere near the Place de + l'Opéra," said George.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>VI</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He was excited, rather than saddened, by the tragic event. + He was indeed very excited. And also he had a deep + satisfaction, because it seemed to him that he had at last been + truly admitted into the great secret fellowship of adult males. + The initiation flattered his pride. He left Mr. Ingram at the + door of an English newspaper office in the Boulevard des + Italiens, and, after vainly asking for telegrams at the hotel, + walked away, aimlessly at first, along broad pavements + encumbered with the chairs and tables of vast, crowded + cafés, and with bright Sunday idlers and sinister + street-vendors. But in a moment he had decided that he must and + ought to pay a call in the Rue d'Athènes. Mr. Ingram had + said nothing about his seeing Lois again, had not referred to + Mrs. Ingram's invitation to repeat his visit, might even + vaguely object to an immediate interview between him and Lois. + Yet he could not, as a man of the world, abandon Lois so + unceremoniously. He owed something to Lois and he owed + something to himself. And he was a free adult. The call was + natural and necessary, and if Mr. Ingram did not like it he + must, in the Five Towns phrase, lump it. George set off to find + the Rue d'Athènes unguided. It was pleasurable to think + that there was a private abode in the city of cafés, + hotels, and museums to which he had the social right of + entry.</p> + + <p>The watching concierge of the house nodded to him politely + as he began to mount the stairs. The Ingrams' servant smiled + upon him as upon an old and familiarly respected friend.</p> + + <p>"Mademoiselle Lois?" he said, with directness.</p> + + <p>The slatternly, benevolent girl widened her mouth still + further in a smile still more cordial, and led him to the + drawing-room. As she did so she picked up a newspaper packet + that lay on a table in the tiny hall, and, without putting it +<!-- Page 207 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page202" name="page202">[pg 202]</a> + </span> + + on a salver, deposited it in front of Lois, who was alone in + the drawing-room. George wondered what Lois would have thought + of such an outrage upon established ritual had it happened to + her in the home of Irene Wheeler instead of in her own; and + then the imagined vision of Irene lying dead in the sumptuous + home in the Avenue Hoche seemed to render all established + ritual absurd.</p> + + <p>"So you've come!" exclaimed Lois harshly. "Mother's quite + knocked over, and Laurencine's looking after her. All the usual + eau-de-Cologne business. And I should say father's not much + better. My poor parents! What did dad want you for?"</p> + + <p>The servant had closed the door. Lois had got up from her + chair and was walking about the room, pulling aside a curtain + and looking out, tapping the mantelpiece with her hand, tapping + with her feet the base of the stove, George had the sensation + of being locked in a cage with a mysterious, incalculable, and + powerful animal. He was fascinated. He thought: "I wanted to + see her alone and I am seeing her alone!"</p> + + <p>"Well?" she insisted. "What did dad want you for?"</p> + + <p>"Oh! He told me a few things about Miss Wheeler."</p> + + <p>"I suppose he told you about Jules, and I suppose he told + you I wasn't to know on any account! Poor old dad! Instead of + feeling he's my father, d'you know what I feel? I feel as if I + was his mother. He's + <i>so</i> + + clever; he's frightfully clever; but he was never meant for + this world. He's just a beautiful child. How in Heaven's name + could he think that a girl like me could be intimate with + Irene, and not know about the things that were in her mind? How + could he? Why! I've talked for hours with Irene about Jules! + She'd much sooner talk with me even than with mother. She's + cried in front of me. But I never cried. I always told her she + was making a mistake about Jules. I detested the little worm. + But she couldn't see it. No, she couldn't. She'd have + quarrelled with me if I'd let her quarrel. However, I wouldn't + let her. Fancy quarrelling—over a man! She couldn't help + being mad over Jules. I told her she couldn't—that was + why I bore with her. I always told her he was only playing with + her. The one thing that I didn't tell her was that she was too + old for him. She really believed she never got any older. When + I say too old for him, I mean for her sake, not for his. He + didn't think she was too old. He couldn't—with that + complexion of hers. I never envied her anything else except her + complexion and her money. But he +<!-- Page 208 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page203" name="page203">[pg 203]</a> + </span> + + wouldn't marry an American. His people wouldn't let him. He's + got to marry into a family like his own, and there're only + about ten for him to choose from. I know she wrote to him on + Thursday. She must have had the answer this morning. Of course + she had a revolver. I've got one myself. She went to bed and + did it. She used to say to me that if ever she did it that was + how she would do it.... And father tells me not to add to his + difficulties! Don't you think it's comic?... But she never told + me everything. I knew that. I accused her of it. She admitted + it. However ..."</p> + + <p>Lois spoke in a low, regular murmur, experimentally aware + that privacy in a Paris flat is relative. There were four doors + in the walls of the drawing-room, and a bedroom on either side. + At moments George could scarcely catch her words. He had never + heard her say so much at once, for she was taciturn by habit, + even awkward in conversation. She glowered at him darkly. The + idea flashed through his mind: "There can't be another girl + like her. She's unique." He almost trembled at the revelation. + He was afraid, and yet courageous, challenging, combative. She + had grandeur. It might be moral, or not; but it was grandeur. + And—(that touch about the complexion!)—she could + remember her freckles! She might, in her hard egotism, in the + rushing impulses of her appetites—she might be an enemy, + an enemy to close with whom would be terrible rapture, and the + war of the sexes was a sublime war, infinitely superior in + emotions to tame peace. (And had she not been certified an + angel? Had he not himself seen the angel in her?) She dwarfed + her father and mother. The conception, especially, of Mr. + Ingram at lunch, deliciously playful and dominating, and now + with the adroit wit crushed out of him and only a naïve + sentimentality left, was comic—as she had ruthlessly + characterized it. She alone towered formidably over the + devastated ruins of Irene's earthly splendour.</p> + + <p>He said nothing.</p> + + <p>She rang the bell by the mantelpiece. He heard it ring. No + answer. She rang again.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Arrivez donc, jeune fille!</i> + + " she exclaimed impatiently.</p> + + <p>The servant came.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Apportez du thé, Séraphine.</i> + + "</p> + + <p>" + <i>Oui, mademoiselle.</i> + + "</p> + + <p>Then Lois lounged towards the table and tore sharply the + wrapper of the newspaper. George was still standing.</p> + + <p>"He's probably got something in about her this week— +<!-- Page 209 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page204" name="page204">[pg 204]</a> + </span> + + about her soirée last Tuesday. We weren't invited. Of + course he went."</p> + + <p>George saw the name the + <i>Sunday Journal</i> + + . The paper had come by the afternoon mail, and had been + delivered, according to weekly custom, by messenger from Mr. + Ingram's office. Lois's tone and attitude tore fatally the + whole factitious 'Parisian' tradition, as her hand had torn the + wrapper.</p> + + <p>"See here," she said quietly, after a few seconds, and gave + the newspaper with her thumb indicating a paragraph.</p> + + <p>He could hardly read the heading, because it unnerved him; + nor the opening lines. But he read this: "The following six + architects have been selected by the Assessors and will be + immediately requested by the Corporation to submit final + designs for the town hall: Mr. Whinburn, Mr.... Mr.... Mr. + George E. Cannon ..."</p> + + <p>"What did I always tell you?" she said.</p> + + <p>And then she said:</p> + + <p>"Your telegram must have been addressed wrong, or + something."</p> + + <p>He sat down. Once again he was afraid. He was afraid of + winning in the final competition. A vista of mayors, + corporations, town clerks, committees, contractors, + clerks-of-works, frightened him. He was afraid of his + immaturity, of his inexperience. He could not carry out the + enterprise; he would reap only ignominy. His greatest desire + had been granted. He had expected, in the event, to be wildly + happy. But he was not happy.</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed.</p> + + <p>Lois, who had resumed the paper, read out:</p> + + <p>"In accordance with the conditions of the competition, each + of the above named will receive a honorarium of one hundred + guineas."</p> + + <p>She looked at him.</p> + + <p>"You'll get that town hall to do," she said positively. + "You're bound to get it. You'll see."</p> + + <p>Her incomprehensible but convincing faith passed + mysteriously into him. A holy dew relieved him. He began to + feel happy.</p> + + <p>Lois glanced again at the paper, which with arms + outstretched she held in front of her like a man, like the men + at Pickering's. Suddenly it fell rustling to the floor, and she + burst into tears.</p> + + <p>She murmured indistinctly: " +<!-- Page 210 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page205" name="page205">[pg 205]</a> + </span> + + The last thing she did was for my pleasure—sending the + car."</p> + + <p>George jumped up, animated by an inexpressible tenderness + for her. She had weakened. He moved towards her. He did not + consider what he was doing; he had naught to say; but his + instinctive arms were about to clasp her. He was unimaginably + disturbed. She straightened and stiffened in a second.</p> + + <p>"But of course you've not got it yet," she said harshly, + with apparent irrelevance.</p> + + <p>Séraphine entered bouncingly with the tea. Lois + regarded the tray, and remarked the absence of the + strainer.</p> + + <p>" + <i>Et la passoire</i> + + ?" she demanded, with implacable sternness.</p> + + <p>Séraphine gave a careless, apologetic gesture.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>VII</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was late in September, when most people had returned to + London after the holidays. John Orgreave mounted to the upper + floor of the house in Russell Square where George had his + office. Underneath George's name on the door had been newly + painted the word 'Inquiries,' and on another door, opposite, + the word 'Private.' John Orgreave knocked with exaggerated + noise at this second door and went into what was now George's + private room.</p> + + <p>"I suppose one ought to knock," he said in his hearty + voice.</p> + + <p>"Hallo, Mr. Orgreave!" George exclaimed, jumping up.</p> + + <p>"If the mountain doesn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must come + to the mountain," said John Orgreave.</p> + + <p>"Come in," said George.</p> + + <p>He noticed, and ignored, the touch of sarcasm in John + Orgreave's attitude. He had noticed a similar phenomenon in the + attitude of various people within the last four days, since + architectural circles and even the world in general had begun + to resound with the echoing news that the competition for the + northern town hall had been won by a youth not twenty-three + years of age. Mr. Enwright had been almost cross, asserting + that the victory was perhaps a fluke, as the design of another + competitor was in reality superior to George's. Mr. Enwright + had also said, in his crabbed way: "You'll soon cut me out"; + and, George protesting, had gone on: "Oh! Yes, you will. I've + been through this sort of thing before. I know what I'm talking + about. You're +<!-- Page 211 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page206" name="page206">[pg 206]</a> + </span> + + no different from the rest." Whereupon George, impatient and + genuinely annoyed, had retorted upon him quite curtly, and had + remembered what many persons had said about Mr. Enwright's + wrong-headed jealous sensitiveness—animadversions which + he, as a worshipper of Mr. Enwright, had been accustomed to + rebut. Further, Lucas himself had not erred by the extravagance + of his enthusiasm for George's earth-shaking success. For + example, Lucas had said: "Don't go and get above yourself, old + chap. They may decide not to build it after all. You never know + with these corporations." A remark extremely undeserved, for + George considered that the modesty and simplicity of his own + demeanour under the stress of an inordinate triumph were rather + notable. Still, he had his dignity to maintain against the + satiric, and his position was such that he could afford to + maintain it.</p> + + <p>Anyhow, he preferred the sardonic bearing of his + professional intimates to the sycophancy of certain + acquaintances and of eager snobs unknown to him. Among sundry + telegrams received was one composed regardless of cost and + signed 'Turnbull.' He could not discover who Turnbull might be + until John Orgreave had reminded him of the wigged, brown, + conversational gentleman whom he had met, on one occasion only, + at Adela's. In addition to telegrams he had had letters, some + of which contained requests for money (demanded even as a right + by the unlucky from the lucky), and an assortment of charity + circulars, money-lenders' circulars, and bucket-shop lures. His + mother's great sprawling letter had pleased him better than any + save one. The exception was his stepfather's. Edwin Clayhanger, + duly passing on to the next generation the benevolent Midland + gibe which he had inherited, wrote:</p> + + <p>"DEAR GEORGE,—It's better than a bat in the eye with a + burnt stick.—Yours affectionately, NUNKS"</p> + + <p>As a boy George had at one period called his stepfather + 'Nunks,' but he had not used the appellation for years. He was + touched now.</p> + + <p>The newspapers had been hot after him, and he knew not how + to defend himself. His photograph was implored. He was waylaid + by journalists shabby and by journalists spruce, and the + resulting interviews made him squirm. He became a man of mark + at Pickering's. Photographers entreated him to sit free of + charge. What irritated him in the whole vast affair was the + continual insistence upon his lack of years. +<!-- Page 212 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page207" name="page207">[pg 207]</a> + </span> + + Nobody seemed to be interested in his design for the town hall; + everybody had the air of regarding him as a youthful prodigy, a + performing animal. Personally he did not consider that he was + so very young. (Nevertheless he did consider that he was a + youthful prodigy. He could recall no architect in history who + had done what he had done at his age.) The town clerk who + travelled from the North to see him treated his age in a + different manner, the patronizing. He did not care for the town + clerk. However, the town clerk was atoned for by the chairman + of the new town hall sub-committee, a true human being named + Soulter, with a terrific accent and a taste for architecture, + pictures, and music. Mr. Soulter, though at least forty-five, + treated George, without any appearance of effort, as a coeval. + George immediately liked him, and the mere existence of Mr. + Soulter had the effect of dissipating nearly all George's + horrible qualms and apprehensions about his own competence to + face the overwhelming job of erection. Mr. Soulter was most + soothing in the matter of specifications and contractors.</p> + + <p>"So you've got into your new room," said John Orgreave.</p> + + <p>Never before had he mounted to see George either in the new + room or in the old room. The simple fact of the presence there + of one of the partners in the historic firm below compensated + for much teasing sarcasm and half-veiled jealousy. It was a + sign. It was a seal authenticating renown.</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"I only wanted to give you a message from Adela. The Ingram + young woman is staying with us——"</p> + + <p>"Lois?" The name shot out of him unbidden.</p> + + <p>"Yes. You're humbly supplicated to go to tea to-day. Four + o'clock. Thank God I've not forgotten it!"</p> + + <p>George arrived fifty-five minutes late at Bedford Park. + Throughout the journey thither he kept repeating: "She said I + should do it. And I've done it! I've done it! I've done it!" + The triumph was still so close behind him that he was + constantly realizing it afresh, and saying, wonder-struck: + "I've done it." And the miraculous phantasm of the town hall, + uplifted in solid stone, formed itself again and again in his + enchanted mind, against a background of tremendous new + ambitions rising endlessly one behind another like snowy + alps.</p> + + <p>"Is this what you call four o'clock?" twittered Adela, + between cajolery and protest, somewhat older and facially more + artificial, but eternally blonde; still holding her fair head + on one side and sinuously waving the palm.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 213 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page208" name="page208">[pg 208]</a> + </span> + + Sorry! Sorry! I was kept at the last moment by a journalist + johnny."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Of course!" said Adela, pooh-poohing with her lips. "Of + course we expect that story nowadays!"</p> + + <p>"Well, it was a chap from the + <i>Builder</i> + + , or I wouldn't have seen him. Can't trifle with a trade paper, + you know."</p> + + <p>He thought:</p> + + <p>"She's like the rest of them, as jealous as the devil."</p> + + <p>Then Lois came into the room, hatted and gloved, in + half-mourning. She was pale, and appreciably thinner; she + looked nervous, weak, and weary. As he shook hands with her he + felt very self-conscious, as though in winning the competition + and fulfilling her prophecy he had done something dubious for + which he ought to apologize. This was exceedingly strange, but + it was so. She had been ill after the death of Irene Wheeler. + Having left Paris for London on the day following the races, he + had written to her about nothing in particular, a letter which + meant everything but what it said—and had received an + answer from Laurencine, who announced that her sister was in + bed, and likely to be in bed; and that father and mother wished + to be remembered to him. Then he wrote to Laurencine. When the + result of the final competition was published he had written + again to Lois. It seemed to him that he was bound to do so, for + had she not willed and decided his victory? No reply; but there + had scarcely been time for a reply.</p> + + <p>"Did you get my letter?" he smiled.</p> + + <p>"This afternoon," she said gravely. "It followed me here. + Now I have to go to Irene's flat. I should have been gone in + another minute."</p> + + <p>"She + <i>will</i> + + go alone," Adela put in anxiously.</p> + + <p>"I shall be back for dinner," said Lois, and to the + stupefaction of George she moved towards the door.</p> + + <p>But just as she opened the door she turned her head and, + looking at George with a frown, murmured:</p> + + <p>"You can come with me if you like."</p> + + <p>Adela burst out:</p> + + <p>"He hasn't had any tea!"</p> + + <p>"I'm not urging him to come, my dear. Good-bye."</p> + + <p>Adela and George exchanged a glance, each signalling to the + other that perhaps this sick, strange girl ought to be + humoured. He abandoned the tea.... He was in the street with + Lois. He was in the train with her. Her ticket was in his + pocket. He had explained to her why he was +<!-- Page 214 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page209" name="page209">[pg 209]</a> + </span> + + late, and she had smiled, amiably but enigmatically. He + thought: "She's no right to go on like this. But what does it + matter?" She said nothing about the competition—not a + word of congratulation. Indeed she hardly spoke beyond telling + him that she had to choose some object at the flat. He was + aware of the principal terms of Irene's will, which indeed had + caused the last flutter of excitement before oblivion so + quickly descended upon the notoriety of the social star. + Irene's renown had survived her complexion by only a few short + weeks. The will was of a rather romantic nature. Nobody + familiar with the intimate circumstances would have been + surprised if Irene had divided her fortune between Lois and + Laurencine. The bulk of it, however, went back to Indianapolis. + The gross total fell far short of popular estimates. Lois and + Laurencine received five thousand pounds apiece, and in + addition they were requested to select each an object from + Irene's belongings—Lois out of the London flat, + Laurencine out of the Paris flat. Lois had come to London to + choose, and she was staying with Adela, the sole chaperon + available. Since the death of Irene, Mrs. Ingram had been + excessively strict in the matter of chaperons.</p> + + <p>They took a hansom at Victoria. Across the great square, + whose leaves were just yellowing, George saw the huge block of + flats, and in one story all the blinds were down. Lois marched + first into the lift, masterfully, as though she inhabited the + block. She asked no one's permission. Characteristically she + had an order from the solicitors, and the keys of the flat. She + opened the door without any trouble. They were inside, within + the pale-sheeted interior. Scarcely a thing had yet been moved, + for, with the formalities of the judicatures of France, + England, and the State of Indiana to be complied with, events + marched slowly under the sticky manipulation of three different + legal firms. Lois and George walked cautiously across the + dusty, dulled parquets into the vast drawing-room. George + doffed his hat.</p> + + <p>"I'd better draw the blinds up," he suggested.</p> + + <p>"No, no!" she sharply commanded. "I can see quite well. I + don't want any more light."</p> + + <p>There was the piano upon which Laurencine had played! The + embrasure of the window! The corner in which Irene had sat + spellbound by Jules Defourcambault! The portraits of Irene, at + least one of which would perpetuate her name! The glazed cases + full of her collections!... The chief +<!-- Page 215 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page210" name="page210">[pg 210]</a> + </span> + + pieces of furniture and all the chairs were draped in the pale, + ghostly sheeting.</p> + + <p>Suddenly Lois, rushing to the mantelpiece, cried:</p> + + <p>"This is what I shall take."</p> + + <p>It was a large photograph of Jules Defourcambault, bearing + the words: " + <i>À Miss Irene Wheeler. Hommages respectueux de</i> + + J.D.F."</p> + + <p>"You won't!" he exclaimed, incredulous, shocked. He thought: + "She is mad!"</p> + + <p>"Yes, I shall."</p> + + <p>There were hundreds of beautiful objects in the place, and + she chose a banal photograph of a despicable creature whom she + detested.</p> + + <p>"Why don't you take one of + <i>her</i> + + portraits? Or even a fan. What on earth do you want with a + thing like that?" His voice was changing.</p> + + <p>"I shall take it and keep it for ever. He was the cause of + it all. This photograph was everything to her once."</p> + + <p>George revolted utterly, and said with cold, harsh + displeasure:</p> + + <p>"You're simply being morbid. There's no sense in it."</p> + + <p>She dropped down into a chair, and the impress of her body + dragged the dust-sheet from its gilt arms, exposing them. She + put her face in her hands and sobbed.</p> + + <p>"You're awfully cruel!" she murmured thickly.</p> + + <p>The sobs continued, shaking her body. She was beautifully + dressed. Her shoes were adorable, and the semi-transparent hose + over her fine ankles. She made a most disturbing, an + unbearable, figure of compassion. She needed wisdom, + protection, guidance, strength. Every bit of her seemed to + appeal for these qualities. But at the same time she dismayed. + He moved nearer to her. Yes, she had grandeur. All the costly + and valuable objects in the drawing-room she had rejected in + favour of the satisfaction of a morbid and terrible whim. Who + could have foreseen it? He moved still nearer. He stood over + her. He seized her yielding wrists. He lifted her veil. Tears + were running down her cheeks from the yellow eyes. She looked + at him through her tears.</p> + + <p>"You're frightfully cruel," she feebly repeated.</p> + + <p>"And what if I am?" he said solemnly. Did she really think + him hard, had she always thought him hard—she, the hard + one? How strange! Yet no doubt he was hard.</p> + + <p>His paramount idea was:</p> + + <p>"She had faith in me." It was as if her faith had created +<!-- Page 216 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page211" name="page211">[pg 211]</a> + </span> + + the man he was. She was passionately ambitious; so was he.</p> + + <p>And when he kissed her wet mouth, and stroked with + incredible delicacy those streaming cheeks, he felt himself + full of foreboding. But he was proud and confident.</p> + + <p>He took her back to Bedford Park. She carried the + photograph, unwrapped; but he ventured no comment. She went + straight up to her room.</p> + + <p>" + <i>You</i> + + must tell Mrs. Orgreave," she said on the stairs.</p> + + <p>Adela made a strange remark:</p> + + <p>"Oh! But we always intended you to marry Lois!"</p> + +<!-- Page 217 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page212" name="page212">[pg 212]</a> + </span> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 218 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page213" name="page213">[pg 213]</a> + </span> + + <h2>PART II</h2> + + <h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + <h3>THE TRIUMPH</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George came into the conjugal bedroom. The hour was about + three o'clock in the afternoon. Lois lay on the sofa at the + foot of the twin beds. It was perhaps characteristic of her + that she sincerely preferred the sofa to her bed. Sometimes in + the night, when she could not sleep, she would get up and go + sighing to the sofa, and, with nothing but a slippery eiderdown + to cover her, sleep perfectly till George arose in the morning. + Quite contentedly conventional in most matters of mere social + deportment, she often resisted purely physical conventions. A + bed was the recognized machine for slumber; hence she would + instinctively choose another machine. Also, the sofa was nearer + to the ground. She liked to be near the ground. She had + welcomed with ardour the first beginnings of the new fashion + which now regularly permits ladies to sit on the hearth-rug + after a ceremonial dinner and prop their backs with cushions or + mantelpieces. Doubtless a trait of the 'cave-woman' that as a + girl she had called herself!</p> + + <p>She was now stretched on the sofa in a luxurious and + expensive ribboned muslin negligée, untidy, pale, haggard, + heavy, shapeless, the expectant mother intensely conscious of + her own body and determined to maintain all the privileges of + the exacting rôle which nature had for the third time + assigned to her. Little Laurencine, aged eight, and little + Lois, aged five, in their summer white, were fondling her, + tumbling about her, burying themselves in her; she reclined + careless, benignant, and acquiescent under their tiny assaults; + it was at moments as though the three were one being. When +<!-- Page 219 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page214" name="page214">[pg 214]</a> + </span> + + their father appeared in the doorway, she warned them in an + apparently awed tone that father was there, and that nursey was + waiting for them and that they must run off quietly. And she + kissed them with the enormous kiss of a giantess suddenly + rendered passionate by a vast uprush of elemental feeling. And + they ran off, smiling confidently at their father, giggling, + chattering about important affairs in their intolerable, + shrieking voices. George could never understand why Lois should + attempt, as she constantly did, to instil into them awe of + their father; his attitude to the children made it impossible + that she should succeed. But she kept on trying. The cave-woman + again! George would say to himself: "All women are + cave-women."</p> + + <p>"Have you come to pack?" she asked, with fatigued + fretfulness, showing no sign of surprise at his arrival.</p> + + <p>"Oh no!" he answered, and implied that in his over-charged + existence packing would have to be done when it could, if at + all. "I only came in for one second to see if I could root out + that straw hat I wore last year."</p> + + <p>"Do open the window," she implored grievously.</p> + + <p>"It is open."</p> + + <p>"Both sides?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Well, open it more."</p> + + <p>"It's wide open."</p> + + <p>"Both sides?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"It's so stuffy in this room," she complained, expelling + much breath.</p> + + <p>It was stuffy in the room. The room was too full of the + multitudinous belongings and furniture of wife and husband. It + was too small for its uses. The pair, unduly thrown together, + needed two rooms. But the house could not yield them two rooms, + though from the outside it had an air of spaciousness. The + space was employed in complying with custom, in imitating the + disposition of larger houses, and in persuading the tenant that + he was as good as his betters. There was a basement, because + the house belonged to the basement era, and because it is + simpler to burrow than to erect. On the ground floor were the + hall—narrow, and the dining-room—narrow. To have + placed the dining-room elsewhere would have been to double the + number of stairs between it and the kitchen; moreover, the + situation of the dining-room in all such correct houses is + immutably fixed by the code +<!-- Page 220 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page215" name="page215">[pg 215]</a> + </span> + + Thus the handiest room in the house was occupied during four + hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during the remaining + twenty. Behind the dining-room was a very small room appointed + by the code to be George's 'den.' It would never have been used + at all had not George considered it his duty to use it + occasionally, and had not Lois at intervals taken a fancy to it + because it was not hers.</p> + + <p>The whole of the first floor was occupied by the landing, + the well of the staircase, and the drawing-room, which last was + inevitably shaped in the resemblance of an L. The small back + portion of it over George's den was never utilized save by the + grand piano and rare pianists. Still, the code demanded that + the drawing-room should have this strange appendage, and that a + grand piano should reside in it modestly, apologetically, like + a shame that cannot be entirely concealed. Nearly every house + in Elm Park Road, and every house in scores of miles of other + correct streets in the West End, had a drawing-room shaped in + the semblance of an L, and a grand piano in the hinterland + thereof. The drawing-room, like the dining-room, was occupied + during about four hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during + the remaining twenty.</p> + + <p>The two main floors of the house being in such manner + accounted for, the family and its dependents principally lived + aloft on the second and third floors. Eight souls slept up + there nightly. A miracle of compression!</p> + + <p>George had had the house for ten years; he entered it as a + bridegroom. He had stayed in it for seven years because the + landlord would only confide it to him on lease, and at the end + of the seven years he lacked the initiative to leave it. An + ugly house, utterly without architectural merit! A strange + house for an architect to inhabit! George, however, had never + liked it. Before his marriage he had discovered a magnificent + house in Fitzroy Square, a domestic masterpiece of the Adams + period, exquisitely designed without and within, huge rooms and + many rooms, lovely ceilings, a forged-iron stair-rail out of + Paradise; a house appreciably nearer to the centre than the one + in Elm Park Road, and with a lower rental. George would have + taken the house, had not Lois pointed out to him its fatal + disadvantage, which had escaped him, namely, that people simply + did not live in Fitzroy Square. Instantly Lois entered Fitzroy + Square, George knew himself for a blind fool. Of course the + house was impossible. He was positively ashamed to show her the + house. She admitted that it was beautiful. So Elm +<!-- Page 221 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page216" name="page216">[pg 216]</a> + </span> + + Park Road was finally selected, Elm Park Road being a street + where people could, and in fact did, live. It was astounding + how Lois, with her small and fragmentary knowledge of London, + yet knew, precisely and infallibly, by instinct, by the sound + of the names of the thoroughfares, by magic diabolical or + celestial, what streets were inhabitable and what were not. And + something in George agreed with her.</p> + + <p>He now rummaged among hat-boxes beneath the beds, pulled one + out, and discovered a straw hat in it.</p> + + <p>"Will it do?" he questioned doubtfully.</p> + + <p>"Let me look at it."</p> + + <p>He approached her and gave her the hat, which she carefully + examined, frowning.</p> + + <p>"Put it on," she said.</p> + + <p>He put it on, and she gazed at him for what seemed to him an + unnecessarily long time. His thought was that she liked to hold + him under her gaze.</p> + + <p>"Well?" he exclaimed impatiently.</p> + + <p>"It's quite all right," she said. "What's the matter with + it? It makes you look about fourteen." He felt envy in her + voice. Then she added: "But surely you won't be able to wear + that thing to-morrow?"</p> + + <p>"Of course not. I only want it for this afternoon.... This + sun."</p> + + <p>"Oh!" she cried. "I do think it's a shame I can't go to the + Opening! It's just my luck."</p> + + <p>He considered that she arraigned her luck much too often; he + considered that on the whole her luck was decidedly good. But + he knew that she had to be humoured. It was her right to be + humoured.</p> + + <p>"Yes," he said judicially and rather shortly. "I'm sorry + too! But what are you going to do about it? If you can't go, + you can't. And you know it's absolutely out of the question." + As a fact he was glad that her condition made such an excursion + impossible for her. She would certainly have been rather a + ticklish handful for him at the Opening.</p> + + <p>"But I should so have + <i>enjoyed</i> + + it!" she insisted, with emphasis.</p> + + <p>There it was, the thirst for enjoyment, pleasure! The + supreme, unslakable thirst! She had always had it, and he had + always hardened himself against it—while often, + nevertheless, accepting with secret pleasure the satisfactions + of her thirst. Thus, for example, in the matter of dancing. She + +<!-- Page 222 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page217" name="page217">[pg 217]</a> + </span> + + had shared to the full in the extraordinary craze for dancing + which had held the West End for several years. Owing to her + initiative they had belonged to two dancing clubs whose members + met weekly in the saloons of the great hotels. The majority of + the members were acutely tedious to George, but Lois was quite + uncritical, save on the main point; she divided the members + into good dancers and bad dancers. George was a pretty good + dancer. He liked dancing. Membership of these clubs involved + expense, it interfered with his sleep, it made his early + mornings more like defeats than triumphs, it prevented him from + duly reading and sketching. But he liked dancing. While + resenting the compulsion to outrage his conscience, he enjoyed + the sin. What exasperated him was Lois's argument that that + kind of thing "did him good" professionally, and was indeed + essential to the career of a rising or risen young architect, + and that also it was good for his health and his mind. He + wished that she would not so unconvincingly pretend that + self-indulgence was not what it was. These pretences, however, + seemed to be a necessity of her nature. She reasoned similarly + about the dinners and theatre-parties which they gave and + attended. Next to dancing she adored dinners and + theatre-parties. She would sooner eat a bad dinner in company + anywhere than a good dinner quietly at home; she would far + sooner go to a bad play than to none at all; she was in fact + never bored in the theatre or in the music-hall. Never!</p> + + <p>Once, by misfortune—as George privately + deemed—he had got a small job (erection of a + dwelling-house at Hampstead) through a dinner. Lois had never + forgotten it, and she would adduce the trifle again and again + as evidence of the sanity of her ideas about social life. + George really did not care for designing houses; they were not + worth the trouble; he habitually thought in public edifices and + the palaces of kings, nobles, and plutocrats of taste. + Moreover, his commission on the house would not have kept his + own household in being for a month—and yet the owner, + while obviously proud to be the patron of the celebrated + prodigy George Cannon, had the air of doing George Cannon a + favour!</p> + + <p>And so her ambition, rather than his, had driven them both + ruthlessly on. Both were overpressed, but George considerably + more than Lois. Lois was never, in ordinary times, really + tired. Dinners, teas, even lunches, restaurants, theatres, + music-halls, other people's houses, clubs, dancing, changing + clothes, getting into autos and taxis and getting +<!-- Page 223 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page218" name="page218">[pg 218]</a> + </span> + + out of autos and taxis, looking at watches, writing down + engagements, going to bed with a sigh at the lateness of the + hour, waking up fatigued to the complexities of the new + day—she coped admirably with it all. She regarded it as + natural; she regarded it as inevitable and proper. She enjoyed + it. She wanted it, and that which she wanted she must have. Yet + her attitude to George was almost invariably one of deep + solicitude for him. She would look at him with eyes troubled + and anxious for his welfare. When they were driving to a dance + which he had no desire to attend, she would put her arm in his + and squeeze his arm and murmur: "Coco, I don't + <i>like</i> + + you working so hard." (Coco was her pet name for him, a + souvenir of Paris.)</p> + + <p>He acknowledged that, having chosen her rôle, she + played it well. She made him comfortable. She was a good + housekeeper, and a fair organizer generally. She knew how to be + well served. He thought that her manner to servants was often + inexcusable, but she "kept" her servants, and they would "do + anything" for her. Further, except that she could not shine in + conversation, she was a good hostess. She never made mistakes, + never became muddled, never forgot. Of course she had friends + to whom he was indifferent or perhaps slightly hostile, but she + was entitled to her friends, as he to his. And she was a good + mother. Stranger still, though she understood none of the arts + and had no logical taste, she possessed a gift of guessing or + of divination which, in all affairs relating to the home, was + the practical equivalent of genuine taste. George had first + noticed this faculty in her when she put a thousand pounds of + her money to a thousand pounds of his stepfather's and they + began to buy furniture. The house was beautifully furnished, + and she had done her share. And in the alterations, additions, + and replacements which for several years she had the habit of + springing upon him, she rarely offended him. Still, he knew + indubitably that she had not taste,—anyhow in his sense + of the term,—and would never, never acquire it. An + astonishing creature! He had not finished being astonished at + her. In some respects he had not even come to a decision about + her. For instance, he suspected that she had "no notion of + money," but he could not be sure. She did what she liked with + her own income, which was about two hundred a year; that is to + say, she clothed herself out of it. Her household accounts were + unknown to him; he had once essayed to comprehend them, but had + drawn back affrighted.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 224 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page219" name="page219">[pg 219]</a> + </span> + + Well," she said plaintively. "Now you're here, I think you + might sit a bit with me. It's most awfully lonely for me."</p> + + <p>"I can't possibly," he said, with calm. "I have to rush off + to the club to see Davids about that business."</p> + + <p>She ignored his inescapable duties! It was nothing to her + that he had a hundred affairs to arrange before his + night-journey to the north. She wanted him to sit with her. + Therefore she thought that he ought to sit with her, and she + would be conscious of a grievance if he did not. 'Lonely!' + Because the children were going out for an hour or so! Besides, + even if it was lonely, facts were facts, and destiny was + destiny and had to be borne.</p> + + <p>"What business?"</p> + + <p>"You know."</p> + + <p>"Oh! That!... Well, can't you go after tea?"</p> + + <p>Incurable!</p> + + <p>"Here, lass!" he said, with a laugh. "If I stop arguing here + I shall miss him."</p> + + <p>He bent down, and prepared his lips to kiss her. He smiled + superiorly, indulgently. He was the stronger. She defeated him + sometimes; she gravely defeated him in the general arrangement + and colour of their joint existence; but he was the stronger. + She had known it for over ten years. They had had two + tremendous, critical, highly dangerous battles. He had won them + both. Lois had wanted to be married in Paris. He had been ready + to agree until suddenly it occurred to him that French legal + formalities might necessitate an undue disclosure as to his + parentage and the bigamy of which his mother had been a victim. + He refused absolutely to be married in Paris. He said: "You're + English and I'm English, and the proper place for us to be + married is England." There were good counter-arguments, but he + would not have them. Curiously, at this very period, news came + from his stepfather of his father's death in America. He kept + it to himself. Again, on the night itself of their marriage, he + had said to her: " + <i>Now give me that revolver you've got</i> + + ." At her protesting refusal he had said: "My wife is not going + about with any revolver. Not if I know it!" He was playful but + determined. He startled her, for the altercation lasted two + hours. On the other hand he had never said a word about the + photograph of Jules Defourcambault, and had never seen it. + Somewhere, in some mysterious fastness, the mysterious woman + kept it.</p> + + <p>His lips were close to hers, and his eyes to her eyes. Most +<!-- Page 225 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page220" name="page220">[pg 220]</a> + </span> + + persons called her eyes golden, but to him they were just + yellow. They had an infinitesimal cast, to which nobody ever + referred. They were voluptuous eyes. He examined her face. She + was still young; but the fine impressive imprint of existence + was upon her features, and the insipid freshness had departed. + She blinked, acquiescent. Her eyes changed, melting. He could + almost see into her brain, and watch there the impulse of + repentance for an unreasonable caprice, and the intense resolve + to think in the future only of her husband's welfare. She was + like that.... She could be an angel.... He knew that he was + hard. He guessed that he might be inordinately hard He would + bear people down. Why had he not been touched by her helpless + condition? She was indeed touching as she lay. She wanted to + keep him near her and she could not. She wanted acutely to go + to the north, and she was imprisoned. She would have to pass + the night alone, and the next night alone. Danger and great + suffering lay in front of her. And she was she; she was + herself, with all her terrific instincts. She could not alter + herself. Did she not merit compassion? Still, + <i>he must go to his club</i> + + .</p> + + <p>He kissed her tenderly. She half lifted her head, and kissed + him exactly as she kissed his children, like a giantess, and as + though she was the ark of wisdom from everlasting, and he a + callow boy whose safety depended upon her sagacious, loving + direction.</p> + + <p>From the top of the flight of stairs leading from the ground + floor, George, waiting till it was over, witnessed the + departure of his family for the afternoon promenade. A + prodigious affair! The parlourmaid (a delightful creature who + was, unfortunately, soon to make an excellent match above her + station) amiably helped the nursemaid to get the perambulator + down the steps. The parlourmaid wore her immutable uniform, and + the nursemaid wore her immutable uniform. Various things had to + be packed into the perambulator, and then little Lois had to be + packed into it—not because she could not walk, but + because it was not desirable for her to arrive at the + playground tired. Nursey's sunshade was undiscoverable, and + little Laurencine's little sunshade had to be retrieved from + underneath little Lois in the depths of the perambulator. + Nursey's book had fallen on the steps. Then the tiny but + elaborate perambulator of Laurencine's doll had to go down the + steps, and the doll had to be therein ensconced under + Laurencine's own direction, and Laurencine's sunshade had to be + opened, and Laurencine had to prove to the maids +<!-- Page 226 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page221" name="page221">[pg 221]</a> + </span> + + that she could hold the sunshade in one hand and push the + doll's perambulator with the other. Finally, the procession of + human beings and vehicles moved, munitioned, provisioned, like + a caravan setting forth into the desert, the parlourmaid + amiably waving adieux.</p> + + <p>George thought: "I support all that. It all depends on me. I + have brought it all into existence." And his reflections + embraced Lois upstairs, and the two colleagues of the + parlourmaid in the kitchen, and the endless apparatus of the + house, and the people at his office and the apparatus there, + and the experiences that awaited him on the morrow, and all his + responsibilities, and all his apprehensions for the future. And + he was amazed and dismayed by the burden which almost + unwittingly he bore night and day. But he felt too that it was + rather fine. He felt that he was in the midst of life.</p> + + <p>As he was cranking his car, which he had left unattended at + the kerb, Mrs. Buckingham Smith's magnificent car driven by her + magnificent chauffeur, swept in silence up to the door and + sweetly stopped. George's car was a very little one, and he was + his own chauffeur, and had to walk home from the garage when he + had done with it. The contemplation of Buck Smith's career + showed George that there are degrees of success. Buck Smith + received a thousand pounds for a portrait (in the French manner + of painting)—and refused commissions at that. Buck Smith + had a kind of palace in Melbury Road. By the side of Buck + Smith. George was a struggling semi-failure. Mrs. Buck Smith, + the lady whom George had first glimpsed in the foyer of a + theatre, was a superb Jewess whom Buck had enticed from the + stage. George did not like her because she was apt, in ecstasy, + to froth at the mouth, and for other reasons; but she was one + of his wife's most intimate friends. Lois, usually taciturn, + would chatter with Adah for hours.</p> + + <p>"I thought I'd come and see Lois," said Mrs. Buck, + effulgently smiling, as George handed her out of the car. "How + is the dear thing? You just flying off?"</p> + + <p>"You'll do her all the good in the world," George replied. + "I can't stop. I have to leave town to-night, and I'm full + up."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes! The Opening! How perfectly splendid!" Tiny bubbles + showed between her glorious lips. "What a shame it is poor Lois + isn't able to go!"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George. "But look here! Don't you go and tell + her so. That's quite the wrong tack."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 227 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page222" name="page222">[pg 222]</a> + </span> + + I see! I see!" said Mrs. Buck, gazing at him as one who was + capable of subtle comprehensions. "By the way," she added, as + she turned to mount the steps, "I ran across Everard Lucas at + the Berkeley to-day. Lunching there. I said I was coming here. + He told me to tell you, if I saw you, that old Mr. Haim or Home + or some such name was dead. He said you'd be interested."</p> + + <p>"By Jove!" George ejaculated. "Is he? Haven't seen him for + years and years."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He got into his car and drove off at speed. Beneath his + off-hand words to Mrs. Buckingham Smith he was conscious of a + quickly growing, tender sympathy for Marguerite Haim. The + hardness in him was dissolved almost instantaneously. He saw + Marguerite, who had been adamantine in the difference which + separated them, as the image of pliancy, sweetness, altruism, + and devotion; and he saw her lips and the rapt glance of her + eyes as beautiful as in the past. What a soft, soothing, + assuaging contrast with the difficult Lois, so imperious and + egoistic! (An unforgettable phrase of Lois's had inhabited his + mind for over a decade: "Fancy quarrelling over a man!") He had + never met Marguerite since their separation, and for years he + had heard nothing whatever about her; he did not under-estimate + the ordeal of meeting her again. Yet he at once decided that he + must meet her again. He simply could not ignore her in her + bereavement and new loneliness. To write to her would be + absurd; it would be a cowardly evasion; moreover, he could not + frame a letter. He must prove to her and to himself that he had + a sense of decent kindliness which would rise above + conventional trifles when occasion demanded.</p> + + <p>At the top of Elm Park Gardens, instead of turning east + towards Piccadilly he turned west in the direction of the + Workhouse tower. And thus he exposed the unreality of the + grandiose pleas with which professional men impose on their + wives and on themselves. A few minutes earlier his appointment + at the club (not Pickering's, to which, however, he still + belonged, but a much greater institution, the Artists, in + Albemarle Street) had been an affair of extreme importance, + upon which might depend his future career, for did it not + concern negotiations for a London factory, which was to be + revolutionary in design, and to cost £150,000, and which, +<!-- Page 228 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page223" name="page223">[pg 223]</a> + </span> + + erected, would form a permanent advertisement of the genius of + George Cannon? Now he remembered that Sir Isaac Davids, the + patron of all the arts and the influencer of commissions, had + said that he would probably but not certainly be at the club + that afternoon, and he argued that in any event half an hour + sooner or later would not make or mar the business. Indeed, he + went further, and persuaded himself that between that moment + and dinner he had nothing to do except sign a few routine + letters at the office. Still, it was just as well that Lois + should remain in delusion as to his being seriously pressed for + time.</p> + + <p>As he curved, slackening and accelerating, with the perfect + assurance of long habit, through the swift, intricate, towering + motor traffic of Fulham Road, it was inevitable that he should + recall the days, eleven years ago, when through a sedate + traffic of trotting horses enlivened with a few motors and + motor-buses, he used to run down on his motor-cycle to visit + Marguerite. It was inevitable that he should think upon what + had happened to him in the meantime. His body felt, honestly, + no older. The shoulders had broadened, the moustache was + fiercer, there were semicircular furrows under the eyes; but he + was as slim and agile as ever, and did his morning exercises as + regularly as he took his bath. More, he was still, somehow, the + youthful prodigy who had won the biggest competition of modern + years while almost an infant. He was still known as such, + regarded as such, greeted as such, referred to as such at + intervals in the Press. His fame in his own world seemed not to + have deteriorated. But disappointment had slowly, + imperceptibly, eaten into him. He was far off the sublime + heights of Sir Hugh Corver, though he met Sir Hugh apparently + as an equal on the Council of the Royal Society of British + Architects. Work had not surged in upon him. He had not been + able to pick and choose among commissions. He had never won + another competition. Again and again his hopes had been + horribly defeated in these ghastly enterprises, of which two + were still pending. He was a man of one job. And a quarter of + his professional life had slipped behind him! His dreams were + changed. Formerly he had dreamed in architectural forms; now he + dreamed in percentages. His one job had been enormous and + lucrative, but he had lived on it for a decade, and it was + done. And outside it he had earned probably less than twelve + hundred pounds.</p> + + <p>And if the job had been enormous, his responsibilities +<!-- Page 229 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page224" name="page224">[pg 224]</a> + </span> + + were likewise enormous. Home expenses with an increasing + family; establishment expenses; a heavy insurance! Slavery to + habits! The common story, without the slightest originality in + it. The idea recurred continually: it was the fault of Lois, + of that embodied, implacable instinct which Lois was! And it + was the fault of circumstance, of the structure of society, of + existence itself. And it was his fault too. And the whole of + the blame would be his if disaster came. Imagine those kids + with the perambulator and the doll's perambulator—imagine + them in an earthquake! He could see no future beyond, perhaps, + eight months ahead. No, he could not! Of course his stepfather + was a sure resource. But he could not conceive himself + confessing failure to his stepfather or to anybody on earth. + Yet, if he did not very soon obtain more work, remunerative and + on a large scale ... if he did not ... However, he would obtain + more work. It was impossible that he should not obtain it. The + matter with Sir Isaac was as good as arranged. And the chances + of winning at any rate one of the two competitions were very + favourable.... He dismissed every apprehension. His health was + too good to tolerate apprehensions permanently. And he had a + superstitious faith in his wife's superstitious faith in him, + and in his luck. The dark mood quickly faded. It had been + induced, not by the spectacle of his wife and family and + household seen somehow from a new angle, but by the + recollection of the past. Though he often went through dark + moods, they were not moods of financial pessimism; they seemed + to be causeless, inexplicable, and indescribable—abysses + in which cerebration ceased.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>She was just closing the side gate leading to the studio + when he drove up. He recognized her face over the top of the + gate. At the first glance it seemed to be absolutely + unchanged—the same really beautiful lips, the same nose, + the same look in the eyes. Had a decade passed by her and left + no trace? He lost his nerve for an instant, and brought the car + to a standstill with less than his usual adroitness. She + hesitated.</p> + + <p>"I was coming to see you," he called out hastily, boyishly, + not in the least measuring his effects. He jumped from the car, + and said in a lower, more intimate tone: "I've only +<!-- Page 230 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page225" name="page225">[pg 225]</a> + </span> + + this minute heard about Mr. Haim. I'm awfully sorry. I thought + I'd come along at once."</p> + + <p>"How nice of you!" she replied, quite simply and naturally, + with a smile. "Do come in."</p> + + <p>The tension was eased.</p> + + <p>She pulled at the gate, which creaked. He then saw plainly + the whole of her figure. She was dressed in black, and wore + what the newspaper advertisement called a 'matron's coat.' The + decade had not passed by her and left no trace. She had been + appointed to a share in the mysterious purpose. Her bust, too, + was ampler; only her face, rather pale like the face of Lois, + was unaltered in its innocent contours. He felt that he was + blushing. He had no instinctive jealousy nor resentment; it did + not appear strange to him that this woman in the matron's coat + was the girl he had passionately kissed in that very house; and + indeed the woman was not the girl—the connexion between + the woman and the girl had snapped. Nevertheless, he was + extremely self-conscious; but not she. And in his astonishment + he wondered at the secretiveness of London. His house and hers + were not more than half a mile apart, and yet in eleven years + he had never set eyes on her house. Nearly always, on leaving + his house, he would go up Elm Park Gardens and turn to the + right. If he was not in the car he would never turn to the + left. Occasionally he had flown past the end of the Grove in + the car; not once, however, had he entered the Grove. He lived + in Chelsea and she lived in Chelsea, but not the same Chelsea; + his was not the Chelsea of the studios and the King's Road. + They had existed close together, side by side, for years and + years—and she had been hidden from him.</p> + + <p>As they walked towards the studio door she told him that + 'they' had buried her father a week ago and that 'they' were + living in the studio, and had already arranged to let the lower + part of the house. She had the air of assuming that he was + aware of the main happenings in her life, only a little belated + in the knowledge of her father's death. She was quite cheerful. + He pretended to himself to speculate as to the identity of her + husband. He would not ask: "And who is your husband?". All the + time he knew who her husband was: it could be no other than one + man. She opened the studio door with a latchkey. He was right. + At a table Mr. Prince was putting sheets of etching-paper to + soak in a porcelain bath.</p> + + <p>"Well! Well! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Prince warmly, not + flustered, not a bit embarrassed, and not too demonstrative. +<!-- Page 231 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page226" name="page226">[pg 226]</a> + </span> + + He came forward, delicately drying the tips of his fingers on a + rag, and shook hands. His hair was almost white, his thin, + benevolent face amazingly lined; his voice had a constant + little vibration. Yet George could not believe that he was an + old man.</p> + + <p>"He only heard to-day about father, and he's called at + once," said Marguerite. "Isn't it just like him?"</p> + + <p>The last phrase surprised and thrilled George. Did she mean + it? Her kind, calm, ingenuous face showed that obviously she + meant it.</p> + + <p>"It is," said Mr. Prince seriously. "Very good of you, old + man."</p> + + <p>After some talk about Mr. Haim, and about old times, and + about changes, during which Marguerite took off her matron's + coat and Mr. Prince gently hung it up for her, they all sat + down near to one another and near the unlighted stove. The + studio seemed to be precisely as of old, except that it was + very clean. Marguerite, in a high-backed wicker-chair, began + slowly to remove her hat, which she perched behind her on the + chair. Mr. Prince produced a tin of Gold Flake cigarettes.</p> + + <p>"And so you're living in the studio?" said George.</p> + + <p>"We have the two rooms at the top of the house of course," + answered Mr. Prince, glancing at the staircase. "I don't know + whether it's quite the wisest thing, with all those stairs; you + see how we're fixed"—he glanced at Marguerite—"but + we had a fine chance to let the house, and in these days it's + as well to be cautious."</p> + + <p>Marguerite smiled happily and patted her husband's hand.</p> + + <p>"Of course it's the wisest thing," she said.</p> + + <p>"Why! What's the matter with these days?" George demanded. + "How's the work?"</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said Mr. Prince, in a new tone. "I've one or two + things that might interest you."</p> + + <p>He displayed some prints, and chatted of his labours. He was + still etching; he would die etching. This was the etcher of + European renown. He referred to the Vienna acquisition as + though it was an affair of a few weeks ago. He had disposed of + an etching to Stockholm, and mentioned that he had exhibited at + the International Show in Rome. He said that his things were + attracting attention at a gallery in Bond Street. He displayed + catalogues and press-cuttings.</p> + + <p>"These are jolly fine," said George enthusiastically, as he + examined the prints on his knee.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 232 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page227" name="page227">[pg 227]</a> + </span> + + I'm glad you like them," said Mr. Prince, pleased. "I think + I've improved."</p> + + <p>But in spite of his European renown, Mr. Prince had remained + practically unknown. His name would not call forth the 'Oh + yes!' of recognition from the earnest frequenter of fashionable + exhibitions who takes pride in his familiarity with names. The + etchings of Prince were not subscribed for in advance. He could + not rank with the stars—Cameron, Muirhead Bone, Legros, + Brangwyn. Probably he could command not more than two or three + guineas for a print. He had never been the subject of a + profusely laudatory illustrated article in the + <i>Studio</i> + + . With his white hair he was what in the mart is esteemed a + failure. He knew it. Withal he had a notable self-respect and a + notable confidence. There was no timidity in him, even if his + cautiousness was excessive. He possessed sagacity and he had + used it. He knew where he was. He had something substantial up + his sleeve. There was no wistful appeal in his eye, as of a man + who hopes for the best and fears the worst. He could meet + dealers with a firm glance, for throughout life he had + subjugated his desires to his resources. His look was modest + but independent; and Marguerite had the same look.</p> + + <p>"Hallo!" cried George. "I see you've got that here!" He + pointed to Celia Agg's portrait of herself as Bonnie Prince + Charlie.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said Marguerite. "She insisted on me taking it when + she gave up painting."</p> + + <p>"Gave up painting?"</p> + + <p>"Very good, isn't it?" said Mr. Prince gravely. "Pity she + ever did give up painting, I think," he added in a peculiar + tone.</p> + + <p>"Yes, it is," George agreed insincerely, for the painting + now seemed to him rather tenth-rate. "But what on earth did she + stop painting for?"</p> + + <p>Marguerite replied, with reserve:</p> + + <p>"Oh! Didn't you know? She's quite gone in for this + suffragette business. No one ever sees her now. Not even her + people."</p> + + <p>"Been in prison," said Mr. Prince, sardonically + disapproving, "I always said she'd end in that kind of thing, + didn't I, Margy?"</p> + + <p>"You did, dear," said Marguerite, with wifely eagerness.</p> + + <p>These two respected not only themselves but each other. The + ensuing conversation showed that Mr. Prince was somewhat + disgusted with the mundane movement, and that +<!-- Page 233 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page228" name="page228">[pg 228]</a> + </span> + + Marguerite was his disciple. They were more and more leaving + the world alone; their self-sufficiency was increasing with the + narrow regularity of their habits. They seldom went out; and + when they did, they came home the more deeply convinced that + all was not well with the world, and that they belonged to the + small remnant of the wise and the sane. George was in two minds + about them, or rather about Mr. Prince. He secretly + condescended to him, but on the other hand he envied him. The + man was benevolent; he spent his life in the creation of + beauty; and he was secure. Surely an ideal existence! Yes, + George wished that he could say as much for himself. + Marguerite, completely deprived of ambition, would never have + led any man into insecurity. He had realized already that + afternoon that there were different degrees of success; he now + realized that there were different kinds of success.</p> + + <p>"Well!" he rose suddenly. "I must be off. I'm very + busy."</p> + + <p>"I suppose you are," said Mr. Prince. Untrue to assert that + his glance was never wistful! It was ever so slightly wistful + then.</p> + + <p>George comprehended that Mr. Prince admired him and looked + up to him after all.</p> + + <p>"My town hall is being opened to-morrow."</p> + + <p>"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you."</p> + + <p>They knew a good deal about him—where he lived, the + statistics of his family, and so on. He picked up his hat.</p> + + <p>"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said + Marguerite, gazing straight into his eyes.</p> + + <p>"Rather!" said Mr. Prince.</p> + + <p>They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this + Bird-of-paradise. But they did not urge him to stay longer.</p> + + <p>As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a + half-finished book-cover design on a table.</p> + + <p>"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to + examine.</p> + + <p>Husband and wife, always more interested in their own + affairs than in other people's, responded willingly to his + curiosity. George praised, and his praise was greatly esteemed. + Mr. Prince talked about the changes in trade bindings, which + were all for the worse. The bright spot was that Marguerite's + price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings. This + improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to + them. To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after + vicissitudes, of four shillings in fourteen years should be +<!-- Page 234 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page229" name="page229">[pg 229]</a> + </span> + + capable of causing them so much joy. He and they lived in + absolutely different worlds.</p> + + <p>"This is the last I shall let her do for a long time," + observed Mr. Prince. "I shouldn't have let her do this one, but + the doctor, who's a friend of ours, said there wouldn't be any + harm, and of course it's always advisable to break a connexion + as little as possible. You never know...."</p> + + <p>George smiled, returning their flattery.</p> + + <p>"You aren't going to tell me that that matters to + <i>you</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince fixed George with his eye.</p> + + <p>"When the European War starts in earnest I think most of us + will need all we've been able to get together."</p> + + <p>"What European War?" asked George, with a touch of disdain. + "You don't mean to say that this Sarajevo business will lead to + a European War!"</p> + + <p>"No, I don't," said Mr. Prince very firmly. "Germany's + diplomatists are much too clever for that. They're clever + enough to find a better excuse. But they will find it, and + soon."</p> + + <p>George saw that Mr. Prince, having opened up a subject which + apparently was dear to him, had to be handled with discretion. + He guessed at once, from the certainty and the emotion of Mr. + Prince's phrases, that Mr. Prince must have talked a lot about + a European War. So he mildly replied:</p> + + <p>"Do you really think so?"</p> + + <p>"Do I think so? My dear fellow, you have only to look at the + facts. Austria undoubtedly annexed Bosnia at Germany's + instigation. Look at what led to Algeciras. Look at Agadir. + Look at the increase in the German army last July. And look at + the special levy. The thing's as clear as day." Mr. Prince now + seemed to be a little angry with George, who had moved into the + doorway.</p> + + <p>"I'll tell you what I think," said George, with the + assurance with which as a rule he announced his opinions. + "We're Germany's only serious rival. It's us she's up against. + She can only fight us on the sea. If she fought us now on the + sea she'd be wiped out. That's admitted. In ten years, if she + keeps on building, she might have a chance. But not now! Not + yet! And she knows it." George did not mention that he had + borrowed the whole weighty argument from his stepfather; but he + spoke with finality, and was rather startled when Mr. Prince + blew the whole weighty argument into the air with one scornful, + pitying exhalation.</p> + + <p>Mr. Prince said: " +<!-- Page 235 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page230" name="page230">[pg 230]</a> + </span> + + Nothing in it! Nothing in it! It's our alliances that will be + the ruin of us. We shall be dragged into war. If Germany + chooses to fight on land everybody will have to fight on land. + When she gets to Paris, what are we going to do about it? We + shall be dragged into war. It's the damnable alliances that Sir + Edward Grey has let us in for." Mr. Prince fixed George afresh. + "That man ought to be shot. What do we want with alliances?... + Have you heard Lord Roberts?"</p> + + <p>George admitted weakly, and as if ashamed, that he had + not.</p> + + <p>"Well, you should."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes," Marguerite ingenuously put in. "Alfred's been very + strong on the European War ever since he heard Lord Roberts + speak at Chelsea Town Hall."</p> + + <p>George then understood the situation. Mr. Prince, through + the hazard of a visit to Chelsea Town Hall, had become obsessed + by a single idea, an idea which his natural apprehensions had + well nourished. A common phenomenon! George had met before the + man obsessed by one idea, with his crude reasoning, his + impatience, and his flashing eye. As for himself he did not + pretend to be an expert in politics; he had no time for + politics; but he was interested in them, and held strong views + about them; and among his strongest views was the view that the + crudity of the average imperialist was noxious, and a source of + real danger. 'That man ought to be shot.' Imagine such a + remark! He felt that he must soothe Mr. Prince as he would + soothe a child. And he did so, with all the tact acquired at + municipal committee meetings in the north.</p> + + <p>His, last impression, on departure, was that Mr. Prince was + an excellent and most lovable fellow, despite his obsession. + "Glad to see you at any time," said Mr. Prince, with genuine + cordiality, critically and somewhat inimically assessing the + car, which he referred to as 'she.' Marguerite had remained in + the studio. She was wonderful. She admired her husband too + simply, and she was too content, but she had marvellous + qualities of naturalness, common sense in demeanour, realism, + and placidity. Thanks to her remarkable instinct for taking + things for granted, the interview had been totally immune from + constraint. It was difficult, and she had made it seem easy. No + fuss, no false sentiment! And she looked very nice, very + interesting, quite attractive, in her mourning and in her + expectancy. A fine couple. Unassuming of course, narrow, + opinionated—(he surmised that the last days of the +<!-- Page 236 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page231" name="page231">[pg 231]</a> + </span> + + late Mr. Haim had been disciplined)—but no fools either, + and fundamentally decent. While condescending to them, he + somehow envied them. But he knew what the opinion of Lois about + them would be!</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='IV'> + </a> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>After a period of shallow sleep he woke up in the morning + factitiously refreshed as the train was rumbling slowly over + the high-level bridge. The sun blinked full in his eyes when he + looked out through the trellis-work of the bridge. Far below, + the river was tinged with the pale blue of the sky. Big ships + lay in the river as if they had never moved and never could + move; a steamer in process of painting, with her sides lifted + above the water, gleamed in irregular patches of brilliant + scarlet. A lively tug passed down-stream, proud of her early + rising; and, smaller even than the tug, a smack, running + close-hauled, bowed to the puffs of the light breeze. Farther + away the lofty chimneys sent their scarves of smoke into the + air, and the vast skeletons of incipient vessels could be + descried through webs of staging. The translucent freshness of + the calm scene was miraculous; it divinely intoxicated the + soul, and left no squalor and no ugliness anywhere.</p> + + <p>Then, as the line curved, came the view of the city beneath + its delicate canopy of mist. The city was built on escarpments, + on ridges, on hills, and sagged here and there into great + hollows. The serrated silhouette of it wrote romance upon the + sky, and the contours of the naked earth beyond lost themselves + grandly in the mystery of the north. The jutting custom-house + was a fine piece of architecture. From the eighteen-forties it + challenged grimly the modern architect. On his hasty first + visit to the city George had noticed little save that + custom-house. He had seen a slatternly provincial town, large + and picturesque certainly, but with small sense of form or + dignity. He had decided that his town hall would stand quite + unique in the town. But soon the city had imposed itself upon + him and taught him the rudiments of humility. It contained an + immense quantity of interesting architecture of various + periods, which could not be appreciated at a glance. It was a + hoary place. It went back to the Romans and further. Its + fragmentary walls had survived through seven centuries, its + cathedral through six, its chief churches through five. It had + the most +<!-- Page 237 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page232" name="page232">[pg 232]</a> + </span> + + perfect Norman keep within two hundred miles. It had ancient + halls, mansions, towers, markets, and jail. And to these the + Victorian-Edwardian age had added museums, law courts, + theatres; such astonishing modernities as swimming-baths, + power-houses, joint-stock banks, lending libraries, and art + schools; and whole monumental streets and squares from the + designs of a native architect without whose respectable name no + history of British architecture could be called complete. + George's town hall was the largest building in the city; but it + did not dominate the city nor dwarf it; the city easily + digested it. Arriving in the city by train the traveller, if he + knew where to look, could just distinguish a bit of the town + hall tower, amid masses of granite and brick: which glimpse + symbolized the relation between the city and the town hall and + had its due effect on the Midland conceit of George.</p> + + <p>But what impressed George more than the stout, physical + aspects of the city was the sense of its huge, adventurous, + corporate life, continuous from century to century. It had + known terrible battles, obstinate sieges, famines, cholera, a + general conflagration, and, in the twentieth century, strikes + that possibly were worse than pestilence. It had fiercely + survived them all. It was a city passionate and highly + vitalized. George had soon begun to be familiar with its + organic existence from the inside. The amazing delays in the + construction of the town hall were characteristic of the city, + originating as they did not from sloth or indecision but from + the obduracy of the human will. At the start a sensational + municipal election had put the whole project on the shelf for + two years, and George had received a compensatory one per cent + on the estimated cost according to contract, and had abandoned + his hope. But the pertinacity of Mr. Soulter, first Councillor, + then Alderman, then Mayor, the true father of the town hall, + had been victorious in the end. Next there had been an infinity + of trouble with owners of adjacent properties and with the + foundations. Next the local contractor, who had got the work + through a ruthless and ingenious conspiracy of associates on + the Council, had gone bankrupt. Next came the gigantic building + strike, in which conflicting volitions fought each other for + many months to the devastation of an entire group of trades. + Finally was the inflexible resolution of Mr. Soulter that the + town hall should not be opened and used until it was finished + in every part and every detail of furniture and decoration.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 238 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page233" name="page233">[pg 233]</a> + </span> + + George, by his frequent sojourns in the city, and his official + connexion with the authorities, had several opportunities to + observe the cabals, the chicane, and the personal animosities + and friendships which functioned in secret at the very heart of + the city's life. He knew the idiosyncrasies of councillors and + aldermen in committee; he had learnt more about mankind in the + committee-rooms of the old town hall than he could have learnt + in ten thousand London clubs. He could divide the city council + infallibly into wire-pullers, axe-grinders, vain nincompoops, + honest mediocrities, and the handful who combined honesty with + sagacity and sagacity with strength. At beefy luncheon-tables, + and in gorgeous, stuffy bars tapestried with Lincrusta-Walton, + he had listened to the innumerable tales of the town, in which + greed, crookedness, ambition, rectitude, hatred, and sexual + love were extraordinarily mixed—the last being by far the + smallest ingredient. He liked the town; he revelled in it. It + seemed to him splendid in its ineradicable, ever-changing, + changeless humanity. And as the train bored its way through the + granite bowels of the city, he thought pleasurably upon all + these matters. And with them in his mind there gradually + mingled the images of Lois and Marguerite. He cared not what + their virtues were or what their faults were. He enjoyed + reflecting upon them, picturing them with their contrasted + attributes, following them into the future as they developed + blindly under the unperceived sway of the paramount instincts + which had impelled and would always impel them towards their + ultimate destiny. He thought upon himself, and about himself he + was very sturdily cheerful, because he had had a most + satisfactory interview with Sir Isaac on the previous + afternoon.</p> + + <p>A few minutes later he walked behind a portmanteau-bearing + night-porter into the wide-corridored, sleeping hotel, whose + dust glittered in the straight shafts of early sunlight. He + stopped at the big slate under the staircase and wrote in chalk + opposite the number 187: "Not to be called till 12 o'clock, + under pain of death." And the porter, a friend of some years' + standing, laughed. On the second floor that same porter dropped + the baggage on the linoleum and rattled the key in the lock + with a high disregard of sleepers. In the bedroom the porter + undid the straps of the portmanteau, and then:</p> + + <p>"Anything else, sir?"</p> + + <p>"That's all, John."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 239 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page234" name="page234">[pg 234]</a> + </span> + + And as he turned to leave, John stopped and remarked in a tone + of concern:</p> + + <p>"Sorry to say Alderman Soulter's ill in bed, sir. Won't be + able to come to the Opening. It's him as'll be madder than + anybody, ill or not."</p> + + <p>George was shocked, and almost frightened. In his opinion + the true intelligence of the city was embodied in Mr. Soulter. + Mr. Soulter had been a father to him, had understood his aims + and fought for them again and again. Without Mr. Soulter he + felt defenceless before the ordeal of the Opening, and he + wished that he might fly back to London instantly. Nevertheless + the contact of the cool, clean sheets was exquisite, and he + went to sleep at once, just as he was realizing the extremity + of his fatigue.</p> + + <p>He did not have his sleep out. Despite the menace of death, + a courageous creature heavily knocked at his door at ten + o'clock and entered. It was a page-boy with a telegram. George + opened the envelope resentfully.</p> + + <p>"No answer."</p> + + <p>The telegram read:</p> + + <p>"Am told we have got it.—PONTING"</p> + + <p>Ponting was George's assistant. The news referred to a + competition for an enormous barracks in India—one of the + two competitions pending. It had come sooner than expected. Was + it true? George was aware that Ponting had useful + acquaintanceship with a clerk in the India Office.</p> + + <p>He thought, trying not to believe:</p> + + <p>"Of course Ponting will swallow anything."</p> + + <p>But he made no attempt to sleep again. He was too + elated.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='V'> + </a> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Through a strange circumstance George arrived late for the + Opening lunch in the lower hall, but he was late in grave + company. He had been wandering aimlessly and quite alone about + the great interiors of the town hall when he caught sight of + Mr. Phirrips, the contractor, with the bishop and the most + famous sporting peer of the north, a man who for some mystical + reason was idolized by the masses of the city. Unfortunately + Mr. Phirrips also caught sight of George. "Bishop, here is Mr. + Cannon, our architect. He will be able to explain perhaps + better—" And in an instant Mr. Phirrips had +<!-- Page 240 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page235" name="page235">[pg 235]</a> + </span> + + executed one of those feats of prestidigitation for which he + was renowned in contracting circles, left George with the + bishop, and gone off with his highly prized quarry, the + sporting peer. George, despite much worldliness, had never + before had speech with a bishop. However, the bishop played his + part in a soothingly conventional way, manipulated his apron + and his calves with senile dignity, stood still and gazed + ardently at ceilings and vistas, and said at intervals, + explosively and hoarsely: "Ha! Very, interesting! Very + interesting! Very fine! Very fine! Noble!" He also put + intelligent questions to the youthful architect, such as: "How + many bricks have been used in this building?" He was very + leisurely, as though the whole of eternity was his.</p> + + <p>"I'm afraid we may be late for the luncheon," George + ventured.</p> + + <p>The bishop looked at him blandly, leaning forward, and + replied, after holding his mouth open for a moment:</p> + + <p>"They will not begin without us. I say grace." His antique + eye twinkled.</p> + + <p>After this George liked him, and understood that he was + really a bishop.</p> + + <p>In the immense hubbub of the lower hall the bishop was + seized upon by officials, and conducted to a chair a few places + to the right of His Worship the Mayor. Though there was + considerable disorder and confusion (doubtless owing to the + absence of Alderman Soulter, who had held all the strings in + his hand) everybody agreed that the luncheon scene in the lower + hall was magnificent. The Mayor, in his high chair and in his + heavy chain and glittering robe, ruled in the centre of the + principal table, from which lesser tables ran at right angles. + The Aldermen and Councillors, also chained and robed, well + sustained the brilliance of the Mayor, and the ceremonial + officials of the city surpassed both Mayor and Council in + grandeur. Sundry peers and M.P.'s and illustrious capitalists + enhanced the array of renown, and the bishop was rivalled by + priestly dignitaries scarcely less grandiose than himself. And + then there were the women. The women had been let in. During + ten years of familiarity with the city's life George had hardly + spoken to a woman, except Mr. Soulter's Scotch half-sister. The + men lived a life of their own, which often extended to the + evenings, and very many of them when mentioning women employed + a peculiar tone. But now the women were disclosed in bulk, and + the display +<!-- Page 241 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page236" name="page236">[pg 236]</a> + </span> + + startled George. He suddenly saw all the city fathers and their + sons in a new light.</p> + + <p>The bishop had his appointed chair, with a fine feminine hat + on either side of him, but George could not find that any + particular chair had been appointed to himself. Eventually he + saw an empty chair in the middle of a row of men at the + right-hand transverse table, and he took it. He had expected, + as the sole artistic creator of the town hall whose completion + the gathering celebrated, to be the object of a great deal of + curiosity at the luncheon. But in this expectation he was + deceived. If any curiosity concerning him existed, it was + admirably concealed. The authorities, however, had not entirely + forgotten him, for the Town Clerk that morning had told him + that he must reply to the toast of his health. He had protested + against the shortness of the notice, whereupon the Town Clerk + had said casually that a few words would + suffice—anything, in fact, and had hastened off. George + was now getting nervous. He was afraid of hearing his own voice + in that long, low interior which he had made. He had no desire + to eat. He felt tired. Still, his case was less acute than it + would have been had the august personage originally hoped for + attended the luncheon. The august personage had not attended on + account of an objection, apropos of an extreme passage in an + election campaign speech, to the occupant of the mayoral chair + (who had thus failed to be transformed into a Lord Mayor). The + whole city had then, though the Mayor was not over-popular, + rallied to its representative, and the Council had determined + that the inauguration should be a purely municipal affair, a + family party, proving to the august and to the world that the + city was self-sufficing. The episode was characteristic.</p> + + <p>George heard a concert of laughter, which echoed across the + room. At the end of the main table Mr. Phirrips had become a + centre of gaiety. Mr. Phirrips, whom George and the + clerk-of-the-works had had severe and constant difficulty in + keeping reasonably near the narrow path of rectitude, was a + merry, sharp, smart, middle-aged man with a skin that always + looked as if he had just made use of an irritant soap. He was + one of the largest contractors in England, and his name on the + hoarding of any building in course of erection seemed to give + distinction to that building. He was very rich, and popular in + municipal circles, and especially with certain councillors, + including a labour councillor. George +<!-- Page 242 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page237" name="page237">[pg 237]</a> + </span> + + wondered whether Mr. Phirrips would make a speech. No + toast-list was visible in George's vicinity.</p> + + <p>To George the meal seemed to pass with astounding celerity. + The old bishop said grace in six words. The Toast-master bawled + for silence. The health of all classes of society who could + rely upon good doctors was proposed and heartily + drunk—princes, prelates, legislators, warriors, + judges—but the catalogue was cut short before any + eccentric person could propose the health of the one-roomed + poor, of whom the city was excessively prolific. And then the + Mayor addressed himself to the great business of the town hall. + George listened with throat dry; by way of precaution he had + drunk nothing during the meal; and at each toast he had merely + raised the glass to his lips and infinitesimally sipped; the + coffee was bad and cold and left a taste in his mouth; but + everything that he had eaten left a taste in his mouth. The + Mayor began: "My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,—During the + building of this—er—er— + <i>structure</i> + + ...." All his speech was in that manner and that key. + Nevertheless he was an able and strong individual, and as an + old trade union leader could be fiercely eloquent with + working-men. He mentioned Alderman Soulter, and there was a + tremendous cheer. He did not mention Alderman Soulter again; a + feud burned between these two. After Alderman Soulter he + mentioned finance. He said that that was not the time to refer + to finance, and then spoke of nothing else but finance + throughout the remainder of his speech, until he came to the + peroration—"success and prosperity to our new town hall, + the grandest civic monument which any city has erected to + itself in this country within living memory, aye, and beyond." + The frantic applause atoned for the lack of attention and the + semi-audible chattering which had marred the latter part of the + interminable and sagacious harangue. George thought: "Pardon + me! The city has not erected this civic monument. I have + erected it." And he thought upon all the labour he had put into + it, and all the beauty and magnificence which he had evolved. + Alderman Soulter should have replied on behalf of the town hall + committee, and the Alderman who took his place apologized for + his inability to fill the role, and said little.</p> + + <p>Then the Toast-master bawled incomprehensibly for the + twentieth time, and a councillor arose and in timid tones + said:</p> + + <p>"I rise to propose the toast of the architect and + contractor."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 243 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page238" name="page238">[pg 238]</a> + </span> + + George was so astounded that he caught scarcely anything of the + speech. It was incredible to him that he, the creative artist, + who was solely responsible for the architecture and decoration + of the monument, in whose unique mind it had existed long + before the second brick had been placed upon the first, should + be bracketed in a toast with the tradesman and middleman who + had merely supervised the execution of his scheme according to + rules of thumb. He flushed. He wanted to walk out. But nobody + else appeared to be disturbed. George, who had never before + attended an inauguration, was simply not aware that the toast + 'architect and contractor' was the classic British toast, + invariably drunk on such occasions, and never criticised. He + thought: "What a country!" and remembered hundreds of Mr. + Enwright's remarks.... Phrases of the orator wandered into his + ear. "The competition system.... We went to Sir Hugh Corver, + the head of the architectural profession [loud applause] and + Sir Hugh Corver assured us that the design of Mr. George Cannon + was the best. [Hear, hear! Hear, hear!]... Mr. Phirrip, head of + the famous firm of Phirrips Limited [loud applause] ... + fortunate, after our misfortune with the original contractor to + obtain such a leading light.... Cannot sufficiently thank these + two—er + <i>officials</i> + + for the intellect, energy, and patience they have put into + their work."</p> + + <p>As the speech was concluding, a tactless man sitting next to + George, with whom he had progressed very slowly in acquaintance + during the lunch, leaned towards him and murmured in a + confidential tone:</p> + + <p>"Did I tell you both naval yards up here have just had + orders to work day and night? Yes. Fact."</p> + + <p>George's mind ran back to Mr. Prince, and Mr. Prince's + prophecy of war. Was there something in it after all? The + thought passed in an instant, but the last vestiges of his + equanimity had gone. Hearing his name he jumped up in a mist + inhabited by inimical phantoms, and, amid feeble acclamations + here and there, said he knew not what in a voice now absurdly + loud and now absurdly soft, and sat down, amid more feeble + acclamations, feeling an angry fool. It was the most hideous + experience. He lit a cigarette, his first that day.</p> + + <p>When Mr. Phirrips rose, the warm clapping was expectant of + good things.</p> + + <p>"When I was a little boy I remember my father telling +<!-- Page 244 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page239" name="page239">[pg 239]</a> + </span> + + me that this town hall had been started. I never expected to + live to see it finished—"</p> + + <p>Delighted guffaws, uproarious laughter, explosions of mirth, + interrupted this witty reference to the delays in construction. + The speaker smiled at ease. His eyes glinted. He knew his + audience, held it consummately, and went on.</p> + + <p>In the afternoon there was a conversazione, or reception, + for the lunchers and also for the outer fringe of the city's + solid respectability. The whole of the town hall from basement + to roof was open to view, and citizens of all ages wandered in + it everywhere, admiring it, quizzing it, and feeling proudly + that it was theirs. George too wandered about, feeling that it + was his. He was slowly recovering from the humiliation of the + lunch. Much of the building pleased him greatly; at the + excellence of some effects and details he marvelled; the entry + into the large hall from the grand staircase was dramatic, just + as he had had intended it should be; the organ was being + played, and word went round that the acoustic (or acoostic) + properties of the auditorium were perfect, and unrivalled by + any auditorium in the kingdom. On the other hand, the crudity + of certain other effects and details irritated the creator, + helping him to perceive how much he had learnt in ten years; in + ten years, for example, his ideas about mouldings had been + quite transformed. What chiefly satisfied him was the + demonstration, everywhere, that he had mastered his deep + natural impatience of minutiae —that instinct which often + so violently resented the exacting irksomeness of trifles in + the realization of a splendid idea. At intervals he met an + acquaintance and talked, but nobody at all appeared to + comprehend that he alone was the creator of the mighty pile, + and that all the individuals present might be divided + artistically into two classes—himself in one class, the + entire remainder in the other. And nobody appeared to be + inconvenienced by the sense of the height of his achievement or + of the splendour of his triumph that day. It is true that the + north hates to seem impressed, and will descend to any + duplicity in order not to seem impressed.</p> + + <p>The Town Clerk's clerk came importantly up to him and + asked:</p> + + <p>"How many reserved seats would you like for the + concert?"</p> + + <p>A grand ballad concert, at which the most sentimental of + contraltos, helped by other first-class throats, was to + minister wholesale to the insatiable secret sentimentality of + the north, had been arranged for the evening.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 245 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page240" name="page240">[pg 240]</a> + </span> + + One will be enough," said George.</p> + + <p>"Are you alone?" asked the Town Clerk's clerk.</p> + + <p>George took the ticket. None of the city fathers or their + fashionable sons had even invited him to dinner. He went forth + and had tea alone, while reading in an evening paper about the + Austro-Serbian situation, in the tea-rooms attached to a + cinema-palace. The gorgeous rooms, throbbing to two-steps and + fox-trots, were crammed with customers; but the waitresses + behaved competently. Thence he drove out in a taxi to the + residence of Alderman Soulter. He could see neither the + Alderman nor Miss Soulter; he learnt that the condition of the + patient was reassuring, and that the patient had a very good + constitution. Back at the hotel, he had to wait for dinner. In + due course he ate the customary desolating table-d'hote dinner + which is served simultaneously in the vast, odorous + dining-rooms, all furnished alike, of scores and scores of + grand hotels throughout the provinces. Having filled his + cigar-case, he set out once more into the beautiful summer + evening. In broad Side Gate were massed the chief resorts of + amusement. The façade of the Empire music-hall glowed with + great rubies and emeralds and amethysts and topazes in the + fading light. Its lure was more powerful than the lure of the + ballad concert. Ignoring his quasi-official duty to the + greatest of sentimental contraltos, he pushed into the splendid + foyer of the Empire. One solitary stall, half a crown, was left + for the second house; he bought it, eager in transgression; he + felt that the ballad concert would have sent him mad.</p> + + <p>The auditorium of the Empire was far larger than the + auditorium of the town hall, and it was covered with gold. The + curving rows of plush-covered easy chairs extended backwards + until faces became indistinguishable points in the smoke-misted + gloom. Every seat was occupied; the ballad concert had made no + impression upon the music-hall. The same stars that he could + see in London appeared on the gigantic stage in the same songs + and monologues; and as in London the indispensable revue was + performed, but with a grosser and more direct licentiousness + than the West End would have permitted. And all proceeded with + inexorable exactitude according to time-table. And in scores + and scores of similar Empires, Hippodromes, Alhambras, and + Pavilions throughout the provinces, similar entertainments were + proceeding with the same exactitude—another example of + the huge standardization of life. George laughed with the best +<!-- Page 246 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page241" name="page241">[pg 241]</a> + </span> + + at the inventive drollery of the knock-about + comedians—Britain's sole genuine contribution to the art + of the modern stage. But there were items in the Empire + programme that were as awful in their tedium as anything at the + ballad concert could be—moments when George could not + bear to look over the footlights. And these items were + applauded in ecstasy by the enchanted audience. He thought of + the stupidity, the insensibility, the sheer ignorance of the + exalted lunchers; and he compared them with these qualities in + the Empire audience, and asked himself sardonically whether all + artists had lived in vain. But the atmosphere of the Empire was + comfortable, reassuring, inspiring. The men had their pipes, + cigarettes, and women; the women had the men, the luxury, the + glitter, the publicity. They had attained, they were happy. The + frightful curse of the provinces, ennui, had been conjured away + by the beneficent and sublime institution invented, organized, + and controlled by three great trusts.</p> + + <p>George stayed till the end of the show. The emptying of the + theatre was like a battle, like the flight of millions from a + conflagration. All humanity seemed to be crowded into the + corridors and staircases. Jostled and disordered, he emerged + into the broad street, along which huge, lighted trams slowly + thundered. He walked a little, starting a fresh cigar. The + multitude had resumed its calm. A few noisy men laughed and + swore obscene oaths; and girls, either in couples or with men, + trudged, demure and unshocked, past the roysterers, as though + they had neither ears to hear nor eyes to see. In a few minutes + the processions were dissipated, dissolved into the vastness of + the city, and the pavements nearly deserted. George strolled on + towards the Square. The town hall stood up against the velvet + pallor of the starry summer night, massive, lovely, supreme, + deserted. He had conceived it in an office in Russell Square + when he was a boy. And there it was, the mightiest monument of + the city which had endured through centuries of astounding + corporate adventure. He was overwhelmed, and he was + inexpressibly triumphant. Throughout the day he had had no + recognition; and as regards the future, few, while ignorantly + admiring the monument, would give a thought to the artist. + Books were eternally signed, and pictures, and sculpture. But + the architect was forgotten. What did it matter? If the + creators of Gothic cathedrals had to accept oblivion, he might. + The tower should be his signature. And no artist could imprint + his influence so powerfully and so mysteriously upon the un +<!-- Page 247 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page242" name="page242">[pg 242]</a> + </span> + + conscious city as he was doing. And the planet was whirling the + whole city round like an atom in the icy spaces between the + stars. And perhaps Lois was lying expectant, discontented, upon + the sofa, thinking rebelliously. He was filled with the + realization of universality.</p> + + <p>At the hotel another telegram awaited him.</p> + + <p>"Good old Ponting!" he exclaimed, after reading it. The + message ran:</p> + + <p>"We have won it.—PONTING"</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"Why 'we,' Ponting? You didn't win it. I won it."</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"Sir Hugh Corver is not going to be the head of the + architectural profession. I am." He felt the assurance of that + in his bones.</p> + + <hr /> + +<!-- Page 248 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page243" name="page243">[pg 243]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + + <h3>THE ROLL-CALL</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The telephone rang in the principal's room of George's + office in Museum Street. He raised his head from the + drawing-board with the false gesture of fatigued impatience + which, as a business man, he had long since acquired, and took + the instrument. As a fact he was not really busy; he was only + pretending to be busy; and he rather enjoyed the summons of the + telephone, with its eternal promise of some romantic new turn + of existence. Nevertheless, though he was quite alone, he had + to affect that the telephone was his bane.</p> + + <p>"Can Sir Isaac Davids speak to you, sir, from the Artists + Club?"</p> + + <p>"Put him on."</p> + + <p>Immediately came the thick, rich voice of Sir Isaac, with + its implications of cynicism and triumphant + disdain—attenuated and weakened in the telephone, + suggesting an object seen through the wrong end of a + telescope.</p> + + <p>"Is that you, Cannon?"</p> + + <p>"It is," said George shortly. Without yet knowing it, he had + already begun to hate Sir Isaac. His criticism of Sir Isaac was + that the man was too damnably sure of himself. And not all Sir + Isaac's obvious power, and influence, and vast potential + usefulness to a young architect, could prevent George from + occasionally, as he put it, 'standing up to the fellow.'</p> + + <p>"Well, you'd better come along here, if you can. I want to + see you," said the unruffled voice of Sir Isaac.</p> + + <p>"Now?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"All right."</p> + + <p>As George replaced the instrument, he murmured:</p> + + <p>"I know what that means. It's all off." And after a moment: + "I knew jolly well it would be."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 249 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page244" name="page244">[pg 244]</a> + </span> + + He glanced round the very orderly room, to which, by judicious + furnishing, he had given a severe distinction at no great cost. + On the walls were a few interesting things, including a couple + of his own perspectives. A neo-impressionist oil-sketch over + the mantelpiece, with blue trees and red fields and a girl + whose face was a featureless blob, imperiously monopolized the + attention of the beholder, warning him, whoever he might be, + that the inescapable revolutionary future was now at hand. The + room and everything in it, that entity upon which George had + spent so much trouble, and of which he had been so proud, + seemed futile, pointless, utterly unprofitable.</p> + + <p>The winning of the Indian limited competition, coupled with + the firm rumour that Sir Isaac Davids had singled him out for + patronage, had brilliantly renewed George's reputation and the + jealousy which proved its reality. The professional journals + had been full of him, and everybody assured everybody that his + ultimate, complete permanent success had never been in doubt. + The fact that the barracks would be the largest barracks in + India indicated to the superstitious, and to George himself, + that destiny intended him always to break records. After the + largest town hall, the largest barracks; and it was said that + Sir Isaac's factory was to be the largest factory! But the + outbreak of war had overthrown all reputations, save the + military and the political. Every value was changed according + to a fresh standard, as in a shipwreck. For a week George had + felt an actual physical weight in the stomach. This weight was + his own selfish woe, but it was also the woe of the entire + friendly world. Every architect knew and said that the + profession of architecture would be ruined for years. Then the + India Office woke George up. The attitude of the India Office + was overbearing. It implied that it had been marvellously + original and virtuous in submitting the affair of its barracks + to even a limited competition, when it might just as easily + have awarded the job to any architect whom it happened to know, + or whom its wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know, or whose + wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know the India + Office—and further, that George ought therefore to be + deeply grateful. It said that in view of the war the barracks + must be erected with the utmost possible, or rather with quite + impossible, dispatch, and that George would probably have to go + to India at once. Simultaneously it daily modified George's + accepted plans for the structure, exactly as though it was a + professional architect +<!-- Page 250 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page245" name="page245">[pg 245]</a> + </span> + + and George an amateur, and it involved him in a seemly but + intense altercation between itself and the subordinate + bureaucracy of a Presidency. It kept George employed. In due + course people discovered that business must proceed as usual, + and even the architectural profession, despite its traditional + pessimism, had hopes of municipalities and other bodies which + were to inaugurate public works in order to diminish + unemployment.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless George had extreme difficulty in applying + himself efficiently to urgent tasks. He kept thinking: "It's + come! It's come!" He could not get over the fact that it had + come—the European War which had obsessed men's minds for + so many years past. He saved the face of his own theory as to + the immediate impossibility of a great war, by positively + asserting that Germany would never have fought had she foreseen + that Britain would fight. He prophesied (to himself) Germany's + victory, German domination of Europe, and, as the grand central + phenomenon, mysterious ruin for George Edwin Cannon. But the + next instant he would be convinced that Germany would be + smashed, and quickly. Germany, he reckoned superiorly, in + 'taking on England' had 'bitten off more than she could + chew.'</p> + + <p>He knew almost naught of the progress of the fighting. He + had obtained an expensive map of Western Europe and some + flagged pins, and had hung the map up in his hall and had stuck + the pins into it with exactitude. He had moved the pins daily, + until little Laurencine one morning, aloft on a chair, decided + to change all the positions of the opposing armies. Laurencine + established German army corps in Marseilles, the Knockmillydown + Mountains, and Torquay, while sending the French to Elsinore + and Aberdeen. There was trouble in the house. Laurencine + suffered, and was given to understand that war was a serious + matter. Still, George soon afterwards had ceased to manipulate + the pins; they seemed to be incapable of arousing his + imagination; he could not be bothered with them; he could not + make the effort necessary to acquire a scientific conception of + the western campaign—not to mention the eastern, as to + which his ignorance was nearly perfect.</p> + + <p>Yet he read much about the war. Some of the recounted + episodes deeply and ineffaceably impressed him. For example, an + American newspaper correspondent had written a dramatic + description of the German army marching, marching steadily + along a great Belgian high road—a proces +<!-- Page 251 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page246" name="page246">[pg 246]</a> + </span> + + sion without beginning and without end—and of the + procession being halted for his benefit, and of a German + officer therein who struck a soldier several times in the face + angrily with his cane, while the man stood stiffly at + attention. George had an ardent desire to spend a few minutes + alone with that officer; he could not get the soldier's bruised + cheek out of his memory.</p> + + <p>Again, he was moved and even dismayed by the recitals of the + entry of the German army into Brussels and of its breaking into + the goose-step as it reached the Grande Place, though he + regarded the goose-step as too ridiculous and contemptible for + words. Then the French defence of Dinant, and the Belgian + defence of Liége, failure as it was, and the obstinate + resistance at Namur, inspired him; and the engagements between + Belgians and Uhlans, in which the clumsy Uhlans were always + scattered, destroyed for him the dread significance of the term + 'Uhlan.'</p> + + <p>He simply did not comprehend that all these events were + negligible trifles, that no American correspondent had seen the + hundredth part of the enemy forces, that the troops which + marched through Brussels were a tiny, theatrical side-show, a + circus, that the attack on Liége had been mismanaged, that + the great battle at Dinant was a mere skirmish in the new scale + of war, and the engagements with Uhlans mere scuffles, and that + behind the screen of these infinitesimal phenomena + <i>the German army</i> + + , unimagined in its hugeness, horror, and might, was creeping + like a fatal and monstrous caterpillar surely towards + France.</p> + + <p>A similar screen hid from him the realities of England. He + saw bunting and recruits, and the crowds outside consulates. + But he had no idea of the ceaseless flight of innumerable + crammed trains day and night southwards, of the gathering + together of Atlantic liners and excursion steamers from all the + coasts into an unprecedented Armada, of the sighting of the + vanguard of that Armada by an incredulous Boulogne, of the + landing of British regiments and guns and aeroplanes in the + midst of a Boulogne wonderstruck and delirious, and of the + thrill which thereupon ecstatically shivered through France. He + knew only that 'the Expeditionary Force had landed in + safety.'</p> + + <p>He could not believe that a British Army could face + successfully the legendary Prussians with their Great General + Staff, and yet he had a mystic and entirely illogical belief in + the invincibility of the British Army. He had read somewhere + that the German forces amounted in all to the equiva +<!-- Page 252 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page247" name="page247">[pg 247]</a> + </span> + + lent of over three hundred divisions; he had been reliably told + that the British forces in France amounted to three divisions + and some cavalry. It was most absurd; but his mysticism + survived the absurdity, so richly was it nourished by news from + the strange, inartistic colonies, where architecture was not + understood. Revelation came to George that the British Empire, + which he had always suspected to be an invention of those + intolerable persons the Imperialists, was after all something + more than a crude pink smear across the map of the world.</p> + + <p>Withal he was acutely dejected as he left his office to go + to the club.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='II'> + </a> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Sir Isaac was sitting quite alone in the large smoking-room + of the Artists in Albemarle Street—a beautiful apartment + terribly disfigured by its pictures, which had been procured + from fashionable members in the fashionable taste of twenty + years earlier, and were crying aloud for some one brave enough + to put them out of their misery. No interpretation of the word + 'artist' could by any ingenuity be stretched to include Sir + Isaac. Nevertheless he belonged to the club, and so did a + number of other men in like case. The difference between Sir + Isaac and the rest was that Sir Isaac did actually buy + pictures, though seldom from fashionable painters.</p> + + <p>He was a personage of about forty-five years, with a rather + prominent belly, but not otherwise stout; a dark man; plenty of + stiff black hair (except for one small central bald patch); a + rank moustache, and a clean-shaven chin apparently woaded in + the manner of the ancient Britons; elegantly and yet severely + dressed—braided morning-coat, striped trousers, small, + skin-fitting boots, a black flowered-silk necktie. As soon as + you drew near him you became aware of his respiratory + processes; you were bound to notice continually that without + ceasing he carried on the elemental business of existence. Hair + sprouted from his nose, and the nose was enormous; it led at a + pronounced slope to his high forehead, which went on upwards at + exactly the same angle and was lost in his hair. If the chin + had weakly receded, as it often does in this type, Sir Isaac + would have had a face like a spear-head, like a ram of which + the sharp point was the top of his nose; but Sir Isaac's chin + was square, and the wall of it perpendicular.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 253 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page248" name="page248">[pg 248]</a> + </span> + + His expression was usually inquisitive, dissatisfied, and + disdainful—the effect being produced by a slight lifting + of the back of the nostrils and a slight tipping forward of the + whole head. His tone, however, often by its bluff good-humour, + contradicted the expression. He had in an extreme degree the + appearance of a Jew, and he had the names of a Jew; and most + people said he was a Jew. But he himself seriously denied it. + He asserted that he came of a Welsh Nonconformist family, + addicted to christening its infants out of the Bible, and could + prove his descent for generations—not that he minded + being taken for a Jew (he would add), was indeed rather + flattered thereby, but he simply was not a Jew. At any rate he + was Welsh. A journalist had described him in a phrase: "All the + time he's talking to you in English you feel he's thinking + something different in Welsh." He was an exceedingly rich + industrial, and had made his money by organization; he seemed + always to have leisure.</p> + + <p>"Here," he curtly advised George, producing a magnificent + Partaga, similar to the one he was himself smoking, "you'd + better have this."</p> + + <p>He cut the cigar carefully with a club tool, and pushed the + match-stand across the table with a brusque gesture. George + would not thank him for the cigar.</p> + + <p>"You're on that Indian barracks, aren't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes. They're in a Hades of a hurry."</p> + + <p>"Well, my factory is in much more of a hurry."</p> + + <p>George was startled. He had heard nothing of the factory for + a month, and had assumed that the war had scotched the + enterprise.</p> + + <p>He said:</p> + + <p>"Then the war won't stop you?"</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac shook his head slowly, with an arrogant smile. It + then occurred to George that this man differed strangely from + all other men—because the sinister spell of the war had + been powerless over him alone. All other men bore the war in + their faces and in their gestures, but this man did not.</p> + + <p>"I'm going to make munitions now—explosives. I'm going + to have the biggest explosives factory in the world. However, + the modifications in the general plan won't be serious. I want + to talk to you about that."</p> + + <p>"Have you got contracts, then, already?"</p> + + <p>"No. Both the War Office and the Admiralty have told me they + have all the explosives they want," he sneered. "But I've made + a few inquiries, and I think that by the +<!-- Page 254 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page249" name="page249">[pg 249]</a> + </span> + + time my factory's up they'll be wanting more explosives than + they can get. In fact I wish I could build half a dozen + factories. Dare say I shall."</p> + + <p>"Then you think we're in for a long war?"</p> + + <p>"Not specially that. If it's a long war you English will + win. If it's a short war the Germans will win, and it will be + the end of France as a great power. That's all."</p> + + <p>"Won't it be the end of your factory too?"</p> + + <p>"Noh!" exclaimed Sir Isaac, with careless compassion in his + deep, viscid voice. "If it's a short war, there'll be another + war. You English will never leave it alone. So that whatever + happens, if I take up explosives, I can't go wrong. It's + velvet."</p> + + <p>"It seems to me we shall bust up the whole world if we + aren't careful, soon."</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac smiled more compassion.</p> + + <p>"Not at all," he said easily. "Not at all. Things are always + arranged in the end—more or less satisfactorily, of + course. It's up to the individual to look out for himself."</p> + + <p>George said:</p> + + <p>"I was thinking of going into the Army."</p> + + <p>The statement was not strictly untrue, but he had never + formulated it, and he had never thought consecutively of such a + project, which did indeed appear too wild and unpractical for + serious consideration.</p> + + <p>"This recruiting's been upsetting you."</p> + + <p>George's vague patriotism seemed to curdle at these + half-dozen scornful words.</p> + + <p>"Do you think I oughtn't to go into the Army, Sir + Isaac?"</p> + + <p>"My dear boy, any——can go into the Army. And if + you go into the Army you'll lose your special qualities. I see + you as the best factory designer we have, architecturally. + You've only just started, but you have it in you. And your + barracks is pretty good. Of course, if you choose to indulge in + sentimentality you can deprive the country of an architect in a + million and make it a present of a mediocre soldier—for + you haven't got the mind of a soldier. But if you do that, mark + my words—you'll only do it to satisfy the egotism that + you call your heart, you'll only do it in order to feel + comfortable; just as a woman gives a penny to a beggar and + thinks it's charity when it's nothing of the sort. There are + fellows that go and enlist because they hear a band play."</p> + + <p>"Yes," George concurred. He hated to feel himself confronted + by a mind more realistic than his own, but he was +<!-- Page 255 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page250" name="page250">[pg 250]</a> + </span> + + realistic enough to admit the fact. What Sir Isaac said was + unanswerable, and it appealed very strongly to George. He cast + away his sentimentality, ashamed of it. And at the same time he + felt greatly relieved in other ways.</p> + + <p>"You'd better put this Indian barracks on one side as much + as you can, or employ some one to help you. I shall want all + your energies."</p> + + <p>"But I shall probably have to go to India. The thing's very + urgent."</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac scorned him in a profound gaze. The smoke from + their two magnificent cigars mingled in a canopy above + them.</p> + + <p>"Not it!" said Sir Isaac. "What's more, it's not wanted at + all. They think it is, because they're absolutely incapable of + thought. They know the word 'war' and they know the word + 'barracks.' They put them together and imagine it's logic. They + say: 'We were going to build a barracks, and now we're at war. + Therefore we must hurry up with the barracks.' That's how they + reason, and the official mind will never get beyond it. + <i>Why</i> + + do they want the barracks? If they want the barracks, what's + the meaning of what they call 'the response of the Indian + Empire'? Are they going to send troops to India or take them + away from India? They're going to take them away, of course. + Mutiny of India's silent millions? Rubbish! Not because a + mutiny would contradict the far-famed 'response of the Indian + Empire,' but because India's silent millions haven't got a + rifle amongst them. You needn't tell me they've given you forty + reasons for getting on with that barracks. I know their + reasons. All of 'em put together only mean that in a dull, dim + Oxford-and-Cambridge way they see a connexion between the word + 'war' and the word 'barracks.'"</p> + + <p>George laughed, and then, after a few seconds, Sir Isaac + gave a short, rough laugh.</p> + + <p>"But if they insist on me going to India—" George + began, and paused.</p> + + <p>Sir Isaac grew meditative.</p> + + <p>"I say, speaking of voyages," he murmured in a tone almost + dreamy. "If you have any loose money, put it into ships, and + keep it there. You'll double it, you'll treble it.... Any + ships. No matter what ships."</p> + + <p>"Well, I haven't got any loose money," said George curtly. + "And what I want to know is, if they insist on me going to + India, what am I to do?"</p> + + <p>"Tell them you can't go. Tell 'em your professional +<!-- Page 256 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page251" name="page251">[pg 251]</a> + </span> + + engagements won't permit it. They'll lick your boots, and ask + humbly if you can suggest any suitable person to represent you. + I shall want all your energies, and my factory will be worth + more to this country in the war than all the barracks under + heaven. Now just bend your eye to these."</p> + + <p>He took some papers from his tail-pocket. The discussion + grew technical.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='III'> + </a> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George sailed down Piccadilly westwards on the top of a + motor-bus. The August afternoon was superb. Piccadilly showed + more than its usual splendour of traffic, for the class to whom + the sacred word 'England' signified personal dominion and a + vast apparatus of personal luxury either had not gone away for + its holiday or had returned therefrom in a hurry. The newspaper + placards spoke of great feats of arms by the Allies. Through + the leafage of Hyde Park could be seen uncountable smart troops + manoeuvring in bodies. On the top of the motor-bus a student of + war was explaining to an ignorant friend that the active + adhesion of Japan, just announced, meant the beginning of the + end for Germany. From Japan he went to Namur, seeing that Namur + was the 'chief bastion' of the defensive line, and that hence + the Germans would not be 'allowed' to take it. Almost every + motor-bus carried a fine specimen of this type of philosopher, + to whom the whole travelling company listened while pretending + not to listen. George despised him for his manner, but agreed + with some of his reasoning.</p> + + <p>George was thinking chiefly about Sir Isaac. Impressive + person, Sir Isaac, even if hateful! It was remarkable how the + fellow seemed always to have leisure. Organization, of course! + Indubitably the fellow's arguments could not be gainsaid. The + firing-line was not the only or even the most important part of + the national war machine. To suppose otherwise was to share the + crude errors of the childlike populace and its Press. Men were + useless without guns, guns without shot, shot without + explosives; and explosives could not be produced without a + factory. The populace would never understand the close + interdependence of various activities; it would never see + beyond the recruiting station; it was meet only for pity. Sir + Isaac had uttered a very wise saying: "Things are always + arranged in the end ... It's up to the individual to look out + for himself." Sir Isaac was +<!-- Page 257 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page252" name="page252">[pg 252]</a> + </span> + + freed from the thrall of mob-sentimentality. He was a + super-man. And he was converting George into a super-man. + George might have gone back to the office, but he was going + home instead, because he could think creatively just as well + outside the office as inside—so why should he accept the + convention of the ordinary professional man. (Sir Isaac + assuredly did not.) He had telephoned to the office. A single + consideration appealed to him: How could he now best serve his + country? Beyond question he could now serve his country best as + an architect. If his duty marched with his advantage, what + matter? It was up to the individual to look out for himself. + And he, George, with already an immense reputation, would + steadily enhance his reputation, which in the end would surpass + all others in the profession. The war could not really touch + him—no more than it could touch Sir Isaac; by good + fortune, and by virtue of the impartiality of his intelligence, + he was above the war.... Yes, Sir Isaac, disliked and + unwillingly but deeply respected, had cleared his ideas for + him.</p> + + <p>In Elm Park Gardens he met the white-clad son of a Tory M.P. + who lived in that dignified street.</p> + + <p>"The very man! Come and make a fourth, will you, Cannon?" + asked the youth, dandiacal in flannels, persuasively and + flatteringly.</p> + + <p>George demanded with firmness:</p> + + <p>"Who are the other two?"</p> + + <p>"Miss Horton and Gladys What's-her-name."</p> + + <p>Why shouldn't he play at tennis? It was necessary to keep + fit.</p> + + <p>"All right. But not for long, you know."</p> + + <p>"That's all right. Hurry up and get into your things."</p> + + <p>"Ten minutes."</p> + + <p>And in little more than ten minutes he was swinging a racket + on the private sward that separates Elm Park Gardens East from + Elm Park Gardens West, and is common to the residents of both. + He had not encountered Lois at home, and had not thought it + necessary to seek her out. He and she were often invited to + play tennis in Elm Park Gardens.</p> + + <p>The grass was beautifully kept. At a little distance two + gardeners were at work, and a revolving sprinkler whirled + sprays of glinting water in a wide circle. The back windows of + the two streets disclosed not the slightest untidiness nor + deshabille; rising irregularly in tier over tier to the high + roof-line, they were all open, and all neatly curtained, and +<!-- Page 258 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page253" name="page253">[pg 253]</a> + </span> + + many of them had gorgeous sun-blinds. The sound of one or two + pianos emerged faintly on the warm, still afternoon. Miss + Horton and the slim Gladys were dressed in white, with short + skirts, at once elegant and athletic. Miss Horton, very tall + and strong, with clear eyes, and a complexion damaged by undue + exposure to healthy fresh air, was a fine player of many years' + experience, now at the decline of her powers. She played + seriously, every stroke conscientious and calculated, and she + gave polite, good-humoured hints to the youth, her partner. + George and Gladys were together. Gladys, eighteen, was a + delightful girl, the raw material of a very sound player; she + held herself well, and knew by instinct what style was. A white + belt defined her waist in the most enchanting fashion. George + appreciated her, as a specimen of the newest generation of + English girls. There were thousands of them in London alone, an + endless supply, with none of the namby-pambiness and the + sloppiness and the blowziness of their forerunners. Walking in + Piccadilly or Bond Street or the Park, you might nowadays fancy + yourself in Paris ... Why indeed should he not be playing + tennis at that hour? The month was August. The apparatus of + pleasure was there. Used or unused, it would still be there. It + could not be destroyed simply because the times were grave. And + there was his health; he would work better after the exercise. + What purpose could there be in mournful inactivity? Yet + continuously, as he ran about the court, and smiled at Gladys, + and called out the score, and exclaimed upon his failures in + precision, the strange, physical weight oppressed his stomach. + He supposed that nearly everybody carried that physical weight. + But did Sir Isaac? Did the delicious Gladys? The youth on the + other side of the net was in the highest spirits because in a + few days he would be entering Sandhurst.</p> + + <p>A butler appeared from the French window of the ground floor + of the M.P.'s house, walked down the curving path screened by a + pergola, and came near the court with a small white paper in + his solemn hand. At a suitable moment he gave the paper to the + young master, who glanced at it and stuffed it into his pocket; + the butler departed. A few minutes later the players changed + courts. While the girls chatted apart, the youth leaped over + the net, and, drawing the paper from his pocket, showed it + furtively to George. It bore the words:</p> + + <p>"Namur has fallen."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 259 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page254" name="page254">[pg 254]</a> + </span> + + The M.P.'s household received special news by telephone from a + friend at the War Office.</p> + + <p>The youth raised his eyebrows, and with a side-glance seemed + to say that there could be no object in telling the women + immediately. The next instant the game was resumed with full + ardour.</p> + + <p>George missed his strokes. Like thousands of other people, + untaught by the episode of Liége, he had counted upon + Namur. Namur, the bastion, the shoulder of the newly forming + line, if not impregnable, was expected to hold out for many + days. And it had tumbled like a tin church, and with it the + brave edifice of his confidence. He saw the Germans inevitably + in Paris, blowing up Paris quarter by quarter, arrondissement + by arrondissement, imposing peace, dictating peace, forcing + upon Europe unspeakable humiliations. He saw Great Britain + compelled to bow; and he saw worse than that. And the German + officer, having struck across the face with his cane the + soldier standing at attention, would go back to Germany in + triumph more arrogant than ever, to ogle adoring virgins and + push cowed and fatuous citizens off the pavement into the + gutter. The solid houses of Elm Park Gardens, with their rich + sun-blinds, the perfect sward, the white-frocked girls, the + respectful gardeners, the red motor-buses flitting past behind + the screen of bushes in the distance, even the butler in his + majestic and invulnerable self-conceit—the whole + systematized scene of correctness and tradition trembled as if + perceived through the quivering of hot air. Gladys, reliant on + the male and feeling that the male could no longer be relied + on, went 'off her game,' with apologies; the experience of Miss + Horton asserted itself, and the hard-fought set was lost by + George and his partner. He reminded the company that he had + only come for a short time, and left in a mood of bitter + blackness.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>In front of his own house George saw a tradesman's + coupé of the superior, discreet sort, with a smart horse + (the same being more 'distinctive' than motor-traction), a + driver liveried in black, and the initials of the firm in a + restrained monogram on the doors. He thought: "She's blueing + money again. Of course it's her own, but—" He was + extremely sardonic. In the drawing-room he found not only +<!-- Page 260 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page255" name="page255">[pg 255]</a> + </span> + + Lois but Laurencine and an attentive, respectful, bright-faced + figure rather stylishly dressed in black. This last was + fastening a tea-gown on the back of pale Lois, who stood up + with a fatigued, brave air. Laurencine sat critically observant + on the end of a sofa. The furniture of the room was heaped with + tea-gowns, and other garments not very dissimilar, producing a + rich and exciting effect. All three women quickened to George's + entry.</p> + + <p>"Oh! George!" said Lois querulously. "Are you going to play + tennis? I wish I could! I'm so glad you came in; we'd no idea + you were in the house, had we, Laurencine? Laurencine's giving + me a tea-gown. Which of them do you prefer? It's no good me + having one you don't like."</p> + + <p>He had been unjust to her, then.</p> + + <p>"It's really her birthday present," said Laurencine, "only a + bit late. Oh! Dear! Darling, do sit down, you're standing too + long."</p> + + <p>Both Laurencine and the young woman in black regarded Lois + with soft compassion, and she sat down. Laurencine too was a + mother. But she had retained her girlhood. She was a splendid, + powerful, erect creature, handsome, with a frank, benevolent, + sane face, at the height of her physical perfection. George had + a great fondness for her. Years earlier he had wondered how it + was that he had not fallen in love with her instead of with + Lois. But he knew the reason now. She lacked force of + individuality. She was an adorer by instinct. She adored Lois; + Lois could do no wrong. More strange, she adored her husband. + Ingenuous simpleton! Yet wise! Another thing was that her mind + was too pure. Instead of understanding, it rejected. It was a + mind absolutely impregnable to certain phenomena. And this girl + still enjoyed musical comedies and their successors in vogue, + the revues!</p> + + <p>"The Germans have taken Namur," George announced.</p> + + <p>The news impressed. Even the young woman in black permitted + herself by a facial gesture to show that she was interested in + the war as well as in tea-gowns, and apart from its effect on + tea-gowns.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Dear!" murmured Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"Is it serious?" Lois demanded.</p> + + <p>"You bet it is!" George replied.</p> + + <p>"But what's Sir John French doing, then? I say, Laurencine, + I think I shall have that pale blue one, after all, +<!-- Page 261 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page256" name="page256">[pg 256]</a> + </span> + + if you don't mind." The black young woman went across to the + piano and brought the pale blue one. "George, don't you think + so?"</p> + + <p>The gown was deferentially held out for his inspection.</p> + + <p>"Well, I can't judge if I don't see it on, can I?" he said, + yielding superciliously to their mood. Women were incurable. + Namur had fallen, but the room was full of finery, and the + finery claimed attention. And if Paris had fallen, it would + have been the same. So he told himself. Nevertheless the + spectacle of the heaped finery and its absorbed priestess was + very agreeable. Lois rose. Laurencine and the priestess helped + her to remove the white gown she wore, and to put on the blue + one. The presence of the male somewhat disturbed the priestess, + but the male had signified a wish and the wish was flattering + and had to be fulfilled. George, cynically, enjoyed her + constraint. He might at least have looked out of the window, + but he would not.</p> + + <p>"Yes, that's fine," he decided carelessly, when the + operation was done. He did not care a pin which tea-gown Lois + had.</p> + + <p>"I knew you'd like it better," said Lois eagerly. The other + two, in words or by demeanour, applauded his august choice.</p> + + <p>The affair was over. The priestess began to collect her + scattered stock into a light trunk. Behind her back, Lois took + hold of Laurencine and kissed her fondly. Laurencine smiled, + and persuaded Lois into a chair.</p> + + <p>"You will of course keep that on, madam?" the priestess + suggested.</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, darling, you must rest, really!" said Laurencine + earnestly.</p> + + <p>"Thank you, madam."</p> + + <p>In three minutes the priestess, bearing easily the trunk by + a strap, had gone, bowing. Lois's old tea-gown, flung across + the head of the sofa, alone remained to brighten the + furniture.</p> + + <p>The drawing-room door opened again immediately, and a + military officer entered. Laurencine sprang up with a little + girlish scream and ran to him.</p> + + <p>"Oh! Dearest! Have you got them already? You never told me + you would have! How lovely you look!"</p> + + <p>Blushing with pleasure and pride, she kissed him. It was + Everard Lucas. Laurencine had come to Elm Park Road that + afternoon with the first news that Everard, through a major + known to his late mother, had been offered a com +<!-- Page 262 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page257" name="page257">[pg 257]</a> + </span> + + mission in a Territorial line regiment. George, who saw Lucas + but seldom, had not the slightest idea of this enormous family + event, and he was astounded; he had not been so taken back by + anything perhaps for years. Lucas was rounder and his face + somewhat coarser than in the past; but the uniform had created + a new Lucas. It was beautifully made and he wore it well; it + suited him; he had the fine military air of a regular; he + showed no awkwardness, only a simple vanity.</p> + + <p>"Don't you feel as if you must kiss him, Lois darling?" said + Laurencine.</p> + + <p>"Oh! I certainly must!" Lois cried, forgetting her woes in + the new tea-gown and in the sudden ecstasy produced by the + advent of an officer into the family.</p> + + <p>Lucas bent down and kissed his sister-in-law, while + Laurencine beheld the act with delight.</p> + + <p>"The children must see you before you go," said Lois.</p> + + <p>"Madam, they shall see their uncle," Lucas answered. At any + rate his agreeable voice had not coarsened. He turned to + George: "What d'you think of it, George?"</p> + + <p>"My boy, I'm proud of you," said George. In his + tennis-flannels he felt like one who has arrived at an evening + party in morning-dress. And indeed he was proud of Lucas. + Something profound and ingenuous in him rose into his eyes and + caused them to shine.</p> + + <p>Lucas related his adventures with the tailor and other + purveyors, and explained that he had to 'join his regiment' the + next day, but would be able to remain in London for the + present. George questioned him about his business affairs.</p> + + <p>"No difficulty about that whatever!" said Lucas lightly. + "The old firm will carry on as usual; Enwright and Orgreave + will have to manage it between them; and of course they + wouldn't dream of trying to cut off the spondulicks. Not that I + should let that stop me if they did."</p> + + <p>"Yes, it's all very well for + <i>you</i> + + to talk like that!" said Lois, with a swift change of tone. + "You've got partners to do your work for you, and you've got + money.... Have you written to mother, Laurencine?"</p> + + <p>George objected to his wife making excuses. His gaze + faltered.</p> + + <p>"Of course, darling!" Laurencine answered eagerly, agreeing + with her sister's differentiation between George and Everard. + "No, not yet. But I'm going to to-night. Everard, we ought to + be off."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 263 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page258" name="page258">[pg 258]</a> + </span> + + I've got a taxi outside," said Lucas.</p> + + <p>"A taxi?" she repeated in a disappointed tone. And then, as + an afterthought: "Well, I have to call at Debenham's."</p> + + <p>The fact was that Laurencine wanted to be seen walking with + her military officer in some well-frequented thoroughfare. They + lived at Hampstead.</p> + + <p>Lois rang the bell.</p> + + <p>"Ask nurse to bring the children down, please—at + once," she told the parlourmaid.</p> + + <p>"So this is the new tea-gown, if I mistake not!" observed + Lucas in the pause. " + <i>Très chic</i> + + ! I suppose Laurencine's told you all about the chauffeur being + run off with against his will by a passionate virgin. + <i>I</i> + + couldn't start the car this morning myself."</p> + + <p>"You never could start a car by yourself, my boy," said + George. "What's this about the passionate virgin?"</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>George woke up in the middle of the night. Lois slept + calmly; he could just hear her soft breathing. He thought of + all the occupied bedrooms, of the health of children, the + incalculable quality in wives, the touchy stupidity of nurses + and servants. The mere human weight of the household oppressed + him terribly. And he thought of the adamant of landlords, the + shifty rapacity of tradesmen, the incompetence of clerks, the + mere pompous foolishness of Government departments, the + arrogance of Jew patrons, and the terrifying complexity of + problems of architecture on a large scale. He was the Atlas + supporting a vast world a thousand times more complex than any + problem of architecture. He wondered how he did it. But he did + do it, alone; and he kept on doing it. Let him shirk the + burden, and not a world but an entire universe would crumble. + If he told Lois that he was going to leave her, she would + collapse; she would do dreadful things. He was indispensable + not only at home but professionally. All was upon his shoulders + and upon nobody else's. He was bound, he was a prisoner, he had + no choice, he was performing his highest duty, he was + fulfilling the widest usefulness of which he was capable ... + Besides, supposing he did go insane and shirk the burden, they + would all say that he had been influenced by Lucas's +<!-- Page 264 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page259" name="page259">[pg 259]</a> + </span> + + uniform—the mere sight of the uniform!—like a girl! + He could not stand that, because it would be true. Not that he + would ever admit its truth! He recalled Lucas's tact in + refraining from any suggestion, even a jocular suggestion, that + he, George, ought also to be in uniform. Lucas was always + tactful. Be damned to his tact! And the too eager excuses made + by Lois in his behalf also grated on his susceptibility. He had + no need of excuses. The woman was taciturn by nature, and yet + she was constantly saying too much! And did any of the three of + them—Lois, Laurencine, and Lucas—really appreciate + the war? They did not. They could not envisage it. Lucas was + wearing uniform solely in obedience to an instinct.</p> + + <p>At this point the cycle of his reflections was completed, + and began again. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms.... + Thus, in the dark, warm night the contents of his mind revolved + endlessly, with extreme tedium and extreme distress, and each + moment his mood became more morbid.</p> + + <p>An occasional sound of traffic penetrated into the + room,—strangely mournful, a reminder of the immense and + ineffable melancholy of a city which could not wholly lose + itself in sleep. The window lightened. He could descry his + wife's portable clock on the night-table. A quarter to four. + Turning over savagely in bed, he muttered: "My night's done + for. And nearly five hours to breakfast. Good God!" The cycle + resumed, and was enlarged.</p> + + <p>At intervals he imagined that he dozed; he did doze, if it + is possible while you are dozing to know that you doze. His + personality separated into two personalities, if not more. He + was on a vast plain, and yet he was not there, and the + essential point of the scene was that he was not there. + Thousands and tens of thousands of men stood on this plain, + which had no visible boundaries. A roll-call was proceeding. A + resounding and mysterious voice called out names, and at each + name a man stepped briskly from the crowds and saluted and + walked away. But there was no visible person to receive the + salute; the voice was bodiless. George became increasingly + apprehensive; he feared a disaster, yet he could not believe + that it would occur. It did occur. Before it arrived he knew + that it was arriving. The voice cried solemnly:</p> + + <p>"George Edwin Cannon."</p> + + <p>An awful stillness and silence followed, enveloping the + entire infinite plain. George trembled. He was there, but +<!-- Page 265 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page260" name="page260">[pg 260]</a> + </span> + + he was not there. Men looked at each other, raising their + eyebrows. The voice did not deign to repeat the call. After a + suitable pause, the voice cried solemnly:</p> + + <p>"Everard Lucas."</p> + + <p>And Lucas in his new uniform stepped gravely forward and + saluted and walked away.</p> + + <p>"Was I asleep or awake?" George asked himself. He could not + decide. At any rate the scene impressed him. The bigness of the + plain, the summons, the silence, the utter absence of an + expression of reproof or regret—of any comment + whatever.</p> + + <p>At five o'clock he arose, and sat down in his dressing-gown + at Lois's very untidy and very small writing-desk, and wrote a + letter on her notepaper. The early morning was lovely; it was + celestial.</p> + + <p>"DEAR DAVIDS," the letter began.—That would annoy the + fellow, who liked the address respectful.—"Dear Davids, I + have decided to join the Army, and therefore cannot proceed + further with your commission. However, the general idea is + complete. I advise you to get it carried out by Lucas & + Enwright. Enwright is the best architect in England. You may + take this from me. I'm his disciple. You might ring me up at + the office this afternoon.—Yours faithfully, GEORGE + CANNON"</p> + + <p>"P.S.—Assuming you go to Lucas & Enwright, I can + either make some arrangement with them as to sharing fees + myself, or you can pay me an agreed sum for the work I've done, + and start afresh elsewhere. I shall want all the money I can + get hold of."</p> + + <p>Yes, Sir Isaac would be very angry. George smiled. He was + not triumphant, but he was calm. In the full sanity of the + morning, every reason against his going into the Army had + vanished. The material objection was ridiculous—with + Edwin Clayhanger at the back of him! Moreover, some money would + be coming in. The professional objection was equally + ridiculous. The design for the Indian barracks existed + complete; and middle-aged mediocrity could carry it out in a + fashion, and Lucas & Enwright could carry it out better + than he could carry it out himself. As for Davids, he had + written. There was nothing else of importance in his office. + The other competition had not been won. If people said that he + had been influenced by Lucas's uniform, +<!-- Page 266 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page261" name="page261">[pg 261]</a> + </span> + + well, they must say it. They would not say it for more than a + few days. After a few days the one interesting fact would be + that he had joined. By such simple and curt arguments did he + annihilate the once overwhelming reasons against his joining + the Army.</p> + + <p>But he did not trouble to marshal the reasons in favour of + his joining the Army. He had only one reason: he must! He quite + ignored the larger aspects of the war—the future of + civilization, freedom versus slavery, right versus wrong, even + the responsibilities of citizenship and the implications of + patriotism. His decision was the product, not of argument, but + of feeling. However, he did not feel a bit virtuous. He had to + join the Army, and 'that was all there was to it.' A beastly + nuisance, this world-war! It was interfering with his private + affairs; it might put an end to his private affairs altogether; + he hated soldiering; he looked inimically at the military + caste. An unspeakable nuisance. But there the war was, and he + was going to answer to his name. He simply could not tolerate + the dreadful silence and stillness on the plain after his name + had been called. "Pooh! Sheer sentimentality!" he said to + himself, thinking of the vision—half-dream, half-fancy. + "Rotten sentimentality!"</p> + + <p>He asked:</p> + + <p>"Damn it! Am I an Englishman or am I not?"</p> + + <p>Like most Englishmen, he was much more an Englishman than he + ever suspected.</p> + + <p>"What on earth are you doing, George?"</p> + + <p>At the voice of his wife he gave a nervous jump, and then + instantly controlled himself and looked round. Her voice was + soft, liquid, weak with slumber. But, lying calmly on one side, + her head half buried in the pillow, and the bedclothes pushed + back from her shoulders, she was wideawake and gazed at him + steadily.</p> + + <p>"I'm just writing a letter," he answered gruffly.</p> + + <p>"Now? What letter?"</p> + + <p>"Here! You shall read it." He walked straight across the + room in his gay pyjamas only partly hidden by the splendid + dressing-gown, and handed her the letter. Moving nothing but + her hand, she took the letter and held it in front of her eyes. + He sat down between the beds, on the edge of his own bed, + facing her.</p> + + <p>"Whatever is it?"</p> + + <p>"Read it. You've got it," he said, with impatience. He was + trembling, aware that the crisis had suddenly leapt at him.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 267 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page262" name="page262">[pg 262]</a> + </span> + + Oh!"</p> + + <p>She had read the opening phrase; she had received the first + shock. But the tone of her exclamation gave no clue at all to + her attitude. It might mean anything—anything. She shut + her eyes; then glanced at him, terror-struck, appealing, + wistful, implacable.</p> + + <p>"Not at once?"</p> + + <p>"Yes, at once."</p> + + <p>"But surely you'll at least wait until after October."</p> + + <p>He shook his head.</p> + + <p>"But why can't you?"</p> + + <p>"I can't."</p> + + <p>"But there's no object—"</p> + + <p>"I've got to do it."</p> + + <p>"You're horribly cruel."</p> + + <p>"Well, that's me!" He was sullen, and as hard as a + diamond.</p> + + <p>"George, I shall never be able to stand it. It's too much to + expect. It'll kill me."</p> + + <p>"Not it! What's the use of talking like that? If I'd been in + the Territorials before the war, like lots of chaps, I should + have been gone long ago, and you'd have stood it all right. + Don't you understand we're at war? Do you imagine the war can + wait for things like babies?"</p> + + <p>She cried:</p> + + <p>"It's no good your going on in that strain. You can't leave + me alone with all this house on my shoulders, and so that's + flat."</p> + + <p>"Who wants to leave you all alone in the house? You can go + and stay at Ladderedge, children and nurse and all." This + scheme presented itself to him as he spoke.</p> + + <p>"Of course I can't! We can't go and plant ourselves on + people like that. Besides—"</p> + + <p>"Can't you? You'll see!"</p> + + <p>He caught her eye. Why was he being so brutal to her? What + conceivable purpose was served by this harshness? He perceived + that his nerves were overstrung. And in a swift rush of insight + he saw the whole situation from her point of view. She was + exhausted by gestation; she lived in a world distorted. Could + she help her temperament? She was in the gravest need of his + support; and he was an ass, a blundering fool. His severity + melted within him, and secretly he became tender as only a man + can be.</p> + + <p>"You silly girl!" he said, slightly modifying his voice, + taking care not to disclose all at once the change in his + mood.</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 268 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page263" name="page263">[pg 263]</a> + </span> + + You silly girl! Can't you see they'll be so proud to have you + they won't be able to contain themselves? They'll turn the + whole place upside-down for you. I know them. They'll pretend + it's nothing, but mother won't sleep at night for thinking how + to arrange things for the best, and as for my cuckoo of an + uncle, if you notice something funny about your feet, it'll be + the esteemed alderman licking your boots. You'll have the time + of your life. In fact they'll ruin your character for you. + There'll be no holding you afterwards."</p> + + <p>She did not smile, but her eyes smiled. He had got the + better of her. He had been cleverer than she was. She was + beaten.</p> + + <p>"But we shall have no money."</p> + + <p>"Read the letter, child. I'm not a fool."</p> + + <p>"I know you're not a fool. No one knows that better than + me."</p> + + <p>He went on:</p> + + <p>"And what's uncle's money for, if it comes to that?"</p> + + <p>"But we can't spunge on them like that!"</p> + + <p>"Spunge be dashed! What's money for? It's no good till it's + spent. If he can't spend it on us, who can he spend it on? He + always makes out he's fiendishly hard, but he's the most + generous idiot ever born."</p> + + <p>"Yes, you're awfully like him."</p> + + <p>"I'm not."</p> + + <p>He was suddenly alive to the marvellous charm of the + intimacy of the scene with his wife, in the early summer dawn, + in the silent, enchanted house of sleepers, in the disorder of + the heaped bedroom. They were alone together, shameless in + front of one another, and nobody knew or saw, or could ever + know or see. Their relations were unique, the resultant of long + custom, of friction, of misunderstanding, of affection, of + incomprehensible instincts, of destiny itself. He thought: "I + have lived for this sensation, and it is worth living for."</p> + + <p>Without the slightest movement, she invited him with her + strange eyes, and as she did so she was as mysterious as ever + she had been. He bent down responsively. She put her hot, + clammy hands on his shoulders, and kept his head at a little + distance and looked through his eyes into his soul. The letter + had dropped to the floor.</p> + + <p>"I knew you would!" she murmured, and then snatched him to + her, and kissed him, and kept her mouth on his.</p> + + <p>"You didn't," he said, as soon as she loosed him. "I didn't + know myself."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 269 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page264" name="page264">[pg 264]</a> + </span> + + But he privately admitted that perhaps she did know. She had + every fault, but she was intelligent. Constantly he was faced + with that fact. She did not understand the significance of the + war; she lacked imagination; but her understanding was + sometimes terrible. She was devious; but she had a religion. He + was her religion. She would cast the god underfoot—and + then in a passion of repentance restore it ardently to the + sacred niche.</p> + + <p>She said:</p> + + <p>"I couldn't have borne it if Everard had gone and you + hadn't. But of course you meant to go all the time."</p> + + <p>That was how she saved his amour-propre.</p> + + <p>"I always knew you were a genius—"</p> + + <p>"Oh! Chuck it, kid!"</p> + + <p>"But you're more, somehow. This business—"</p> + + <p>"You don't mean joining the Army?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"What rot! There's nothing in it. Fellows are doing it + everywhere."</p> + + <p>She smiled superiorly, and then inquired:</p> + + <p>"How do you join? What are you going to do? Shall you ask + Everard?"</p> + + <p>"Well—" he hesitated. He had no desire to consult + Lucas.</p> + + <p>"Why don't you see Colonel Rannion?" she Suggested.</p> + + <p>"Jove! That's a scheme. Never thought of him!"</p> + + <p>Her satisfaction at the answer was childlike, and he was + filled with delight that it should be so. They launched + themselves into an interminable discussion about every possible + arrangement of everything. But in a pause of it he destroyed + its tremendous importance by remarking casually:</p> + + <p>"No hurry, of course. I bet you I shall be kept knocking + about here for months."</p> + + <hr /> + + <a name='CHAPTER_III'> + </a> + +<!-- Page 270 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page265" name="page265">[pg 265]</a> + </span> + + <h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + + <h3>IN THE MACHINE</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>Colonel Rannion was brother of the wife of the man for whom + George had built the house at Hampstead. George had met him + several times at the dinners and other reunions to which a + sympathetic architect is often invited in the dwelling that he + has created. Colonel Rannion had greatly liked his sister's + house, had accordingly shown much esteem for George, and had + even spoken of ordering a house for himself.</p> + + <p>Just as breakfast was being served, George had the idea of + ringing up the Hampstead people for the Colonel's address, + which he obtained at once. The Colonel was staying at the + Berkeley Hotel. The next moment he got the Berkeley, and the + Colonel in person. The Colonel remembered him instantly. George + said he wanted to see him. What about? Well, a commission. The + Colonel said he had to leave the hotel in twenty-five minutes. + "I can be with you in less than a quarter of an hour," said + George—or rather, not George, but some subconscious + instinct within him, acting independently of him. The children, + with nurse, were in the dining-room, waiting to breakfast with + father. They were washed, they were dressed; the dining-room + had been cleaned; the pleasant smell of breakfast-cooking + wandered through the rooms; since the early talk between George + and Lois in the silent, sleeping house the house had gradually + come to life; it was now in full being—even to the girl + scrubbing the front steps—except that Lois was asleep. + Exhausted after the strange and crucial scene, she had dozed + off, and had never moved throughout George's dressing.</p> + + <p>Now he rushed into the dining-room—"I have to go, + nurse. Fardy can't have his breakfast with you!"—and +<!-- Page 271 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page266" name="page266">[pg 266]</a> + </span> + + rushed out. A minute previously he had felt a serious need of + food after the long, sleepless morning. The need vanished. He + scurried up Elm Park Gardens like a boy in the warm, fresh air, + and stopped a taxi. He was extremely excited. None but Lois + knew the great secret. He had kept it to himself. He might have + burst into the kitchen—for he was very apt to be + informal—and said: "Well, cook, I'm going into the Army!" + What a household sensation the news would cause, and what an + office sensation! His action would affect the lives of all + manner of people. And the house, at present alive and organic, + would soon be dead. He was afraid. What he was doing was + tremendous. Was it madness? He had a feeling of unreality.</p> + + <p>At the entrance to the Berkeley Hotel lay a large + automobile, with a spurred and highly polished military + chauffeur. At the door of Colonel Rannion's room was stationed + a spurred and highly polished, erect orderly—formidable + contrast to the flaccid waiters who slouched palely in the + corridors. The orderly went into the room and saluted with a + click. George followed, as into a dentist's surgery. It was a + small, elegant, private sitting-room resembling a boudoir. In + the midst of delicately tinted cushions and flower-vases stood + Colonel Rannion, grey-haired, blue-eyed, very straight, very + tall, very slim—the slimness accentuated by a + close-fitted uniform which began with red tabs and ended in + light leggings and gleaming spurs. He conformed absolutely to + the traditional physical type of soldier, and the sight of him + gave pleasure.</p> + + <p>"Good morning. Cannon. Glad to see you." He seemed to put a + secret meaning into the last words.</p> + + <p>He shook hands as he spoke, firmly, decisively, + efficiently.</p> + + <p>"I hope I'm not troubling you too much," George began.</p> + + <p>"Troubling me! Sit down. You want a commission. The Army + wants to give commissions to men like you. I think you would + make a good officer."</p> + + <p>"Of course I'm absolutely ignorant of the Army. + Absolutely."</p> + + <p>"Yes. What a pity that is! If you'd only been a pre-war + Territorial you might have done three weeks' urgent work for + your country by this time." The remark was a polite + reproof.</p> + + <p>"I might," admitted George, to whom the notion of working + for his country had never before occurred.</p> + + <p>"Do you think you'd like the Artillery?" Colonel Rannion + questioned sharply. His tone was increasing in sharpness.</p> + + <p>With an equal sharpness George answered unhesitatingly: " +<!-- Page 272 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page267" name="page267">[pg 267]</a> + </span> + + Yes, I should."</p> + + <p>"Can you ride?"</p> + + <p>"I can + <i>ride</i> + + . In holidays and so on I get on my mother's horses."</p> + + <p>"Have you hunted?"</p> + + <p>"Never."</p> + + <p>"H'm!... Well, I know my friend Colonel Hullocher, who + commands the Second Brigade of—er—my Division, is + short of an officer. Would you care for that?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly."</p> + + <p>Without saying anything else Colonel Rannion took up the + telephone. In less than half a minute George heard him saying: + "Colonel Hullocher.... Ask him to be good enough to come to the + telephone at once.... That you, Hullocher?"</p> + + <p>George actually trembled. He no longer felt that heavy + weight on his stomach, but he felt 'all gone.' He saw himself + lying wounded near a huge gun on a battlefield.</p> + + <p>Colonel Rannion was continuing into the telephone:</p> + + <p>"I can recommend a friend of mine to you for a commission. + George Cannon—C-a-n-n-o-n—the architect. I don't + know whether you know of him.... Oh! About thirty.... No, but I + think he'd suit you.... Who recommends him? + <i>I</i> + + do.... Like to see him, I suppose, first?... No, no necessity + to see him. I'll tell him.... Yes, I shall see you in the + course of the day." The conversation then apparently deviated + to other subjects, and drew to a close.... "Good-bye. + Thanks.... Oh! I say. Shall he get his kit?... Cannon.... Yes, + he'd better. Yes, that's understood of course. Good-bye."</p> + + <p>"That will be quite all right," said Colonel Rannion to + George. "Colonel Hullocher thinks you may as well see to your + kit at once, provided of course you pass the doctor and you are + ready to work for nothing until your commission comes + along."</p> + + <p>"Oh! Naturally!" George agreed, in a dream. He was saying to + himself, frightened, astounded, staggered, and yet uplifted: " + <i>Get my kit! Get my kit!</i> + + But it's scarcely a minute since I decided to go into the + Army."</p> + + <p>"I may get your commission ante-dated. I haven't all the + papers here, but give me an address where I can find you at + once, and you shall have them this afternoon. I'll get the + Colonel to send them to the Territorial Association to-morrow, + and probably in about a month you'll be in the +<!-- Page 273 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page268" name="page268">[pg 268]</a> + </span> + + <i>Gazette</i> + + . I don't know when Colonel Hullocher will want you to report + for duty, but I shall see him to-day. You'll get a telegram + when you're needed. Now I must go. Which way are you + going?"</p> + + <p>"I'm going home for my breakfast," said George, writing down + his two addresses.</p> + + <p>Colonel Rannion said:</p> + + <p>"I'm off to Wimbledon. I can drop you in Fulham Road if you + like."</p> + + <p>In the automobile George received a few useful hints, but + owing to the speed of the vehicle the time was far too short + for any extensive instruction. The car drew up. For an instant + Colonel Rannion became freely cordial. "He must rather have + cottoned to me, or he wouldn't have done what he has," thought + George, proud to be seen in converse with a staff-officer, + waving a hand in adieu. And he thought: "Perhaps next time I + see him I shall be saluting him!"</p> + + <p>The children and nurse were still at breakfast. Nothing had + changed in the house during his absence. But the whole house + was changed. It was a house unconvincing, incredible, which + might vanish at any moment. He himself was incredible. What had + happened was incredible. The screeching voices of the children + were not real voices, and the children were apparitions. The + newspaper was illegible. Its messages for the most part had no + meaning, and such as bore a meaning seemed to be utterly + unimportant. The first reality, for George was food. He + discovered that he could not eat the food—could not + swallow; the nausea was acute. He drank a little coffee, and + then went upstairs to see his wife. Outside the bedroom door he + stood hesitant. A desolating sadness of disappointment suddenly + surged over him. He had destroyed his ambitions, he had + transformed all his life, by a single unreflecting and + irretrievable impulse. What he had done was terrific, and yet + he had done it as though it were naught ... The mood passed as + suddenly as it had come, and left him matter-of-fact, grim, as + it were swimming strongly on and with the mighty current which + had caught him. He went into the bedroom on the current. Lois + was awake.</p> + + <p>"I've seen Colonel Rannion."</p> + + <p>"You haven't, George!"</p> + + <p>"Yes, I have. I've just come back."</p> + + <p>"Well?"</p> + + <p>He replied with his damnable affected casualness: " +<!-- Page 274 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page269" name="page269">[pg 269]</a> + </span> + + I'm in the Army. Royal Field Artillery. And so that's + that."</p> + + <p>"But where's your uniform?"</p> + + <p>"I knew you'd say that. I'm in mufti, you see."</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='II'> + </a> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He promptly received his papers and returned them. His + medical examination was quite satisfactory. Then there was no + further sign from the Army. The Army might have completely + forgotten him; his enrolment in the Army might have been an + illusion. Every day and every hour he expected a telegram of + command. It was in anticipation of the telegram, curt and + inexorable, that he kept harrying his tradesmen. To be caught + unprepared by the telegram would be a disaster. But the + tradesmen had lessons to teach him, and by the time the kit was + approximately completed he had learnt the lessons. Whether the + transaction concerned his tunic, breeches, spurs, leggings, + cane, sword, socks, shirts, cap, camp field-kit, or any of the + numerous other articles without which an officer might not + respectably enter the British Army, the chief lesson was the + same, namely, that the tradesmen were bearing the brunt of the + war. Those who had enrolled and made spectacular sacrifices of + homes and careers and limbs and lives were enjoying a glorious + game amid the laudations of an ecstatic populace, but the real + work was being done in the shops and in the workrooms. The mere + aspect of tradesmen was enough to restore the lost modesty of + officers. Useless to argue with the tradesmen, to expostulate, + to vituperate. The facts were in their favour; the sublime law + of supply and demand was in their favour. If the suddenly + unloosed military ardour had not been kept down it might have + submerged the Island. The tradesmen kept it down, and the + Island was saved by them from militarization. Majors and + colonels and even generals had to flatter and cajole tradesmen. + As for lieutenants, they cringed. And all officers were obliged + to be grateful for the opportunity to acquire goods at prices + fifty per cent higher than would have been charged to + civilians. Within a few days George, who had need of every + obtainable sovereign for family purposes, had disbursed some + forty pounds out of his own pocket in order to exercise the + privilege of defending, at the risk of ruin and death, the + ideals of his country.</p> + + <p>At the end of the week what, as a civilian, he would have +<!-- Page 275 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page270" name="page270">[pg 270]</a> + </span> + + described as his first 'suit' had not been delivered, and he + spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday in most uncomfortable + apprehension of the telegraph-boy and in studying an artillery + manual now known to hundreds of thousands as 'F.A.T.' On the + Monday morning he collected such portions of his kit as had to + be worn with the 'suit' (leggings, boots, spurs, cap, shirt, + collar, etc.), and took them in a taxi to the tailor's, + intending to change there and emerge a soldier. The clothes + were not ready, but the tailor, intimidated by real violence, + promised them for three o'clock. At three o'clock they were + still not ready, for buttons had to be altered on the breeches; + another hour was needed.</p> + + <p>George went to call at Lucas & Enwright's. That office + seemed to function as usual, for Everard Lucas alone had left + it for the profession of arms. The factotum in the cubicle was + a young man of the finest military age, and there were two + other good ones in the clerks' room, including a clerk just + transferred from George's own office. And George thought of his + own office, already shut up, and his glance was sardonic. Mr. + Enwright sat alone in the principals' room, John Orgreave being + abroad in London in pursuit of George's two landlords—the + landlord of his house and the landlord of his + office—neither of whom had yet been brought to see that + George's caprice for a military career entitled him in the + slightest degree to slip out of contracts remunerative to the + sacred caste of landlords. Lucas & Enwright had behaved + handsomely to George, having taken everything over, assumed all + responsibilities, and allotted to George more than a fair share + of percentages. And John Orgreave, who in his rough provincial + way was an admirable negotiator, had voluntarily busied himself + with the affair of the resilition of George's leases.</p> + + <p>"Not gone, then?" Mr. Enwright greeted him. "Well, you'd + better be going, or I shan't get my chance of being + Vice-President."</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?"</p> + + <p>"Orgreave was at a committee at the Institute this morning. + It seems you might have been the next Vice, in spite of your + tender years, if you'd stayed. You're becoming the rage, you + know."</p> + + <p>"Am I?" said George, startled.</p> + + <p>He hungered for further details of this great and highly + disturbing matter, but Enwright, jealous by nature and + excusably jealous by reason of the fact that despite his +<!-- Page 276 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page271" name="page271">[pg 271]</a> + </span> + + immense artistic reputation he had never succeeded in being + even Vice-President of the Institute, would say no more. Indeed + he took a malicious pleasure in saying no more.</p> + + <p>The ageing man, more hypochondriacal, thinner, and more + wrinkled than ever, was full to the brim of one + subject—India. Somebody at the India Office had flattered + him by showing a knowledge of his work. The India Office had + very graciously agreed to the transfer of the barracks + enterprise to Lucas & Enwright, and now Mr. Enwright was + for going to India himself. He had never been there. Indian + scenery, Indian manners, Indian architecture boiled in his + brain. The menace of German raiders would not prevent him from + going to India. He had already revisited the photographs of + Indian buildings at South Kensington Museum. Moreover, he had + persuaded himself that the erection of the barracks formed an + urgent and vital part of British war activity.</p> + + <p>At the same time he was convinced that the war would soon + end, and in favour of Germany. He assumed, as being beyond + doubt, that a German army would occupy Paris, and when George, + with a wave of the hand, pushed the enemy back and magically + rendered Paris impregnable, he nearly lost his temper. This + embittered Englishman would not hear a word against the + miraculous efficiency of the Germans, whom he admired as much + as he hated them. The German military reputation could not have + been safer in Potsdam than it was in Russell Square. George, + impatient of his master and inspirer, rose to depart, whereupon + Mr. Enwright began to talk at large about the terrible + derangement of his daily life caused by the sudden + disappearance of his favourite barber, deemed now to have been + a spy. "But the only barber who ever really understood my + chin," said Mr. Enwright. George went, shaking hands + perfunctorily. Mr. Enwright was too preoccupied to wish him + luck.</p> + + <p>The clothes were ready at the tailor's, and they passed the + tests. George stood up disguised as a second-lieutenant in the + R.F.A., booted, spurred, gloved, nicely managing a cane. He + examined himself in the great mirror and was well pleased with + his military appearance. In particular, his dark moustache + fitted the role excellently.</p> + + <p>"Now you'll send the overcoat and all my civilian things + down this afternoon, without fail," he said. "I'll let you have + an address for the other suit."</p> + + <p>And he walked manfully out of the shop. Before he could find + himself, a superb serjeant-major strode up, saluted +<!-- Page 277 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page272" name="page272">[pg 272]</a> + </span> + + in the highest and strictest perfection, and passed. The + encounter was unfortunate. George, taken aback, muddled his + share of the rite. Further, the self-consciousness of the + potential Vice-President of the Royal Institute of British + Architects was so extreme in uniform that it could scarcely + have been more extreme had he been thrust by destiny into + Oxford Street naked. He returned to the shop and said:</p> + + <p>"I think I'll take everything home myself, to make sure. You + might get me a taxi."</p> + + <p>He crept into his own house furtively with his parcels, like + a criminal, though he well knew that the servants would be + ready to worship him as a new god. The children were evidently + out. Lois was not in the drawing-room. He ran to the bedroom. + She lay on the sofa.</p> + + <p>"Here I am!" he announced, posing bravely for her + inspection.</p> + + <p>She did not move for a few seconds. Her eyes were hard-set. + Then she gave a tremendous shattering sob, and burst into wild + tears. George stooped to pick up a telegram which was lying on + the floor. It read:</p> + + <p>"You are to report to Adjutant Headquarters Second First + West Midland R.F.A. Wimbledon to-morrow Tuesday before + noon."</p> + + <p>The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name + upon various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at + last the order had gone forth.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='III'> + </a> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken + ill. George telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had + seen the patient the doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as + soon as the doctor had telephoned for the nurse George + telephoned for Laurencine. What with George's uniform and + approaching departure, and the premature seizure of Lois, the + household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state of + intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the + children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants + were noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. + The breakfast had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with + a detailed description of the retreat from Mons, were not + glanced at. George was expecting a letter from his mother + concerning the arrangements for +<!-- Page 278 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page273" name="page273">[pg 273]</a> + </span> + + the visit of Lois and the children to Ladderedge, already + decided upon, and no letter had come.</p> + + <p>At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. + Having inspected his luggage in the hall, he went to the + telephone again and ascertained that Laurencine had actually + started from home. Almost at the same moment a taxi stopped in + front of the house. "She's been jolly quick," thought George, + meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw that + his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush + out to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the + perfect reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and + warmed him. They had not written again; they had just come + themselves.</p> + + <p>He affectionately and critically watched them as they got + out of the taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, + with grey hair and beard, was passing from middle-age into the + shadow of the sixties. He dressed well, but the flat crown of + his felt hat, and the artificial, exaggerated squareness of the + broad shoulders, gave him a provincial appearance. His gesture + as he paid the driver was absolutely characteristic—a + mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the impressive and the + timid. He had descended from the vehicle with precautions, but + Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was about as + old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful; + she did not understand and never had understood how to dress + herself. But she had kept her figure; she was as slim as a + girl, and as restless.</p> + + <p>George ran to the door, which the feverish parlourmaid had + neglected to shut. His mother, mounting the steps, was struck + full in the face by the apparition of her son in uniform. The + Alderman, behind her, cried mockingly to cover his emotion: + "Hal<i>lo!</i> Hal<i>lo!</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>"When did you come up?" asked George quietly, taking his + mother's hand and kissing her. She slid past him into the + house. Her eyes were moist.</p> + + <p>"Last night," the Alderman answered. "Last train. Your + mother's idea. All of a sudden. Thought you might be + leaving."</p> + + <p>"Well, I am," said George. "I have to report at Headquarters + at Wimbledon by twelve o'clock. It's rather a good thing you've + come. Lois is ill. Oh! Here's + <i>my</i> + + taxi." The parlourmaid had driven up.</p> + + <p>"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayhanger.</p> + + <p>"Yes. I've sent for the doctor, and he's sent for the nurse. + I'm expecting the nurse every minute."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 279 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page274" name="page274">[pg 274]</a> + </span> + + You don't mean to say—" Mrs. Clayhanger began.</p> + + <p>George nodded.</p> + + <p>"She + <i>must</i> + + have had a shock. I knew what it would be for her. It's all + very well, but—" Mrs. Clayhanger again left a sentence + unfinished.</p> + + <p>"I've sent for Laurencine too," said George. "She also may + be here any minute."</p> + + <p>"Oh!" said the old lady tartly. "I can stay as long as you + like, you know. Lois and I get on splendidly."</p> + + <p>It was true. They had had one enormous quarrel, which had + mysteriously ended by both of them denying superiorly to all + males that any quarrel had ever occurred.</p> + + <p>"Well, come into the dining-room."</p> + + <p>"I think I'll go up and see Lois at once," said Mrs. + Clayhanger.</p> + + <p>"The doctor's there."</p> + + <p>"What if he is?"</p> + + <p>The Alderman put in:</p> + + <p>"Now look here, missis. Don't startle her."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went + upstairs.</p> + + <p>"This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with + his stick to the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall + floor.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it + all in the taxi, May. Come along in, uncle."</p> + + <p>"Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me."</p> + + <p>"Where are you staying?"</p> + + <p>"Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!"</p> + + <p>They were now within the dining-room.</p> + + <p>"Yes." In the presence and under the influence of his people + George at once ceased to be an expansive Londoner, and reverted + to the character of the Five Towns.</p> + + <p>"I suppose she'll be all + <i>right</i> + + ?"</p> + + <p>"Doctor seems to think so."</p> + + <p>"Yes. They generally are." The Alderman sighed pleasantly + and dropped rather heavily into a chair.</p> + + <p>"Have a cigarette?"</p> + + <p>"No!" The Alderman refused regretfully. "I've got a new rule + now. I don't smoke till after dinner."</p> + + <p>There was a pause.</p> + + <p>"I'm glad we came."</p> + + <p>"So'm I."</p> + + <p>"You needn't worry about anything. Your mother and I will + see to everything. I'll go up and have a talk with Johnnie + about the leases."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 280 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page275" name="page275">[pg 275]</a> + </span> + + Thanks."</p> + + <p>"What about money?"</p> + + <p>"I'll write you. No hurry."</p> + + <p>"What sort of a woman is Laurencine? I've scarcely set eyes + on her."</p> + + <p>"She's fine."</p> + + <p>"She is?"</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>"Will she hit it off with your mother?"</p> + + <p>"Trust her."</p> + + <p>"Well, then, I think I'll have one o' them cigarettes."</p> + + <p>They smoked in taciturnity, nervous but relieved. They had + said what they had to say to each other. After a time George + remarked:</p> + + <p>"I heard last night there was a chance of me being + Vice-President of the Institute this year if I hadn't gone into + the Army."</p> + + <p>Mr. Clayhanger raised his eyebrows.</p> + + <p>"That'll keep all right for later."</p> + + <p>"Yes."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Clayhanger hurried into the dining-room. She had + removed her hat and gloves.</p> + + <p>"Lois wants to see you."</p> + + <p>"I was just coming up. I've got to go now." He glanced at + his watch.</p> + + <p>"Go where?" It was like Mrs. Clayhanger to ask a question to + which she knew the answer. Her ardent eyes, set a little too + close together in the thin, lined, nervous face, burned upon + him challengingly.</p> + + <p>"I told you! I have to report at Headquarters before + noon."</p> + + <p>"But you don't mean to say you're going to leave your wife + like this! She's very ill."</p> + + <p>"I'm bound to leave her."</p> + + <p>"But you can't leave her."</p> + + <p>The Alderman said:</p> + + <p>"The boy's quite right. If he's got to report he's got to + report."</p> + + <p>"And supposing she was dying?"</p> + + <p>"Now, missis, we needn't suppose that. She isn't."</p> + + <p>"It would be just the same if she was," Mrs. Clayhanger + retorted bitterly. "I don't know what men are coming to. But I + know this—all husbands are selfish. They probably don't + know it, but they are."</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 281 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page276" name="page276">[pg 276]</a> + </span> + + She wept angrily.</p> + + <p>"Don't you understand I'm in the machine now, mater?" said + George resentfully as he left the room.</p> + + <p>In the bedroom Lois lay on her back, pale, perspiring, + moaning. He kissed her, glanced at the doctor for instructions, + and departed. Lois was not in a condition to talk, and the + doctor wished her not to speak. Then George went to the kitchen + and took leave of the children, and incidentally of the + servants. The nurse was arriving as he re-entered the + dining-room; he had seized his cap in the hall and put it + on.</p> + + <p>"Better give me an address," said the Alderman.</p> + + <p>"You might wire during the day," George said, scribbling on + a loose leaf from his pocket-book, which he had to search for + in unfamiliar pockets.</p> + + <p>"The idea had occurred to me," the Alderman smiled.</p> + + <p>"Au revoir, mater."</p> + + <p>"But you've got plenty of time!" she protested.</p> + + <p>"I know," said he. "I'm not going to be late. I haven't the + slightest notion where Headquarters are, and supposing the taxi + had a break-down!"</p> + + <p>He divined from the way in which she kissed him good-bye + that she was excessively proud of him.</p> + + <p>"Mater," he said, "I see you're still a girl."</p> + + <p>As he was leaving, Mr. Clayhanger halted him.</p> + + <p>"You said something in your last letter about storing the + furniture, didn't you? Have ye made any inquiries?"</p> + + <p>"No. But I've told Orgreave. You might look into that, + because—well, you'll see."</p> + + <p>From the hall he glanced into the dining-room and up the + stairs. The furniture that filled the house had been new ten + years earlier; it had been anybody's furniture. The passage of + ten years, marvellously swift, had given character to the + furniture, charged it with associations, scarred it with the + history of a family—his family, individualized it, + humanized it. It was no longer anybody's furniture. With a pang + he pictured it numbered and crowded into a warehouse, forlorn, + thick with dust, tragic, exiled from men and women.</p> + + <p>He drove off, waving. His stepfather waved from the door, + his mother waved from the dining-room; the cook had taken the + children into the drawing-room, where they shook their short, + chubby arms at him, smiling. On the second floor the back of + the large rectangular mirror on the dressing-table presented a + flat and wooden negative to his anxious curiosity.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 282 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page277" name="page277">[pg 277]</a> + </span> + + In the neighbourhood of Wimbledon the taxi-driver ascertained + his destination at the first inquiry from a strolling soldier. + It was the Blue Lion public-house. The taxi skirted the Common, + parts of which were covered with horse-lines and tents. Farther + on, in vague suburban streets, the taxi stopped at a corner + building with a blatant, curved gilt sign and a very big lamp. + A sentry did something with his rifle as George got out, and + another soldier obligingly took the luggage. A clumsy painted + board stuck on a pole at the entrance to a side-passage + indicated that George had indeed arrived at his Headquarters. + He was directed to a small, frowzy apartment, which apparently + had once been the land-lord's sitting-room. Two officers, + Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant, both with ribbons, were + seated close together at a littered deal table, behind a + telephone whose cord, instead of descending modestly to the + floor, went up in sight of all men to the ceiling. In a corner + a soldier, the Colonel's confidential clerk, was writing at + another table. Everything was dirty and untidy. Neither of the + officers looked at George. The Adjutant was excitedly reading + to the Colonel and the Colonel was excitedly listening and + muttering. The clerk too was in a state of excitement. George + advanced towards the table, and saluted and stood at attention. + The Adjutant continued to read and the Colonel to murmur, but + the Adjutant did manage to give a momentary surreptitious + glance at George. After some time the Colonel, who was a short, + stout, bald, restless man, interrupted the reading, and, still + without having looked at George, growled impatiently to the + Adjutant:</p> + + <p>"Who's this fellow?"</p> + + <p>The Adjutant replied smoothly:</p> + + <p>"Mr. Cannon, sir."</p> + + <p>The Colonel said:</p> + + <p>"He's got a devilish odd way of saluting. I must go now." + And jumped up and went cyclonically as far as the door. At the + door he paused and looked George full in the face, glaring.</p> + + <p>"You came to me with a special recommendation?" he demanded + loudly.</p> + + <p>"Colonel Rannion kindly recommended me, sir."</p> + + <p>"General Rannion, sir. Haven't you seen this morning's + <i>Times</i> + + ? You should read your Gazette."</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>"You're the celebrated architect?"</p> + + <p>"I'm an architect, sir."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 283 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page278" name="page278">[pg 278]</a> + </span> + + I wish you would condescend to answer, yes or no, sir. That's + the second time. I say—you're the celebrated + architect?"</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>"Well, remember this. When you come into the Army what you + were before you came into the Army has not the slightest + importance."</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>Colonel Hullocher glared in silence for a moment, and was + gone. The clerk slipped out after him.</p> + + <p>The Adjutant rose:</p> + + <p>"Now, Cannon, we're all very busy."</p> + + <p>And shook hands.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='IV'> + </a> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The same afternoon, indeed within about two hours of his + entrance into the Army, George found himself driving back from + Wimbledon to London in a motor-bus.</p> + + <p>Colonel Hullocher had vanished out of his world, and he had + been sent to another and still more frowzy public-house which + was the Headquarters of No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade. He + was allotted to No. 2 Battery, subject to the approval of Major + Craim, the commanding officer. Major Craim was young and fair + and benevolent, and at once approvingly welcomed George, who + thereupon became the junior subaltern of the Battery. The other + half-dozen officers, to whom he was introduced one by one as + they came in, seemed amiable and very well-mannered, if unduly + excited. When, immediately before lunch, the Major was called + away to lunch with Colonel Hullocher, the excitement of the + mess seemed to boil over. The enormous fact was that the whole + Division—yeomanry, infantry, and artillery—had been + ordered to trek southward the next morning. The Division was + not ready to trek; in particular the Second Brigade of its + artillery, and quite specially Battery No. 2 of the Second + Brigade, was not ready to trek. Nevertheless it would trek. It + might even trek to France. Southward was Franceward, and there + were those who joyously believed that this First Line + Territorial Division was destined to lead the Territorial Army + in France.</p> + + <p>All the officers had a schoolboyish demeanour; all of them + called one another by diminutives ending in 'y'; all of them + were pretty young. But George soon divided them into two + distinct groups—those who worried about the smooth +<!-- Page 284 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page279" name="page279">[pg 279]</a> + </span> + + working of the great trek, and those who did not. Among the + former was Captain Resmith, the second in command, a dark man + with a positive, strong voice, somewhat similar to George in + appearance. Captain Resmith took George very seriously, and + promised to initiate him personally into as many technical + mysteries as could be compressed into one afternoon. Then a + Major Tumulty, middle-aged and pale, came hurriedly into the + stuffy room and said without any prologue:</p> + + <p>"Now I must have one of you chaps this afternoon. Otherwise + I promise you you won't get all the things you want."</p> + + <p>Silence fell on the mess.</p> + + <p>"The C.O. isn't here, sir," said Captain Resmith.</p> + + <p>"I can't help that. I'm not going alone."</p> + + <p>"Cannon, you'd better go with Major Tumulty. Major, this is + Mr. Cannon, our latest addition."</p> + + <p>George only knew about Major Tumulty that he was Major + Tumulty and that he did not belong to No. 2 Battery. So far as + George was concerned he was a major in the air. After drinking + a glass of port with the mess, Major Tumulty suddenly + remembered that he was in a hurry, and took George off and put + him into a scarlet London-General motor-bus that was throbbing + at the door of the public-house, with an ordinary civilian + driver at the steering-wheel and a soldier on the step. George + felt like a parcel; he had no choice of movement, no + responsibility, no knowledge. The mentality of a parcel was not + disagreeable to him. But at times, vaguely uneasy, he would + start out of it, and ask himself: "What is wrong?" And then the + vision of a distant, half-forgotten street called Elm Park Road + would rise in his mind and he would remember: "My wife is very + ill, and everything is upset at home."</p> + + <p>The motor-bus travelled a few yards and stopped; and out of + yet another office a soldier carried, staggering, a heavy bag + with a brass lock, and dropped it on the floor of the bus + between the Major and George; and the bus, after a good + imitation by the soldier-conductor of a professional double + ting on the bell, went away afresh.</p> + + <p>"That's money," said the Major, in his mild, veiled voice, + pointing to the bag.</p> + + <p>Little by little George learnt that the Major had 'won' the + bus 'out of' the War Office, and had been using it daily for + several days for the purpose of buying and collecting urgent + stores and equipment. The bus had become celebrated within the + Division in an astoundingly short time, +<!-- Page 285 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page280" name="page280">[pg 280]</a> + </span> + + and on this, the last day preceding the trek, the various units + had burdened the good-natured Major with a multitude of + commissions.</p> + + <p>"I try to keep accounts," said the Major. "But I know I've + made a loss every day. I've been in the T.F. ever since there + was one, and it has always cost me money. Now, I shall put you + in charge of this little book."</p> + + <p>The little book was a penny account-book, with pages + lettered in pencil A, B, C, D, etc., and items scribbled on + each page.</p> + + <p>"The letters show the batteries," the Major explained. "I've + got a key to the batteries somewhere in my pocket. And here's + what I call my grand list." He produced a roll of foolscap. "I + like everything orderly. It saves so much trouble, doesn't it? + I mean in the end. Now, as I buy things I shall strike them off + here, and I want you to strike them off in your book and put + down the price from the bill. I always insist on a receipted + bill. It saves so much trouble in the end. I meant to bring a + file or a clip for the bills, but I forgot. You understand, + don't you?"</p> + + <p>George answered solemnly and sharply:</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>The Major weakly cried:</p> + + <p>"Hall!"</p> + + <p>"Yessir!" The soldier-conductor came to attention.</p> + + <p>"Did you tell him to go to Harrods first?"</p> + + <p>"Yessir!"</p> + + <p>"I think we might go and sit on the top," said the Major. + "It's a nice afternoon."</p> + + <p>So the two officers went and sat on the top of the + motor-bus. The Major gossiped with soothing tranquillity. He + said that he was a pianoforte manufacturer; his father, from + whom he had inherited, had traded under a German name because + people preferred German pianos to English; he now regretted + this piece of astuteness on the part of his father; he was + trying to sell his business—he had had enough of it.</p> + + <p>"Hi! You!" he called, standing up quite unexpectedly and + leaning over the front of the bus to hail the driver. "Hi! + You!" But the driver did not hear, and the bus drove forward + like fate. The Major, who had hitherto seemed to be exempt from + the general perturbation of Wimbledon troops, suddenly showed + excitement. "We must stop this bus somehow! Why the devil + doesn't he stop? I've forgotten the rope-shop."</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 286 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page281" name="page281">[pg 281]</a> + </span> + + I'll stop it, sir," said George, maintaining an admirable + presence of mind in the crisis, and he rose and pushed down the + knob of the signal-rod at the back of the bus. The bus did + actually stop.</p> + + <p>"Ah!" murmured the Major, calmed.</p> + + <p>The soldier raced upstairs.</p> + + <p>"Hall!"</p> + + <p>"Yessir."</p> + + <p>"Do you know a rope and string shop near the Granville + Theatre of Varieties at Walham Green?"</p> + + <p>"No, sir."</p> + + <p>"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville."</p> + + <p>"Yessir."</p> + + <p>The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw + the first contents-bill of the afternoon papers.</p> + + <p>"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked.</p> + + <p>"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons + business is serious."</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. + When the rope had been purchased and new silver brought forth + from the bag, and the receipt made out, and the item struck off + and the amount entered, and the bus had started again, George + perceived that he would soon be passing the end of Elm Park + Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect the bus into Elm + Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He dared not. + The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless + unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its + forehead, rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham + Road, pursued by the disappointed glances of gesturing + wayfarers who wanted it to take them to Liverpool Street.</p> + + <p>After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major + stopped his bus at a Tube station in the north of London.</p> + + <p>"I mustn't forget my pens," said he. "I have to spend + three-quarters of my time mewed up in the office, and I don't + grumble; but I'm very particular about nibs, and if I don't + have my own I cannot work. It's useless to expect it."</p> + + <p>Then to the soldier:</p> + + <p>"Hall! You go down to Partridge & Cooper's, at the + corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, and buy a sixpenny + box of their 'No. 6 Velvet' pen-nibs. You understand: 'No. 6 + Velvet.'"</p> + + <p>"Yessir. With the bus, sir?"</p> + + <p>" +<!-- Page 287 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page282" name="page282">[pg 282]</a> + </span> + + With the bus. Here's sixpence." He took a coin out of the bag, + locked it, and gave the key to George. "And keep an eye on this + bag, my boy. You will then come back and wait for us—let + me see—outside Piccadilly Tube Station in Jermyn + Street."</p> + + <p>"Yessir."</p> + + <p>The Major and George entered the North London station and + proceeded to the lift.</p> + + <p>"Tickets!" demanded the lift-man.</p> + + <p>The Major halted and gazed at him.</p> + + <p>"On service!" said the Major, with resentment and disdain. + "A fortnight ago you civilians were raising your hats to us. + Now you ask us for tickets! Haven't you grasped yet that + there's a war on? Don't you think you'd look better in khaki?" + He showed excitement, as at every personal encounter.</p> + + <p>The lift-man bowed his head, inarticulately muttering, and + the officers passed into the lift, having created a certain + amount of interest among the other passengers. The Major was + tranquillized in a moment. They came to the surface again at + Piccadilly Circus, where at the lift a similar scene + occurred.</p> + + <p>"Do you know anything about pyjamas?" said the Major.</p> + + <p>"Well, sir—"</p> + + <p>"I never wear them myself. I'm rather old-fashioned. But I + have to buy three pairs—suits for Colonel + Hullocher—at Swan & Edgar's. Oh! Bother it! Have you + any money? I forgot to take some out of the bag."</p> + + <p>The Major purchased the pyjamas with George's money, and his + attitude towards the shopman during the transaction was + defiant, indicating to the shopman that, though personally he, + the Major, never wore pyjamas, he was an expert in pyjamas and + not to be gulled. George took the resulting parcel and the + receipted bill, and they walked across to Jermyn Street, where + surely the bus, with the sixpenny box of pens, was waiting for + them. It was perfectly magical. As the vehicle swung with them + into the Circus the Major exclaimed:</p> + + <p>"We're getting on very well. What do you say to some + tea?"</p> + + <p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + + <p>The bus, having stopped by order at the second tea-house on + the left in Piccadilly, was immediately assaulted, without + success, by several would-be passengers. A policeman, out +<!-- Page 288 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page283" name="page283">[pg 283]</a> + </span> + + raged by the spectacle of a bus stationary at a spot where + buses are absolutely forbidden to be stationary, hurried + forward in fury. But the Major, instantly excited, was ready + for him.</p> + + <p>"This motor-bus is a military vehicle on service, and I'll + thank you to mind your own business. If you've any complaints + to make, you'd better make them to Lord Kitchener."</p> + + <p>The policeman touched his hat.</p> + + <p>"They have music here," said the Major mildly, entering the + tea-house. "I always like music. Makes things so much jollier, + doesn't it?"</p> + + <p>During tea the Major inquired about George's individual + circumstances, and George said that he was an architect.</p> + + <p>"Student of bricks and mortar, eh?" said the Major + benevolently. "How long have you been in the Army?"</p> + + <p>"Rather less than half a day, sir."</p> + + <p>The Major, raising his eyebrows, was very interested and + kind. Perceiving that he had virgin material under his hands, + he began to shape the material, and talked much about the + niceties of the etiquette of saluting. George listened, yet at + intervals his attention would wander, and he would be in Elm + Park Road. But the illusion of home was very faint. His wife + and family seemed to be slipping away from him. "How is it," he + thought, "that I am not more upset about Lois than I am?" The + various professional and family matters which in his haste he + had left unsettled were diminishing hourly in their apparent + importance. He came back to the tea-house with a start, hearing + the Major praise his business capacity as displayed during the + afternoon. The friendly aspect of the thin, pallid face + inspired him with a sort of emotional audacity, and in ten + words he suddenly informed the Major of his domestic + situation.</p> + + <p>"H'm!" said the Major. "I'm a bachelor myself."</p> + + <p>There was a pause.</p> + + <p>"I'll give you a tip," said the Major, resuming the + interrupted topic. "War is a business. The more business + capacity you have, the more likely you are to succeed. I'm a + business man myself."</p> + + <p>On leaving the tea-house they discovered the military + vehicle surrounded by an enchanted multitude who were staring + through its windows at the merchandise—blankets, pans, + kettles, saddles, ropes, parcels, stoves, baskets, and box of + nibs—within, while the policeman strove in vain to keep + both the road and the pavement clear. George preceded the +<!-- Page 289 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page284" name="page284">[pg 284]</a> + </span> + + Major, pushing aside with haughty military impatience the + civilians so reluctant to move. He felt as though he had been + in the Army for years. No longer did his uniform cause him the + slightest self-consciousness.</p> + + <p>At Wimbledon in the dusk the bus was met by several military + wagons each from a different unit, and each anxious to obtain + goods. This piece of organization rather impressed George.</p> + + <p>"Well, my boy," said the Major, "you'd better go and report + yourself. You've been a great help to me."</p> + + <p>George saluted according to the Major's own doctrine, and + departed. At Battery Headquarters he met Captain Resmith.</p> + + <p>"How did you get on with Auntie?" asked Resmith in his loud, + firm voice.</p> + + <p>George winked.</p> + + <p>Resmith gave a scarcely perceptible smile.</p> + + <p>"Look here," he said. "I'm just going round the horse-lines. + If you'll come with me I'll show you a thing or two, and we can + choose a mount for you. Then after dinner if you like I'll take + you through the orders for to-morrow. By the way, there's a + telegram for you."</p> + + <p>The telegram read:</p> + + <p>"Girl. Everything fairly satisfactory. Don't worry too much. + Laurencine sleeps here.—NUNKS"</p> + + <p>The telegram was entirely characteristic of his + stepfather—curt, exact, realistic, kind.</p> + + <p>He thought:</p> + + <p>"Three girls, by Jove!"</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <h4>V</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>The early sun, carrying into autumn the tradition of a + magnificent summer, shone on the artillery camps. The four guns + of the No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade were ranged side by + side in the vast vague space in front of the officers' + hutments. Each gun had six horses in three pairs, and a rider + for each pair. On the guns and the gun-teams everything + glittered that could glitter—leather, metal, coats of + horses, faces of men. Captain Resmith rode round, examining + harness and equipment with a microscope that he called his eye. + George rode round after him. Sometimes Captain Resmith spoke to + a N.C.O., sometimes even to a man, but for the most part the + men stared straight in front of them +<!-- Page 290 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page285" name="page285">[pg 285]</a> + </span> + + into eternity. Major Craim trotted up. Captain Resmith + approached the Major and saluted, saying in his best military + voice:</p> + + <p>"The Battery is all correct and ready to move off, sir."</p> + + <p>The Major in his drawing-room voice replied:</p> + + <p>"Thank you, Captain Resmith."</p> + + <p>Silence reigned in No. 2 Battery, except for the faint + jingling restlessness of the horses.</p> + + <p>Then Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant pranced into sight. + The Adjutant saluted the Major and made an inquiry. The Major + saluted, and all three chatted a little.</p> + + <p>George, who had accompanied Captain Resmith into the + background, murmured to him, as cautiously as a convict talking + at exercise:</p> + + <p>"He's got his knife into me."</p> + + <p>"Who?"</p> + + <p>"The Colonel."</p> + + <p>"Don't you know why?"</p> + + <p>"No. I was specially recommended to him."</p> + + <p>"Well, that's one reason, isn't it? But there was a + difficulty between him and the Major as to when you should + come. The old man got the better of him—always does. But + he's a good officer."</p> + + <p>"Who?"</p> + + <p>"Hullocher. Shut up."</p> + + <p>These two had reached familiarity with the swiftness + characteristic of martial life.</p> + + <p>During the brief colloquy Resmith had sat very upright on + his horse, the chin slightly lifted, the head quite still, even + the lips scarcely moving to articulate. Colonel Hullocher + seemed now to be approaching. It was a false alarm. The Colonel + and his Adjutant pranced off. After a long time, and at a + considerable distance, could just be heard the voice of the + Colonel ordering the Brigade to move. But No. 2 Battery did not + stir for another long period. Suddenly, amid a devolution of + orders, No. 2 Battery moved. The Major, attended by his + trumpeter, and followed by the Battery staff of range-takers, + director-men, telephonists, and the serjeant-major, inaugurated + a sinuous procession into the uneven, rutted track leading to + the side-road. Then the guns one by one wheeled to the right, + the horses' hoofs stamping into the damp ground as they turned, + and became part of the procession. Then the quartermaster and + other N.C.O.'s and men joined; and last were Captain Resmith, + attended +<!-- Page 291 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page286" name="page286">[pg 286]</a> + </span> + + by + <i>his</i> + + trumpeter, and George. Resmith looked over his shoulder at the + Third Battery which surged behind. There were nearly two + hundred men and over a hundred and fifty horses and many + vehicles in the Battery. The Major was far out of sight, and + the tail of the column was equally out of sight in the rear, + for the total length of Major Craim's cavalcade exceeded a + mile; and of the Brigade three miles, and two other similar + Brigades somewhere in the region of Wimbledon were + participating in the grand Divisional trek.</p> + + <p>Captain Resmith cantered ahead to a bend in the track, and + anxiously watched a gun-team take the sharp curve, which was + also a sharp slope. The impression of superb, dangerous + physical power was tremendous. The distended nostrils of + horses, the gliding of their muscles under the glossy skin, the + muffled thud of their hoofs in the loose soil, the grimacing of + the men as they used spur and thong, the fierce straining of + straps and chains, the creaking, the grinding, and finally the + swaying of the 90-millimetre gun, coddled and polished, as it + swung helplessly forward, stern first, and its long nose + describing an arc in the air behind—these things + marvellously quickened the blood.</p> + + <p>"Good men!" said Captain Resmith, enthusiastic. "It's great, + isn't it? You know, there's nothing so fine as a + battery—nothing in the whole world."</p> + + <p>George heartily agreed with him.</p> + + <p>"This is the best Battery in the Division," said Resmith + religiously.</p> + + <p>And George was religiously convinced that it was.</p> + + <p>He was astoundingly happy. He thought, amazed, that he had + never been so happy, or at any rate so uplifted, in all his + life. He simply could not comprehend his state of bliss, which + had begun that morning at 6.30 when the grey-headed, + simple-minded servant allotted to him had wakened him, + according to instructions, with a mug of tea. Perhaps it was + the far, thin sound of bugles that produced the rapturous + effect, or the fresh air blowing in through the broken pane of + the hut, or the slanting sunlight, or the feeling that he had + no responsibility and nothing to do but blindly obey + orders.</p> + + <p>He had gone to sleep as depressed as he was tired. A sense + of futility had got the better of him. The excursion of the + afternoon had certainly been ridiculous in a high degree. He + had hoped for a more useful evening. Captain Resmith had indeed + taken him to the horse-lines, and he had tried a mount which + was very suitable, and Captain Resmith had +<!-- Page 292 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page287" name="page287">[pg 287]</a> + </span> + + said that he possessed a naturally good seat and hands, and had + given him a few sagacious tips. It was plain to him that + Resmith had the Major's orders to take him in tutelage and make + an officer of him. But the satisfactoriness of the evening had + suddenly ceased. Scarcely had Resmith begun to expound the + orders, and George to read the thrilling words, 'Second + Lieutenant G.E. Cannon to ride with Captain Resmith,' when the + mess had impulsively decided to celebrate the last night in + camp by a dinner at the hotel near the station, and George, fit + for nothing more important, had been detailed to run off and + arrange for the rich repast. The bulk of the mess was late to + arrive, and George spent the time in writing a descriptive and + falsely gay letter on slips of yellow Army paper to Lois. The + dinner, with its facile laughter and equally facile cynicism, + had bored him; for he had joined the Army in order to save an + Empire and a world from being enslaved. He had lain down in his + truckle-bed and listened to the last echoing sounds in the + too-resonant corridor of the hutments, and thought of the + wisdom of Sir Isaac Davids, and of the peril to his wife, and + of the peril to the earth, and of his own irremediable bondage + to the military machine. He, with all his consciousness of + power, had been put to school again; deprived of the right to + answer back, to argue, even to think. If one set in authority + said that black was white, his most sacred duty was to concur + and believe. And there was no escape....</p> + + <p>And then, no sooner had he gone to sleep than it was bright + day, and the faint, clear call of bugles had pierced the clouds + of his depression and they had vanished! Every moment of the + early morning had been exquisite. Although he had not been + across a horse for months, he rode comfortably, and the animal + was reliable. Resmith in fact had had to warn him against + fatiguing himself. But he knew that he was incapable of + fatigue. The day's trek was naught—fifteen miles or + less—to Epsom Downs, at a walk!... Lois? He had expected + a letter from 'Nunks' or his mother, but there was no letter, + and no news was good news, at any rate with 'Nunks' in charge + of communications. Lois could not fail to be all right. He + recalled the wise generalization of 'Nunks' on that point ... + Breakfast was a paradisiacal meal. He had never 'fancied' a + meal so much. And Resmith had greatly enheartened him by saying + sternly: "You've got exactly the right tone with the men. Don't + you go trying to alter it." The general excitement was +<!-- Page 293 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page288" name="page288">[pg 288]</a> + </span> + + intense, and the solemn synchronizing of watches increased it + further. An orderly brought a newspaper, and nobody would do + more than disdainfully glance at it. The usual daily stuff + about the war!... Whereas Epsom Downs glittered in the + imagination like a Canaan. And it lay southward. Probably they + were not going to France, but probably they would have the + honour of defending the coast against invasion. George desired + to master gunnery instantly, and Resmith soothed him with the + assurance that he would soon be sent away on a gunnery course, + which would give him beans. And in the meantime George might + whet his teeth on the detailed arrangements for feeding and + camping the Battery on Epsom Downs. This organization gave + George pause, especially when he remembered that the Battery + was a very trifling item in the Division, and when Resmith + casually informed him that a Division on the trek occupied + fifteen miles of road. He began to perceive the difference + between the Army and a circus, and to figure the Staff as + something other than a club of haughty, aristocratic idlers in + red hats. And when the Battery was fairly under way in the + side-road, with another Battery in front and another Battery + behind, and more Artillery Brigades and uncounted Infantry + Brigades and a screen of Yeomanry all invisibly marching over + the map in the direction of Epsom, and bound to reach a certain + lettered square on the map at a certain minute—when this + dynamic situation presented itself to the tentacles of his + grasping mind, he really did feel that there could be no game + equal to war.</p> + + <p>The Battery 'rode easy,' the men were smoking, talking, and + singing in snatches, when suddenly all sounds were silenced. + Captain Resmith, who had been summoned to the Major, reined in + his horse, and George did likewise, and the Battery passed by + them on the left. The Major's voice was heard:</p> + + <p>"No. 2 Battery. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>George asked:</p> + + <p>"What's this?"</p> + + <p>"C.R.A.'s ahead," murmured Resmith.</p> + + <p>Then another officer cried:</p> + + <p>"Right section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>And then an N.C.O. bawled:</p> + + <p>"A sub-section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Then only did George, from the rear, see the drivers, with a + simultaneous gesture, twist their heads very sharply to +<!-- Page 294 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page289" name="page289">[pg 289]</a> + </span> + + the right, raise their whips, and fling the thongs over the + withers of the hand-horses, while the section-officer + saluted.</p> + + <p>Another N.C.O. bawled:</p> + + <p>"B sub-section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>And the same action followed.</p> + + <p>Then another officer cried:</p> + + <p>"Left section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>So the rite proceeded.</p> + + <p>Resmith and George had now gone back to their proper places. + George could see the drivers of the last gun gathering up the + whip thongs into their hands preparatory to the salute. C + sub-section received the command.</p> + + <p>And then, not many yards ahead, the voice of an N.C.O.:</p> + + <p>"D sub-section. Eyes— + <i>right</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Heads turned; whips were raised and flung outwards; horses + swerved slightly.</p> + + <p>"Get ready," muttered Resmith to George.</p> + + <p>The figure of the C.R.A., Brigadier-General Rannion, + motionless on a charger, came into view. George's heart was + beating high. Resmith and he saluted. The General gazed hard at + him and never moved. They passed ahead.</p> + + <p>The officer commanding the Third Battery had already + called:</p> + + <p>"Battery. + <i>Eyes—right."</i> + </p> + + <p>The marvellous ceremonial slipped rearwards. George was + aware of tears in his eyes. He was aware of the sentiment of + worship. He felt that he would have done anything, accomplished + any deed, died, at the bidding of the motionless figure on the + charger. It was most curious.</p> + + <p>There was a terrific crash of wood far behind. Resmith + chuckled.</p> + + <p>"One of those G.S. wagons has knocked down the Automobile + Club 'Cross-Roads' sign," he said. "Good thing it wasn't a + lamp-post! You see, with their eyes right, they can't look + where they're going, and the whip touches up the horses, and + before you can say knife they're into something. Jolly glad + it's only the Am. Col. Jones will hear of this." He chuckled + again. Jones was the Captain commanding the Ammunition + Column.</p> + + <p>The order ran down the line:</p> + + <p>"Eyes— + <i>front</i> + + ."</p> + + <p>Soon afterwards they came to some policemen, and two girls + in very gay frocks with bicycles, and the cross-roads. The + Battery swung into the great high road whose sign-post +<!-- Page 295 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page290" name="page290">[pg 290]</a> + </span> + + said, 'To Ewell and Epsom.' Another unit had been halted to let + the Artillery pass into its definitive place in the vast trek. + It was about this time that George began to notice the dust. + Rain had fallen before dawn and made the roads perfect; but now + either all the moisture had evaporated in the blazing sun, or + the Battery had reached a zone where rain had not fallen. At + first the dust rose only in a shallow sea to the height of + fetlocks; but gradually it ascended and made clouds, and + deposited a layer on the face and on the tongue and in the + throat. And the surface itself of the road, exasperated by + innumerable hoofs and wheels, seemed to be in a kind of + crawling fermentation. The smell of humanity and horses was + strong. The men were less inclined to sing.</p> + + <p>"Left!" yelled a voice.</p> + + <p>And another:</p> + + <p>" + <i>Left</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>And still another, very close on the second one:</p> + + <p>"LEFT!"</p> + + <p>"Keep your distances there!" Resmith shouted violently.</p> + + <p>A horn sounded, and the next moment a motor-car, apparently + full of red-hats, rushed past the Battery, overtaking it, in a + blinding storm of dust. It was gone, like a ghost.</p> + + <p>"That's the Almighty himself," Resmith explained, with + unconscious awe and devotion in his powerful voice. "Gramstone, + Major-General."</p> + + <p>George, profoundly impressed (he knew not why), noticed in + his brain a tiny embryo of a thought that it might be agreeable + to ride in a car.</p> + + <p>A hand went up, and the Battery stopped. It was the first + halt.</p> + + <p>"Look at your watch," said Resmith, smiling.</p> + + <p>"Ten to, exactly."</p> + + <p>"That's right. We have ten minutes in each hour."</p> + + <p>All dismounted, examined horses for galls, and looked at + their shoes, took pulls at water-bottles, lit cigarettes, + expectorated, coughed, flicked at flies with handkerchiefs. The two chromatic girls cycled past slowly, laughing. A stretcher-party also went past, and shortly afterwards returned with the stretcher laden.</p> + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='VI'> + </a> + + <h4>VI</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was after the long halt at midday that the weather + changed. The horses, martyrized by insects, had been + elaborately watered and fed with immense labour; officers and +<!-- Page 296 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page291" name="page291">[pg 291]</a> + </span> + + men had eaten rations and dust from their haversacks, and for + the most part emptied their water-bottles; and the march had + been resumed in a temper captious and somewhat exacerbated.</p> + + <p>"Get your horse away; he's kicking mine!" said Captain + Resmith impatiently to George, reflecting the general mood. And + George, who was beginning to experience fatigue in the region + of the knees, visited on his horse the resentment he felt at + Resmith's tone.</p> + + <p>At precisely that moment some drops of rain fell. Nobody + could believe at first that the drops were raindrops for the + whole landscape was quivering in hot sunshine. However, an + examination of the firmament showed a cloud perpendicularly + overhead; the drops multiplied; the cloud slowly obscured the + sun. An almost audible sigh of relief passed down the line. + Everybody was freshened and elated. Some men with an instinct + for the apposite started to sing:</p> + + <p>"Shall we gather at the river?"</p> + + <p>And nearly the whole Battery joined in the tune. The rain + persevered, thickening. The sun accepted defeat. The sky lost + all its blue. Orders were given as to clothing. George had the + sensation that something was lacking to him, and found that it + was an umbrella. On the outskirts of Ewell the Battery was + splashing through puddles of water; the coats of horses and of + men had darkened; guns, poles, and caps carried chaplets of + raindrops; and all those stern riders, so proud and scornful, + with chins hidden in high, upturned collars, and long garments + disposed majestically over their legs and the flanks of the + horses, nevertheless knew in secret that the conquering rain + had got down the backs of their necks, and into their boots and + into their very knees but they were still nobly maintaining the + illusion of impermeability against it. The Battery, riding + now stiffly 'eyes front,' was halted unexpectedly in Ewell, + filling the whole of the village, to the village's extreme + content. Many minutes elapsed. Rumour floated down that + something, was wrong in front. Captain Resmith had much + inspectorial cantering to do, and George faithfully followed + him for some time. At one end of the village a woman was + selling fruit and ginger-beer to the soldiers at siege prices; + at the other, men and women out of the little gardened houses + were eagerly distributing hot tea and hot coffee free of + charge. The two girls from the crossroads entered the village, + pushing their bicycles, one of which +<!-- Page 297 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page292" name="page292">[pg 292]</a> + </span> + + had apparently lost a pedal. They wore mackintoshes, and were + still laughing.</p> + + <p>At length George said:</p> + + <p>"If you don't mind I'll stick where I am for a bit."</p> + + <p>"Tired, eh?" Resmith asked callously.</p> + + <p>"Well! I shall be if I keep on."</p> + + <p>"Dismount, my canny boy. Didn't I tell you what would happen + to you? At your age—"</p> + + <p>"Why! How old d'you think I am?"</p> + + <p>"Well, my canny boy, you'll never see thirty again, I + suppose."</p> + + <p>"No, I shan't. Nor you either."</p> + + <p>Captain Resmith said:</p> + + <p>"I'm twenty-four."</p> + + <p>George was thunder-struck. The fellow was a boy, and George + had been treating him as an equal! But then the fellow was also + George's superior officer, and immeasurably his superior in + physique. Do what he would, harden himself as he might, George + at thirty-three could never hope to rival the sinews of the boy + of twenty-four, who incidentally could instruct him on every + conceivable military subject. George, standing by his sodden + horse, felt humiliated and annoyed as Resmith cantered off to + speak to the officer commanding the Ammunition Column. But on + the trek there was no outlet for such a sentiment as annoyance. + He was Resmith's junior and Resmith's inferior, and must + behave, and expect to be behaved to, as such.</p> + + <p>"Never mind!" he said to himself. His determination to learn + the art and craft of war was almost savage in ferocity.</p> + + <p>When the Battery at length departed from Ewell the rain had + completed its victory but at the same time had lost much of its + prestige. The riders, abandoning illusion, admitting frankly + that they were wet to the skin, knowing that all their clothing + was soaked, and satisfied that they could not be wetter than + they were if the bottom fell out of the sky, simply derided the + rain and plodded forward. Groups of them even disdained the + weather in lusty song. But not George. George was exhausted. He + was ready to fall off his horse. The sensation of fatigue about + the knees and in the small of his back was absolute torture. + Resmith told him to ride without stirrups and dangle his legs. + The relief was real, but only temporary. And the Battery moved + on at the horribly monotonous, tiring walk. Epsom was + incredibly distant. George gave up hope of Epsom; and he was + right to do so, +<!-- Page 298 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page293" name="page293">[pg 293]</a> + </span> + + for Epsom never came. The Battery had taken a secondary road to + the left which climbed slowly to the Downs. At the top of this + road, under the railway bridge, just before fields ceased to be + enclosed, stood the two girls. Their bicycles leaned against + the brick wall. They had taken off their mackintoshes, and it + was plain from their clinging coloured garments that they too + were utterly drenched. They laughed no more. Over the open + Downs the wind was sweeping the rain in front of it; and the + wind was the night wind, for the sky had begun to darken into + dusk. The Battery debouched into a main road which seemed full + of promise, but left it again within a couple of hundred yards, + and was once more on the menacing, high, naked Downs, with a + wide and desolate view of unfeatured plains to the north. The + bugles sounded sharply in the wet air, and the Battery, now + apparently alone in the world, came to a halt. George dropped + off his horse. A multiplicity of orders followed. Amorphous + confusion was produced out of a straight line. This was the + bivouacking ground. And there was nothing—nothing but the + track by which they had arrived, and the Downs, and a distant + blur to the west in the shape of the Epsom Grand Stand, and the + heavy, ceaseless rain, and the threat of the fast-descending + night. According to the theory of the Divisional Staff a dump + furnished by the Army Service Corps ought to have existed at a + spot corresponding to the final letter in the words 'Burgh + Heath' on the map, but the information quickly became general + that no such dump did in practice exist. To George the + situation was merely incredible. He knew that for himself there + was only one reasonable course of conduct. He ought to have a + boiling bath, go to bed with his dressing-gown over his + pyjamas, and take a full basin of hot bread-and-milk + adulterated by the addition of brandy—and sleep. Horses + and men surged perilously around him. The anarchical disorder, + however, must have been less acute than he imagined, for a + soldier appeared and took away his horse; he let the reins slip + from his dazed hand. The track had been transformed into a + morass of viscous mud.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='VII'> + </a> + + <h4>VII</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>It was night. The heavy rain drove out of the dark void from + every direction at once, and baptized the chilled faces of men + as though it had been discharged from the hundred-holed rose of + a full watering-can. The right and the left sections of +<!-- Page 299 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page294" name="page294">[pg 294]</a> + </span> + + the Battery were disposed on either side of the track. Fires + were burning. Horse-lines had been laid down, and by the light + of flickering flames the dim forms of tethered animals could be + seen with their noses to the ground pessimistically pretending + to munch what green turf had survived in the mud. Lanterns + moved mysteriously to and fro. In the distance to the west more + illuminations showed that another unit had camped along the + track. The quartermaster of No. 2, had produced meagre tinned + meats and biscuits from his emergency stores, and had made a + certain quantity of tea in dixies; he had even found a + half-feed of oats for the horses; so that both horses and men + were somewhat appeased. But the officers had had nothing, and + the Army Service Corps detachment was still undiscoverable.</p> + + <p>George sat on an empty box at the edge of the track, + submissive to the rain. Resmith had sent him to overlook men + cutting straight branches in a wood on Park Downs, and then he + had overlooked them as, with the said branches and with + waterproofs laced together in pairs, they had erected sleeping + shelters for the officers under the imperfect shelter of the + sole tree within the precincts of the camp. From these purely + ornamental occupations he had returned in a condition + approximating to collapse, without desire and without hope. The + invincible cheerfulness of unseen men chanting music-hall songs + in the drenched night made no impression on him, nor the + terrible staccato curtness of a N.C.O. mounting guard. Volition + had gone out of him; his heart was as empty as his stomach.</p> + + <p>Then a group of officers approached, with a mounted officer + in the middle of them, and a lantern swinging. The group was + not proceeding in any particular direction, but following the + restless motions of the uneasy horse. George, suddenly + startled, recognized the voice of the rider; it was Colonel + Hullocher's voice. The Brigade-Commander had come in person to + investigate the melancholy inexcusable case of No. 2 Battery, + and he was cursing all men and all things, and especially the + Divisional Staff. It appeared that the Staff was responsible + for the hitch of organization. During the day the Staff had + altered its arrangements for No. 2 Battery of the Second + Brigade, and had sent an incomplete message to the Army Service + Corps Headquarters. The A.S.C. had waited in vain for the + completion of the message, and had then, at dark, dispatched a + convoy with provender for No. 2 with instructions to find No. + 2. This convoy had +<!-- Page 300 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page295" name="page295">[pg 295]</a> + </span> + + not merely not found No. 2—it had lost itself, vanished + in the dark universe of rain. But let not No. 2 imagine that + No. 2 was blameless! No. 2 ought to have found the convoy. By + some means, human or divine, by the exercise of second sight or + the vision of cats or the scent of hounds, it ought to have + found the convoy, and there was no excuse for it not having + done so. Such was the expressed opinion of Colonel Hullocher, + and a recital by Major Craim of the measures taken by him did + nothing to shake that opinion.</p> + + <p>"How exactly do you stand now?" the Colonel fiercely + demanded.</p> + + <p>"The men and the horses will manage fairly well with what + they've had, sir," said the Major; and he incautiously added: + "But my officers haven't had anything at all."</p> + + <p>The Colonel seized the opening with fury.</p> + + <p>"What the devil do I care for your officers? It's your + horses and your men that I'm thinking about. It's to-morrow + morning that I'm thinking about. I—"</p> + + <p>The horse, revolving, cut short his harangue.</p> + + <p>"Keep that d—d lantern out of his eyes!" cried the + Colonel.</p> + + <p>George jumped up, and as he did so the water swished in his + boots, and a stream poured off his cap. The horse was being + fatally attracted towards him. The beam of the lantern fell on + him, illuminating before his face the long slants of rain.</p> + + <p>"Ha! Who's this?" the Colonel demanded, steadying the + horse.</p> + + <p>George smartly saluted, forgetting his fatigue.</p> + + <p>"You, is it? And what are + <i>you</i> + + supposed to be doing? Look here—" Colonel Hullocher + stopped in full career of invective, remembering military + etiquette. "Major, I suggest you send Mr. Cannon with some men + to find the convoy." The Major having eagerly concurred, the + Colonel went on: "Take a few men and search every road and + track between here and Kingswood Station—systematically. + Kingswood's the rail-head, and somewhere between here and there + that convoy is bound to be. Systematically, mind! It's not a + technical job. All that's wanted is common sense and + thoroughness."</p> + + <p>The Colonel's gaze was ruthlessly challenging. George met it + stiffly. He knew that the roads, if not the tracks, had already + been searched. He knew that he was being victimized by a chance + impulse of the Colonel's. But he ignored all that. He was + coldly angry and resentful. Utterly for +<!-- Page 301 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page296" name="page296">[pg 296]</a> + </span> + + getting his fatigue, he inimically surveyed the Colonel's + squat, shining figure in the cavalry coat, a pyramid of which + the apex was a round head surmounted by a dripping cap.</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir," he snapped.</p> + + <p>By rights the tyrant ought to have rolled off his horse + dead. But Colonel Hullocher was not thus vulnerable. He could + give glance for glance with perhaps any human being on earth, + and indeed thought little more of subalterns than of + rabbits.</p> + + <p>He finished, after a pause:</p> + + <p>"You will be good enough, Major, to let this officer report + to me personally when he has found the convoy."</p> + + <p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + + <p>The horse bounded away, scattering the group.</p> + + <p>Rather less than half an hour later George had five men + (including his own servant and Resmith's) and six lanterns + round a cask, on the top of which was his map. There were six + possible variations of route to Kingswood Station, and he + explained them all, allotting one to each man and keeping one + for himself. He could detect the men exchanging looks, but what + the looks signified he could not tell. He gave instructions + that everybody should go forward until either discovering the + convoy or reaching Kingswood. He said with a positive air of + conviction that by this means the convoy could not fail to be + discovered. The men received the statement with strict + agnosticism; they could not see things with the eye of faith, + fortified though they were with tea and tinned meats. An + offered reward of ten shillings to the man who should hit on + the convoy did not appreciably inspirit them. George himself + was of course not a bit convinced by his own argument, and had + not the slightest expectation that the convoy would be found. + The map, which the breeze lifted and upon which the rain + drummed, seemed to be entirely unconnected with the actual + facts of the earth's surface. The party mounted tired, + unwilling horses and filed off. Some soldiers in the darkness, + watching the string of lanterns, gave a half-ironical 'Hurrah.' + One by one, as the tracks bifurcated, George dispatched his + men, with renewed insistent advice, and at last he and his + horse were alone on the Downs.</p> + + <p>His clothes were exceedingly heavy with all the moisture + they had imbibed. Repose had mitigated his fatigue, but every + slow, slouching step of the horse intensified it + again—and at a tremendous rate. Still, he did not care, + having mastered the great truth that he would either fall off + the horse in exhaustion or arrive at Kingswood—and which + of the +<!-- Page 302 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page297" name="page297">[pg 297]</a> + </span> + + alternatives happened did not appear to him to matter + seriously. The whole affair was fantastic; it was unreal, in + addition to being silly. But, real or unreal, he would finish + it. If he was a phantom and Kingswood a mirage, the phantom + would reach the mirage or sink senseless into astral mud. He + had Colonel Hullocher in mind, and, quite illogically, he + envisaged the Colonel as a reality. Often he had heard of the + ways of the Army, and had scarcely credited the tales told and + printed. Well, he now credited them. Was it conceivable that + that madman of a Colonel had packed him, George, off on such a + wild and idiotic errand in the middle of the night, merely out + of caprice? Were such doings—</p> + + <p>He faintly heard voices through the rain, and the horse + started at this sign of life from the black, unknown world + beyond the circle of lantern-light. George was both frightened + and puzzled. He thought of ghosts and haunted moors. Then he + noticed a penumbra round about the form of what might be a + small hillock to the left of the track. He quitted the track, + and cautiously edged his horse forward, having commendably + obscured the lantern beneath his overcoat. The farther side of + the hillock had been tunnelled to a depth of perhaps three + feet; a lantern suspended somehow in the roof showed the spade + which had done the work; it also showed, within the cavity, the + two girls who had accompanied the Brigade from Wimbledon, + together with two soldiers. The soldiers were rankers, but one + of the girls talked with perfect correctness in a very refined + voice; the other was silently eating. Both were obviously tired + to the limit of endurance, and very dirty and draggled. The gay + colours of their smart frocks had, however, survived the + hardships of the day. George was absolutely amazed by the + spectacle. The vagaries of autocratic Colonels were nothing + when compared to this extravagance of human nature, this + glimpse of the subterranean life of regiments, this triumphant + and forlorn love-folly in the midst of the inclement, pitiless + night. And he was touched, too. The glimmer of the lantern on + the green and yellow of the short skirts half disclosed under + the mackintoshes was at once pathetic and exciting. The girl + who had been eating gave a terrible scream; she had caught + sight of the figure on horseback. The horse shied violently and + stood still. George persuaded him back into the track and rode + on, guessing that already he had become a genuine phantom for + the self-absorbed group awakened out of its ecstasy by the + mysterious vision of a nightrider.</p> + + <p> +<!-- Page 303 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page298" name="page298">[pg 298]</a> + </span> + + Half a mile farther on he saw the red end of a cigarette + swimming on the sea of darkness; his lantern had expired, and + he had not yet tried to relight it.</p> + + <p>"Hi there!" he cried. "Who are you?"</p> + + <p>The cigarette approached him, in a wavy movement, and a + man's figure was vaguely discerned.</p> + + <p>"A.S.C. convoy, sir."</p> + + <p>"Where are you supposed to be going to?"</p> + + <p>"No. 2 Battery, Second Brigade, sir. Can't find it, sir. And + we've got off the road. The G.S. wagon fell into a hole and + broke an axle, sir."</p> + + <p>"And what do you think you're doing?"</p> + + <p>"Waiting for daylight, sir."</p> + + <p>The man's youthful voice was quite cheerful.</p> + + <p>"D'you know what time it is?"</p> + + <p>"No, sir."</p> + + <p>"How many other vehicles have you got?"</p> + + <p>"Three altogether, sir. Six horses."</p> + + <p>"Well, I'm from No. 2 Battery, and I'm looking for you. + You've unharnessed, I suppose."</p> + + <p>"Oh yes, sir, and fed."</p> + + <p>"Well, you'd better harness up your other two carts like + lightning and come along with me. Show me the way. We'll see + about the G.S. wagon later on."</p> + + <p>"It's about a hundred yards from here, sir."</p> + + <p>For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue. + Exultation, though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every + part of his body. Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, + he rode comfortably on hard packages till within sight of the + Battery camp, when he took saddle again and went off alone to + find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand Stand, where Colonel + Hullocher and other grandees had billeted themselves. The + Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite ready + to eat George.</p> + + <p>"Ah! You, is it? Found that convoy?"</p> + + <p>George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was + conceivable:</p> + + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + + <p>"Brought it back?"</p> + + <p>"Part of it, sir."</p> + + <p>He explained the circumstances.</p> + + <p>The Colonel coughed, and said:</p> + + <p>"Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?"</p> + + <p>George reflected for an instant. The Colonel seemingly +<!-- Page 304 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page299" name="page299">[pg 299]</a> + </span> + + had a core of decency, but George said in his heart: "I've not + done with you yet, my fat friend." And aloud, grimly.</p> + + <p>"Thank you very much, sir. But I shall ask you to excuse + me."</p> + + <p>Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by + this unparalleled response.</p> + + <p>The Colonel barked:</p> + + <p>"Why? Teetotaller?"</p> + + <p>"No, sir. But I've eaten nothing since lunch, and a glass of + whisky might make me drunk."</p> + + <p>Colonel Hullocher might have offered George some food to + accompany the whisky, but he did not. He had already done a + marvel; a miracle was not to be expected. He looked at George + and George looked at him.</p> + + <p>"No doubt you're right. Good night."</p> + + <p>"Good night, sir." George saluted and marched off.</p> + + <br /> + + <br /> + + <a name='VIII'> + </a> + + <h4>VIII</h4> + + <br /> + + <p>He prepared to turn in. The process was the simplest in the + world. He had only to wrap a pair of blankets round his soaked + clothes, and, holding them in place with one hand, creep under + the shelter. There were four shelters. The Major had a small + one, nearest the trunk of the tree, and the others were double + shelters, to hold two officers apiece. He glanced about. The + invisible camp was silent and still, save for a couple of + lieutenants who were walking to and fro like young ducks in the + heavy rain. Faint fires here and there in the distance showed + how the troops were spread over the Downs. Heaven and earth + were equally mysterious and inscrutable. He inserted himself + cautiously into the aperture of the shelter, where Resmith + already lay asleep, and, having pushed back his cap, arranged + his right arm for a pillow. The clammy ground had been covered + with dry horse-litter. As soon as he was settled the noise of + the rain ceaselessly pattering on the waterproof became + important. He could feel the chill of the wind on his feet, + which, with Resmith's, projected beyond the shelter. The + conditions were certainly astounding. Yet, despite extreme + fatigue, he was not depressed. On the contrary he was well + satisfied. He had accomplished something. He had been + challenged, and had accepted the challenge, and had won. The + demeanour of the mess when he got back to the camp clearly + indicated that he had acquired prestige. He was the man who had + +<!-- Page 305 --> + <span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page300" name="page300">[pg 300]</a> + </span> + + organized an exhaustive search for the convoy and had found the + convoy in the pitchy blackness. He was the man who had saved + the unit from an undeserved shame. The mess had greeted him + with warm food. Perhaps he had been lucky—the hazard of a + lighted cigarette in the darkness! Yes, but luck was in + everything. The credit was his, and men duly gave it to him, + and he took it. He thought almost kindly of Colonel Hullocher, + against whom he had measured himself. The result of the match + was a draw, but he had provided the efficient bully with matter + for reflection. After all, Hullocher was right. When you were + moving a Division, jobs had to be done, possible or impossible; + human beings had to be driven; the supernatural had to be + achieved. And it had been! That which in the morning existed at + Wimbledon now existed on the Downs. There it lay, safe and + chiefly asleep, in defiance of the weather and of accidents and + miscarriage! And the next day it would go on.</p> + + <p>The vast ambitions of the civilian had sunk away. He + thought, exalted as though by a wonderful discovery:</p> + + <p>" + <i>There is something in this Army business</i> + + !"</p> + + <p>He ardently desired to pursue it further. He ardently + desired sleep and renewal so that he might rise afresh and + pursue it further. What he had done and been through was + naught, less than naught. To worry about physical discomforts + was babyish. Inviting vistas of knowledge, technical + attainment, experience, and endurance stretched before him, + illuminating the night. His mind dwelt on France, on Mons, on + the idea of terror and cataclysm. And it had room too for his + wife and children. He had had no news of them for over + twenty-four hours; and he had broken his resolve to write to + Lois every day; he had been compelled to break it. But in the + morning, somehow, he would send a telegram and he would get + one.</p> + + <p>"If it's true the French Government has left + Paris—"</p> + + <p>The nocturnal young ducks were passing the shelter.</p> + + <p>"And who says it's true? Who told you, I should like to + know?"</p> + + <p>"The Major has heard it."</p> + + <p>"Rats! I lay you a fiver the Allies are in Berlin before + Christmas."</p> + + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Roll-Call, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROLL-CALL *** + +***** This file should be named 12654-h.htm or 12654-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/5/12654/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Roll-Call + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: June 19, 2004 [EBook #12654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROLL-CALL *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + + +BY + + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +THIRD EDITION + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +NOVELS + +A Man from the North +Anna of the Five Towns +Leonora +A Great Man +Sacred and Profane Love +Whom God hath Joined +Buried Alive +The Old Wives' Tale +The Glimpse +Helen with the High Hand +Clayhanger +Hilda Lessways +These Twain +The Card +The Regent +The Price of Love +The Lion's Share +The Pretty Lady + +FANTASIAS + +The Ghost +The Grand Babylon Hotel +The Gates of Wrath +Teresa of Watling Street +The Loot of Cities +The City of Pleasure + +SHORT STORIES + +Tales of the Five Towns +The Grim Smile of the Five Towns +The Matador of the Five Towns + +BELLES-LETTRES + +Journalism for Women +Fame and Fiction +How to become an Author +The Truth about an Author +How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day +Mental Efficiency +The Human Machine +Literary Taste +Those United States +Paris Nights +Friendship and Happiness +Married Life +Liberty +Over There +The Author's Craft +Books and Persons +Self and Self-Management + +DRAMA + +Polite Farces +Cupid and Common Sense +What the Public Wants +The Honeymoon +The Great Adventure +The Title +Judith +Milestones (in collaboration with EDWARD KNOBLOCK) + +(In collaboration with EDEN PHILLPOTTS) +The Sinews of War: A Romance +The Statue: A Romance + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + + +BY + + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +THIRD EDITION + + +_LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO. +PATERNOSTER ROW_ + +NOTE +This novel was written before "The Pretty Lady", and is the first of the +author's war-novels. +A.B. + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAP. + I. THE NEW LODGING + II. MARGUERITE + III. THE CHARWOMAN + IV. THE LUNCHEON + V. THE TEA + VI. THE DINNER + VII. THE RUPTURE +VIII. INSPIRATION + IX. COMPETITION + + +PART II + + I. THE TRIUMPH + II. THE ROLL-CALL + III. IN THE MACHINE + + + + +THE ROLL-CALL + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +THE NEW LODGING + +I + + +In the pupils' room of the offices of Lucas & Enwright, architects, +Russell Square, Bloomsbury, George Edwin Cannon, an articled pupil, +leaned over a large drawing-board and looked up at Mr. Enwright, the +head of the firm, who with cigarette and stick was on his way out after +what he called a good day's work. It was past six o'clock on an evening +in early July 1901. To George's right was an open door leading to the +principals' room, and to his left another open door leading to more +rooms and to the staircase. The lofty chambers were full of lassitude; +but round about George, who was working late, there floated the tonic +vapour of conscious virtue. Haim, the factotum, could be seen and heard +moving in his cubicle which guarded the offices from the stairs. In the +rooms shortly to be deserted and locked up, and in the decline of the +day, the three men were drawn together like survivors. + +"I gather you're going to change your abode," said Mr. Enwright, having +stopped. + +"Did Mr. Orgreave tell you, then?" George asked. + +"Well, he didn't exactly tell me...." + +John Orgreave was Mr. Enwright's junior partner; and for nearly two +years, since his advent in London from the Five Towns, George had lived +with Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave at Bedford Park. The Orgreaves, too, sprang +from the Five Towns. John's people and George's people were closely +entwined in the local annals. + +Pupil and principal glanced discreetly at one another, exchanging in +silence vague, malicious, unutterable critical verdicts upon both John +Orgreave and his wife. + +"Well, I am!" said George at length. + +"Where are you going to?" + +"Haven't settled a bit," said George. "I wish I could live in Paris." + +"Paris wouldn't be much good to you yet," Mr. Enwright laughed +benevolently. + +"I suppose it wouldn't. Besides, of course----" + +George spoke in a tone of candid deferential acceptance, which flattered +Mr. Enwright very much, for it was the final proof of the prestige which +the grizzled and wrinkled and peculiar Fellow and Member of the Council +of the Royal Institute of British Architects had acquired in the +estimation of that extremely independent, tossing sprig, George Edwin +Cannon. Mr. Enwright had recently been paying a visit to Paris, and +George had been sitting for the Intermediate Examination. "You can join +me here for a few days after the exam., if you care to," Mr. Enwright +had sent over. It was George's introduction to the Continent, and the +circumstances of it were almost ideal. For a week the deeply experienced +connoisseur of all the arts had had the fine, eager, responsive virgin +mind in his power. Day after day he had watched and guided it amid +entirely new sensations. Never had Mr. Enwright enjoyed himself more +purely, and at the close he knew with satisfaction that he had put Paris +in a proper perspective for George, and perhaps saved the youth from +years of groping misapprehension. As for George, all his preconceived +notions about Paris had been destroyed or shaken. In the quadrangles of +the Louvre, for example, Mr. Enwright, pointing to the under part of the +stone bench that foots so much of the walls, had said: "Look at that +curve." Nothing else. No ecstasies about the sculptures of Jean Goujon +and Carpeaux, or about the marvellous harmony of the East facade! But a +flick of the cane towards the half-hidden moulding! And George had felt +with a thrill what an exquisite curve and what an original curve and +what a modest curve that curve was. Suddenly and magically his eyes had +been opened. Or it might have been that a deceitful mist had rolled away +and the real Louvre been revealed in its esoteric and sole authentic +beauty.... + +"Why don't you try Chelsea?" said Mr. Enwright over his shoulder, +proceeding towards the stairs. + +"I was thinking of Chelsea." + +"You were!" Mr. Enwright halted again for an instant. "It's the only +place in London where the structure of society is anything like Paris. +Why, dash it, in the King's Road the grocers know each other's +business!" Mr. Enwright made the last strange remark to the outer door, +and vanished. + +"Funny cove!" George commented tolerantly to Mr. Haim, who passed +through the room immediately afterwards to his nightly task of +collecting and inspecting the scattered instruments on the principal's +august drawing-board. + +But Mr. Haim, though possibly he smiled ever so little, would not +compromise himself by an endorsement of the criticism of his employer. +George was a mere incident in the eternal career of Mr. Haim at Lucas & +Enwright's. + +When the factotum came back into the pupils' room, George stood up +straight and smoothed his trousers and gazed admiringly at his elegant +bright socks. + +"Let me see," said George in a very friendly manner. "_You_ live +somewhere in Chelsea, don't you?" + +"Yes," answered Mr. Haim. + +"Whereabouts, if it isn't a rude question?" + +"Well," said Mr. Haim, confidentially and benignantly, captivated by +George's youthful charm, "it's near the Redcliffe Arms." He mentioned +the Redcliffe Arms as he might have mentioned the Bank, Piccadilly +Circus, or Gibraltar. "Alexandra Grove. No. 8. To tell you the truth, I +own the house." + +"The deuce you do!" + +"Yes. The leasehold, that is, of course. No freeholds knocking about +loose in that district!" + +George saw a new and unsuspected Mr. Haim. He was impressed. And he was +glad that he had never broken the office tradition of treating Mr. Haim +with a respect not usually accorded to factotums. He saw a +property-owner, a tax-payer, and a human being behind the spectacles of +the shuffling, rather shabby, ceremonious familiar that pervaded those +rooms daily from before ten till after six. He grew curious about a +living phenomenon that hitherto had never awakened his curiosity. + +"Were you really looking for accommodation?" demanded Mr. Haim suavely. + +George hesitated. "Yes." + +"Perhaps I have something that might suit you." + +Events, disguised as mere words, seemed to George to be pushing him +forward. + +"I should like to have a look at it," he said. He had to say it; there +was no alternative. + +Mr. Haim raised a hand. "Any evening that happens to be convenient." + +"What about to-night, then?" + +"Certainly," Mr. Haim agreed. For a moment George apprehended that Mr. +Haim was going to invite him to dinner. But Mr. Haim was not going to +invite him to dinner. "About nine, shall we say?" he suggested, with a +courtliness softer even than usual. + +Later, George said that he would lock up the office himself and leave +the key with the housekeeper. + +"You can't miss the place," said Mr. Haim on leaving. "It's between the +Workhouse and the Redcliffe." + + +II + + +At the corner dominated by the Queen's Elm, which on the great route +from Piccadilly Circus to Putney was a public-house and halt second only +in importance to the Redcliffe Arms, night fell earlier than it ought to +have done, owing to a vast rain-cloud over Chelsea. A few drops +descended, but so warm and so gently that they were not like real rain, +and sentimentalists could not believe that they would wet. People, +arriving mysteriously out of darkness, gathered sparsely on the +pavements, lingered a few moments, and were swallowed by omnibuses that +bore them obscurely away. At intervals an individual got out of an +omnibus and adventured hurriedly forth and was lost in the gloom. The +omnibuses, all white, trotted on an inward curve to the pavement, +stopped while the conductor, with hand raised to the bell-string, +murmured apathetically the names of streets and of public-houses, and +then they jerked off again on an outward curve to the impatient double +ting of the bell. To the east was a high defile of hospitals, and to the +west the Workhouse tower faintly imprinted itself on the sombre sky. + +The drops of rain grew very large and heavy, and the travellers, instead +of waiting on the kerb, withdrew to the shelter of the wall of the +Queen's Elm. George was now among the group, precipitated like the rest, +as it were, out of the solution of London. George was of the age which +does not admit rain or which believes that it is immune from the usual +consequences of exposure to rain. When advised, especially by women, to +defend himself against the treacheries of the weather, he always +protested confidently that he would 'be all right.' Thus with a stick +and a straw hat he would affront terrible dangers. It was a species of +valour which the event often justified. Indeed he generally was all +right. But to-night, afoot on the way from South Kensington Station in a +region quite unfamiliar to him, he was intimidated by the slapping +menace of the big drops. Reality faced him. His scared thought ran: +"Unless I do something at once I shall get wet through." Impossible to +appear drenched at old Haim's! So he had abandoned all his pretensions +to a magical invulnerability, and rushed under the eave of the Queen's +Elm to join the omnibus group. + +He did not harmonize with the omnibus group, being both too elegant and +too high-spirited. His proper role in the circumstances would have been +to 'jump into a hansom'; but there were no empty hansoms, and moreover, +for certain reasons of finance, he had sworn off hansoms until a given +date. He regarded the situation as 'rather a lark,' and he somehow knew +that the group understood and appreciated and perhaps resented his +superior and tolerant attitude. An omnibus rolled palely into the +radiance of the Queen's Elm lamp, the horses' flanks and the lofty +driver's apron gleaming with rain. He sprang towards the vehicle; the +whole group sprang. "Full inside!" snapped the conductor inexorably. +Ting, ting! It was gone, glimmering with its enigmatic load into the +distance. George turned again to the wall, humiliated. It seemed wrong +that the conductor should have included him with the knot of common +omnibus-travellers and late workers. The conductor ought to have +differentiated.... He put out a hand. The rain had capriciously ceased! +He departed gaily and triumphantly. He was re-endowed with the magical +invulnerability. + +The background of his mind was variegated. The incidents of the +tremendous motor-car race from Paris to Berlin, which had finished +nearly a week earlier, still glowed on it. And the fact that King Edward +VII had driven in a car from Pall Mall to Windsor Castle in sixty +minutes was beautifully present. Then, he was slightly worried +concerning the Mediterranean Fleet. He knew nothing about it, but as a +good citizen he suspected in idle moments, like a number of other good +citizens, that all was not quite well with the Mediterranean Fleet. As +for the war, he had only begun to be interested in the war within the +last six months, and already he was sick of it. He knew that the Boers +had just wrecked a British military train, and his attitude towards such +methods of fighting was rather severe and scornful; he did not regard +them as 'war.' However, the apparent permanence of the war was +splendidly compensated by the victory of the brothers Doherty over the +American lawn-tennis champions in the Gentlemen's Doubles at Wimbledon. +Who could have expected the brothers to win after the defeat of R.H. by +Mr. Gore in the Singles? George had most painfully feared that the +Americans would conquer, and their overthrowing by the twin brothers +indicated to George, who took himself for a serious student of affairs, +that Britain was continuing to exist, and that the new national +self-depreciative, yearning for efficiency might possibly be rather +absurd after all. + +In the midst of these and similar thoughts, and of innumerable minor +thoughts about himself, in the very centre of his mind and occupying +nearly the whole of it, was the vast thought, the obsession, of his own +potential power and its fulfilment. George's egotism was terrific, and +as right as any other natural phenomenon. He had to get on. Much money +was included in his scheme, but simply as a by-product. He had to be a +great architect, and--equally important--he had to be publicly +recognized as a great architect, and recognition could not come without +money. For him, the entire created universe was the means to his end. He +would not use it unlawfully, but he would use it. He was using it, as +well as he yet knew how, and with an independence that was as complete +as it was unconscious. In regard to matters upon which his instinct had +not suggested a course of action, George was always ready enough to be +taught; indeed his respect for an expert was truly deferential. But when +his instinct had begun to operate he would consult nobody and consider +nobody, being deeply sure that infallible wisdom had been granted to +him. (Nor did experience seem to teach him.) Thus, in the affair of a +London lodging, though he was still two years from his majority and had +no resources save the purse of his stepfather, Edwin Clayhanger, he had +decided to leave the Orgreaves without asking or even informing his +parents. In his next letter home he would no doubt inform them, +casually, of what he meant to do or actually had done, and if objections +followed he would honestly resent them. + +A characteristic example of his independence had happened when at the +unripe age of seventeen he left the Five Towns for London. Upon his +mother's marriage to Edwin Clayhanger his own name had been informally +changed for him to Clayhanger. But a few days before the day of +departure he had announced that, as Clayhanger was not his own name and +that he preferred his own name, he should henceforth be known as +'Cannon,' his father's name. He did not invite discussion. Mr. +Clayhanger had thereupon said to him privately and as one man of the +world to another: "But you aren't really entitled to the name Cannon, +sonny." "Why?" "Because your father was what's commonly known as a +bigamist, and his marriage with your mother was not legal. I thought I'd +take this opportunity of telling you. You needn't say anything to your +mother--unless of course you feel you must." To which George had +replied: "No, I won't. But if Cannon was my father's name I think I'll +have it all the same." And he did have it. The bigamy of his father did +not apparently affect him. Upon further inquiry he learnt that his +father might be alive or might be dead, but that if alive he was in +America. + +The few words from Mr. Enwright about Chelsea had sufficed to turn +Chelsea into Elysium, Paradise, almost into Paris. No other quarter of +London was inhabitable by a rising architect. As soon as Haim had gone +George had begun to look up Chelsea in the office library, and as Mr. +Enwright happened to be an active member of the Society for the Survey +of the Memorials of Greater London, the library served him well. In an +hour and a half he had absorbed something of the historical topography +of Chelsea. He knew that the Fulham Road upon which he was now walking +was a boundary of Chelsea. He knew that the Queen's Elm public-house had +its name from the tradition that Elizabeth had once sheltered from a +shower beneath an elm tree which stood at that very corner. He knew that +Chelsea had been a 'village of palaces,' and what was the function of +the Thames in the magnificent life of that village. The secret residence +of Turner in Chelsea, under the strange _alias_ of Admiral Booth, +excited George's admiration; he liked the idea of hidden retreats and +splendid, fanciful pseudonyms. But the master-figure of Chelsea for +George was Sir Thomas More. He could see Sir Thomas More walking in his +majestic garden by the river with the King's arm round his neck, and +Holbein close by, and respectful august prelates and a nagging wife in +the background. And he could see Sir Thomas More taking his barge for +the last journey to the Tower, and Sir Thomas More's daughter coming +back in the same barge with her father's head on board. Curious! He +envied Sir Thomas More. + +"Darned bad tower for a village of palaces!" he thought, not of the +Tower of London, but of the tower of the Workhouse which he was now +approaching. He thought he could design an incomparably better tower +than that. And he saw himself in the future, the architect of vast +monuments, strolling in a grand garden of his own at evening with other +distinguished and witty persons. + +But there were high-sounding names in the history of Chelsea besides +those of More and Turner. Not names of people! Cremorne and Ranelagh! +Cremorne to the west and Ranelagh to the east. The legend of these +vanished resorts of pleasure and vice stirred his longings and his +sense of romantic beauty--especially Ranelagh with its Rotunda. (He +wanted, when the time came, to be finely vicious, as he wanted to be +everything. An architect could not be great without being everything.) +He projected himself into the Rotunda, with its sixty windows, its +countless refreshment-boxes, its huge paintings, and the orchestra in +the middle, and the expensive and naughty crowd walking round and round +and round on the matting, and the muffled footsteps and the swish of +trains on the matting, and the specious smiles and whispers, and the +blare of the band and the smell of the lamps and candles.... Earl's +Court was a poor, tawdry, unsightly thing after that. + +When he had passed under the Workhouse tower he came to a side street +which, according to Haim's description of the neighbourhood, ought to +have been Alexandra Grove. The large lamp on the corner, however, gave +no indication, nor in the darkness could any sign be seen on the blind +wall of either of the corner houses in Fulham Road. Doubtless in daytime +the street had a visible label, but the borough authorities evidently +believed that night endowed the stranger with powers of divination. +George turned hesitant down the mysterious gorge, which had two dim +lamps of its own, and which ended in a high wall, whereat could be +descried unattainable trees--possibly the grove of Alexandra. Silence +and a charmed stillness held the gorge, while in Fulham Road not a +hundred yards away omnibuses and an occasional hansom rattled along in +an ordinary world. George soon decided that he was not in Alexandra +Grove, on account of the size of the houses. He could not conceive Mr. +Haim owning one of them. They stood lofty in the gloom, in pairs, +secluded from the pavement by a stucco garden-wall and low bushes. They +were double-fronted, and their doors were at the summits of flights of +blanched steps that showed through the bars of iron gates. They had +three stories above a basement. Still, he looked for No. 8. But just as +the street had no name, so the houses had no numbers. No. 16 alone could +be distinguished; it had figures on its faintly illuminated fanlight. He +walked back, idly counting. + +Then, amid the curtained and shuttered facades, he saw, across the road, +a bright beam from a basement. He crossed and peeped through a gate, and +an interior was suddenly revealed to him. Near the window of a room sat +a young woman bending over a table. A gas-jet on a bracket in the wall, +a few inches higher than her head and a foot distant from it, threw a +strong radiance on her face and hair. The luminous living picture, +framed by the window in blackness, instantly entranced him. All the +splendid images of the past faded and were confuted and invalidated and +destroyed by this intense reality so present and so near to him. +(Nevertheless, for a moment he thought of her as the daughter of Sir +Thomas More.) She was drawing. She was drawing with her whole mind and +heart. At intervals, scarcely moving her head, she would glance aside at +a paper to her left on the table.... She seemed to search it, to drag +some secret out of it, and then she would resume her drawing. She was +neither dark nor fair; she was comely, perhaps beautiful; she had +beautiful lips, and her nose, behind the nostrils, joined the cheek in a +lovely contour, like a tiny bulb. Yes, she was superb. But what mastered +him was less her fresh physical charm than the rapt and extreme vitality +of her existing.... He knew from her gestures and the tools on the table +that she could be no amateur. She was a professional. He thought: +Chelsea!... Marvellous place, Chelsea! He ought to have found that out +long ago. He imagined Chelsea full of such pictures--the only true home +of beauty and romance. + +Then the impact of a single idea startled his blood. He went hot. He +flushed. He had tingling sensations all down his back, and in his legs +and in his arms. It was as though he had been caught in a dubious +situation. Though he was utterly innocent, he felt as though he had +something to be ashamed of. The idea was: she resembled old Haim, +facially! Ridiculous idea! But she did resemble old Haim, particularly +in the lobal termination of the nose. And in the lips too. And there was +a vague, general resemblance. Absurd! It was a fancy.... He would not +have cared for anybody to be watching him then, to surprise him watching +her. He heard unmistakable footsteps on the pavement. A policeman darkly +approached. Policemen at times can be very apposite. George moved his +gaze and looked with admirable casualness around. + +"Officer, is this Alexandra Grove?" (His stepfather had taught him to +address all policemen as 'officer.') + +"It is, sir." + +"Oh! Well, which is No. 8? There're no numbers." + +"You couldn't be much nearer to it, sir," said the policeman dryly, and +pointed to a large number, fairly visible, on the wide gate-post. George +had not inspected the gate-post. + +"Oh! Thanks!" + +He mounted the steps, and in the thick gloom of the portico fumbled for +the bell and rang it. He was tremendously excited and expectant and +apprehensive and puzzled. He heard rain flatly spitting in big drops on +the steps. He had not noticed till then that it had begun again. The +bell jangled below. The light in the basement went out. He flushed anew. +He thought, trembling: "She's coming to the door herself!" + + +III + + +"It had occurred to me some time ago," said Mr. Haim, "that if ever you +should be wanting rooms I might be able to suit you." + +"Really!" George murmured. After having been shown into the room by the +young woman, who had at once disappeared, he was now recovering from the +nervousness of that agitating entry and resuming his normal demeanour of +an experienced and well-balanced man of the world. He felt relieved that +she had gone, and yet he regretted her departure extremely, and hoped +against fear that she would soon return. + +"Yes!" said Mr. Haim, as it were triumphantly, like one who had +whispered to himself during long years: "The hour will come." The hour +had come. + +Mr. Haim was surprising to George. The man seemed much older in his own +parlour than at the office--his hair thinner and greyer, and his face +more wrinkled. But the surprising part of him was that he had a home and +was master in it, and possessed interests other than those of the firm +of Lucas & Enwright. George had never until that day conceived the man +apart from Russell Square. And here he was smoking a cigarette in an +easy-chair and wearing red morocco slippers, and being called 'father' +by a really stunning creature in a thin white blouse and a blue skirt. + +The young girl, opening the front door, had said: "Do you want to see +father?" And instantly the words were out George had realized that she +might have said: "_Did_ you want to see father?" ... in the idiom of the +shop-girl or clerk, and that if she had said 'did' he would have been +gravely disappointed and hurt. But she had not. Of course she had not! +Of course she was incapable of such a locution, and it was silly of him +to have thought otherwise, even momentarily. She was an artist. Entirely +different from the blonde and fluffy Mrs. John Orgreave--(and a good +thing too, for Mrs. John with her eternal womanishness had got on his +nerves)--Miss Haim was without doubt just as much a lady, and probably a +jolly sight more cultured, in the true sense. Yet Miss Haim had not in +the least revealed herself to him in the hall as she indicated the +depository for his hat and stick and opened the door of the +sitting-room. She had barely smiled. Indeed she had not smiled. She had +not mentioned the weather. On the other hand, she had not been prim or +repellent. She had revealed nothing of herself. Her one feat had been to +stimulate mightily his curiosity and his imagination concerning +her--rampant enough even before he entered the house! + +The house--what he saw of it--suited her and set her off, and, as she +was different from Mrs. John, so was the house different from the +polished, conventional abode of Mrs. John at Bedford Park. To George's +taste it knocked Bedford Park to smithereens. In the parlour, for +instance, an oak chest, an oak settee, an oak gate-table, one tapestried +easy chair, several rush-bottomed chairs, a very small brass fender, a +self-coloured wall-paper of warm green, two or three old engravings in +maple-wood or tarnished gilt frames, several small portraits in +maple-wood frames, brass candlesticks on the mantelpiece and no clock, +self-coloured brown curtains across the windows (two windows opposite +each other at either end of the long room), sundry rugs on the +dark-stained floor, and so on! Not too much furniture, and not too much +symmetry either. An agreeable and original higgledy-piggledyness! The +room was lighted by a fairly large oil-lamp, with a paper shade +hand-painted in a design of cupids--delightful personal design, rough, +sketchy, adorable! She had certainly done it. + +George sat on the oak settle, fronting the old man in the easy chair. It +was a hard, smooth oak settle; it had no upholstering nor cushion; but +George liked it. + +"May I smoke?" asked George. + +"Please do. Please do," said Mr. Haim, who was smoking a cigarette +himself, with courteous hospitality. However, it was a match and not a +cigarette that he offered to George, who opened his own dandiacal case. + +"I stayed rather late at the office to-night," said George, as he blew +out those great clouds with which young men demonstrate to the world +that the cigarette is actually lighted. And as Mr. Haim, who was +accustomed to the boastings of articled pupils, made no comment, George +proceeded, lolling on the settle and showing his socks: "You know, I +like Chelsea. I've always had a fancy for it." He was just about to +continue cosmopolitanly: "It's the only part of London that's like +Paris. The people in the King's Road," etc., when fortunately he +remembered that Mr. Haim must have overheard these remarks of Mr. +Enwright, and ceased, rather awkwardly. Whereupon Mr. Haim suggested +that he should see the house, and George said eagerly that he should +like to see the house. + +"We've got one bedroom more than we want," Mr. Haim remarked as he led +George to the hall. + +"Oh yes!" said George politely. + +The hall had a small bracket-lamp, which Mr. Haim unhooked, and then he +opened a door opposite to the door of the room which they had quitted. + +"Now this is a bedroom," said he, holding the lamp high. + +George was startled. A ground-floor bedroom would have been unthinkable +at Bedford Park. Still, in a flat.... Moreover, the idea had piquancy. +The bedroom was sparsely furnished. Instead of a wardrobe it had a +corner curtained off with cretonne. + +"A good-sized room," said Mr. Haim. + +"Very," said George. "Two windows, too, like the drawing-room." Then +they went upstairs to the first floor, and saw two more bedrooms, each +with two windows. One of them was Miss Haim's; there was a hat hung on +the looking-glass, and a table with a few books on it. They did not go +to the second floor. The staircase to the second floor was boarded up at +the point where it turned. + +"That's all there is," said Mr. Haim on the landing. "The studio people +have the second floor, but they don't use my front door." He spoke the +last words rather defiantly. + +"I see," said George untruthfully, for he was mystified. But the mystery +did not trouble him. + +There was no bathroom, and this did not trouble him either, though at +Bedford Park he could never have seriously considered a house without a +bathroom. + +"You could have your choice of ground floor or first floor," said Mr. +Haim confidentially, still on the landing. He moved the lamp about, and +the shadows moved accordingly on the stairs. + +"Oh, I don't mind in the least," George answered. "Whichever would suit +you best." + +"We could give you breakfast, and use of sitting-room," Mr. Haim +proceeded in a low tone. "But no other meals." + +"That would be all right," said George cheerfully. "I often dine in +town. Like that I can get in a bit of extra work at the office, you +see." + +"Except on Sundays," Mr. Haim corrected himself. "You'd want your meals +on Sundays, of course. But I expect you're out a good deal, what with +one thing or another." + +"Oh, I am!" George concurred. + +The place was perfect, and he was determined to establish himself in it. +Nothing could baulk him. A hitch would have desolated him completely. + +"I may as well show you the basement while I'm about it," said Mr. Haim. + +"Do!" said George ardently. + +They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably at the +office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute correctness of an +educated Londoner. His deportment gave distinction and safety even to +the precipitous and mean basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by +the knees of pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about +along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient layers +of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted yellow, and some were +painted grey, and some were not painted. Mr. Haim exhibited first the +kitchen. George saw a morsel of red amber behind black bars, a white +deal table and a black cat crouched on a corner of the table, a chair, +and a tea-cloth drying over the back thereof. He liked the scene; it +reminded him of the Five Towns, and showed reassuringly--if he needed +reassurance, which he did not--that all houses are the same at heart. +Then Mr. Haim, flashing a lamp-ray on the coal-hole and the area door as +he turned, crossed the stone passage into the other basement room. + +"This is our second sitting-room," said Mr. Haim, entering. + +There she was at work, rapt, exactly as George had seen her from the +outside. But now he saw the right side of her face instead of the left. +It was wonderful to him that within the space of a few minutes he should +have developed from an absolute stranger to her into an acquaintance of +the house, walking about in it, peering into its recesses, disturbing +its secrets, which were hers. But she remained as mysterious, as +withdrawn and intangible, as ever. And then she shifted round suddenly +on the chair, and her absorbed, intent face softened into a most +beautiful, simple smile--a smile of welcome. An astonishing and +celestial change!... She was not one of those queer girls, as perhaps +she might have been. She was a girl of natural impulses. He smiled back, +uplifted. + +"My daughter designs bookbindings," said Mr. Haim. "Happens to be very +busy to-night on something urgent." + +He advanced towards her, George following. + +"Awfully good!" George murmured enthusiastically, and quite sincerely, +though he was not at all in a condition to judge the design. Strange, +that he should come to the basement of an ordinary stock-size house in +Alexandra Grove to see bookbindings in the making! This was a design for +a boy's book. He had possessed many such books. But it had never +occurred to him that the gay bindings of them were each the result of +individual human thought and labour. He pulled at his cigarette. + +There was a sound of pushing and rattling outside. + +"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. + +"It's the area door. I bolted it. I dare say it's Mrs. Lobley," said the +girl indifferently. + +Mr. Haim moved sharply. + +"Why did you bolt it, Marguerite? No, I'll go myself." + +He picked up the lamp, which he had put down, and shuffled quickly out +in his red morocco slippers, closing the door. + +Marguerite? Yes, it suited her; and it was among the most romantic of +names. It completed the picture. She now seemed to be listening and +waiting, her attention on the unseen area door. He felt shy and yet +very happy alone with her. Voices were distinctly heard. Who was Mrs. +Lobley? Was Mr. Haim a little annoyed with his daughter, and was +Marguerite exquisitely defiant? Time hung. The situation was slightly +awkward, he thought. And it was obscure, alluring.... He stood there, +below the level of the street, shut in with those beings unknown, +provocative, and full of half-divined implications. And all Chelsea was +around him and all London around Chelsea. + +"Father won't be a moment," said the girl. "It's only the charwoman." + +"Oh! That's quite all right," he answered effusively, and turning to the +design: "The outlining of that lettering fairly beats me, you know." + +"Not really!... I get that from father, of course." + +Mr. Haim was famous in the office as a letterer. + +She sat idly glancing at her own design, her plump, small hands lying in +the blue lap. George compared her, unspeakably to her advantage, with +the kind, coarse young woman at the chop-house, whom he had asked to +telephone to the Orgreaves for him, and for whom he had been conscious +of a faint penchant. + +"I can't colour it by gaslight," said Marguerite Haim. "I shall have to +do that in the morning." + +He imagined her at work again early in the morning. Within a week or so +he might be living in this house with this girl. He would be,--watching +her life! Seducing prospect, scarcely credible! He remembered having +heard when he first went to Lucas & Enwright's that old Haim was a +widower. + +"Do excuse me," said Mr. Haim, urgently apologetic, reappearing. + +A quarter of an hour later, George had left the house, having accepted +Mr. Haim's terms without the least argument. In five days he was to be +an inmate of No. 8 Alexandra Grove. The episode presented itself to him +as a vast, romantic adventure, staggering and enchanting. His luck +continued, for the rain-cloud was spent. He got into an Earl's Court +bus. The dimly perceived travellers in it seemed all of them in a new +sense to be romantic and mysterious.... "Yes," he thought, "I did say +good-night to her, but I didn't shake hands." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MARGUERITE + +I + + +More than two months later George came into the office in Russell Square +an hour or so after his usual time. He had been to South Kensington +Museum to look up, for professional purposes, some scale drawings of +architectural detail which were required for a restaurant then rising in +Piccadilly under the direction of Lucas & Enwright. In his room Mr. +Everard Lucas was already seated. Mr. Lucas was another articled pupil +of the firm; being a remote cousin of the late senior partner, he had +entered on special terms. Although a year older than George he was less +advanced, for whereas George had passed the Intermediate, Mr. Lucas had +not. But in manly beauty, in stylishness, in mature tact, and especially +in persuasive charm, he could beat George. + +"Hallo!" Lucas greeted. "How do you feel? Fit?" + +"Fit?" said George enthusiastically "I feel so fit I could push in the +side of a house." + +"What did I tell you?" said Lucas. + +George rubbed his hand all over Lucas's hair, and Lucas thereupon seized +George's other hand and twisted his arm, and a struggle followed. In +this way they would often lovingly salute each other of a morning. Lucas +had infected George with the craze for physical exercises as a remedy +for all ills and indiscretions, including even late nights and excessive +smoking. The competition between them to excel in the quality of fitness +was acute, and sometimes led to strange challenges. After a little +discussion about springing from the toes, Lucas now accused George's +toes of a lack of muscularity, and upon George denying the charge, he +asserted that George could not hang from the mantelpiece by his toes. +They were both men of the world, capable of great heights of dignity, +figures in an important business, aspirants to a supreme +art and profession. They were at that moment in a beautiful +late-eighteenth-century house of a stately and renowned square, and in a +room whose proportions and ornament admittedly might serve as an +exemplar to the student; and not the least lovely feature of the room +was the high carved mantelpiece. The morning itself was historic, for it +was the very morning upon which, President McKinley having expired, +Theodore Roosevelt ascended the throne and inaugurated a new era. +Nevertheless, such was their peculiar time of life that George, a minute +later, was as a fact hanging by his toes from the mantelpiece, while +Lucas urged him to keep the blood out of his head. George had stood on +his hands on a box and lodged his toes on the mantelpiece, and then +raised his hands--and Lucas had softly pushed the box away. George's +watch was dangling against his flushed cheek. + +"Put that box back, you cuckoo!" George exploded chokingly. + +Then the door opened and Mr. Enwright appeared. Simultaneously some +shillings slipped out of George's pocket and rolled about the floor. The +hour was Mr. Enwright's customary hour of arrival, but he had no fair +excuse for passing through that room instead of proceeding along the +corridor direct to the principals' room. His aspect, as he gazed at +George's hair and at the revealed sateen back of George's waistcoat, was +unusual. Mr. Enwright commonly entered the office full of an intense and +aggrieved consciousness of his own existence--of his insomnia, of the +reaction upon himself of some client's stupidity, of the necessity of +going out again in order to have his chin lacerated by his favourite and +hated Albanian barber. But now he had actually forgotten himself. + +"What _is_ this?" he demanded. + +Lucas having quickly restored the box, George subsided dangerously +thereon, and arose in a condition much disarrayed and confused, and +beheld Mr. Enwright with shame. + +"I--I was just looking to see if the trap of the chimney was shut," said +George. It was foolish in the extreme, but it was the best he could do, +and after all it was a rather marvellous invention. Lucas sat down and +made no remark. + +"You might respect the mantelpiece," said Mr. Enwright bitterly, and +went into the principals' room, where John Orgreave could be heard +dictating letters. George straightened his clothes and picked up his +money, and the two men of the world giggled nervously at each other. + +Mr. Haim next disturbed them. The shabby, respectable old man smiled +vaguely, with averted glance. + +"I think he's heard the result," said he. + +Both men knew that 'he' was Mr. Enwright, and that the 'result' was the +result of the open competition for the L150,000 Law Courts which a proud +provincial city proposed to erect for itself. The whole office had +worked very hard on the drawings for that competition throughout the +summer, while cursing the corporation which had chosen so unusual a date +for sending-in day. Even Lucas had worked. George's ideas for certain +details, upon which he had been engaged on the evening of his +introduction to Mr. Haim's household, had been accepted by Mr. Enwright. +As for Mr. Enwright, though the exigencies of his beard, and his regular +morning habit of inveighing against the profession at great length, and +his inability to decide where he should lunch, generally prevented him +from beginning the day until three o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. +Enwright had given many highly concentrated hours of creative energy to +the design. And Mr. Haim had adorned the sheets with the finest +lettering. The design was held to be very good. The principals knew the +identity of all the other chief competitors and their powers, and they +knew also the idiosyncrasies of the Assessor; and their expert and +impartial opinion was that the Lucas & Enwright design ought to win and +would win. This view, indeed, was widespread in the arcana of the +architectural world. George had gradually grown certain of victory. And +yet, at Mr. Haim's words, his hopes sank horribly away. + +"Have we won?" he asked sharply. + +"That I can't say, Mr. Cannon," answered Haim. + +"Well, then, how do you know he's heard? Has he told you?" + +"No," said the factotum mysteriously. "But I think he's heard." And upon +this Mr. Haim slouched off quite calmly. Often he had assisted at the +advent of such vital news in the office--news obtained in advance by the +principals through secret channels--and often the news had been bad. But +the firm's calamities seemed never to affect the smoothness of Mr. +Haim's earthly passage. + +The door into the principals' room opened, and Mr. Enwright's head +showed. The gloomy, resenting eyes fixed George for an instant. + +"Well, you've lost that competition," said Mr. Enwright, and he stepped +into full view. His unseen partner had ceased to dictate, and the +shorthand-clerk could be heard going out by the other door. + +"No!" said George, in a long, outraged murmur. The news seemed +incredible and quite disastrous; and yet at the same time had he not, in +one unvisited corner of his mind, always foreknown it? Suddenly he was +distressed, discouraged, disillusioned about the whole of life. He +thought that Everard Lucas, screwing up a compass, was strangely +unmoved. But Mr. Enwright ignored Lucas. + +"Who's got it?" George asked. + +"Whinburn." + +"That chap!... Where are _we_?" + +"Nowhere." + +"Not placed?" + +"Not in it. Skelting's second. And Grant third. I shouldn't have minded +so much if Grant had got it. There was something to be said for his +scheme. I knew _we_ shouldn't get it. I knew that perfectly well--not +with Corver assessing." + +George wondered that his admired principal should thus state the exact +opposite of what he had so often affirmed during the last few weeks. +People were certainly very queer, even the best of them. The perception +of this fact added to his puzzled woe. + +"But Whinburn's design is grotesque!" he protested borrowing one of Mr. +Enwright's adjectives. + +"Of course it is." + +"Then why does Sir Hugh Corver go and give him the award? Surely he must +know----" + +"Know!" Mr. Enwright growled, destroying Sir Hugh and his reputation and +his pretensions with one single monosyllable. + +"Then why did they make him Assessor--that's what I can't understand." + +"It's quite simple," rasped Mr. Enwright. "They made him assessor +because he's got so much work to do it takes him all his time to trot +about from one job to another on his blooming pony. They made him +assessor because his pony's a piebald pony. Couldn't you think of that +for yourself? Or have you been stone deaf in this office for two years? +It stands to reason that a man who's responsible for all the largest +new eyesores in London would impress any corporation. Clever chap, +Corver! Instead of wasting his time in travel and study, he made a +speciality of learning how to talk to committees. And he was always full +of ideas like the piebald pony, ever since I knew him." + +"It's that facade that did for us," broke in another voice. John +Orgreave stood behind Mr. Enwright. He spoke easily; he was not ruffled +by the immense disappointment, though the mournful greatness of the +topic had drawn him irresistibly into the discussion. John Orgreave had +grown rather fat and coarse. At one period, in the Five Towns, he had +been George's hero. He was so no longer. George was still fond of him, +but he had torn him down from the pedestal and established Mr. Enwright +in his place. George in his heart now somewhat patronized the placid +Orgreave, regarding him as an excellent person who comprehended naught +that was worth comprehending, and as a husband who was the dupe of his +wife. + +"You couldn't have any other facade," Mr. Enwright turned on him, +"unless you're absolutely going to ignore the market on the other side +of the Square. Whinburn's facade is an outrage--an outrage. Give me a +cigarette. I must run out and get shaved." + +While Mr. Enwright was lighting the cigarette, George reflected in +desolation upon the slow evolving of the firm's design for the Law +Courts. Again and again in the course of the work had he been struck +into a worshipping enthusiasm by the brilliance of Mr. Enwright's +invention and the happy beauty of his ideas. For George there was only +one architect in the world; he was convinced that nobody could possibly +rival Mr. Enwright, and that no Law Courts ever had been conceived equal +to those Law Courts. And he himself had contributed something to the +creation. He had dreamed of the building erected and of being able to +stand in front of some detail of it and say to himself: "That was my +notion, that was." And now the building was destroyed before its birth. +It would never come into existence. It was wasted. And the prospect for +the firm of several years' remunerative and satisfying labour had +vanished. But the ridiculous, canny Whinburn would be profitably +occupied, and his grotesque building would actually arise, and people +would praise it, and it would survive for centuries--at any rate for a +century. + +Mr. Enwright did not move. + +"It's no use regretting the facade, Orgreave," he said suddenly. +"There's such a thing as self-respect." + +"I don't see that self-respect's got much to do with it," Orgreave +replied lightly. + +("Of course you don't," George thought. "You're a decent sort, but you +don't see, and you never will see. Even Lucas doesn't see. I alone see." +And he felt savage and defiant.) + +"Better shove my self-respect away into this cupboard, I suppose!" said +Mr. Enwright, with the most acrid cynicism, and he pulled open one door +of a long, low cupboard whose top formed a table for portfolios, dusty +illustrated books, and other accumulations. + +The gesture was dramatic, and none knew it better than Mr. Enwright. The +cupboard was the cupboard which contained the skeleton. It was full of +designs rejected in public competitions. There they lay, piles and piles +of them, the earliest dating from the late seventies. The cupboard was +crammed with the futility of Enwright's genius. It held monuments enough +to make illustrious a score of cities. Lucas & Enwright was a successful +firm. But, confining itself chiefly to large public works, it could not +escape from the competition system; and it had lost in far more +competitions than it had won. It was always, and always would be, at the +mercy of an Assessor. The chances had always been, and always would be, +against the acceptance of its designs, because they had the fatal +quality of originality combined with modest adherence to the classical +tradition. When they conquered, it was by sheer force. George glanced at +the skeleton, and he was afraid. Something was very wrong with +architecture. He agreed with Mr. Enwright's tiresomely reiterated axiom +that it was the Cinderella of professions and the chosen field of +ghastly injustice. He had embraced architecture; he had determined to +follow exactly in the footsteps of Mr. Enwright; he had sworn to +succeed. But could he succeed? Suppose he failed! Yes, his faith +faltered. He was intensely, miserably afraid. He was the most serious +man in Russell Square. Astounding that only a few minutes ago he had +hung triumphantly by his feet from the mantelpiece! + +Mr. Enwright kicked-to the door of the cupboard. + +"Look here," he said to his partner, "I shan't be back just yet. I have +to go and see Bentley. I'd forgotten it." + +Nobody was surprised at this remark. Whenever Mr. Enwright was +inconveniently set back he always went off to visit Bentley, the +architect of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral at Westminster, on the +plea of an urgent appointment. + +"_You_ had a look at the cathedral lately?" he demanded of George as he +left. + +"No, I haven't," said George, who, by reason of a series of +unaccountable omissions, and of the fullness of his life as an architect +and a man of the world, had never seen the celebrated cathedral at all. + +"Well," said Mr. Enwright sarcastically, "better take just a glance at +it--some time--before they've spoilt the thing with decorations. There's +a whole lot of 'em only waiting till Bentley's out of the way to begin +and ruin it." + + +II + + +Before the regular closing hour of the office the two articled pupils +had left and were walking side by side through Bloomsbury. They skirted +the oval garden of Bedford Square, which, lying off the main track to +the northern termini, and with nothing baser in it than a consulate or +so, took precedence in austerity and selectness over Russell Square, +which had consented to receive a grand hotel or 'modern caravanserai' +and a shorthand school. Indeed the aspect of Bedford Square, where the +great institution of the basement and area still flourished in +perfection, and wealthy menials with traditional manners lived sensually +in caves beneath the spacious, calm salons of their employers and +dupes,--the aspect of Bedford Square gave the illusion that evolution +was not, and that Bloomsbury and the whole impressive structure of +British society could never change. Still, from a more dubious +Bloomsbury, demure creatures with inviting, indiscreet eyes were already +traversing the prim flags of Bedford Square on their way to the +evening's hard diplomacy. Mr. Lucas made quiet remarks about their +qualities, but George did not respond. + +"Look here, old man," said Lucas, "there's no use in all this gloom. You +might think Lucas & Enwright had never put up a building in their lives. +Just as well to dwell now and then on what they have done instead of on +what they haven't done. We're fairly busy, you know. Besides----" + +He spoke seriously, tactfully, with charm, and he had a beautiful voice. + +"Quite right! Quite right!" George willingly agreed, swinging his stick +and gazing straight ahead. And he thought: "This chap has got his head +screwed on. He's miles wiser than I am, and he's really nice. I could +never be nice like that." + +In a moment they were at the turbulent junction of Tottenham Court Road +and Oxford Street, where crowds of Londoners, deeply unconscious of +their own vulgarity, and of the marvellous distinction of Bedford +Square, and of the moral obligation to harmonize socks with neckties, +were preoccupying themselves with omnibuses and routes, and constituting +the spectacle of London. The high-heeled, demure creatures were lost in +this crowd, and Lucas and George were lost in it. + +"Well," said Lucas, halting on the pavement. "You're going down to the +cathedral." + +"It'll please the old cock," answered George, anxious to disavow any +higher motive. "You aren't coming?" + +Lucas shook his head. "I shall just go and snatch a hasty".... 'Cup of +tea' was the unuttered end of the sentence. + +"Puffin's?" + +Lucas nodded. Puffin's was a cosy house of sustenance in a half-new +street on the site of the razed slums of St. Giles's. He would not +frequent the orthodox tea-houses, which were all alike and which had +other serious disadvantages. He adventured into the unusual, and could +always demonstrate that what he found was subtly superior to anything +else. + +"That affair still on?" George questioned. + +"It's not off." + +"She's a nice little thing--that I will say." + +"It all depends," Lucas replied sternly. "I don't mind telling you she +wasn't so jolly nice on Tuesday." + +"Wasn't she?" George raised his eyebrows. + +Lucas silently scowled, and his handsomeness vanished for an instant. + +"However----" he said. + +As George walked alone down Charing Cross Road, he thought: "That girl +will have to look out,"--meaning that in his opinion Lucas was not a man +to be trifled with. Lucas was a wise and an experienced man, and knew +the world. And what he did could not be other than right. This notion +comforted George, who had a small affair of his own, which he had not +yet even mentioned to Lucas. Delicacy as well as diffidence had +prevented him from doing so. It was a very different affair from any of +Lucas's, and he did not want Lucas to misesteem it; neither did he want +Lucas to be under the temptation to regard him as a ninny. + +Not the cathedral alone had induced George to leave the office early. +The dissembler had reflected that if he called in a certain conventional +tea-shop near Cambridge Circus at a certain hour he would probably meet +Marguerite Haim. He knew that she had an appointment with one of her +customers, a firm of bookbinders, that afternoon, and that on similar +occasions she had been to the tea-shop. In fact he had already once +deliciously taken tea with her therein. To-day he was disappointed, to +the extent of the tea, for he met her as she was coming out of the shop. +Their greetings were rather punctilious, but beneath superficial +formalities shone the proofs of intimacy. They had had large +opportunities to become intimate, and they had become intimate. The +immediate origin of and excuse for the intimacy was a lampshade. George +had needed a lampshade for his room, and she had offered to paint one. +She submitted sketches. But George also could paint a bit. Hence +discussions, conferences, rival designs, and, lastly, an agreement upon +a composite design. Before long, the lampshade craze increasing in +virulence, they had between them re-lampshaded the entire house. Then +the charming mania expired; but it had done its work. During the summer +holiday George had written twice to Marguerite, and he had thought +pleasurably about her the whole time. He had hoped that she would open +the door for him upon his return, and that when he saw her again he +would at length penetrate the baffling secret of her individuality. She +had opened the door for him, exquisitely, but the secret had not yielded +itself. It was astonishing to George, how that girl could combine the +candours of honest intimacy with a profound reserve. + +"Were you going in there for tea?" she asked, looking up at him gravely. + +"No," he said. "I don't want any tea. I have to wend my way to the Roman +Catholic Cathedral--you know, the new one, near Victoria. I suppose you +wouldn't care to see it?" + +"I should love to," she answered, with ingenuous eagerness. "I think it +might do me good." + +A strange phrase, he thought! What did she mean? + +"Would you mind walking?" she suggested. + +"Let me take that portfolio, then." + +So they walked. She had her usual serious expression, as it were full of +the consciousness of duty. It made him think how reliable she would +always be. She held herself straight and independently, and her +appearance was very simple and very trim. He considered it wrong that a +girl with such beautiful lips should have to consult callous +bookbinders and accept whatever they chose to say. To him she was like a +lovely and valiant martyr. The spectacle of her was touching. However, +he could not have dared to hint at these sentiments. He had to pretend +that her exposure to the stresses of the labour-market was quite natural +and right. Always he was careful in his speech with her. When he got to +know people he was apt to be impatient and ruthless; for example, to +John Orgreave and his wife, and to his mother and stepfather, and +sometimes even to Everard Lucas. He would bear them down. But he was +restrained from such freedoms with Enwright, and equally with Marguerite +Haim. She did not intimidate him, but she put him under a spell. + +Crossing Piccadilly Circus he had a glimpse of the rising walls and the +scaffolding of the new restaurant. He pointed to the building without a +word. She nodded and smiled. + +In the Mall, where the red campanile of the cathedral was first +descried, George began to get excited. And he perceived that Marguerite +sympathetically responded to his excitement. She had never even noticed +the campanile before, and the reason was that the cathedral happened not +to be on the route between Alexandra Grove and her principal customers. +Suddenly, out of Victoria Street, they came up against the vast form of +the Byzantine cathedral. It was hemmed in by puny six-story blocks of +flats, as ancient cathedrals also are hemmed in by the dwellings of +townsfolk. But here, instead of the houses having gathered about the +cathedral, the cathedral had excavated a place for itself amid the +houses. Tier above tier the expensively curtained windows of dark +drawing-rooms and bedrooms inhabited by thousands of the well-to-do +blinked up at the colossal symbol that dwarfed them all. George knew +that he was late. If the watchman's gate was shut for the night he would +look a fool. But his confidence in his magic power successfully to run +risks sustained him in a gallant and assured demeanour. The gate in the +hoarding that screened the west front was open. With a large gesture he +tipped the watchman a shilling, and they passed in like princes. The +transition to the calm and dusty interior was instantaneous and almost +overwhelming. Immense without, the cathedral seemed still more immense +within. On one side of the nave was a steam-engine; on the other some +sort of a mill; and everywhere lay in heaps the wild litter of +construction, among which moved here and there little parties of aproned +pygmies engaged silently and industriously on sub-contracts; the main +army of labourers had gone. The walls rose massively clear out of the +white-powdered confusion into arches and high domes; and the floor of +the choir, and a loftier floor beyond that, also rose clear. +Perspectives ended in shadow and were illimitable, while the afternoon +light through the stone grille of the western windows made luminous +spaces in the gloom. + +The sensation of having the mysterious girl at his elbow in that +wonder-striking interior was magnificent. + +He murmured, with pride: + +"Do you know this place has the widest nave of any cathedral in the +world? It's a much bigger cathedral than St. Paul's. In fact I'm not +sure if it isn't the biggest in England." + +"You know," he said again, "in the whole of the nineteenth century only +one cathedral was built in England." + +"Which was that?" + +"Truro.... And you could put Truro inside this and leave a margin all +round. Mr. Enwright says this is the last cathedral that ever will be +built, outside America." + +They gazed, more and more aware of a solemn miracle. + +"It's marvellous--marvellous!" he breathed. + +After a few moments, glancing at her, a strong impulse to be +confidential mastered him. He was obliged to tell that girl. + +"I say, we've lost that competition--for the Law Courts." + +He smiled, but the smile had no effect. + +"Oh!" She positively started. + +He saw that her eyes had moistened, and he looked quickly away, as +though he had seen something that he ought not to have seen. She cared! +She cared a great deal! She was shocked by the misfortune to the firm, +by the injustice to transcendent merit! She knew nothing whatever about +any design in the competition. But it was her religion that the Lucas & +Enwright design was the best, and by far the best. He had implanted the +dogma, and he felt that she was ready to die for it. Mystery dropped +away from her. Her soul stood bare to him. He was so happy and so proud +that the intensity of his feeling dismayed him. But he was enheartened +too, and courage to surmount a thousand failures welled up in him as +from an unimagined spring. + +"I wonder who that is?" she said quietly and ordinarily, as if a +terrific event had not happened. + +On the highest floor, at the other extremity of the cathedral, in front +of the apse, a figure had appeared in a frock-coat and a silk hat. The +figure stood solitary, gazing around in the dying light. + +"By Jove! It's Bentley! It's the architect!" + +George literally trembled. He literally gave a sob. The vision of +Bentley within his masterpiece, of Bentley whom Enwright himself +worshipped, was too much for him. Renewed ambition rushed through him in +electric currents. All was not wrong with the world of architecture. +Bentley had succeeded. Bentley, beginning life as an artisan, had +succeeded supremely. And here he stood on the throne of his triumph. +Genius would not be denied. Beauty would conquer despite everything. +What completed the unbearable grandeur of the scene was that Bentley had +cancer of the tongue, and was sentenced to death. Bentley's friends knew +it; the world of architecture knew it; Bentley knew it.... "Shall I tell +her?" George thought. He looked at her; he looked at the vessel which he +had filled with emotion. He could not speak. A highly sensitive decency, +an abhorrence of crudity, restrained him. "No," he decided, "I can't +tell her now. I'll tell her some other time." + + +III + + +With no clear plan as to his dinner he took her back to Alexandra Grove. +The dusk was far advanced. Mounting the steps quickly Marguerite rang +the bell. There was no answer. She pushed up the flap of the +letter-aperture and looked within. + +"Have you got your latchkey?" she asked, turning round on George. +"Father's not come home--his hat's not hanging up. He promised me +certain that he would be here at six-thirty at the latest. Otherwise I +should have taken the big key." + +She did not show resentment against her father; nor was there impatience +in her voice. But she seemed to be firmly and impassively judging her +father, as his equal, possibly even as somewhat his superior. And George +admired the force of her individuality. It flattered him that a being so +independent and so strong should have been so meltingly responsive to +him in the cathedral. + +An adventurous idea occurred to him in a flash and he impulsively +adopted it. His latchkey was in his pocket, but if the house door was +once opened he would lose her--he would have to go forth and seek his +dinner and she would remain in the house; whereas, barred out of the +house, she would be bound to him--they would be thrust together into +exquisite contingencies, into all the deep potentialities of dark +London. + +"Dash it!" he said, first fumbling in one waistcoat pocket, and then +ledging the portfolio against a step and fumbling in both waistcoat +pockets simultaneously. "I must have left it in my other clothes." + +It is doubtful whether his conscience troubled him. But he had a very +exciting sense of risk and of romance and of rapture, as though he had +done something wonderful and irremediable. + +"Ah! Well!" she murmured, instantly acquiescent, and without the least +hesitation descended the steps. + +How many girls (he demanded) would or could have made up their minds and +faced the situation like that? Her faculty of decision was simply +masculine! He looked at her in the twilight and she was inimitable, +unparalleled. And yet by virtue of the wet glistening of her eyes in the +cathedral she had somehow become mystically his! He. permitted himself +the suspicion: "Perhaps she guesses that I'm only pretending about the +latchkey." The suspicion which made her an accessory to his crime did +not lower her in his eyes. On the contrary, the enchanting naughtiness +with which it invested her only made her variety more intoxicant and +perfection more perfect. His regret was that the suspicion was not a +certainty. + +Before a word could be said as to the next move, a figure in a grey suit +and silk hat, and both arms filled with packages, passed in front of the +gate and then halted. + +"Oh! It's Mr. Buckingham Smith!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Mr. Buckingham +Smith, we're locked out till father comes." She completed the tale of +the mishap, to George's equal surprise and mortification. + +Mr. Buckingham Smith, with Mr. Alfred Prince, was tenant of the studio +at the back of No. 8. He raised his hat as well as an occupied arm would +allow. + +"Come and wait in the studio, then," he suggested bluntly. + +"You know Mr. Cannon, don't you?" said Marguerite, embarrassed. + +George and Mr. Buckingham Smith had in fact been introduced to one +another weeks earlier in the Grove by Mr. Haim. Thereafter Mr. +Buckingham Smith had, as George imagined, saluted George with a kind of +jealous defiance and mistrust, and the acquaintance had not progressed. +Nor, by the way, had George's dreams been realized of entering deeply +into the artistic life of Chelsea. Chelsea had been no more welcoming +than Mr. Buckingham Smith. But now Mr. Buckingham Smith grew affable and +neighbourly. Behind the man's inevitable insistence that George should +accompany Miss Haim into the studio was a genuine, eager hospitality. + +The studio was lofty and large, occupying most of the garden space of +No. 8. Crimson rep curtains, hung on a thick, blackened brass rod, +divided it into two unequal parts. By the wall nearest the house a +staircase ran up to a door high in the gable, which door communicated by +a covered bridge with the second floor of No. 8, where the artists had +bedrooms. The arrangement was a characteristic example of the manner in +which building was added to building in London contrary to the intention +of the original laying-out, and George in his expert capacity wondered +how the plans had been kept within the by-laws of the borough, and by +what chicane the consent of the ground-landlord had been obtained. + +Mr. Alfred Prince, whom also George knew slightly, was trimming a huge +oil-lamp which depended by a wire from the scarcely visible apex of the +roof. When at length the natural perversity of the lamp had been +mastered and the metal shade replaced, George got a general view of the +immense and complex disorder of the studio. It was obviously very +dirty--even in the lamplight the dust could be seen in drifts on the +moveless folds of the curtains--it was a pigsty; but it was romantic +with shadowed spaces, and gleams of copper and of the pale arms of the +etching-press, and glimpses of pictures; and the fellow desired a studio +of his own! He was glad, now, that Mr. Buckingham Smith had invited them +in. He had wanted to keep Marguerite Haim to himself; but it was worth +while to visit the studio, and it was especially worth while to watch +her under the illumination of the lamp. + +"Lucky we have a clean tablecloth," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, opening +his packages and setting a table. "Brawn, Miss Haim! And beer, Miss +Haim! That is to say, Pilsener. From the only place in Chelsea where you +can get it." + +And his packages really did contain brawn and beer (four bottles of the +Pilsener); also bread and a slice of butter. The visitors learnt that +they had happened on a feast, a feast which Mr. Buckingham Smith had +conceived and ordained, a feast to celebrate the triumph of Mr. Alfred +Prince. An etching by Mr. Prince had been bought by Vienna. Mr. +Buckingham Smith did not say that the etching had been bought by any +particular gallery in Vienna. He said 'by Vienna,' giving the idea that +all Vienna, every man, woman, and child in that distant and enlightened +city where etchings were truly understood, had combined for the +possession of a work by Mr. Prince. Mr. Buckingham Smith opined that +soon every gallery in Europe would be purchasing examples of Alfred +Prince. He snatched from a side-table and showed the identical authentic +letter from Vienna to Mr. Alfred Prince, with its official heading, +foreign calligraphy, and stilted English. The letter was very +complimentary. + +In George's estimation Mr. Prince did not look the part of an etcher of +continental renown. He was a small, pale man, with a small brown beard, +very shabby, and he was full of small nervous gestures. He had the +innocently-red nose which pertains to indigestion. His trousers bagged +horribly at the knees, and he wore indescribable slippers. He said +little, in an extremely quiet, weak voice. His eyes, however, were +lively and attractive. He was old, probably at least thirty-five. Mr. +Buckingham Smith made a marked contrast to him. Tall, with newish +clothes, a powerful voice and decisive gestures, Mr. Buckingham Smith +dominated, though he was younger than his friend. He tried to please, +and he mingled the grand seigneurial style with the abrupt. It was he +who played both the parlourmaid and the host. He forced Marguerite to +have some brawn, serving her with a vast portion; but he could not force +her to take Pilsener. + +"Now, Mr. Cannon," he said, pouring beer into a glass with an up-and-down +motion of the bottle so as to put a sparkling head on the beer. + +"No, thank you," said George decidedly. "I won't have beer." + +Mr. Buckingham Smith gazed at him challengingly out of his black eyes. +"Oh! But you've got to," he said. It was as if he had said: "I am +generous. I love to be hospitable, but I am not going to have my +hospitality thwarted, and you needn't think it." + +George accepted the beer and joined in the toasting of Mr. Alfred +Prince's health. + +"Old chap!" Mr. Buckingham Smith greeted his chum, and then to George +and Marguerite, informingly and seriously: "One of the best." + +It was during the snack that Mr. Buckingham Smith began to display the +etchings of Mr. Alfred Prince, massed in a portfolio. He extolled them +with his mouth half-full of brawn, or between two gulps of Pilsener. +They impressed George deeply--they were so rich and dark and austere. + +"Old Princey boy's one of the finest etchers in Europe to-day, if you +ask me," said Mr. Buckingham Smith off-handedly, and with the air of +stating the obvious. And George thought that Mr. Prince was. The +etchings were not signed 'Alfred Prince,' but just 'Prince,' which was +quietly imposing. Everybody agreed that Vienna had chosen the best one. + +"It's a dry-point, isn't it?" Marguerite asked, peering into it. George +started. This single remark convinced him that she knew all about +etching, whereas he himself knew nothing. He did not even know exactly +what a dry-point was. + +"Mostly," said Mr. Prince. "You can only get that peculiar quality of +line in dry-point." + +George perceived that etching was an entrancing subject, and he +determined to learn something about it--everything about it. + +Then came the turn of Mr. Buckingham Smith's paintings. These were not +signed 'Smith' as the etchings were signed 'Prince.' By no means! They +were signed 'Buckingham Smith.' George much admired them, though less +than he admired the etchings. They were very striking and ingenious, in +particular the portraits and the still-life subjects. He had to admit +that these fellows to whom he had scarcely given a thought, these +fellows who existed darkly behind the house, were prodigiously +accomplished. + +"Of course," said Mr. Buckingham Smith negligently, "you can't get any +idea of them by this light--though," he added warningly, "it's the +finest artificial light going. Better than all your electricity." + +There was a pause, and Mr. Prince sighed and said: + +"I was thinking of going up to the Promenades to-night, but Buck won't +go." + +George took fire at once. "The Glazounov ballet music?" + +"Glazounov?" repeated Mr. Prince uncertainly. "No. I rather wanted to +hear the new Elgar." + +George was disappointed, for he had derived from Mr. Enwright positive +opinions about the relative importance of Elgar and Glazounov. + +"Go often?" he asked. + +"No," said Mr. Prince. "I haven't been this season yet, but I'm always +meaning to." He smiled apologetically. "And I thought to-night----" +Despite appearances, he was not indifferent after all to his great +Viennese triumph; he had had some mild notion of his own of celebrating +the affair. + +"I suppose this is what etchings are printed with," said George to Mr. +Buckingham Smith, for the sake of conversation, and he moved towards the +press. The reception given to the wonderful name of Glazounov in that +studio was more than a disappointment for George; he felt obscurely that +it amounted to a snub. + +Mr. Buckingham Smith instantly became the urbane and alert showman. He +explained how the pressure was regulated. He pulled the capstan-like +arms of the motive wheel and the blanketed steel bed slid smoothly under +the glittering cylinder. Although George had often been in his +stepfather's printing works he now felt for the first time the +fascination of manual work, of artisanship, in art, and he regretted +that the architect had no such labour. He could indistinctly hear Mr. +Prince talking to Marguerite. + +"This is a monotype," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, picking up a dusty +print off the window-sill. "I do one occasionally." + +"Did you do this?" asked George, who had no idea what a monotype was and +dared not inquire. + +"Yes. They're rather amusing to do. You just use a match or your finger +or anything." + +"It's jolly good," said George. "D'you know, it reminds me a bit of +Cezanne." + +Of course it was in Paris that he had heard of the great original, the +martyr and saviour of modern painting. Equally of course it was Mr. +Enwright who had inducted him into the esoteric cult of Cezanne, and +magically made him see marvels in what at the first view had struck him +as a wilful and clumsy absurdity. + +"Oh!" murmured Buck, stiffening. + +"What do you think of Cezanne?" + +"Rule it out!" said Buck, with a warning cantankerous inflection, firmly +and almost brutally reproving this conversational delinquency of +George's. "Rule it out, young man! We don't want any of that sort of +mountebanking in England. We know what it's worth." + +George was cowed. More, his faith in Cezanne was shaken. He smiled +sheepishly and was angry with himself. Then he heard Mr. Prince saying +calmly and easily to Miss Haim--the little old man could not in fact be +so nervous as he seemed: + +"I suppose _you_ wouldn't come with me to the Prom?" + +George was staggered and indignant. It was inconceivable, monstrous, +that those two should be on such terms as would warrant Mr. Prince's +astounding proposal. He felt that he simply could not endure them +marching off together for the evening. Her acceptance of the proposal +would be an outrage. He trembled. However, she declined, and he was +lifted from the rack. + +"I must really go," she said. "Father's sure to be home by now." + +"May I?" demanded Mr. Buckingham Smith, stooping over Marguerite's +portfolio of designs, and glancing round at her for permission to open +it. Already his hand was on the tape. + +"On no account!" she cried. "No! No!... Mr. Cannon, please take it from +him!" She was serious. + +"Oh! All right! All right!" Mr. Buckingham Smith rose to the erect +good-humouredly. + +After a decent interval George took the portfolio under his arm. +Marguerite was giving thanks for hospitality. They left. George was +singularly uplifted by the fact that she never concealed from him those +designs upon which Mr. Buckingham Smith had not been allowed to gaze. +And, certain contretemps and disappointments notwithstanding, he was +impressed by the entity of the studio. It had made a desirable picture +in his mind: the romantic paraphernalia, the etchings, the canvases, the +lights and shadows, the informality, the warm odours of the lamp and of +the Pilsener, the dazzling white of the tablecloth, the quick, positive +tones of Buckingham Smith, who had always to be convincing not only +others but himself that he was a strong man whose views were +unassailable, the eyes of Buckingham Smith like black holes in his +handsome face, the stylish gestures and coarse petulance of Buckingham +Smith, the shy assurance of little old Prince. He envied the pair. Their +existence had a cloistral quality which appealed to something in him. +They were continually in the studio, morning, afternoon, evening. They +were independent. They had not to go forth to catch omnibuses and +trains, to sit in offices, to utilize the services of clerks, to take +orders, to 'Consider the idiosyncrasies of superiors. They were +self-contained, they were consecrated, and they were free. No open +competitions for them! No struggles with committees and with +contractors! And no waiting for the realization of an idea! They sat +down and worked, and the idea came at once to life, complete, without +the necessity of other human co-operation! They did not sit in front of +a painting or etching and say, as architects had too often to say in +front of their designs: "That is wasted! That will never come into +being." Architecture might be the art of arts, and indeed it was, but +there were terrible drawbacks to it.... + +And next he was outside in the dark with Marguerite Haim, and new, +intensified sensations thrilled him. She was very marvellous in the +dark. + +Mr. Haim had not returned. + +"Well!" she muttered; and then dreamily: "What a funny little man Mr. +Prince is, isn't he?" She spoke condescendingly. + +"Anyhow," said George, who had been respecting Mr. Alfred Prince, +"anyhow, I'm glad you didn't go to the concert with him." + +"Why?" she asked, with apparent simplicity. "I adore the Proms. Don't +you?" + +"Let's go, then," he suggested. "We shan't be very late, and what else +is there for you to do?" + +His audacity frightened him. There she stood with him in the porch, +silent, reflective. She would never go. For sundry practical and other +reasons she would refuse. She must refuse. + +"I'll go," she said, as if announcing a well-meditated decision. He +could scarcely believe it. This could not be London that he was in. + +They deposited the portfolio under the mat in the porch. + + +IV + + +When they got into the hall the band was sending forth a tremendous +volume of brilliant exhilarating sound. A vast melody seemed to ride on +waves of brass. The conductor was very excited, and his dark locks shook +with the violence of his gestures as he urged onward the fingers and +arms of the executants flying madly through the maze of the music to a +climax. There were flags; there was a bank of flowers; there was a +fountain; there were the huge crimson-domed lamps that poured down their +radiance; and there was the packed crowd of straw-hatted and +floral-hatted erect figures gazing with upturned, intent faces at the +immense orchestral machine. Then came a final crash, and for an instant +the thin, silvery tinkle of the fountain supervened in an enchanted +hush; and then terrific applause, with yells and thuds above and below +the hand-clapping, filled and inflamed the whole interior. The +conductor, recovering from a collapse, turned round and bowed low with +his hand on his shirt-front; his hair fell over his forehead; he +straightened himself and threw the hair back again, and so he kept on, +time after time casting those plumes to and fro. At last, sated with +homage, he thought of justice, and pointed to the band and smiled with +an unconvincing air of humility, as if saying: "I am naught. Here are +the true heroes." And on the end of his stick he lifted to their feet +eighty men, whose rising drew invigorated shouts. Enthusiasm reigned; +triumph was accomplished. Even when the applause had expired, enthusiasm +still reigned; and every person present had the illusion of a share in +the triumph. It was a great night at the Promenades. + +George and Marguerite looked at each other happily. They both were +inspired by the feeling that life was a grand thing, and that they had +reached suddenly one of the summits of existence. George, observing the +excitement in her eyes, thought how wonderful it was that she too should +be excited. + +"What was that piece?" she asked. + +"I don't quite know," he said. "There don't appear to be any programmes +about." He wished he had been able to identify the piece, but he was too +content to be ashamed of his ignorance. Moreover, his ignorance was hers +also, and he liked that. + +The music resumed. He listened, ready to put himself into the mood of +admiration if it was the Glazounov item. Was it Glazounov? He could not +be certain. It sounded fine. Surely it sounded Russian. Then he had a +glimpse of a programme held by a man standing near, and he peered at it. +"No. 4. Elgar--Sea-Pictures." No. 5 was the Glazounov. + +"It's only the Elgar," he said, with careless condescension, perceiving +at once, by the mere virtue of a label, that the music was not fine and +not Russian. He really loved music, but he happened to be at that age, +from which some people never emerge, at which the judgment depends +almost completely on extraneous suggestion. + +"Oh!" murmured Marguerite indifferently, responding to his tone. + +"Glazounov's next," he said. + +"I suppose we couldn't sit down," she suggested. + +Yet it was she who had preferred the Promenade to the Grand Circle or +the Balcony. + +"We'll find something," he said, with his usual assurance. And in the +corridor that surrounded the hemicycle they climbed up on to a narrow +ledge in the wall and sat side by side in perfect luxury, not dreaming +that they were doing anything unusual or undignified. As a fact, they +were not. Other couples were perched on other ledges, and still others +on the cold steam-pipes. A girl with a big face and heavy red lips sat +alone, lounging, her head aslant. She had an open copy of _Home Notes_ +in one hand. Elgar had sent the simple creature into an ecstasy, and she +never stirred; probably she did not know anyone named Enwright. +Promenaders promenaded in and out of the corridor, and up and down the +corridor, and nobody troubled to glance twice either at the +heavy-lipped, solitary girl or at the ledged couples. + +Through an arched doorway could be seen the orchestra and half the +auditorium. + +"This is the best seat in the hall," George observed proudly. Marguerite +smiled at him. + +When the "Sea-Pictures" were finished she gave a sigh of appreciation, +having forgotten, it seemed, that persons who had come to admire +Glazounov ought not to relish Elgar. And George, too, reflecting upon +the sensations produced within him by Elgar, was ready to admit that, +though Elgar could of course not be classed with the foreigner, there +might be something to be said for him after all. + +"This is just what I needed," she murmured. + +"Oh?" + +"I was very depressed this afternoon," she said. + +"Were you?" He had not noticed it. + +"Yes. They've cut down my price from a pound to seventeen and six." +'They' were the employing bookbinders, and the price was the fixed price +for a design--side and back. + +He was shocked, and he felt guilty. How was it that he had noticed +nothing in her demeanour? He had been full of the misfortune of the +firm, and she had made the misfortune her own, keeping silence about the +grinding harshness of bookbinders. He was an insensible egotist, and +girls were wondrous. At any rate this girl was wondrous. He had an +intense desire to atone for his insensibility and his egotism by +protecting her, spoiling her, soothing her into forgetfulness of her +trouble.... Ah! He understood now what she meant when she had replied to +his suggestion as to visiting the cathedral: "It might do me good." + +"How rotten!" he exclaimed, expressing his sympathy by means of disgust. +"Couldn't you tell them to go to the dickens?" + +"You have to take what they'll give," she answered. "Especially when +they begin to talk about bad trade and that sort of thing." + +"Well, it's absolutely rotten!" + +It was not the arbitrary reduction of her earnings that he resented, but +the fact of her victimhood. Scandalous, infamous, that this rare and +delicate creature should be defenceless against commercial brutes! + +The Glazounov ballet music, "The Seasons," started. Knowing himself +justified, he surrendered himself to it, to its exoticism, to its +Russianism, to its wilful and disconcerting beauty. And there was no +composer like Glazounov. Beneath the sensory spell of the music, his +memory wandered about through the whole of his life. He recalled days in +his mother's boarding-house at Brighton; musical evenings, at which John +Orgreave was present, at his stepfather's house in the Five Towns; and +in all kinds of scenes at the later home at Ladderedge Hall--scenes in +which his mother again predominated, becoming young again and learning +sports and horsewomanship as a girl might have learnt them.... And they +were all beautiful beneath the music. The music softened; the fountain +was heard; the striking of matches was heard.... Still, all was +beautiful. Then he touched Marguerite's hand as it rested a little +behind her on the ledge. The effect of contact was surprising. With all +his other thoughts he had not ceased to think of the idea of shielding +and enveloping her. But now this idea utterly possessed him. The music +grew louder, and as it were under cover of the music he put his hand +round her hand. It was a venturesome act with such a girl; he was +afraid.... The hand lay acquiescent within his! He tightened the +pressure. The hand lay acquiescent; it accepted. The flashing +realization of her compliance overwhelmed him. He was holding the very +symbol of wild purity, and there was no effort to be free. None +guessed. None could see. They two had the astonishing, the incredible +secret between them. He looked at her profile, taking precautions. No +sign of alarm or disturbance. Her rapt glance was fixed steadily on the +orchestra framed in the arched doorway.... Incredible, the soft, warm +delicacy of the cotton glove! + +The applause at the end of the number awoke them. He released her hand. +She slipped neatly down from the ledge. + +"I think I ought to be going back home.... Father ..." she murmured. She +met his eyes; but his embarrassed eyes would not meet hers. + +"Certainly!" he agreed quickly, though they had been in the hall little +more than half an hour. He would have agreed to any suggestion from her. +It seemed to him that the least he could do at that moment was to fulfil +unquestioningly her slightest wish. Then she looked away, and he saw +that a deep blush gradually spread over her lovely face. This was the +supreme impressive phenomenon. Before the blush he was devotional. + + +V + + +They walked down Regent Street almost in silence, enjoying +simultaneously the silence and solitude of the curving thoroughfare and +the memory of the bright, crowded, triumphant scene which they had left. +At Piccadilly Circus George inquired for the new open motor-buses which +had just begun to run between the Circus and Putney, passing the +Redcliffe Arms. Already, within a year, the time was historically +distant when a policeman had refused to allow the automobile of a Member +of Parliament to enter Palace Yard, on the ground that there was no +precedent for such a desecration. The new motor-buses, however, did not +run at night. Human daring had limits, and it was reported that at least +one motor-driver, succumbing to the awful nervous strain of guiding +these fast expresses through the traffic of the West End, had been taken +to the lunatic asylum. George called a hansom, of which there were +dozens idling about. Marguerite seemed tacitly to object to this act as +the germ of extravagance; but it was the only classic thing to do, and +he did it. + +The hansom rolled rapidly and smoothly along upon that well-established +novelty, india-rubber tyres. Bits of the jingling harness oscillated +regularly from side to side. At intervals the whip-thong dragged gently +across the horse's back, and the horse lifted and shook its head. The +shallow and narrow interior of the hansom was constructed with +exactitude to hold two. Neither occupant could move in any direction, +and neither desired to move. The splendidly lighted avenues, of which +every detail could be discerned as by day, flowed evenly past the +vehicle. + +"I've never been in a hansom before," said Marguerite timidly--because +the situation was so dismaying in its enchantment. + +He, from the height of two years of hansom-using, was touched, +delighted, even impressed. The staggering fact increased her virginal +charm and its protectiveness. He thought upon the simplicity of her +existence. Of course she had never been in a hansom! Hansoms were +obviously outside her scheme. He said nothing, but he sought for and +found her hand beneath the apron. She did not resist. He reflected "Can +she resist? She cannot." Her hand was in a living swoon. Her hand was +his; it was admittedly his. She could never deny it, now. He touched the +button of the glove, and undid it. Then, moving her passive hand, he +brought both his to it, and with infinitely delicate and considerate +gestures he slowly drew off the glove, and he held her hand ungloved. +She did not stir nor speak. Nothing so marvellous as her exquisite and +confiding stillness had ever happened.... The hansom turned into +Alexandra Grove, and when it stopped he pushed the glove into her hand, +which closed on it. As they descended the cabman, accustomed to peer +down on loves pure and impure, gave them a beneficent look. + +"He's not come in," said Marguerite, glancing through the flap of the +front door. She was exceedingly self-conscious, but beneath her +self-consciousness could be noticed an indignant accusation against old +Haim. She had rung the bell and knocked. + +"Are you sure? Can you see the hat-stand?" + +"I can see it enough for that." + +"Look here," George suggested, with false lightness, "I expect I could +get in through my window." His room was on the ground floor, and not +much agility was needed to clamber up to its ledge from the level of the +area. He might have searched his pockets again and discovered his +latchkey, but he would not. Sooner than admit a deception he would have +remained at the door with her all night. + +"Think you could?" + +"Yes. I could slide the window-catch." + +He jumped down the steps and showed her how he could climb. In two +minutes he was opening the front door to her from the inside. She moved +towards him in the gloom. + +"Oh! My portfolio!" She stopped, and bent down to the mat. + +Then she busily lighted the little hall-lamp with his matches, and +hurried down, taking the matches, to the kitchen. After a few moments +George followed her; he was obliged to follow her. She had removed her +coat; it lay on the sole chair. The hat and blouse which she wore seemed +very vivid in the kitchen--vestiges of past glorious episodes in +concert-halls and hansoms. She had lighted the kitchen-lamp and was +standing apparently idle. The alarum-clock on the black mantelpiece +ticked noisily. The cat sat indifferently on the corner of the clean, +bare table. George hesitated in the doorway. He was extremely excited, +because the tremendous fact of what he had done and what she had +permitted, with all the implications, had to be explicitly acknowledged +between them. Of course it had to be acknowledged! They were both fully +aware of the thing, she as well as he, but spoken words must +authenticate its existence as only spoken words could. + +She said, beginning sternly and finishing with a peculiar smile: + +"I do think this business of father and Mrs. Lobley is going rather +far." + +And George had a sudden new sense of the purely feminine adroitness of +women. In those words she had clearly conceded that their relations were +utterly changed. Never before had she made even the slightest, most +distant reference to the monstrous household actuality, unadmitted and +yet patent, of the wooing of Mrs. Lobley the charwoman by her father, +the widower of her mother. If Mr. Haim stayed away from home of an +evening, Mrs. Lobley was the siren who deflected him from the straight +domestic path. She knew it; George surmised it; the whole street had its +suspicions. But hitherto Marguerite had given no sign. She now created +George the confidant of her resentment. And her smile was not an +earnest of some indulgence for her father--her smile was for George +alone. + +He went boldly up to her, put his arms round her, and kissed her. She +did not kiss. But she allowed herself to be kissed, and she let her body +loose in his embrace. She looked at him with her eyes nearly upon his, +and her eyes glittered with a mysterious burning; he knew that she was +content. That she should be content, that it should please her to let +him have the unimaginable experience of holding that thrilled and +thrilling body close to his, seemed to him to be a marvellous piece of +sheer luck and overwhelming good fortune. She was so sensuous and yet so +serious. Her gaze stimulated not only love but conscience. In him +ambition was superlatively vigorous. Nevertheless he felt then as though +he had never really known ambition till that moment. He thought of the +new century and of a new life. He perceived the childishness and folly +of his favourite idea that an artist ought to pass through a phase of +Don Juanism. He knew that the task of satisfying the lofty and exacting +and unique girl would be immense, and that he could fulfil it, but on +the one condition that it monopolized his powers. Thus he was both +modest and proud, anxious and divinely elated. His mind was the scene of +innumerable impulses and sensations over which floated the banner of the +male who has won an impassioned allegiance. + +"Don't let's tell anyone yet," she murmured. + +"No." + +"I mean for a long time," she insisted. + +"No, we won't," he agreed, and added scornfully: "They'd only say we're +too young." + +The notion of secrecy was an enchanting notion. + +She cut magic cake and poured out magic milk. And they ate and drank +together, for they were hungry. And at this point the cat began to show +an interest in their doings. + +And after they were both in their beds, but not after they were asleep, +Mr. Haim, by the clicking of a latchkey in a lock, reminded them of +something which they had practically forgotten--his disordered +existence. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHARWOMAN + +I + + +George entered Alexandra Grove very early the next evening, having dined +inadequately and swiftly so that he might reach the neighbourhood of +Marguerite at the first moment justifiable. He would have omitted dinner +and trusted to Marguerite's kitchen, only that, in view of the secrecy +resolved upon, appearances had to be preserved. The secrecy in itself +was delicious, but even the short experiences of the morning had shown +both of them how extremely difficult it would be for two people who were +everything to each other to behave as though they were nothing to each +other. George hoped, however, that Mr. Haim would again be absent, and +he was anticipating exquisite hours. + +At the precise instant when he put his latchkey in the door the door was +pulled away from him by a hand within, and he saw a woman of about +thirty-five, plump but not stout, in a blue sateen dress, bonneted but +not gloved. She had pleasant, commonplace features and brown hair. +Several seconds elapsed before George recognized in her Mrs. Lobley, the +charwoman of No. 8, and when he did so he was a little surprised at her +presentableness. He had met her very seldom in the house. He was always +late for breakfast, and his breakfast was always waiting for him. On +Sundays he was generally out. If he did catch sight of her, she was +invariably in a rough apron and as a rule on her knees. Their +acquaintance had scarcely progressed far enough for him to call her +'Mrs. Lob' with any confidence. He had never seen her at night, though +upon occasion he had heard her below in the basement, and for him she +was associated with mysterious nocturnal goings and comings by the +basement door. That she should be using the front door was as startling +as that she should be so nobly attired in blue sateen. + +"Good evening--Mr. Cannon," she said, in her timid voice, too thin for +her body. He noticed that she was perturbed. Hitherto she had always +addressed him as 'sir.' + +"Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic air she slipped past him +and departed out of the house. + +Mr. Haim was visible just within the doorway of the sitting-room, and +behind him the table with the tea-things still on it. George had felt +considerably self-conscious in Mr. Haim's presence at the office; and he +was so preoccupied by his own secret mighty affair that his first +suspicion connected the strange apparition of a new Mrs. Lobley and the +peculiar look on Mr. Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and +dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, though +absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other way. + +"Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early to-night." + +"A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to read, you +know." He was using the word 'read' in the examination sense. + +"If you could spare me a minute," smiled Mr. Haim + +"Certainly." + +"Have a cigarette," said Mr. Haim, as soon as George had deposited his +hat and come into the room. This quite unprecedented offer reassured +George, who in spite of reason had continued to fear that the landlord +had something on his mind about his daughter and his lodger. Mr. Haim +presented his well-known worn cigarette-case, and then with precise and +calm gestures carefully shut the door. + +"The fact is," said he, "I wanted to tell you something. I told Mr. +Enwright this afternoon, as I thought was proper, and it seems to me +that you are the next person who ought to be informed." + +"Oh yes?" + +"I am going to be married." + +"The deuce you are!" + +The light words had scarcely escaped from young George before he +perceived that his tone was a mistake, and that Mr. Haim was in a state +of considerable emotion, which would have to be treated very carefully. +And George too now suddenly partook of the emotion. He felt himself to +be astonished and even shaken by Mr. Haim's news. The atmosphere of the +interview changed in an instant. Mr. Haim moved silently on slippered +feet to the mantelpiece, out of the circle of lamplight, and dropped +some ash into the empty fire-place. + +"I congratulate you," said George. + +"Thank you!" said Mr. Haim brightly, seizing gratefully on the fustian +phrase, eager to hall-mark it as genuine and put it among his treasures. +Without doubt he was flattered. "Yes," he proceeded, as it were +reflectively, "I have asked Mrs. Lobley to be my wife, and she has done +me the honour to consent." He had the air of having invented the words +specially to indicate that Mrs. Lobley was descending from a throne in +order to espouse him. It could not have occurred to him that they had +ever been used before and that the formula was classic. He smiled again, +and went on: "Of course I've known and admired Mrs. Lobley for a long +time. What we should have done without her valuable help in this house I +don't like to think. I really don't." + +"'Her help in this house,'" thought the ruthless George, behind +cigarette smoke. "Why doesn't he say right out she's the charwoman? If I +was marrying a charwoman, I should say I was marrying a charwoman." And +then he had a misgiving: "Should I? I wonder whether I should." And he +remembered that ultimately the charwoman was going to be his own +mother-in-law. He was aware of a serious qualm. + +"Mrs. Lobley has had an uphill fight since her first husband's death," +said Mr. Haim. "He was an insurance agent--the Prudential. She's come +out of it splendidly. She's always kept up her little home, though it +was only two rooms, and she'll only leave it because I can offer her a +better one. I have always admired her, and I'm sure the more you know +her the more you'll like her. She's a woman in a thousand, Mr. Cannon." + +"I expect she is," George agreed feebly. He could not think of anything +to say. + +"And I'm thankful I _can_ offer her a better home. I don't mind telling +you now that at one time I began to fear I shouldn't have a home. I've +had my ambitions, Mr. Cannon. I was meant for a quantity surveyor. I was +one--you may say. But it was not to be. I came down in the world, but I +kept my head above water. And then in the end, with a little money I had +I bought this house. L575. It needed some negotiation. Ground-rent L10 +per annum, and seventy years to run. You see, all along I had had the +idea of building a studio in the garden. I was one of the first to see +the commercial possibilities of studios in Chelsea. But of course I know +Chelsea. I made the drawings for the studio myself. Mr. Enwright kindly +suggested a few improvements. With all my experience I was in a position +to get it put up as cheaply as possible. You'd be surprised at the +number of people in the building line anxious to oblige me. It cost +under L300. I had to borrow most of it. But I've paid it off. What's the +consequence? The consequence is that the rent of the studio and the top +rooms brings me in over eight per cent on all I spent on the house and +the studio together. And I'm living rent free myself." + +"Jolly good!" + +"Yes.... If I'd had capital, Mr. Cannon, I could have made thousands out +of studios. Thousands. I fancy I've the gift. But I've never had the +capital. And that's all there is to it." He smacked his lips, and leaned +back against the mantelpiece. "You may tell me I've realized my +ambitions. Not all of them, Mr. Cannon. Not all of them. If I'd had +money I should have had leisure, and I should have improved myself. +Reading, I mean. Study. Literature. Music. Painting. History of +architecture. All that sort of thing. I've got the taste for it. I know +I've got the taste for it. But what could I do? I gave it up. You'll +never know how lucky you are, Mr. Cannon. I gave it up. However, I've +nothing to be ashamed of. At any rate I hope not." + +George nodded appreciatively. He was touched. He was even impressed. He +admitted the _naivete_ of the ageing man, his vanity, his +sentimentality. But he saw himself to be in the presence of an +achievement. And though the crown of Mr. Haim's achievement was to marry +a charwoman, still the achievement impressed. And the shabby man with +the lined, common face was looking back at the whole of his life--there +was something positively formidable in that alone. He was at the end; +George was at the beginning, and George felt callow and deferential. The +sensation of callowness at once heightened his resolve to succeed. All +George's sensations seemed mysteriously to transform themselves into +food for this great resolve. + +"And what does Miss Haim say to all this?" he asked, rather timidly and +wildly. It was a venturesome remark; it might well have been called an +impertinence; but the mage of Marguerite was involved in all the +workings of his mind, and it would not be denied expression. + +Mr. Haim lifted his back from the mantelpiece sharply. Then he +hesitated, moving forward a little. + +"Mr. Cannon," he said, "it's curious you should ask that." His voice +trembled, and at the vibration George was suddenly apprehensive. Mr. +Haim had soon recovered from his original emotion, but now he seemed to +be in danger of losing control of himself. + +George nervously cleared his throat and apologized. + +"I didn't mean----" + +"I'd better tell you," Mr. Haim interrupted him, rather loudly. "We've +just had a terrible scene with my daughter, a terrible scene!" He seldom +referred to Marguerite by her Christian name, "Mr. Cannon, I had hoped +to get through my life without a scandal, and especially an open +scandal. But it seems as if I shouldn't--if I know my daughter! It was +not my intention to say anything. Far from it. Outsiders ought not to be +troubled.... I--I like you, Mr. Cannon. She left us a few minutes ago +And as she didn't put her hat on she must be either at the studio or at +Agg's...." + +"She went out of the house?" George questioned awkwardly. + +Mr. Haim nodded, and then without warning he dropped like an inert lump +on to a chair and let his head fall on to his hand. + +George was frightened as well as mystified. The spectacle of the old +man--at one moment boasting ingenuously of his career, and at the next +almost hysterical with woe--roused his pity in a very disconcerting +manner, and from his sight the Lucas & Enwright factotum vanished +utterly, and was supplanted by a tragic human being. But he had no idea +how to handle the unexampled situation with dignity; he realized +painfully his own lack of experience, and his over-mastering impulse was +to get away while it was still possible to get away. Moreover, he +desired intensely to see and hear Marguerite. + +"Perhaps I had better find out where she is," he absurdly suggested, and +departed from the room feeling like a criminal reprieved. + +The old man did not stir. + + +II + + +"Can I come in?" said George, hatless, pushing open the door of the +studio, which was ajar. + +There were people in the bright and rather chilly studio, and none of +them moved until the figure arriving out of the darkness was identified. +Mr. Prince, who in the far corner was apparently cleaning or adjusting +his press, then came forward with a quiet, shy, urbane welcome. +Marguerite herself stood nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg, +who was seated. The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in +her somewhat deep voice to Marguerite: + +"I must go." + +Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a broad-minded and +turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal headship of a hard-working +and successful barrister. She was a painter, and lived and slept in +semi-independence in a studio of her own in Manresa Road, but maintained +close and constant relations with the rest of the tribe. In shape and +proportions fairly tall and fairly thin, she counted in shops among the +stock-sizes; but otherwise she was entitled to call herself unusual. She +kept her hair about as short as the hair of a boy who has postponed +going to the barber's for a month after the proper time, and she +incompletely covered the hair with the smallest possible hat. Her coat +was long and straight and her skirt short. Her boots were high, reaching +well up the calf, but they had high heels and were laced in some +hundreds of holes. She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was +twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast with one +another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and liked it. + +"Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking hands. + +George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her father's house. +Having yet to learn the important truth that it takes all sorts to make +a world, he did not like her and wondered why she existed. He could +understand Agg being fond of Marguerite, but he could not understand +Marguerite being fond of Agg; and the friendship between these two, now +that he actually for the first time saw it in being, irked him. + +"Is anything the matter?... Have you seen father?" asked Marguerite in a +serious, calm tone, turning to him. Like George, she had run into the +studio without putting on any street attire. + +George perceived that there was no secret in the studio as to the crisis +in the Haim family. Clearly the topic had been under discussion. Prince +as well as Agg was privy to it. He did not quite like that. He was +vaguely jealous of both Prince and Agg. Indeed he was startled to find +that Marguerite could confide such a matter to Prince--at any rate +without consulting himself. While not definitely formulating the claim +in his own mind, he had somehow expected of Marguerite that until she +met him she would have existed absolutely sole, without any sentimental +connexions of any sort, in abeyance, waiting for his miraculous advent. +He was glad that Mr. Buckingham Smith was not of the conclave; he felt +that he could not have tolerated Mr. Buckingham Smith. + +"Yes, I've seen him," George answered. + +"Did he tell you?" + +"Yes." + +Mr. Prince, after a little hovering, retired to his press, and a wheel +could be heard creaking. + +"What did he tell you?" + +"He told me about--the marriage.... And I gathered there'd been a bit of +a scene." + +"Nothing else?" + +"No." + +Agg then interjected, fixing her blue eyes on George: + +"Marguerite is coming to live with me in my studio." + +And her challenging gaze met George's. + +"Oh!" George could not suppress his pained inquietude at this decision +having been made without his knowledge. Both girls misapprehended his +feeling. "That's it, is it?" + +"Well," said Agg, "what can Mr. Haim expect? Here Marguerite's been +paying this woman two shillings a day and her food, and letting her take +a parcel home at nights. And then all of a sudden she comes dressed up +for tea, and sits down, and Mr. Haim says she's his future wife. What +_does_ he expect? Does he expect Marguerite to kiss her and call her +mamma? The situation's impossible." + +"But you can't stop people from falling in love, Agg, you know. It's not +a crime," said Mr. Prince in his weak voice surprisingly from the press. + +"I know it's not a crime," said Agg sharply. "And nobody wants to stop +people from falling in love. If Mr. Haim chooses to go mad about a +charwoman, when his wife, and such a wife, 's been dead barely three +years, that's his concern. It's true the lady isn't much more than half +his age, and that the whole business would be screamingly funny if it +wasn't disgusting; but still he's a free agent. And Marguerite's a free +agent too, I hope. Of course he's thunder-struck to discover that +Marguerite _is_ a free agent. He would be!" + +"He certainly is in a state," said George, with an uneasy short laugh. + +Agg continued: + +"And why is he in a state? Because Marguerite says she shall leave the +house? Not a bit. Only because of what he thinks is the scandal of her +leaving. Mr. Haim is a respectable man. He's simply all respectability. +Respectability's his god--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Always has been. +He'd sacrifice everything to respectability--except the lovely Lobley. +It's not respectable in a respectable family for a girl to leave home on +account of her stepmother. And so he's in a state, if you please!... If +he wanted to carry on with Mrs. Lobley, let him carry on with her. But +no! That's not respectable. He's just got to marry her!" Agg sneered. + +George was startled, perhaps excusably, at the monstrous doctrine +implied in Agg's remarks. He had thought himself a man of the world, +experienced, unshockable. But he blenched, and all his presence of mind +was needed to preserve a casual, cool demeanour. The worst of the trial +was Marguerite's tranquil acceptance of the attitude of her friend. She +glanced at Agg in silent, admiring approval. He surmised that until that +moment he had been perfectly ignorant of what girls really were. + +"I see," said George courageously. And then, strangely, he began to +admire too. And he pulled himself together. + +"I think I shall leave to-morrow," Marguerite announced. "Morning. It +will be much better. She can look after him. I don't see that I owe any +duty ..." + +"Yes, you do, dear," Agg corrected her impressively. "You owe a duty to +your mother--to her memory. That's the duty you owe. I'll come round for +you to-morrow myself in a four-wheeler--let me see, about eleven." + +George hated the sound of the word 'duty.' + +"Thank you, dear," Marguerite murmured, and the girls shook hands; they +did not kiss. + +"Bye-bye, Princey." + +"Bye-bye, Agg." + +"Good night, Mr. Cannon." + +Agg departed, slightly banging the door. + +"I think I'll go back home now," said Marguerite, in a sweet, firm tone. +"Had they gone out?" + +"Who? Your father and What's-her-name? She's gone, but he hasn't. If you +don't want to meet him to-night again, hadn't you better----" + +"Oh! If she's gone, he'll be gone too by this time. Trust him!" + +Mr. Prince approached them, urging Marguerite soothingly to stay as long +as she liked. She shook her head, and pressed his hand affectionately. + + +III + + +When George and Marguerite re-entered No. 8 by the front door, Mr. Haim +was still sitting overcome at the tea-table. They both had sight of him +through the open door of the parlour. Marguerite was obviously disturbed +to see him there, but she went straight into the room. George moved into +the darkness of his own room. He heard the voices of the other two. + +"Then you mean to go?" Haim asked accusingly. + +Marguerite answered in a calm, good-humoured, sweet tone: + +"Of course, if you mean to marry Mrs. Lobley." + +"Marry Mrs. Lobley! Of course I shall marry her!" Haim's voice rose. +"What right have you to settle where I shall marry and where I shan't?" + +"I've fixed everything up with Celia Agg," said Marguerite very quietly. + +"You've soon arranged it!" + +No reply from Marguerite. The old man spoke again: + +"You've no right--It'll be an open scandal." + +Then a silence. George now thought impatiently that a great fuss was +being made about a trifle, and that a matter much more important +deserved attention. His ear caught a violent movement. The old man came +out of the parlour, and, instead of taking his hat and rushing off to +find the enchantress, he walked slowly and heavily upstairs, preceded by +his immense shadow thrown from the hall-lamp. He disappeared round the +corner of the stairs. George, under the influence of the apparition, was +forced to modify his view that all the fuss was over a trifle. He +tiptoed into the parlour. Marguerite was standing at the table. As soon +as George came in she began to gather the tea-things together on the +tray. + +"I _say_!" whispered George. + +Marguerite's bent, tranquil face had a pleasant look as she handled the +crockery. + +"I shall get him a nice breakfast to-morrow," she said, also in a +whisper. "And as soon as he's gone to the office I shall pack. It won't +take me long, really." + +"But won't Mrs. Lobley be here?" + +"What if she is? I've nothing against Mrs. Lobley. Nor, as far as that +goes, against poor father either--you see what I mean." + +"He told me you'd had a terrible scene. That's what he said'--a terrible +scene." + +"It depends what you call a scene," she said smoothly. "I was rather +upset just at first--who wouldn't be?--but ..." She stopped, listening, +with a glance at the ceiling. There was not the slightest sound +overhead. "I wonder what he's doing?" + +She picked up the tray. + +"I'll carry that," said George. + +"No! It's all right. I'm used to it. You might bring me the tablecloth. +But you won't drop the crumbs out of it, will you?" + +He followed her with the bunched-up tablecloth down the dangerous +basement steps into the kitchen. She passed straight into the little +scullery, where the tray with its contents was habitually left for the +attention of Mrs. Lobley the next morning. When she turned again, he +halted her, as it were, at the entrance from the scullery with a +question. + +"Shall you be all right?" + +"With Agg?" + +"Yes." + +"How do you mean--'all right'?" + +"Well, for money, and so on." + +"Oh yes!" She spoke lightly and surely, with a faint confident smile. + +"I was thinking as they'd cut down your prices----" + +"I shall have heaps. Agg and I--why, we can live splendidly for next to +nothing. You'll see." + +He was rebuffed. He felt jealous of both Agg and Prince, but especially +of Prince. It still seemed outrageous to him that Prince should have +been taken into her confidence. Prince had known of the affair before +himself. He was more than jealous; he had a greater grievance. +Marguerite appeared to have forgotten all about love, all about the +mighty event of their betrothal. She appeared to have put it away, as +casually as she had put away the tray. Yet ought not the event to count +supreme over everything else--over no matter what? He was desolate and +unhappy. + +"Did you tell Agg?" he asked. + +"What about?" + +"Our being engaged--and so on." + +She started towards him. + +"Dearest!" she protested, not in the least irritated or querulous, but +kindly, affectionately. "Without asking you first? Didn't we agree we +wouldn't say anything to anybody? But we shall have to think about +telling Agg." + +He met her and suddenly seized her. They kissed, and she shut her eyes. +He was ecstatically happy. + +"Oh!" she murmured in his embrace. "I'm so glad I've got you." + +And she opened her eyes and tears fell from them. She cried quietly, +without excitement and without shame. She cried with absolute +naturalness. Her tears filled him with profound delight. And in the +exquisite subterranean intimacy of the kitchen, he saw with his eyes and +felt with his arms how beautiful she was. Her face, seen close, was +incredibly soft and touching. Her nose was the most wonderful nose ever +witnessed. He gloated upon her perfection. For, literally, to him she +was perfect. With what dignity and with what a sense of justice she had +behaved, in the studio, in the parlour, and here. He was gloriously +reassured as he realized how in their joint future he would be able to +rely upon her fairness, her conscientiousness, her mere pleasantness +which nothing could disturb. Throughout the ordeal of the evening she +had not once been ruffled. She had not said an unkind word, nor given an +unkind gesture, nor exhibited the least trace of resentment. Then, she +had taste, and she was talented. But perhaps the greatest quality of all +was her adorable beauty and charm. And yet no! The final attraction was +that she trusted him, depended on him, cried in his embrace.... He +loosed her with reluctance, and she deliciously wiped her eyes on his +handkerchief, and he took her again. + +"I suppose I must leave here too, now," he said. + +"Oh, George!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't! Why should you? I don't want +you to." + +"Don't you? Why?" + +"Oh! I don't! Truly. You'll be just as well looked after as if I was +here. I do hope you'll stay." + +That settled it. And Manresa Road was not far off. + +She sat on the table and leaned against him a long time. Then she said +she must go upstairs to her room--she had so much to do. He could not +forbid, because she was irresistible. She extinguished the kitchen-lamp, +and, side by side, they groped up the stairs to the first floor. The cat +nonchalantly passed them in the hall. + +"Put the lights out here, will you, when you go to bed?" she whispered. +He felt flattered. + +She offered her face.... The lovely thing slipped away upstairs with +unimaginable, ravishing grace. She vanished. There was silence. After a +moment George could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen below. He +stood motionless, amid the dizzying memories of her glance, her +gestures, the softness of her body. What had happened to him was past +belief. He completely forgot the existence of the old man in love. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LUNCHEON + +I + + +George, having had breakfast in bed, opened his door for the second time +that morning, and duly found on the mat the can of hot water (covered +with a bit of old blanket) and the can of cold water which comprised the +material for his bath. There was no sound in the house. The new spouse +might be upstairs or she might be downstairs--he could not tell; but the +cans proved that she was immanent and regardful; indeed, she never +forgot anything. And George's second state at No. 8 was physically even +better than his first. In the transition through autumn from summer to +winter--a transition which, according to the experience of tens of +thousands of London lodgers, is capable of turning comparative comfort +into absolute discomfort--Mrs. Haim had behaved with benevolence and +ingenuity. For example, the bedroom fire, laid overnight, was now +burning up well from the mere touch of the lodger's own match. Such +things are apt to count, and they counted with George. + +As for Mr. Haim, George knew that he was still in bed, because, since +his marriage, Mr. Haim had made a practice of staying in bed on Sunday +mornings. The scheme was his wife's; she regarded it as his duty to +himself to exercise this grand male privilege of staying in bed; to do +so gave him majesty, magnificence, and was a sign of authority. A copy +of _The Referee_, fresh as fruit new-dropped from the bough, lay in the +hall at the front door. Mr. Haim had read _The Referee_ since _The +Referee_ was. He began his perusal with the feature known as "Mustard +and Cress," which not only amused him greatly, but convinced him that +his own ideas on affairs were really very sagacious. His chief and most +serious admiration, however was kept for "Our Hand-Book." "It's my +Bible," he had once remarked, "and I'm not ashamed to say it. And there +are scores and scores of men who'd say the same." Church bells could not +be heard at No. 8. _The Referee_ lying in the hall was the gracious sign +of Sabbath morning. Presently Mrs. Haim would carry it upstairs, +respectfully. For her it was simply and unanalysably _The Referee_. She +did not dream of looking into it. Mr. Haim did not expect her to look +into it. Her mission was to solace and to charm, his alone to supply the +intellectual basis upon which their existence reposed. George's nose +caught the ascending beautiful odour of bacon; he picked up his cans and +disappeared. + +When he was dressed, he brought forward the grindstone to the fire, and +conscientiously put his nose to it, without even lighting a cigarette. +It had been agreed between himself and Marguerite that there should be +no more cigarettes until after lunch. It had also been agreed that he +should put his nose to the grindstone that Sunday morning, and that she +should do the same away in Manresa Road. George's grindstone happened to +be Miers and Crosskey's _The Soil in Relation to Health_. He was +preparing for his Final Examination. In addition to the vast +imperial subject of Design, the Final comprised four other +subjects--Construction, Hygiene, Properties and Uses of Building +Materials, and Ordinary Practice of Architecture. George was now busy +with one branch of the second of these subjects. Perhaps he was not +following precisely the order of tactics prescribed by the most wily +tacticians, for as usual he had his own ideas and they were arbitrary; +but he was veritably and visibly engaged in the slow but exciting +process of becoming a great architect. And he knew and felt that he was. +And the disordered bed, and the untransparent bath-water, and the +soap-tin by the side of the bath, and the breakfast-tray on a chair, +were as much a part of the inspiring spectacle as himself tense and +especially dandiacal in the midst. + +Nevertheless appearances deceived. On a table were the thirteen folio +and quarto glorious illustrated volumes of Ongania's _Basilica di San +Marco_, which Mr. Enwright had obtained for him on loan, and which had +come down to No. 8 in a big box by Carter Paterson van. And while George +sat quite still with his eyes and his volition centred fiercely on Miers +and Crosskey, his brain would keep making excursions across the room to +the Church of St. Mark at Venice. He brought it back again and again +with a jerk but he could not retain it in place. The minutes passed; the +quarters passed, until an hour and a half had gone. Then he closed Miers +and Crosskey. He had sworn to study Miers and Crosskey for an hour and a +half. He had fought hard to do so, and nobody could say that he had not +done so. He was aware, however, that the fight had not been wholly +successful; he had not won it; on the other hand neither had he lost it. +Honour was saved, and he could still sincerely assert that in regard to +the Final Examination he had got time fiercely by the forelock. He rose +and strolled over to the _Basilica di San Marco_, and opened one or two +of those formidable and enchanting volumes. Then he produced a +cigarette, and struck a match, and he was about to light the cigarette, +when squinting down at it he suddenly wondered: "Now how the deuce did +that cigarette come into my mouth?" He replaced the cigarette in his +case, and in a moment he had left the house. + +He was invited to Mrs. John Orgreave's new abode at Bedford Park for +lunch. In the early part of the year, Mrs. John had inherited +money--again, and the result had been an increase in the spaciousness of +her existence. George had not expected to see the new house, for he had +determined to have nothing more to do with Mrs. John. He was, it is to +be feared, rather touchy. He and Mrs. John had not openly quarrelled, +but in their hearts they had quarrelled. George had for some time +objected to her attitude towards him as a boarder. She would hint that, +as she assuredly had no need of boarders, she was conferring a favour on +him by boarding him. It was of course true, but George considered that +her references to the fact were offensive. He did not understand and +make allowances for Adela. Moreover, he thought that a woman who had +been through the Divorce Court ought to be modest in demeanour towards +people who had not been through the Divorce Court. Further, Adela +resented his frequent lateness for meals. And she had said, with an +uncompromising glance: "I hope you'll turn over a new leaf when we get +into the new house." And he had replied, with an uncompromising glance: +"Perhaps _I_ shan't get into the new house." Nothing else. But that +ended it. After that both felt that mutual detestation had set in. John +Orgreave was not implicated in the discreet rupture. Possibly he knew of +it; possibly he didn't; he was not one to look for trouble, and he +accepted the theory that it was part of George's vital scheme to inhabit +Chelsea. And then Adela, all fluffiness and winsomeness, had called, in +the previous week, at Russell Square and behaved like a woman whose sole +aim in life is to please and cosset men of genius. "I shall be +dreadfully hurt if you don't come to one of my Sunday lunches, George!" +she had said. And also: "We _miss_ you, you know," and had put her head +on one side. + +Marguerite had thoroughly approved his acceptance of the invitation. She +thought that he 'ought' to accept. He had promised, as she had an urgent +design to do, not to arrive at the studio before 8 p.m., and he had +received a note from her that morning to insist on the hour. + + +II + + +The roads were covered with a very even, very thin coating of mud; it +was as though a corps of highly skilled house-painters had laid on the +mud, and just vanished. The pavements had a kind of yellowish-brown +varnish. Each of the few trees that could be seen--and there were a +few--carried about six surviving leaves. The sky was of a blue-black +with golden rents and gleams that travelled steadily eastwards. Except +the man with newspapers at the corner of Alexandra Grove, scarcely a +sign of life showed along the vistas of Fulham Road; but the clock over +the jeweller's was alive and bearing the usual false witness. From the +upper open galleries of the Workhouse one or two old men and old women +in uniform looked down indifferently upon the free world which they had +left for ever. Then an omnibus appeared faintly advancing from the +beautiful grey distance of the straight and endless street. George +crossed the road on his way towards Redcliffe Gardens and Earl's Court. +He was very smart, indeed smarter than ever, having produced in himself +quite naturally and easily a fair imitation of the elegant figures +which, upon his visits to the restaurant-building in Piccadilly, he had +observed airing themselves round about Bond Street. His hair was smooth +like polished marble; his hat and stick were at the right angle; his +overcoat was new, and it indicated the locality of his waist; the spots +of colour in his attire complied with the operative decrees. His young +face had in it nothing that obviously separated him from the average +youth of his clothes. Nobody would have said of him, at a glance, that +he might be a particularly serious individual. And most people would +have at once classed him as a callow pleasure-seeking person in the act +of seeking pleasure. + +Nevertheless he was at that moment particularly serious, and his +seriousness was growing. His secret engagement had affected him, in part +directly, and in part by the intensification of ambitious endeavour +which had resulted from contact with that fount of seriousness, +Marguerite. Although still entirely dependent--even to cigarette +money--upon the benevolence of a couple of old individuals a hundred and +fifty miles off, he reckoned that he was advancing in the world. The +Intermediate Examination was past, and already he felt that he had come +to grips with the Final and would emerge victorious. He felt too that +his general knowledge and the force and variety of his ideas were +increasing. At times, when he and Marguerite talked, he was convinced +that both of them had achieved absolute knowledge, and that their +criticisms of the world were and would always be unanswerable. After the +Final, he hoped, his uncle would buy him a share in the Lucas & Enwright +practice. In due season, his engagement would be revealed, and all would +be immensely impressed by his self-restraint and his good taste, and the +marriage would occur, and he would be a London architect, an established +man--at the mature age of, say, twenty-two. + +No cloud would have obscured the inward radiance caused by the lovely +image of Marguerite and by his confidence in himself, had it not been +for those criticisms of the world. He had moods of being rather gravely +concerned as to the world, and as to London. He was recovering from the +first great attack of London. He saw faults in London. He was capable of +being disturbed by, for example, the ugliness and the inefficiency of +London. He even thought that something ought to be done about it. Upon +this Sunday morning, fresh from visions of Venice, and rendered a little +complacent by the grim execution of the morning's programme of work, he +was positively pained by the aspect of Redcliffe Gardens. The Redcliffe +Arms public-house, locked and dead, which was the daily paradise of +hundreds of human beings, and had given balm and illusion to whole +generations, seemed simply horrible to him in its Sunday morning coma. +The large and stuffy unsightliness of it could not be borne. (However, +the glimpse of a barmaid at an upper window interested him pleasantly +for a moment.) And the Redcliffe Arms was the true gate to the stucco +and areas of Redcliffe Gardens. He looked down into the areas and saw +therein the furtive existence of squalor behind barred windows. All the +obscene apparatus of London life was there. And as he raised his eyes to +the drawing-room and bedroom stories he found no relief. His eyes could +discover nothing that was not mean, ugly, frowzy, and unimaginative. He +pictured the heavy, gloomy, lethargic life within. The slatternly +servants pottering about the bases of the sooty buildings sickened and +saddened him. A solitary Earl's Court omnibus that lumbered past with +its sinister, sparse cargo seemed to be a spectacle absolutely +tragic--he did not know why. The few wayfarers were obviously prim and +smug. No joy, no elegance, anywhere! Only, at intervals, a feeling that +mysterious and repulsive wealth was hiding itself like an ogre in the +eternal twilight of fastnesses beyond the stuccoed walls and the grimy +curtains.... The city worked six days in order to be precisely this on +the seventh. Truly it was very similar to the Five Towns, and in +essentials not a bit better.--A sociological discovery which startled +him! He wanted to destroy Redcliffe Gardens, and to design it afresh and +rebuild it under the inspiration of St. Mark's and of the principles of +hygiene as taught for the Final Examination. He had grandiose ideas for +a new design. As for Redcliffe Square, he could do marvels with its +spaces. + +He arrived too soon at Earl's Court Station, having forgotten that the +Underground Railway had a treaty with the Church of England and all the +Nonconformist churches not to run trains while the city, represented by +possibly two per cent of its numbers, was at divine worship. He walked +to and fro along the platforms in the vast echoing cavern peopled with +wandering lost souls, and at last a train came in from the void, and it +had the air of a miracle, because nobody had believed that any train +ever would come in. And at last the Turnham Green train came in, and +George got into a smoking compartment, and Mr. Enwright was in the +compartment. + +Mr. Enwright also was going to the Orgreave luncheon. He was in what the +office called 'one of his moods.' The other occupants of the compartment +had a stiff and self-conscious air: some apparently were proud of being +abroad on Sunday morning; some apparently were ashamed. Mr. Enwright's +demeanour was as free and natural as that of a child. His lined and +drawn face showed worry and self-absorption in the frankest manner. He +began at once to explain how badly he had slept; indeed he asserted that +he had not slept at all; and he complained with extreme acerbity of the +renewal of his catarrh. 'Constant secretion. Constant secretion,' was +the phrase he used to describe the chief symptom. Then by a forced +transition he turned to the profession of architecture, and restated his +celebrated theory that it was the Cinderella of professions. The firm +had quite recently obtained a very important job in a manufacturing +quarter of London, without having to compete for it; but Mr. Enwright's +great leading ideas never fluctuated with the fluctuation of facts. If +the multiplicity of his lucrative jobs had been such as to compel him to +run round from one to another on a piebald pony in the style of Sir Hugh +Corver, his view of the profession would not have altered. He spoke with +terrible sarcasm apropos of a rumour current in architectural circles +that a provincial city intended soon to invite competitive designs for a +building of realty enormous proportions, and took oath that in no case +should his firm, enter for the competition. In short, his condition was +markedly pessimistic. + +George loved him, and was bound to humour him; and in order to respond +sympathetically to Enwright's pessimism he attempted to describe his +sensations concerning the London Sunday, and in particular the Sunday +morning aspect of Earl's Court streets. He animadverted with virulence, +and brought forward his new startling discovery that London was in truth +as provincial as the provinces. + +"Well, I don't think it is," said Enwright, instantly becoming a +judicial truth-seeker. + +"Why don't you?" + +"Simply because it's bigger--so much bigger. That's the principal +difference, and you'll never get over it. You must appreciate size. An +elephant is a noble animal, but it wouldn't be if it was only as big as +a fly. London's an elephant, and forget it not." + +"It's frightfully ugly, most of it, anyhow, and especially on Sunday +morning," George persisted. + +"Is it? I wonder whether it is, now. The architecture's ugly. But what's +architecture? Architecture isn't everything. If you can go up and down +London and see nothing but architecture, you'll never be an A1 +architect." He spoke in a low, kindly, and reasonable tone. "I like +London on Sunday mornings. In fact it's marvellous. You say it's untidy +and all that ... slatternly, and so on. Well, so it ought to be when it +gets up late. Jolly bad sign if it wasn't. And that's part of it! Why, +dash it, look at a bedroom when you trail about, getting up! Look how +you leave it! The existence of a big city while it's waking up--lethargy +business--a sort of shamelessness--it's like a great animal! I think +it's marvellous, and I always have thought so." + +George would not openly agree, but his mind was illuminated with a new +light, and in his mind he agreed, very admiringly. + +The train stopped; people got out; and the two were alone in the +compartment. + +"I thought all was over between you and Adela," said Mr. Enwright, +confidentially and quizzically. + +George blushed a little. "Oh no!" + +"I don't know what I'm going to her lunch for, I'm sure. I suppose I +have to go." + +"I have, too," said George. + +"Well, she won't do you any good, you know. I was glad when you left +there." + +George looked worldly. "Rum sort, isn't she?" + +I'll tell you what she is, now. You remember _Aida_ at the Paris Opera. +The procession in the second act where you lost your head and said it +was the finest music ever written. And those girls in white, waving +palms in front of the hero--What's-his-name. There are some women who +are born to do that and nothing else. Thin lips. Fixed idiotic smile. +They don't think a bit about what they're doing. They're thinking about +themselves all the time. They simply don't care a damn about the hero, +or about the audience, or anything, and they scarcely pretend to. +Arrogance isn't the word. It's something more terrific--it's stupendous! +Mrs. John's like that. I thought of it as I was coming along here." + +"Is she?" said George negligently. "Perhaps she is. I never thought of +her like that." + +Turnham Green Station was announced. + + +III + + +Despite the fresh pinky horrors of its external architecture, and +despite his own desire and firm intention to the contrary, George was +very deeply impressed by the new Orgreave home. It was far larger than +the previous house. The entrance was spacious, and the drawing-room, +with a great fire at either end, immense. He had never been in an +interior so splendid. He tried to be off-hand in his attitude towards +it, but did not fully succeed. The taste shown in the decoration and +furniture was almost unexceptionable. White walls--Heppel-white; +chintz--black, crackling chintz strewn with tens of thousands of giant +roses. On the walls were a few lithographs--John's contribution to the +general effect. John having of late years begun to take himself +seriously as a collector of lithographs. + +One-third of the room was divided from the rest by an arched and fretted +screen of red lacquer, and within this open cage stood Mrs. John, +surveying winsomely the expanse of little tables, little chairs, big +chairs, huge chairs, sofas, rugs, flower-vases, and knick-knacks. She +had an advantage over most blondes nearing the forties in that she had +not stoutened. She was in fact thin as well as short; but her face was +too thin. Still, it dimpled, and she held her head knowingly on one +side, and her bright hair was wonderfully done up. Dressed richly as she +was, and assisted by the rejuvenating magic of jewels, she produced, in +the shadow of the screen, a notable effect of youthful vivacity, which +only the insult of close inspection could destroy. With sinuous gestures +she waved Mr. Enwright's metaphorical palm before the approaching +George. Her smile flattered him; her frail, dinging hand flattered him. +He had known her in her harsh morning moods; he had seen that +persuasive, manufactured mask vanish for whole minutes, to reveal a +petty egotism, giving way, regardless of appearances, to rage; he +clearly observed now the hard, preoccupied eyes. Nevertheless, the charm +which she exercised was undeniable. Her husband was permanently under +its spell. There he stood, near her, big, coarsening, good-natured, +content, proud of her. He mixed a cocktail and he threw a match into the +fire, in exactly the old Five Towns manner, which he would never lose. +But as for her, she had thrown off all trace of the Five Towns; she had +learnt London, deliberately, thoroughly. And even George, with the +unmerciful, ruthless judgment of his years, was obliged to admit that +she possessed a genuine pertinacity and had marvellously accomplished an +ambition. She had held John Orgreave for considerably over a decade; she +had had the tremendous courage to Leave the heavy provincial +manufacturer, her first husband; she had passed through the Divorce +Court as a respondent without blenching; she had slowly darned her +reputation with such skill that you could scarcely put your finger on +the place where the hole had been; and lo! she was reigning in Bedford +Park and had all she wanted--except youth. Nor did she in the least show +the resigned, disillusioned air of women who have but recently lost +their youth. She bore herself just as though she still had no fear of +strong lights, and as though she was still the dazzling, dashing blonde +of whom John in his earliest twenties used to say, with ingenuous +enthusiasm, that she was 'ripping'--the ripping Mrs. Chris Hamson. An +epical creature! + +This domestic organism created by Mrs. John inspired George, and +instantly he was rapt away in dreams of his own future. He said to +himself again, and more forcibly, that he had a natural taste for luxury +and expensiveness, and that he would have the one and practise the +other. He invented gorgeous interiors which would be his and in which he +would be paramount and at ease. He positively yearned for them. He was +impatient to get back home and resume the long labours that would lead +him to them. Every grand adjunct of life must be his, and he could not +wait. Absurd to apprehend that Marguerite would not rise to his dreams! +Of course she would! She would fit herself perfectly into them, +completing them. She would understand all the artistic aspects of them, +because she was an artist; and in addition she would be mistress, wife, +hostess, commanding impeccable servants, receiving friends with beauty +and unsurpassable sweet dignity, wearing costly frocks and jewels as +though she had never worn anything else. She had the calm power, she had +the individuality, to fulfil all his desires for her. She would be the +authentic queen of which Mrs. John was merely the imitation. He wanted +intensely to talk to her about the future.... And then he had the +seductive idea of making presentable his bed-sitting-room at Mr. Haim's. +He saw the room instantaneously transformed; he at once invented each +necessary dodge for absolutely hiding during the day the inconvenient +fact that it had to serve as a bedroom at night; he refurnished it; he +found the money to refurnish it. And just as he was impatient to get +back home in order to work, so he was impatient to get back home in +order to transform his chamber into the ideal. Delay irked him +painfully. And yet he was extremely happy in the excitement of the +dreams that ached to be fulfilled. + +"Now, Mr. Enwright," said Mrs. John in an accent to draw honey out of a +boulder. "You haven't told me what you think of it." + +Enwright was wandering about by himself. + +"He's coming on with his lithographs," he replied, as if after a +decision. "One or two of these are rather interesting." + +"Oh! I don't mean the lithographs. You know those are all Jack's +affairs. I mean--well, the room. Now do pay me a compliment." + +The other guests listened. + +Enwright gave a little self-conscious smile, characteristic of him in +these dilemmas, half kind and half malicious. + +"You must have taken a great deal of trouble over it," he said, with +bright amiability; and then relapsing from the effort: "it's all very +nice and harmless." + +"Oh! Mr. Enwright! Is that all?" She pouted, though still waving the +palm. "And you so fond of the eighteenth century, too!" + +"But I heard a rumour at the beginning of this year that we're living in +the twentieth," said Enwright. + +"And I thought I should please you!" sighed Adela. "What _ought_ I to +have done?" + +"Well, you might have asked me to design you some furniture. Nobody ever +has asked me yet." He rubbed his eyeglasses and blinked. + +"Oh! You geniuses.... Janet darling!" + +Mrs. John moved forward to meet Miss Orgreave, John's appreciably elder +sister, spinster, who lived with another brother, Charles, a doctor at +Ealing. Janet was a prim emaciated creature, very straight and +dignified, whose glance always seemed to hesitate between benevolence +and fastidiousness. Janet and Charles had consented to forget the +episode of the Divorce Court. Marion, however, the eldest Orgreave +sister, mother of a family of daughters, had never received the +divorcee. On the other hand the divorcee, obeying her own code, had +obstinately ignored the wife of Jim Orgreave, a younger brother, who, +according to the universal opinion, had married disgracefully. + +When the sisters-in-law had embraced, with that unconvincing fulsomeness +which is apt to result from a charitable act of oblivion, Janet turned +lovingly to George and asked after his mother. She was his mother's most +intimate friend. In the past he had called her Auntie, and was +accustomed to kiss her and be kissed. Indeed he feared that she might +want to kiss him now, but he was spared. As with negligence of tone he +answered her fond inquiries, he was busy reconstructing quite anew his +scheme for the bed-sittingroom--for it had actually been an +eighteenth-century scheme, and inspired by the notions of Mrs. John! + +At the lunch-table George found that the party consisted of ten persons, +of whom one, seated next to himself, was a youngish, somewhat plump +woman who had arrived at the last moment. He had not been introduced to +her, nor to the four other strangers, for it had lately reached Bedford +Park that introductions were no longer the correct prelude to a meal. A +hostess who wished to be modern should throw her guests in ignorance +together and leave them to acquire knowledge by their own initiative. +This device added to the piquancy of a gathering. Moreover, there was +always a theory that each individual was well known, and that therefore +to introduce was subtly to insult. On Mrs. John's right was a +beautifully braided gentleman of forty or so, in brown, with brown +necktie and hair to match, and the hair was so perfect and ended so +abruptly that George at first took it for a wig; but soon afterwards he +decided that he had been unkind. Mr. Enwright was opposite to this brown +gentleman. + +Mrs. John began by hoping that the brown gentleman had been to church. + +"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied, with gentle regret in his voice. + +And in the course of the conversation he was frequently afraid. +Nevertheless his attitude was by no means a fearful attitude; on the +contrary it was very confident. He would grasp the edge of the table +with his hands, and narrate at length, smiling amiably, and looking from +side to side regularly like a public speaker. He narrated in detail the +difficulties which he had in obtaining the right sort of cutlets rightly +cooked at his club, and added: "But of course there's only one club in +London that would be satisfactory in all this--shall I say?--finesse, +and I'm afraid I don't belong to it." + +"What club's that?" John Orgreave sent the inquiry down the table. + +"The Orleans." + +"Oh yes, the Orleans! I suppose that _is_ the best." + +And everybody seemed glad and proud that everybody had known of the +culinary supremacy of the Orleans. + +"I'm afraid you'll all think I'm horribly greedy," said the brown +gentleman apologetically. And then at once, having noticed that Mr. +Enwright was gazing up at the great sham oak rafters that were glued on +to the white ceiling, he started upon this new architectural +picturesqueness which was to London and the beginning of the twentieth +century what the enamelled milking-stool had been to the provinces and +the end of the nineteenth century--namely, a reminder that even in an +industrial age romance should still survive in the hearts of men. The +brown gentleman remarked that with due deference to 'you professional +gentlemen,' he was afraid he liked the sham rafters, because they +reminded him of the good old times and all that sort of thing. + +He was not only a conscientious conversationalist, but he originated +talk in others, and listened to them with his best attention. And he +invariably stepped into gaps with praise-worthy tact and skill. Thus the +chat meandered easily from subject to subject--the Automobile Club's +tour from London to Southsea, the latest hotel, Richter, the war (which +the brown gentleman treated with tired respect, as some venerable +survival that had forgotten to die), the abnormally early fogs, and the +abnormally violent and destructive gales. An argument arose as to +whether these startling weather phenomena were or were not a hint to +mankind from some undefined Higher Power that a new century had in truth +begun and that mankind had better mind what it was about. Mrs. John +favoured the notion, and so did Miss Orgreave, whereas John Orgreave +coarsely laughed at it. The brown gentleman held the scales admirably; +he was chivalrously sympathetic to the two ladies, and yet he respected +John's materialism. He did, however, venture to point out the +contradictions in the character of 'our host,' who was really very +responsive to music and art, but who seemed curiously to ignore certain +other influences--etc. etc. + +"How true that is!" murmured Mrs. John. + +The brown gentleman modestly enjoyed his triumph. With only three people +had he failed--Mr. Enwright, George, and the youngish woman next to +George. + +"And how's Paris, Miss Ingram?" he pointedly asked the last. + +George was surprised. He had certainly taken her for a married woman, +and one of his generalizations about life was that he did not like young +married women; hence he had not liked her. He now regarded her with +fresh interest. She blushed a little, and looked very young indeed. + +"Oh! Paris is all right!" she answered shortly. + +The brown gentleman after a long, musing smile, discreetly abandoned the +opening; but George, inquiring in a low voice if she lived in Paris, +began a private talk with Miss Ingram, who did live in Paris. He had his +doubts about her entire agreeableness, but at any rate they got on to a +natural, brusque footing, which contrasted with the somewhat ceremonious +manner of the general conversation. She exceeded George in brusqueness, +and tended to patronize him as a youngster. He noticed that she had +yellow eyes. + +"What do you think of his wig?" she demanded in an astonishing whisper, +when the meal was over and chairs were being vacated. + +"_Is_ it a wig?" George exclaimed ingenuously. + +"Oh, you boys!" she protested, with superiority. "Of course it's a wig." + +"But how do you know it's a wig?" George insisted stoutly. + +"'Is it a wig!'" she scorned him. + +"Well, I'm not up in wigs," said George. "Who is he, anyhow?" + +"I forget his name. I've only met him once, here at tea. I think he's a +tea-merchant. He seemed to remember me all right." + +"A tea-merchant! I wonder why Mrs. John put him on her right, then, and +Mr. Enwright on her left." George resented the precedence. + +"Is Mr. Enwright really very great, then?" + +"Great! You bet he is.... I was in Paris with him in the summer. +Whereabouts do you live in Paris?" + +She improved, especially at the point where she said that Mr. Enwright's +face was one of the most wonderful faces that she had ever seen. +Evidently she knew Paris as well as George knew London. Apparently she +had always lived there. But their interchanges concerning Paris, on a +sofa in the drawing-room, were stopped by a general departure. Mr. +Enwright began it. The tea-merchant instantly supported the movement. +Miss Ingram herself rose. The affair was at an end. Nothing interesting +had been said in the general talk, and little that was sincere. No topic +had been explored, no argument taken to a finish. No wit worth +mentioning had glinted. But everybody had behaved very well, and had +demonstrated that he or she was familiar with the usages of society and +with aspects of existence with which it was proper to be familiar. And +everybody--even Mr. Enwright--thanked Mrs. John most heartily for her +quite delightful luncheon; Mrs. John insisted warmly on her own pleasure +and her appreciation of her guests' extreme good nature in troubling to +come, and she was beyond question joyously triumphant. And George, +relieved, thought, as he tried to rival the rest in gratitude to Mrs. +John: + +"What was it all about? What did they all come for? _I_ came because she +made me. But why did the others come?" + +The lunch had passed like a mild nightmare, and he felt as though, with +the inconsequence of dream-people, these people had gone away without +having accomplished some essential act which had been the object of +their gathering. + + +IV + + +When George came out of the front door, he beheld Miss Ingram on the +kerb, in the act of getting into a very rich fur coat. A chauffeur, in a +very rich livery, was deferentially helping her. Behind them stretched a +long, open motor-car. This car, existing as it did at a time when the +public acutely felt that automobiles splashed respectable foot-farers +with arrogant mud and rendered unbearable the lives of the humble in +village streets, was of the immodest kind described, abusively, as +'powerful and luxurious.' The car of course drew attention, because it +had yet occurred to but few of anybody's friends that they might +themselves possess even a modest car, much less an immodest one. George +had not hitherto personally known a single motor-car owner. + +But what struck him even more than the car was the fur coat, and the +haughty and fastidious manner in which Miss Ingram accepted it from the +chauffeur, and the disdainful, accustomed way in which she wore it--as +though it were a cheap rag--when once it was on her back. In her +gestures he glimpsed a new world. He had been secretly scorning the +affairs of the luncheon and all that it implied, and he had been +secretly scorning himself for his pitiful lack of brilliancy at the +luncheon. These two somewhat contradictory sentiments were suddenly +shrivelled in the fire of his ambition which had flared up anew at +contact with a spark. And the spark was the sight of the girl's costly +fur coat. He must have a costly fur coat, and a girl in it, and the girl +must treat the fur coat like a cheap rag. Otherwise he would die a +disappointed man. + +"Hallo!" called Miss Ingram. + +"Hallo!" She had climbed into the car, and turned her head to look at +him. He saw that she was younger even than he had thought. She seemed +quite mature when she was still, but when she moved she had the lithe +motions of immaturity. As a boy, he now infallibly recognized a girl. + +"Which way are you going?" + +"Well--Chelsea more or less." + +"I'll give you a lift." + +He ought to have said: "Are you sure I shan't be taking you out of your +way?" But he said merely: "Oh! Thanks awfully!" + +The chauffeur held the door for him, and then arranged a fur rug over +the knees of the boy and the girl. To be in the car gave George intense +pleasure, especially when the contrivance thrilled into life and began +to travel. He was thankful that his clothes were as smart as they ought +to be. She could not think ill of his clothes--no matter who her friends +were. + +"This is a great car," he said. "Had it long?" + +"Oh! It's not mine," answered Miss Ingram. "It's Miss Wheeler's." + +"Who's Miss Wheeler, if I may ask?" + +"Miss Wheeler! She's a friend of mine. She lives in Paris. But she has a +flat in London too. I came over with her. We brought the car with us. +She was to have come to the Orgreaves's to-day, but she had a headache. +So I took the car--and her furs as well. They fit me, you see.... I say, +what's your Christian name? I hate surnames, don't you?" + +"George. What's yours?" + +"Mine's Lois." + +"What? How do you spell it?" + +She spelt it, adding 'Of course.' He thought it was somehow a very +romantic name. He decidedly liked the name. He was by no means sure, +however, that he liked the girl. He liked her appearance, though she was +freckled; she was unquestionably stylish; she had ascendancy; she +imposed herself; she sat as though the world was the instrument of her +individuality. Nevertheless he doubted if she was kind, and he knew that +she was patronizing. Further, she was not a conversationalist. At the +luncheon she had not been at ease; but here in the car she was at ease +absolutely, yet she remained taciturn. + +"D'you drive?" he inquired. + +"Yes," she said. "Look here, would you like to sit in front? And I'll +drive." + +"Good!" he agreed vigorously. But he had a qualm about the safety of +being driven by a girl. + +She abruptly stopped the car, and the chauffeur swerved to the pavement. + +"I'm going to drive, Cuthbert," she said. + +"Yes, miss," said the chauffeur willingly. "It's a bit side-slippy, +miss." + +She gave no answer to this remark, but got out of the car with a +preoccupied, frowning air, as if she was being obliged to take a +responsible post, which she could fill better than anybody else, rather +against her inclination. A few persons paused to watch. She carefully +ignored them; so did George. + +As soon as she had seized the wheel, released the brake and started the +car, she began to talk, looking negligently about her. George thought: +"She's only showing off." Still, the car travelled beautifully, and +there was a curious illusion that she must have the credit for that. She +explained the function of handles, pedals, and switches, and George +deemed it proper to indicate that he was not without some elementary +knowledge of the subject. He leaned far back, as Lois leaned, and as the +chauffeur had leaned, enjoying the brass fittings, the indicators, and +all the signs of high mechanical elaboration. + +He noticed that Lois sounded her horn constantly, and often upon no +visible provocation. But once as she approached cross-roads at +unslackened speed, she seemed to forget to sound it and then sounded it +too late. Nothing untoward happened; Sunday traffic was thin, and she +sailed through the danger-zone with grand intrepidity. + +"I say, George," she remarked, looking now straight in front of her. +("She's a bit of a caution," he reflected happily.) "Have you got +anything special on this afternoon?" + +"Nothing what you may call deadly special," he answered. He wanted to +call her 'Lois,' but his volition failed at the critical moment. + +"Well, then, won't you come and have tea with Miss Wheeler and me? +There'll only be just a few people, and you must be introduced to Miss +Wheeler." + +"Oh! I don't think I'd better." He was timid. + +"Why not?" She pouted. + +"All right, then. Thanks. I should like to." + +"By the way, what's your surname?" + +("She _is_ a caution," he reflected.) + +"I wasn't quite sure," she said, when he had told her. + +He was rather taken aback, but he reassured himself. No doubt girls of +her environment did behave as she behaved. After all, why not? + +They entered Hammersmith. It was a grand and inspiring sensation to +swing through Hammersmith thus aristocratically repudiating the dowdy +Sunday crowd that stared in ingenuous curiosity. And there was a +wonderful quality in the spectacle of the great, formidable car being +actuated and controlled by the little gloved hands and delicately shod +feet of this frail, pampered, wilful girl. + +In overtaking a cab that kept nearly to the middle of the road, Lois +hesitated in direction, appeared to defy the rule, and then corrected +her impulse. + +"It's rather confusing," she observed, with a laugh. "You see, in France +you keep to the right and overtake things on their left." + +"Yes. But this is London," said George dryly. + +Half a minute later, just beyond the node of Hammersmith, where bright +hats and frocks were set off against the dark-shuttered fronts of shops, +Lois at quite a good speed inserted the car between a tramcar and an +omnibus, meeting the tram and overtaking the omnibus. The tram went by +like thunder, all its glass and iron rattling and shaking; the noise +deafened, and the wind blew hard like a squall. There appeared to be +scarcely an inch of space on either side of the car. George's heart +stopped. For one horrible second he expected a tremendous smash. The car +emerged safe. He saw the omnibus-driver gazing down at them with +reproof. After the roar of the tram died he heard the trotting of the +omnibus horses and Lois's nervous giggle. She tried, and did not fail, +to be jaunty; but she had had a shock, and the proof was that by mere +inadvertence she nearly charged the posts of the next street-refuge.... +George switched off the current. She herself had shown him how to do it. +She now saw him do it. The engine stopped, and Lois, remembering in a +flash that her dignity was at stake, raised her hand and drew up fairly +neatly at the pavement. + +"What's the matter?" she demanded imperiously. + +"Are you going to drive this thing all the way into London, Lois?" he +demanded in turn. + +They looked at each other. The chauffeur got down. "Of course." + +"Not with me in it, anyhow!" + +She sneered. "Oh! You boys! You've got no pluck." + +"Perhaps not," he returned viciously. "Neither have you got any sense of +danger. Girls like you never have. I've noticed that before." Even his +mother with horses had no sense of danger. + +"You're very rude," she replied. "And it was very rude of you to stop +the car." + +"I dare say. But you shouldn't have told me you could drive." + +He was now angry. And she not less so. He descended, and slammed the +door. + +"Thanks so much," he said, raised his hat, and walked away. She spoke, +but he did not catch what she said. He was saying to himself: "Pluck +indeed!" (He did not like her accusation.) "Pluck indeed! Of all the +damned cheek!... We might all have been killed--or worse. The least she +could have done was to apologize. But no! Pluck indeed! Women oughtn't +to be allowed to drive. It's too infernally silly for words." + +He glanced backward. The chauffeur had started the car again, and was +getting in by Lois's side. Doubtless he was a fatalist by profession. +She drove off. + +"Yes!" thought George. "And you'd drive home yourself now even if you +knew for certain you'd have an accident. You're just that stupid kind." + +The car looked superb as it drew away, and she reclined in the driver's +seat with a superb effrontery. George was envious; he was pierced by +envy. He hated that other people, and especially girls, should command +luxuries which he could not possess. He hated that violently. "You +wait!" he said to himself. "You wait! I'll have as good a car as that, +and a finer girl than you in it. And she won't want to drive either. +You wait." He was more excited than he knew by the episode. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TEA + +I + + +"Tea is ready, Mr. Cannon," said Mr. Haim in his most courteous style, +coming softly into George's room. And George looked up at the old man's +wrinkled face, and down at his crimson slippers, with the benevolent air +of a bookworm permitting himself to be drawn away from an ideal world +into the actual. Glasses on the end of George's nose would have set off +the tableau, but George had outgrown the spectacles which had disfigured +his boyhood. As a fact, since his return that afternoon from Mrs. +John's, he had, to the detriment of modesty and the fostering of +conceit, accomplished some further study for the Final, although most of +the time had been spent in dreaming of women and luxury. + +"All right," said he. "I'll come." + +"I don't think that lamp's been very well trimmed to-day," said Mr. Haim +apologetically, sniffing. + +"Does it smell?" + +"Well, I do notice a slight odour." + +"I'll open the window," said George heartily. He rose, pulled the +curtains, and opened the front French window with a large gesture. The +wild, raw, damp air of Sunday night rushed in from the nocturnal Grove, +and instantly extinguished the lamp. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Haim, rather nervously. + +"Saved me the trouble," said George. + +As he emerged after Mr. Haim from the dark room, he was thinking that it +was ridiculous not to have electricity, and that he must try to come to +some arrangement with Mr. Haim for the installation of electricity. +Fancy oil-lamps in the middle of London in the twentieth century! Shocks +were waiting in George's mind for Mr. Haim. He intended, if he could, to +get the room on the first floor, empty since the departure of +Marguerite, and to use it for a bedroom, while keeping the ground-floor +room exclusively for work and society. His project would involve shocks +also for Mr. Edwin Clayhanger in the Five Towns, who would be called +upon to pay; but George had an airy confidence in the ability of his +stepfather to meet such shocks in a satisfactory manner. + +To George's surprise, Mr. Alfred Prince was in the sitting-room. Shabby +and creased as usual, he looked far more like a clerk in some +establishment where clerks were not morally compelled to imitate dandies +than like an etcher of European renown. But, also as usual, he was +quietly at ease and conversational; and George at once divined that he +had been invited with the object of relieving the social situation +created by the presence of the brilliant young lodger at tea. This tea +was the first meal to be taken by George with Mr. and Mrs. Haim, for he +was almost never at home on Sunday afternoons, and he was not expected +to be at home. The table showed, as Mr. Haim's nervousness had shown, +that the importance of the occasion had been realized. It was an +obviously elaborate table. The repast was ready in every detail; the +teapot was under the cosy; the cover was over the hot crumpets; Mrs. +Haim alone lacked. + +"Where's missus?" asked George lightly. Mr. Haim had not come into the +room. + +"I don't know," said Mr. Prince. "She brought the tea in a minute ago. +You been working this afternoon?" + +At that moment Mr. Haim entered. He said: + +"Mrs. Haim isn't feeling very well. She's upstairs. She says she's sure +she'll be all right in a little while. In the meantime she prefers us to +go on with our tea." + +Mr. Prince and Mr. Haim looked at each other, and George looked at Mr. +Haim. The older men showed apprehension. The strange idea of +unconquerable destiny crossed George's mind--destiny clashing ruthlessly +with ambition and desire. The three males sat down in obedience to the +wish of the woman who had hidden herself in the room above. All of them +were dominated by the thought of her. They did not want to sit down and +eat and drink, and they were obliged to do so by the invisible +volitional force of which Mr. Haim was the unwilling channel. Mr. Haim, +highly self-conscious, began to pour out the tea. Mr. Prince, highly +self-conscious, suggested that he should make himself useful by +distributing the crumpets while they were hot. George, highly +selfconscious, accepted a crumpet. Mr. Prince chatted; George responded +in a brave worldly fashion; Mr. Haim said 'Yes,' 'Ye-es,' very absently. + +And then Mrs. Haim appeared smiling in the doorway. "Ah!" breathed +everybody, assuaged. "Ah!" Mr. Haim moved from in front of the tea-tray +to the next seat. Mrs. Haim was perhaps somewhat pale, but she gave a +sincere, positive assurance that she was perfectly well again. +Reassurance spread throughout the company. Forebodings vanished; hearts +lightened; gladness reigned; the excellence of crumpets became +apparent. And all this swift, wonderful change was brought about by the +simple entry of the woman. But beneath the genuine relief and +satisfaction of the men there stirred vaguely the thought of the +mysteriousness of women, of the entire female sex. Mrs. Haim, charwoman, +was just as mysterious as any other woman. As for George, despite the +exhilaration which he could feel rising in him effortless and unsought, +he was preoccupied by more than women's mysteriousness; the conception +of destiny lingered and faintly troubled him. It was as though he had +been walking on a clear path through a vast and empty and safe forest, +and the eyes of a tiger had gleamed for an instant in the bush and gone. +Not a real tiger! And if a real tiger, then a tiger that would never +recur, and the only tiger in the forest!... Yet the entire forest was +transformed. + +Mrs. Haim was wearing the blue sateen. It was a dress unsuited to her +because it emphasized her large bulk; but it was her best dress; it +shone and glittered; it imposed. Her duty was to wear it on that Sunday +afternoon. She was shy, without being self-conscious. To preside over a +society consisting of young bloods, etchers of European renown, and +pillars of the architectural profession was an ordeal for her. She did +not pretend that it was not an ordeal. She did not pretend that the +occasion was not extraordinary. She was quite natural in her calm +confusion. She was not even proud, being perhaps utterly incapable of +social pride. Her husband was proud for her. He looked at her earnestly, +wistfully. He could not disguise his anxiety for her success. Was she +equal to the role? She was. Of course she was. He had never doubted that +she would be (he said to himself). His pride increased, scarcely escaped +being fatuous. + +"I must congratulate you on the new front doormat, Mrs. Haim," said Mr. +Prince, with notable conversational tact. "I felt it at once in the +dark." + +Mrs. Haim smiled. + +"I do like a good doormat," she said. "It saves so much work, I always +think. I told Mr. Haim I thought we needed a new one, and bless me if he +didn't take me straight out to buy one." + +The new doormat expressed Mrs. Haim's sole and characteristic criticism +of the organism into which she had so unassumingly entered. Secure in +the adoration of Mr. Haim, she might safely have turned the place +upside-down and proved to the Grove that she could act the mistress with +the best of them; but she changed nothing except the doormat. The +kitchen and scullery had already been hers before the eye of Mr. Haim +had fallen upon her; she was accustomed to them and had largely +fashioned their arrangements. Her own furniture, such of it as was +retained, had been put into the spare bedroom and the kitchen, and was +hardly noticeable there. The dramatic thing for her to do would have +been to engage another charwoman. But Mrs. Haim was not dramatic; she +was accommodating. She fitted herself in. The answer to people who asked +what Mr. Haim could see in her, was that what Mr. Haim first saw was her +mere way of existing, and that in the same way she loved. At her +tea-table, as elsewhere, she exhibited no special quality; she said +little; she certainly did not shine. Nevertheless the three men were +quite happy and at ease, because her way of existing soothed and +reinspired them. George especially got gay; and he narrated the +automobile adventure of the afternoon with amusing gusto. He was thereby +a sort of hero, and he liked that. He was bound by his position in the +world and by his clothes and his style to pretend to some extent that +the adventure was much less extraordinary to him than it seemed to them. +The others made no pretence. They were open-mouthed. Their attitude +admitted frankly that above them was a world to which they could not +climb, that they were not familiar with it and knew nothing about it. +They admired George; they put it to his credit that he was acquainted +with these lofty matters and moved carelessly and freely among them; and +George too somehow thought that credit was due to him and that his +superiority was genuine. + +"And do you mean to say she'd never met you before?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. + +"Never in this world!" + +Mr. Prince remarked calmly: "You must have had a very considerable +effect on her then." His eyes twinkled. + +George flushed slightly. The idea had already presented itself to him +with great force. "Oh no!" He negligently pooh-poohed it. + +"Well, does she go about asking every man she meets what his Christian +name is?" + +"I expect she just does." + +There was silence for a moment. Mrs. Haim refilled a cup. + +"Something will have to be done soon about these motor-cars," observed +Mr. Haim at length, sententiously, in the vein of 'Mustard and Cress.' +"That's very evident." + +"They cost so much," said Mr. Prince. "Why! They cost as much as a +house, some of them." + +"More!" said George. + +"Nay, nay!" Mr. Haim protested. The point had come at which his +imagination halted. + +"Anyhow, you had a lucky escape," said Mr. Prince. "You might have been +lamed for life--or anything." + +George laughed. + +"I am always lucky," said he. He thought: "I wonder whether I _am_!" He +was afraid. + +Mrs. Haim was half-way towards the door before any of the men noticed +what she was about. She had risen silently and quickly; she could +manoeuvre that stout frame of hers with surprising facility. There was a +strange, silly look on her face as she disappeared, and the face was +extremely pale. Mr. Haim showed alarm, and Mr. Prince concern. Mr. +Haim's hands clasped the arms of his chair; he bent forward +hesitatingly. + +"What----?" + +Then was heard the noise of a heavy subsidence, apparently on the +stairs. George was out of the room first. But the other two were +instantly upon him. Mrs. Haim had fallen at the turn of the stairs; her +body was distributed along the little half-landing there. + +"My God! She's fainted!" muttered Mr. Haim. + +"We'd better get her into the bedroom," said Mr. Prince, with awe. + +The trouble had come back, but in a far more acute form. The prostrate +and unconscious body, all crooked and heaped in the shadow, intimidated +the three men, convicting them of helplessness and lack of ready wit. +George stood aside and let the elder pair pass him. Mr. Haim hurried up +the stairs, bent over his wife, and seized her under the arms. Mr. +Prince took her by the legs. They could not lift her. They were both +thin little men, quite unaccustomed to physical exertion. Mrs. Haim lay +like a giantess, immovably recumbent between their puny, straining +figures. + +"Here, let me try," said George eagerly, springing towards the group. + +With natural reluctance Mr. Haim gave way to him. George stooped and +braced himself to the effort. His face was close to the blanched, blind +face of Mrs. Haim. He thought she looked very young, astonishingly young +in comparison with either Haim or Prince. Her complexion was damaged but +not destroyed. Little fluffy portions of her hair seemed absolutely +girlish. Her body was full of nice curves, which struck George as most +enigmatically pathetic. But indeed the whole of her was pathetic, very +touching, very precious and fragile. Even her large, shiny, shapeless +boots and the coarse sateen stuff of her dress affected him. A lump +embarrassed his throat. He suddenly understood the feelings of Mr. Haim +towards her. She was inexpressibly romantic.... He lifted her torso +easily; and pride filled him because he could do easily what others +could not do at all. Her arms trailed limp. Mr. Haim and Mr. Prince +jointly raised her lower limbs. George staggered backwards up the +remainder of the stairs. As they steered the burden into the bedroom, +where a candle was burning, Mrs. Haim opened her eyes and, gazing +vacantly at the ceiling, murmured in a weak, tired voice: + +"I'm all right. It's nothing. Please put me down." + +"Yes, yes, my love!" said Mr. Haim, agitated. + +They deposited her on the bed. She sighed; then smiled. A slight flush +showed on her cheek under the light of the candle which Mr. Prince was +holding aloft. Mysterious creature, with the mysterious forces of life +flowing and ebbing incomprehensibly within her! To George she was +marvellous, she was beautiful, as she lay defenceless and silently +appealing. + +"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Thank you very much," said Mr. Haim, turning to +the strong man. + +It was a dismissal. George modestly departed from the bedroom, which was +no place for him. After a few minutes Mr. Prince also descended. They +stood together at the foot of the stairs in the draught from the open +window of George's room. + +"Hadn't I better go for a doctor?" George suggested. + +"That's what I said," replied Mr. Prince. "But she won't have one." + +"But----" + +"Well, she won't." + +The accommodating, acquiescent dame, with scarcely strength to speak, +was defeating all three of them on that one point. + +"What is it?" asked George confidentially. + +"Oh! I don't suppose it's anything, really." + + +II + + +That George should collect the tea-things together on the tray, and +brush and fold the cloth, and carry the loaded tray downstairs into the +scullery, was sufficiently strange. But it was very much more strange +that he should have actually had the idea of washing-up the tea-things +himself. In his time, in the domestic crises of Bursley, he had boyishly +helped ladies to wash-up, and he reckoned that he knew all about the +operation. There he stood, between the kitchen and the scullery, +elegantly attired, with an inquiring eye upon the kettle of warm water +on the stove, debating whether he should make the decisive gesture of +emptying the kettle into the large tin receptacle that lay on the +slop-stone. Such was the miraculous effect on him of Mrs. Haim's +simplicity, her weakness, and her predicament. Mrs. Haim was a different +woman for him now that he had carried her upstairs and laid her all limp +and girlish on the solemn conjugal bed! He felt quite sure that old Haim +was incapable of washing-up. He assuredly did not want to be caught in +the act of washing-up, but he did want to be able to say in his +elaborately nonchalant manner, answering a question about the +disappearance of the tea-things: "I thought I might as well wash-up +while I was about it." And he did want Mrs. Haim to be put in a flutter +by the news that Mr. George Cannon had washed-up for her. The affair +would positively cause a sensation. + +He was about to begin, taking the risks of premature discovery, when he +heard a noise above. It was Mr. Haim at last descending the stairs to +the ground floor. George started. He had been alone in the lower parts +of the house for a period which seemed long. (Mr. Prince had gone to the +studio, promising to return later.) The bedroom containing Mr. and Mrs. +Haim had become for him the abode of mystery. The entity of the +enchanted house had laid hold of his imagination. He had thought of +Marguerite as she used to pervade the house, and of his approaching +interview with her at the Manresa Road studio. He had thought very +benevolently of Marguerite and also of, Mr. and Mrs. Haim. He had +involved them all three, in his mind, in a net of peace and goodwill. He +saw the family quarrel as something inevitable, touching, absurd--the +work of a maleficent destiny which he might somehow undo and exorcise +by the magic act of washing-up, to be followed by other acts of a more +diplomatic and ingenious nature. And now the dull, distant symptoms of +Mr. Haim on the stairs suddenly halted him at the very outset of his +benignant machinations. He listened. If the peace of the world had +depended upon his washing-up he could not have permitted himself to be +actually seen in the role of kitchen-girl by Mr. Haim--so extreme was +his lack of logic and right reason. There was a silence, a protracted +silence, and then Mr. Haim unmistakably came down the basement stairs, +and George thanked God that he had not allowed his impulse to wash-up +run away with his discretion, to the ruin of his dignity. + +Mr. Haim, hesitating in the kitchen doorway, peered in front of him as +if at a loss. George had shifted the kitchen lamp from its accustomed +place. + +"I'm here," said George, moving slightly in the dim light. "I thought I +might as well make myself useful and clear the table for you. How is she +going on?" He spoke cheerfully, even gaily, and he expected Mr. Haim to +be courteously appreciative--perhaps enthusiastic in gratitude. + +"Mrs. Haim is quite recovered, thank you. It was only a passing +indisposition," said Mr. Haim, using one of his ridiculously stilted +phrases. His tone was strange; it was very strange. + +"Good!" exclaimed George, with a gaiety that was now forced, a bravado +of gaiety. + +He thought: + +"The old chump evidently doesn't like me interfering. Silly old pompous +ass!" Nevertheless his attitude towards the huffy landlord, if scornful, +was good-humoured and indulgent. + +Then he noticed that Mr. Haim held in his hand a half-sheet of +note-paper which disturbingly seemed familiar. "What is the meaning of +this, Mr. Cannon?" Mr. Haim demanded, advancing towards the brightness +of the lamp and extending the paper. He was excessively excited. +Excitement always intensified his age. + +The offered document was the letter which George had that morning +received from Marguerite. The missive was short, a mere note, but its +terms could leave no doubt as to the relations between the writer and +the recipient. Moreover, it ended with a hieroglyphic sign, several +times repeated, whose significance is notorious throughout the civilized +world. + +"Where did you get that?" muttered George, with a defensive menace half +formed in his voice. He faltered. His mood had not yet become +definitive. + +Mr. Haim answered: + +"I have just picked it up in the hall, sir. The wind must have blown it +off the table in your room, and the door was left open. I presume that I +have the right to read papers I find lying about in my own house." + +George was dashed. On returning home from Mrs. John's lunch he had +changed his suit for another one almost equally smart, but of Angora and +therefore more comfortable. He liked to change. He had taken the letter +out of a side-pocket of the jacket and put it with his watch, money, and +other kit on the table while he changed, and he had placed everything +back into the proper pockets, everything except the letter. +Carelessness! A moment of negligence had brought about the irremediable. +The lovely secret was violated. The whole of his future life and of +Marguerite's future life seemed to have been undermined and contaminated +by that single act of omission. Marguerite wrote seldom to him because +of the risks. But precautions had been arranged for the occasions when +she had need to write, and she possessed a small stock of envelopes +addressed by himself, so that Mr. Haim might never by chance, picking up +an envelope from the hall floor, see George's name in his daughter's +hand. And now Mr. Haim had picked up an actual letter from the hall +floor. And the fault for the disaster was George's own. + +"May I ask, sir, are you engaged to my daughter?" demanded Mr. Haim, +getting every instant still more excited. + +George had once before seen him agitated about Marguerite, but by no +means to the same degree. He trembled. He shook. His dignity had a touch +of the grotesque; yet it remained dignity, and it enforced respect. For +George, destiny seemed to dominate the kitchen and the scullery like a +presence. He and the old man were alone together in that presence, and +he was abashed. He was conscious of awe. The old man's mien accused him +of an odious crime, of something base and shameful. Useless to argue +with himself that he was entirely guiltless, that he had the right to be +the betrothed of either Mr. Haim's daughter or any other girl, and to +publish or conceal the betrothal as he chose and as she chose. Yes, +useless! He felt, inexplicably, a criminal. He felt that he had +committed an enormity. It was not a matter of argument; it was a matter +of instinct. The old man's frightful and irrational resentment was his +condemnation. He could not face the old man. + +He thought grievously: "I am up against this man. All politeness and +conventions have vanished. It's the real, inmost me, and the real, +inmost him." Nobody else could take a part in the encounter. And he was +sad, because he could not blame the old man. Could he blame the old man +for marrying a charwoman? Why, he could only admire him for marrying the +charwoman. In marrying the charwoman the old man had done a most +marvellous thing. Could he blame Marguerite? Impossible. Marguerite's +behaviour was perfectly comprehensible. He understood Marguerite and he +understood her father; he sympathized with both of them. But Marguerite +could not understand her father, and her father could not understand +either his daughter or George. Never could they understand! He alone +understood. And his understanding gave him a melancholy, hopeless +feeling of superiority, without at all lessening the strange conviction +of guilt. He had got himself gripped by destiny. Destiny had captured +all three of them. But not the fourth. The charwoman possessed the +mysterious power to defy destiny. Perhaps the power lay in her +simplicity.... Fool! An accursed negligence had eternally botched his +high plans for peace and goodwill. + +"Yes," he said. "I am." + +"And how long have you been engaged, sir?" + +"Oh! Since before Marguerite left here." He tried to talk naturally and +calmly. + +"Then you've been living here all this time like a spy--a dirty spy. My +daughter behaves to us in an infamous manner. She makes an open scandal. +And all the time you're----" + +George suddenly became very angry. And his anger relieved and delighted +him. With intense pleasure he felt his anger surging within him. He +frowned savagely. His eyes blazed. But he did not move. + +"Excuse me," he interrupted, with cold and dangerous fury. "She didn't +do anything of the kind." + +Mr. Haim went wildly on, intimidated possibly by George's defiance, but +desperate: + +"And all the time, I say, you stay on here, deceiving us, spying on us. +Going every night to that wicked, cruel, shameful girl and +tittle-tattling. Do you suppose that if we'd had the slightest idea----" + +George walked up to him. + +"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you talking about Marguerite +like that." + +Their faces were rather close together. George forced himself away by a +terrific effort and left the kitchen. + +"Jackanapes!" + +George swung round, very pale. Then with a hard laugh he departed. He +stood in the hall, and thought of Mrs. Haim upstairs. The next moment he +had got his hat and overcoat and was in the street. A figure appeared in +the gloom. It was Mr. Prince. + +"Hallo! Going out? How are things?" + +"Oh! Fine!" He could scarcely articulate. A ghastly sob impeded the +words. Tears gushed into his eyes. The dimly glowing oblongs in the dark +facades of the Grove seemed unbearably tragic. + + +III + + +No. 6 Romney Studios, Manresa Road, Chelsea, was at the end of the +narrow alley which, running at right angles to the road, had a blank +wall on its left and Romney Studios on its right. The studios themselves +were nondescript shanties which reminded George of nothing so much as +the office of a clerk-of-the-works nailed together anyhow on ground upon +which a large building is in course of erection. They were constructed +of brick, wood, waterproof felting, and that adaptable material, +corrugated iron. No two were alike. None had the least pretension to +permanency, comeliness, or even architectural decency. They were all +horribly hot in summer, and they all needed immense stoves to render +them habitable in winter. In putting them up, however, cautiously and +one by one, the landlord had esteemed them to be the sort of thing that +was good enough for artists and that artists would willingly accept. He +had not been mistaken. Though inexpensive they were dear, but artists +accepted them with eagerness. None was ever empty. Thus it was +demonstrated once more that artists were exactly what capitalists and +other sagacious persons had always accused them of being. + +When George knocked on the door of No. 6, the entire studio, and No. 5 +also, vibrated. As a rule Agg, the female Cerberus of the shanty, +answered any summons from outside; but George hoped that to-night she +would be absent; he knew by experience that on Sunday nights she usually +paid a visit to her obstreperous family in Alexandra Grove. + +The door was opened by a young man in a rich but torn and soiled +eighteenth-century costume, and he looked, in the half-light of the +entrance, as though he was just recovering from a sustained debauch. The +young man stared haughtily in silence. Only after an appreciable +hesitation did George see through the disguise and recover himself +sufficiently to remark with the proper nonchalance: + +"Hallo, Agg! What's the meaning of this?" + +"You're before your time," said she, shutting the door. + +While he took off his overcoat Agg walked up the studio. She made an +astonishingly life-like young man. George and Agg were now not +unfriendly; but each constantly criticized the other in silence, and +both were aware of the existence of this vast body of unspoken +criticism. Agg criticized more than George, who had begun to take the +attitude that Agg ought to be philosophically accepted as +incomprehensible rather than criticized. He had not hitherto seen her in +male costume, but he would not exhibit any surprise. + +"Where's Marguerite?" he inquired, advancing to the Stove and rubbing +his hands above it. + +"Restrain your ardour," said Agg lightly. "She'll appear in due season. +I've told you--you're before your time." + +George offered no retort. Despite his sharp walk, he was still terribly +agitated and preoccupied, and the phenomena of the lamplit studio had +not yet fully impressed his mind. He saw them, including Agg, as +hallucinations gradually turning to realities. He could not be worried +with Agg. His sole desire was to be alone with Marguerite immediately, +and he regarded the fancy costume chiefly as an obstacle to the +fulfilment of that desire, because Agg could not depart until she had +changed it for something else. + +Then his gaze fell upon a life-size oil-sketch of Agg in the +eighteenth-century male dress. The light was bad, but it disclosed the +sketch sufficiently to enable some judgment on it to be formed. The +sketch was exceedingly clever, painted in the broad, synthetic manner +which Steer and Sickert had introduced into England as a natural +reaction from the finicking, false exactitudes of the previous age. It +showed Agg, glass in hand, as a leering, tottering young drunkard in +frills and velvet. The face was odious, but it did strongly resemble +Agg's face. The hair was replaced by a bag wig. + +"Who did that?" + +"I did, of course," said Agg. She pointed to the large mirror at the +opposite side of the studio. + +"The dickens you did!" George murmured, struck. But now that he knew the +sketch to be the work of a woman he at once became more critical, +perceiving in it imitative instead of original qualities. "What is it? I +mean, what's the idea at the back of it, if it isn't a rude question, +Agg?" + +"Title: 'Bonnie Prince Charlie,'" said Agg, without a smile. She was +walking about, in a convincingly masculine style. Unfortunately she +could not put her hands in her pockets, as the costume was without +pockets. + +"Is that your notion of the gent?" + +"Didn't you know I'm supposed to be very like him?" cried Agg, vain. The +stern creature had frailties. Then she smiled grimly. "Look at my cold +blue eyes, my sharp chin, my curly-curly lips, my broad forehead, my +clear complexion. And I hope I'm thin enough. Look!" She picked up the +bag wig, which was lying on a chair, and put it on, and posed. The pose +was effective. + +"You seem to know a lot about this Charlie." + +"Well, our well-beloved brother Sam is writing a monograph on him, you +see. Besides, every one----" + +"But what's the idea? What's the scheme? Why is he drunk?" + +"He always was drunk. He was a confirmed drunkard at thirty. Both his +fair ladies had to leave him because he was just a violent brute. And so +on and so on. I thought it was about time Charlie was shown up in his +true colours. And I'm doing it!... After all the sugar-stick Academy +pictures of him, my picture will administer a much-needed tonic to our +dear public. I expect I can get it into next year's New English Art +Club, and if I do it will be the sensation of the show.... I haven't +done with it yet. In fact I only started yesterday. There's going to be +a lot more realism in it. All those silly Jacobite societies will +furiously rage together.... And it's a bit of pretty good painting, you +know." + +"It is," George agreed. "But it's a wild scheme." + +"Not so wild as you think, my minstrel boy. It's very, much needed. It's +symbolic, that picture is. It's a symbolic antidote. Shall I tell you +what put me on to it? Look here." + +She led him to Marguerite's special work-table, under the curtained +window. There, on a sheet of paper stretched upon a drawing-board, was +the finished design which Marguerite had been labouring at for two days. +It was a design for a bookbinding, and the title of the book was, _The +Womanly Woman,_ and the author of the book was Sir Amurath Onway, M.D., +D.Sc., F.R.S., a famous specialist in pathology. Marguerite, under +instruction from the bookbinders, had drawn a sweet picture, in quiet +colours, of a womanly woman in a tea-gown, sitting in a cosy corner of a +boudoir. The volume was destined to open the spring season of a +publishing firm of immense and historic respectability. + +"Look at it! Look at it!" Agg insisted. "I've read the book myself. Poor +Marguerite had to go through the proofs, so that she could be sure of +getting the spirit of the binding right. Do you know why he wrote it? He +hates his wife--that's why. His wife isn't a womanly woman, and he's put +all his hatred of her into this immortal rubbish. Read this great work, +and you will be made to see what fine, noble creatures we men are"--she +strode to and fro--"and how a woman's first duty is to recognize her +inferiority to us, and be womanly.... Damme!... As soon as I saw what +poor Marguerite had to do I told her I should either have to go out and +kill some one, or produce an antidote. And then it occurred to me to +tell the truth about one of the leading popular heroes of history." She +bowed in the direction of the canvas. "I began to feel better at once. I +got the costume from a friend of the learned Sam's, and I've ruined +it.... I'm feeling quite bright to-night." + +She gazed at George with her cold blue eyes, arraigning in his person +the whole sex which she thought she despised but which her deepest +instinct it was to counterfeit. George, while admiring, was a little +dismayed. She was sarcastic. She had brains and knowledge and ideas. +There was an intellectual foundation to her picture. And she could +paint--like a witch! Oh! She was ruthlessly clever! Well, he did not +like her. What he wanted, though he would not admit it, was old Onway's +womanly woman. And especially in that hour he wanted the womanly woman. + +"What's Marguerite up to?" he asked quietly. + +"After the heat and the toil of the day she's beautifying herself for +your august approval," said Agg icily. "I expect she's hurrying all she +can. But naturally you expect her to be in a permanent state of waiting +for you--fresh out of the cotton-wool." + +The next instant Marguerite appeared from the cubicle or dressing-room +which had been contrived in a corner of the studio to the left of the +door. She was in her plain, everyday attire, but she had obviously just +washed, and her smooth hair shone from the brush. + +"Well, George." + +"Well, Marguerite." + +Both spoke casually. Celia Agg was the only person in the world privy to +their engagement; but they permitted themselves no freedoms in front of +her. As Marguerite came near to George, she delicately touched his +arm--nothing more. She was smiling happily, but as soon as she looked +close at his face under the lamp, her face changed completely. He +thought: "She understands there's something up." + +She said, not without embarrassment: + +"George, I really must have some fresh air. I haven't had a breath all +day. Is it raining?" + +"No. Would you like to go for a walk?" + +"Oh! I should!" + +He was very grateful, and also impressed by the accuracy of her +intuitions and her quick resourcefulness. She had comprehended at a +glance that he had a profound and urgent need to be alone with her. She +was marvellously comforting, precious beyond price. All his +susceptibilities, wounded by the scene at Alexandra Grove, and further +irritated by Agg, were instantaneously salved and soothed. Her tones, +her scarcely perceptible gesture of succour, produced the assuaging +miracle. She fulfilled her role to perfection. She was a talented and +competent designer, but as the helpmeet of a man she had genius. His +mind dwelt on her with rapture. + +"You'll be going out as soon as you've changed, dear?" she said +affectionately to Agg. + +"Yes," answered Agg, who at the mirror was wiping from her face the +painted signs of alcoholism. She had thrown off the bag wig. "You'd +better take the key with you. You'll be back before I am." She sat down +on one of the draped settees which were beds in disguise, and +Marguerite got a hat, cloak, and gloves. + +While George was resuming his overcoat, which Marguerite held for him, +Agg suddenly sprang up and rushed towards them. + +"Good night, Flora Macdonald," she murmured in her deep voice in +Marguerite's ear, put masculine arms round her, and kissed her. It was a +truly remarkable bit of male impersonating, as George had to admit, +though he resented it. + +Then she gave a short, harsh laugh. + +"Good night, old Agg," said Marguerite, with sweet responsiveness, and +smiled ingenuously at George. + +George, impatient, opened the door, and the damp wind swept anew into +the studio. + + +IV + + +It was a fine night; the weather had cleared, and the pavements were +drying. George, looking up in a pause of the eager conversational +exchanges, drew tonic air mightily into his lungs. + +"Where are we?" he asked. + +"Tite Street," said Marguerite. "That's the Tower House." And she nodded +towards the formidable sky-scraper which another grade of landlord had +erected for another grade of artists who demanded studios from the +capitalist. Marguerite, the Chelsea girl, knew Chelsea, if she knew +nothing else; her feet turned corners in the dark with assurance, and +she had no need to look at street-signs. George regarded the short +thoroughfare made notorious by the dilettantism, the modishness, and the +witticisms of art. It had an impressive aspect. From the portico of one +highly illuminated house a crimson carpet stretched across the pavement +to the gutter; some dashing blade of the brush had maliciously +determined to affront the bourgeois Sabbath. George stamped on the +carpet; he hated it because it was not his carpet; and he swore to +himself to possess that very carpet or its indistinguishable brother. + +"I was a most frightful ass to leave that letter lying about!" he +exclaimed. + +"Oh! George!" she protested lovingly. "It could so easily happen--a +thing like that could. It was just bad luck." + +A cushion! The divinest down cushion! That was what she was! She was +more. She defended a man against himself. She restored him to +perfection. Her affectionate faith was a magical inspiration to him; it +was, really, the greatest force in the world. Most women would have +agreed with him, however tactfully, that he had been careless about the +letter. An Adela would certainly have berated him in her shrewish, thin +tones. A Lois would have been sarcastic, scornfully patronizing him as a +'boy.' And what would Agg have done?... They might have forgiven and +even forgotten, but they would have indulged themselves first. +Marguerite was exteriorly simple. She would not perhaps successfully +dominate a drawing-room. She would cut no figure playing with lives at +the wheel of an automobile. After all, she would no doubt be ridiculous +in the costume of Bonnie Prince Charlie. But she was finer than the +other women whose images floated in his mind. And she was worth millions +of them. He was overpowered by the sense of his good fortune in finding +her. He went cold at the thought of what he would have missed if he had +not found her. He would not try to conceive what his existence would be +without her, for it would be unendurable. Of this he was convinced. + +"Do you think he'll go talking about it?" George asked, meaning of +course Mr. Haim. + +"More likely _she_ will," said Marguerite. + +He positively could feel her lips tightening. Futile to put in a word +for Mrs. Haim! When he had described the swoon, Marguerite had shown +neither concern nor curiosity. Not the slightest! Antipathy to her +stepmother had radiated from her almost visibly in the night like the +nimbus round a street lamp. Well, she did not understand; she was +capable of injustice; she was quite wrong about Mrs. Haim. What matter? +Her whole being was centralized on himself. He was aware of his +superiority. + +He went on quietly: + +"If the old man gets chattering at the office, the Orgreaves will know, +and the next minute the news'll be in the Five Towns. I can't possibly +let my people hear from anybody else of _my engagement_ before they hear +from me. However, if it comes to the point, we'll tell everybody. Why +not?" + +"Oh, but dearest! It was so nice it being a secret. It was the loveliest +thing in the world." + +"Yes, it was jolly." + +"Perhaps father will feel differently in the morning, and then you +can----" + +"He won't," said George flatly. "You don't know what a state he's in. I +didn't tell you--he called me a spy in the house, a dirty spy. Likewise +a jackanapes. Doubtless a delicate illusion to my tender years." + +"He _didn't_!" + +"He did, honestly." + +"So that was what upset you so!" Marguerite murmured. It was her first +admission that she had noticed his agitation. + +"Did I look so upset, then?" + +"George, you looked terrible. I felt the only thing to do was for us to +go out at once." + +"Oh! But surely I wasn't so upset as all that?" said George, finding in +Marguerite's statement a reflection upon his ability to play the part of +an imperturbable man of the world. "Agg didn't seem to see anything." + +"Agg doesn't know you like I do." + +She insinuated her arm into his. He raised his hand and took hold of +hers. In the left pocket of his overcoat he could feel the somewhat +unwieldy key of the studio. He was happy. The domestic feel of the key +completed his happiness. + +"Of course I can't stay on there," said he. + +"At father's? Oh! I do wish father hadn't talked like that." She spoke +sadly, not critically. + +"I suppose I must sleep there to-night. But I'm not going to have my +breakfast there to-morrow morning. No fear! I'll have it up town. +Lucas'll be able to put me up to some new digs. He always knows about +that sort of thing. Then I'll drive down and remove all my worldly in a +four-wheeler." + +He spoke with jauntiness, in his role of male who is easily equal to any +situation. But she said in a low, tenderly commiserating voice: + +"It's a shame!" + +"Not a bit!" he replied. Then he suddenly stood still and brought her to +a halt. Under his erratic guidance they had turned along Dilke Street, +and northwards again, past the Botanical Garden. "And this is Paradise +Row!" he said, surveying the broad street which they had come into. + +"Paradise Row?" she corrected him softly. "No, dear, it's Queen's Road. +It runs into Pimlico Road." + +"I mean it used to be Paradise Row," he explained. "It was the most +fashionable street in Chelsea, you know. Everybody that was anybody +lived here." + +"Oh! Really!" She showed an amiable desire to be interested, but her +interest did not survive more than a few seconds. "I didn't know. I know +Paradise Walk. It's that horrid little passage down there on the right." + +She had not the historic sense; and she did not understand his mood, did +not in the slightest degree suspect that events had been whipping his +ambition once more, and that at that moment he was enjoying the +seventeenth and even the sixteenth centuries, and thinking of Sir Thomas +More and Miss More, and all manner of grandiose personages and abodes, +and rebelling obstinately against the fact, that he was as yet a +nonentity in Chelsea, whereas he meant in the end to yield to nobody in +distinction and renown. He knew that she did not understand, and he +would not pretend to himself that she did. There was no reason why she +should understand. He did not particularly want her to understand. + +"Let's have a look at the river, shall we?" he suggested, and they moved +towards Cheyne Walk. + +"Dearest," she said, "you must come and have breakfast at the studio +to-morrow morning. I shall get it myself." + +"But Agg won't like me poking my nose in for breakfast." + +"You great silly! Don't you know she simply adores you?" + +He was certainly startled by this remark, and he began to like Agg. + +"Old Agg! Not she!" he protested, pleased, but a little embarrassed. +"Will she be up?" + +"You'll see whether she'll be up or not. Nine o'clock's the time, isn't +it?" + +They reached the gardens of Cheyne Walk. Three bridges hung their double +chaplets of lights over the dark river. On the southern shore the shapes +of high trees waved mysteriously above the withdrawn woodland glades +that in daytime were Battersea Park. Here and there a tiny red gleam +gave warning that a pier jutted out into the stream; but nothing moved +on the water. The wind that swept clean the pavements had unclouded ten +million stars. It was a wind unlike any other wind that ever blew, at +once caressing and roughly challenging. The two, putting it behind them, +faced eastward, and began to pass one by one the innumerable ornate +gas-lamps of Chelsea Embankment, which stretched absolutely rectilinear +in front of them for a clear mile. No soul but themselves was afoot. But +on the left rose gigantic and splendid houses, palaces designed by +modern architects, vying with almost any houses in London, some dark, +others richly illuminated and full of souls luxurious, successful, and +dominant. As the girl talked creatively about the breakfast, her arm +pressed his, and his fingers clasped her acquiescent fingers, and her +chaste and confiding passion ran through him in powerful voltaic +currents from some inexhaustible source of energy in her secret heart. It +seemed to him that since their ride home in the hansom from the +Promenade concert her faculty for love had miraculously developed. He +divined great deeps in her, and deeps beyond those deeps. The tenderness +which he felt for her was inexpressible. He said not a word, keeping to +himself the terrific resolves to which she, and the wind, and the +spectacular majesty of London inspired him. He and she would live +regally in one of those very houses, and people should kowtow to her +because she was the dazzling wife of the renowned young architect, +George Cannon. And he would show her to Mrs. John Orgreave and to Lois, +and those women should acknowledge in her a woman incomparably their +superior. They should not be able to hide their impressed astonishment +when they saw her. + +Nothing of all this did he impart to her as she hung supported and +inspiring on his arm. He held it all in reserve for her. And then, +thinking again for a moment of what she had said about Agg's liking for +him, he thought of Agg's picture and of Marguerite's design which had +originated the picture. It was a special design, new for Marguerite, +whose bindings were generally of conventional patterns; it was to be +paid for at a special price because of its elaborateness; she had worked +on it for nearly two days; in particular she had stayed indoors during +the whole of Sunday to finish it; and it was efficient, skilful, as good +as it could be. It had filled her life for nearly two days--and he had +not even mentioned it to her! In the ruthless egotism of the ambitious +man he had forgotten it, and forgotten to imagine sympathetically the +contents of her mind. Sharp remorse overcame him; she grew noble and +pathetic in his eyes.... Contrast her modest and talented industry with +the exacting, supercilious, incapable idleness of a Lois! + +"That design of yours is jolly good," he said shortly without any +introductory phrases. + +She perceptibly started. + +"Oh! George! I'm so glad you think so. I was afraid. You know it was +horribly difficult--they give you no chance." + +"I know. I know. You've come out of it fine." + +She was in heaven; he also, because it was so easy for him to put her +there. He glanced backwards a few hours into the past, and he simply +could not comprehend how it was that he had been so upset by the +grotesque scene with Mr. Haim in the basement of No. 8. Everything was +all right; everything was utterly for the best. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE DINNER + +I + + +Early on the morning of a Tuesday in the second half of June 1903, +George Cannon was moving fast on a motor-bicycle westwards down the +slope of Piccadilly. At any rate he had the sensation of earliness, and +was indeed thereby quite invigorated; it almost served instead of the +breakfast which he had not yet taken. But thousands of people travelling +in the opposite direction in horse-omnibuses and in a few motor-buses +seemed to regard the fact of their being abroad at that hour as dully +normal. They had fought, men and girls, for places in the crammed +vehicles; they had travelled from far lands such as Putney; they had +been up for hours, and the morning, which was so new to George, had lost +its freshness for them; they were well used to the lustrous summer +glories of the Green Park; what they chiefly beheld in the Green Park +was the endless lines of wayfarers, radiating from Victoria along the +various avenues, on the way, like themselves, to offices, ware-houses, +and shops. Of the stablemen, bus-washers, drivers, mechanics, +chauffeurs, and conductors, who had left their beds much in advance even +of the travellers, let us not speak--even they had begun the day later +than their wives, mothers, or daughters. All this flying population, +urged and preoccupied by pitiless time, gazed down upon George and saw a +gay young swell without a care in the world rushing on 'one of those +motor-bikes' to freedom. + +George was well aware of the popular gaze, and he supported it with +negligent pride. He had the air of having been born to greatness; +cigarette smoke and the fumes of exploded petrol and the rattle of +explosions made a fine wake behind his greatness. In two years, since he +had walked into Mr. Haim's parlour, his body had broadened, his eyes +had slightly hardened, and his complexion and hair had darkened. And +there was his moustache, very sprightly, and there was a glint of gold +in his teeth. He had poor teeth, but luxuriant hair, ruthlessly cut and +disciplined and subjugated. His trousers were clipped tightly at the +ankles, and his jacket loosely buttoned by the correct button; his soft +felt hat achieved the architect's ideal of combining the perfectly +artistic with the perfectly modish. But the most remarkable and +envy-raising portion of his attire was the loose, washable, yellow +gloves, with large gauntlets, designed to protect the delicately tended +hands when they had to explore among machinery. + +He had obtained the motor-bicycle in a peculiar way. On arriving at Axe +Station for the previous Christmas holidays, he had seen two low-hung +lamps brilliantly flashing instead of the higher and less powerful lamps +of the dogcart, and there had been no light-reflecting flanks of a horse +in front of the lamps. The dark figure sitting behind the lamps proved +to be his mother. His mother herself had driven him home. He noted +calmly that as a chauffeur she had the same faults as the contemned Lois +Ingram. Still, she did drive, and they reached Ladderedge Hall in +safety. He admired, and he was a little frightened by, his mother's +terrific volition to widen her existence. She would insist on doing +everything that might be done, and nobody could stop her. Who would have +dreamt that she, with her narrow, troubled past, and her passionate +temperament rendered somewhat harsh by strange experiences, would at the +age of forty-six or so be careering about the country at the wheel of a +motor-car? Ah! But she would! She would be a girl. And by her individual +force she successfully carried it off! Those two plotters, she and his +stepfather, had conspired to buy a motor-car in secret from him. No +letter from home had breathed a word of the motor-car. He was +thunder-struck, and jealous. He had spent the whole of the Christmas +holidays in that car, and in four days could drive better than his +mother, and also--what was more difficult--could convince her obstinate +self-assurance that he knew far more about the mechanism than she did. +As a fact, her notions of the mechanism, though she was convinced of +their rightness, were mainly fantastic. George of course had had to +punish his parents. He had considered it his duty to do so. "The _least_ +you can do," he had said discontentedly and menacingly, "the _least_ you +can do is to give me a decent motor-bike!" The guilty pair had made +amends in the manner thus indicated for them. George gathered from +various signs that his stepfather was steadily and rapidly growing +richer. George had acted accordingly--not only in the matter of the +motor-bicycle, but in other matters. + +Now, on this June morning he had just begun to breast the slope rising +from the hollow to Hyde Park Corner when a boy shot out from behind a +huge, stationary dust-cart on the left and dashed unregarding towards +him. George shouted. The boy, faced with sudden death, was happily so +paralysed that he fell down, thus checking his momentum by the severest +form of friction. George swerved aside, missing the small, outstretched +hands by an inch or two, but missing also by an inch or two the front +wheel of a tremendous motor-bus on his right. He gave a nervous giggle +as he flashed by the high red side of the motor-bus; and then he +deliberately looked back at the murderous boy, who had jumped up. At the +same moment George was brought to a sense of his own foolishness in +looking back by a heavy jolt. He had gone over half a creosoted wood +block which had somehow escaped from a lozenge-shaped oasis in the road +where two workmen were indolently using picks under the magic protection +of a tiny, dirty red flag. Secure in the guardianship of the bit of +bunting, which for them was as powerful and sacred as the flag of an +empire, the two workmen gazed with indifference at George and at the +deafening traffic which swirled affronting but harmless around them. +George slackened speed, afraid lest the jar might have snapped the +plates of his accumulator. The motor-bicycle was a wondrous thing, but +as capricious and delicate as a horse. For a trifle, for nothing at all, +it would cease to function. The high-tension magneto and the float-feed +carburetter, whose invention was to transform the motor-bicycle from an +everlasting harassment into a means of loco-motion, were yet years away +in the future. However, the jar had done no harm. The episode, having +occupied less than ten seconds, was closed. George felt his heart +thumping. He thought suddenly of the recent Paris-Madrid automobile +race, in which the elite of the world had perished. He saw himself +beneath the motor-bus, and a futile staring crowd round about. Simply by +a miracle was he alive. But this miracle was only one of a score of +miracles. He believed strongly in luck. He had always believed in it. +The smoke of the cigarette displayed his confidence to all Piccadilly. +Still, his heart was thumping. + +And it had not ceased to thump when a few minutes later he turned into +Manresa Road. Opposite the entrance to the alley of Romney Studios, +there happened to be a small hiatus in the kerbstone. George curved the +machine largely round and, mounting the pavement through this hiatus, +rode gingerly up the alley, in defiance of the regulations of a great +city, and stopped precisely at the door of No. 6. It was a matter of +honour with him to arrive thus. Not for a million would he have walked +the machine up the alley. He got off, sounded a peremptory call on the +horn, and tattooed with the knocker. No answer came. An apprehension +visited him. By the last post on the previous night he had received a +special invitation to breakfast from Marguerite. Never had he been kept +waiting at the door. He knocked again. Then he heard a voice from the +side of the studio: + +"Come round here, George." + +In the side of the studio was a very small window from which the girls, +when unpresentable, would parley with early tradesmen. Agg was at the +window. He could see only her head and neck, framed by the window. Her +short hair was tousled, and she held a dressing-gown tight about her +neck. For the first time she seemed to him like a real feminine girl, +and her tones were soft as they never were when Marguerite was present +with her. + +"I'm very sorry," she said. "You woke me. I was fast asleep. You can't +come in." + +"Anything up?" he questioned, rather anxiously. "Where's Marguerite?" + +"Oh, George! A dreadful night!" she answered, almost plaintively, almost +demanding sympathy from the male--she, Agg! "We were wakened up at two +o'clock. Mr. Prince came round to fetch Marguerite to go to No. 8." + +"To go to No. 8?" he repeated, frightened, and wondered why he should be +frightened. "What on earth for?" + +"Mrs. Haim very ill!" Agg paused. "Something about a baby." + +"And did she go?" + +"Yes; she put on her things and went off at once." + +He was silent. He felt the rough grip of destiny, of some strange power +irresistible and unescapable, just as he had momentarily felt it in the +basement of No. 8 more than eighteen months before, when the outraged +Mr. Haim had quarrelled with him. The mere idea of Marguerite being at +No. 8 made him feel sick. He no longer believed in his luck. "How soon +d'ye think she'll be back?" + +"I--I don't know, George. I should have thought she'd have been back +before this." + +"I'll run round there," he said curtly. + +Agg was disconcertingly, astoundingly sympathetic. Her attitude +increased his disturbance. + + +II + + +When George rang the bell at No. 8 Alexandra Grove his mysterious qualms +were intensified. He dreaded the moment when the door should open, even +though it should be opened by Marguerite herself. And yet he had a +tremendous desire to see Marguerite--merely to look at her face, to +examine it, to read it. His summons was not answered. He glanced about. +The steps were dirty. The brass knob and the letter-flap had not been +polished. After a time he pushed up the flap and gazed within, and saw +the interior which he knew so well and which he had not entered for so +many months. Nothing was changed in it, but it also had a dusty and +neglected air. Every detail roused his memory. The door of what had once +been his room was shut; he wondered what the room was now. This house +held the greatest part of his history. It lived in his mind as vitally +as even the boarding-house kept by his mother in a side-street in +Brighton, romantic and miserable scene of his sensitive childhood. It +was a solemn house for him. Through the basement window on a dark night +he had first glimpsed Marguerite. Unforgettable event! Unlike anything +else that had ever happened to anybody!... He heard a creak, and caught +sight through the letter-aperture of a pair of red slippers, and then +the lower half of a pair of trousers, descending the stairs. And he +dropped the flap hurriedly. Mr. Haim was coming to open the door. Mr. +Haim did open the door, started at the apparition of George, and stood +defensively and forbiddingly in the very centre of the doorway. + +"Oh!" said George nervously. "How is Mrs. Haim?" + +"Mrs. Haim is very ill indeed." The reply was emphatic and inimical. + +"I'm sorry." + +Mr. Haim said nothing further. George had not seen him since the +previous Saturday, having been excused by Mr. Enwright from the office +on Monday on account of examination work. He did not know that Mr. Haim +had not been to the office on Monday either. In the interval the man had +shockingly changed. He seemed much older, and weaker too; he seemed worn +out by acute anxiety. Nevertheless he so evidently resented sympathy +that George was not sympathetic, and regarded him coldly as a tiresome +old man. The official relations between the two had been rigorously +polite and formal. No reference had ever been made by either to the +quarrel in the basement or to the cause of it. And for the world in +general George's engagement had remained as secret as before. Marguerite +had not seen her father in the long interval, and George had seen only +the factotum of Lucas & Enwright. But he now saw Marguerite's father +again--a quite different person from the factotum.... Strange, how the +house seemed forlorn! 'Something about a baby,' Agg had said vaguely. +And it was as though something that Mr. Haim and his wife had concealed +had burst from its concealment and horrified and put a curse on the +whole Grove. Something not at all nice! What in the name of decent +propriety was that slippered old man doing with a baby? George would not +picture to himself Mrs. Haim lying upstairs. He did not care to think of +Marguerite secretly active somewhere in one of those rooms. But she was +there; she was initiated. He did not criticize her. + +"I should like to see Marguerite," he said at length. Despite himself he +had a guilty feeling. + +"My daughter!" Mr. Haim took up the heavy role. + +"Only for a minute," said George boyishly, and irritated by his own +boyishness. + +"You can't see her, sir." + +"But if she knows I'm here, she'll come to me," George insisted. He saw +that the old man's hatred of him was undiminished. Indeed, time had +probably strengthened it. + +"You can't see her, sir. This is my house." + +George considered himself infinitely more mature than in the November of +1901 when the old man had worsted him. And yet he was no more equal to +this situation than he had been to the former one. + +"But what am I to do, then?" he demanded, not fiercely, but crossly. + +"What are you to do? Don't ask me, sir. My wife is very ill indeed, and +you come down the Grove making noise enough to wake the dead"--he +indicated the motor-bicycle, of which the silencer was admittedly +defective--"and you want to see my daughter. My daughter has more +important work to do than to see you. I never heard of such callousness. +If you want to communicate with my daughter you had better write--so +long as she stays in this house." + +Mr. Haim shut the door, which rendered his advantage over George +complete. + +From the post office nearly opposite the end of the Grove George +dispatched a reply-paid telegram to Marguerite: + +"Where and when can I see you?--GEORGE. Russell Square." + +It seemed a feeble retort to Mr. Haim, but he could think of nothing +better. + +On the way up town he suddenly felt, not hungry, but empty, and he +called in at a tea-shop. He was the only customer, in a great expanse of +marble-topped tables. He sat down at a marble-topped table. On the +marble-topped table next to him were twenty-four sugar-basins, and on +the next to that a large number of brass bells, and on another one an +infinity of cruets. A very slatternly woman was washing the linoleum in +a corner of the floor. Two thin, wrinkled girls in shabby black were +whispering together behind the counter. The cash-den was empty. Through +the open door he could keep an eye on his motor-bicycle, which was being +surreptitiously regarded by a boy theoretically engaged in cleaning the +window. A big van drove up, and a man entered with pastry on a wooden +tray and bantered one of the girls in black. She made no reply, being +preoccupied with the responsibility of counting cakes. The man departed +and the van disappeared. Nobody took the least notice of George. He +might have been a customer invisible and inaudible. After the fiasco of +his interview with Mr. Haim, he had not the courage to protest. He +framed withering sentences to the girls in black, such as: "Is this +place supposed to be open for business, or isn't it?" but they were not +uttered. Then a girl in black with a plain, ugly white apron and a dowdy +white cap appeared on the stairs leading from the basement, and removed +for her passage a bar of stained wood lettered in gilt: 'Closed,' and +she halted at George's table. She spoke no word. She just stood over +him, unsmiling, placid, flaccid, immensely indifferent. She was pale, a +poor sort of a girl, without vigour. But she had a decent, honest face. +She was not aware that she ought to be bright, welcoming, provocative, +for a penny farthing an hour. She had never heard of Hebe. George +thought of the long, desolating day that lay before her. He looked at +her seriously. His eyes did not challenge hers as they were accustomed +to challenge Hebe's. He said in a friendly, matter-of-fact tone: + +"A meat-pie, please, and a large coffee." + +And she repeated in a thin voice: + +"Meat-pie. Large coffee." + +A minute later she dropped the order on the table, as it might have +been refuse, and with it a bit of white paper. The sadness of the city, +and the inexplicable sadness of June mornings, overwhelmed George as he +munched at the meat-pie and drank the coffee, and reached over for the +sugar and reached over for the mustard. And he kept saying to himself: + +"She doesn't see her father at all for nearly two years, and then she +goes off to him like that in the middle of the night--at a word." + + +III + + +The office was not at its normal. The empty cubicle of the factotum +looked strange enough. But there was more than that in the abnormality. +There were currents of excitement in the office. The door of the +principals' room was open, and George saw John Orgreave and Everard +Lucas within, leaning over one of the great flat desks. The hour was +early for Lucas, and self-satisfaction was on Lucas's face as he raised +it to look at the entering of George. + +"I say," he remarked quietly through the doorway, "that town hall scheme +is on again." + +"Oh!" said George, depositing his hat and gloves and strolling into the +principals' room. "Good morning, Mr. Orgreave. Got the conditions +there?" For a moment his attitude of interest was a pose, but very +quickly it became sincere. Astonishing how at sight of a drawing-board +and a problem he could forget all that lay beyond them! He was genuinely +and extremely disturbed by the course of affairs at Chelsea; +nevertheless he now approached Mr. Orgreave and Lucas with eagerness, +and Chelsea slipped away into another dimension. + +"No," said John Orgreave, "the conditions aren't out yet. But it's all +right this time. I know for a fact." + +The offices of all the regular architectural competitors in London were +excited that morning. For the conception of the northern town hall was a +vast one. Indeed, journalists had announced, from their mysterious +founts of information, that the town hall would be the largest public +building erected in England during half a century. The scheme had been +the sport of municipal politics for many months, for years. Apparently +it could not get itself definitely born. And now the Town Clerk's wife +had brought about the august parturition. It is true that her agency was +unintentional. The Town Clerk had belonged to a powerful provincial +dynasty of town clerks. He had the illusion that without him a great +town would cease to exist. There was nothing uncommon in this illusion, +which indeed is rife among town clerks; but the Town Clerk in question +had the precious faculty of being able to communicate it to mayors, +aldermen, and councillors. He was a force in the municipal council. +Voteless, he exercised a moral influence over votes. And he happened to +be opposed to the scheme for the new town hall. He gave various +admirable reasons for the postponement of the scheme, but he never gave +the true reasons, even to himself. The true reasons were, first, that he +hated and detested the idea of moving office, and, second, that he +wanted acutely to be able to say in the fullness of years that he had +completed half a century of municipal work in one and the same room. If +the pro-scheme party had had the wit to invent a pretext for allowing +the Town Clerk to remain in the old municipal buildings, the scheme +would instantly have taken life. The Town Clerk, being widowed, had +consoled himself with a young second wife. This girl adored dancing; the +Town Clerk adored her; and therefore where she danced he deemed it +prudent to attend. Driving home from a January ball at 4 a.m. the Town +Clerk had caught pneumonia. In a week he was dead, and his dynasty with +him. In a couple of months the pro-scheme party had carried the council +off its feet. Such are the realities, never printed in newspapers, of +municipal politics in the grim north. + +Sketches of the site had appeared in the architectural press. John +Orgreave and Lucas were pencilling in turn upon one of these, a page +torn out of a weekly. George inserted himself between them, roughly +towards Lucas and deferentially towards Mr. John. + +"But you've got the main axis wrong!" he exclaimed. + +"How, wrong?" John Orgreave demanded. + +"See here--give me the pencil, Looc." + +George felt with a little thrill of satisfaction the respect for him +which underlay John Orgreave's curt tone of a principal--and a principal +from the Midlands. He did not miss, either, Lucas's quick, obedient, +expectant gesture in surrendering the pencil. Ideas for the plan of the +building sprang up multitudinously in his mind. He called; they came. He +snatched towards him a blank sheet of tracing-paper, and scrawled it +over with significant lines. + +"That's my notion. I thought of it long ago," he said. "Or if you +prefer--" + +The other two were impressed. He himself was impressed. His notion, +which he was modifying and improving every moment, seemed to him perfect +and ever more perfect. He was intensely and happily stimulated in the +act of creation; and they were all three absorbed. + +"Why hasn't my desk been arranged?" said a discontented voice behind +them. Mr. Enwright had arrived by the farther door from the corridor. + +Lucas glanced up. + +"I expect Haim hasn't come again to-day," he answered urbanely, +placatingly. + +"Why hasn't he come?" + +"I hear his wife's very ill," said George. + +"Who told you?" + +"I happened to be round that way this morning." + +"Oh! I thought all was over between you two." + +George flushed. Nothing had ever been said in the office as to his +relations with Haim, though it was of course known that George no longer +lodged with the factotum. Mr. Enwright, however, often had disconcerting +intuitions concerning matters to which Mr. Orgreave and Lucas were +utterly insensible. + +"Oh no!" George haltingly murmured. + +"Well, this is all very well, this is----!" Mr. Enwright ruthlessly +proceeded, beginning to marshal the instruments on his desk. + +He had been a somewhat spectacular martyr for some time past. A +mysterious facial neuralgia had harried his nights and days. For the +greater part of a week he had dozed in an arm-chair in the office under +the spell of eight tabloids of aspirin per diem. Then a specialist had +decided that seven of his side teeth, already studded with gold, must +leave him. Those teeth were not like any other person's teeth, and in +Mr. Enwright's mind the extracting of them had become a major operation, +as, for example, the taking off of a limb. He had spent three days in a +nursing home in Welbeck Street. His life was now saved, and he was a +convalescent, and passed several hours daily in giving to friends +tragi-farcical accounts of existence in a nursing home. Mr. Enwright's +career was one unending romance. + +"I was just looking at that town hall affair," said John Orgreave. + +"What town hall?" his partner snapped. + +"_The_ town hall," answered the imperturbable John. "George here has got +an idea." + +"I suppose you know Sir Hugh Corver, Bart., is to be the assessor," said +Mr. Enwright in a devastating tone. + +Sir Hugh Corver, formerly a mere knight, had received a baronetcy, to +Mr. Enwright's deep disgust. Mr. Enwright had remarked that any +decent-minded man who had been a husband and childless for twenty-four +years would have regarded the supplementary honour as an insult, but +that Sir Hugh was not decent-minded and, moreover, was not capable of +knowing an insult when he got one. This theory of Mr. Enwright's, +however, did not a bit lessen his disgust. + +"Oh yes," John Orgreave admitted lamely. + +"I for one am not going in for any more competitions with Corver as +assessor," said Mr. Enwright. "I won't do it." + +Faces fell. Mr. Enwright had previously published this resolve, but it +had not been taken quite seriously. It was entirely serious. Neuralgia +and a baronetcy had given it the consistency of steel. + +"It isn't as if we hadn't got plenty of work in the office," said Mr. +Enwright. + +This was true. The firm was exceedingly prosperous. + +Nobody else spoke. + +"What _can_ you expect from a fellow like Corver?" Mr. Enwright cried, +with a special glance at George. "He's the upas-tree of decent +architecture." + +George's mood changed immediately. Profound discouragement succeeded to +his creative stimulation. Mr. Enwright had reason on his side. What +_could_ you expect from a fellow like Corver? With all the ardour of a +disciple George dismissed the town hall scheme, and simultaneously his +private woes surged up and took full possession of him. He walked +silently out of the room, and Lucas followed. As a fact, Mr. Enwright +ought not to have talked in such a way before the pupils. A question of +general policy should first have been discussed in private between the +partners, and the result then formally announced to the staff. Mr. +Enwright was not treating his partner with proper consideration. But +Mr. Enwright, as every one said at intervals, was 'like that'; and his +partner did not seem to care greatly. + +Lucas shut the door between the principals' room and the pupils' room. + +"I say," said Lucas importantly. "I've got a show on to-night. Women. +Cafe Royal. I want a fourth. You must come." + +"Yes," sneered George. "And what about my exam., I should like to +know.... Besides, I can't." + +The Final was due to begin on Thursday. + +"That's all right," Lucas answered, with tact. "That's all right. I'd +thought of the exam., of course. You'll have to-morrow to recover. It'll +do you all the good in the world. And you know you're more than ready +for the thing. You don't want to be overtrained, my son. Besides, you'll +sail through it. As for 'can't,' 'can't' be damned. You've got to." + +A telegraph boy, after hesitating at the empty cubicle, came straight +into the room. + +"Name of Cannon?" + +George nodded, trembling. + +The telegram read: + +"Impossible to-day.--MARGUERITE." + +It was an incredible telegram, as much by what it said as by what it +didn't say. It overthrew George. + +"Seven forty-five, and I'll drive you round," said Lucas. + +"Tis well," said George. + +Immediately afterwards Mr. Enwright summoned Lucas. + + +IV + + +The two young men of fashion were silent that evening as they drove to +the Cafe Royal in the car which Lucas loosely called 'my car,' but which +was his mother's and only to be obtained by him upon his own conditions +after delicate diplomacies. The chief of his conditions was that the +chauffeur should not accompany the car. Lucas, having been engaged upon +outdoor work for the firm, had not seen George throughout the day. +Further, he was late in calling for George, and therefore rather +exacerbated in secret; and if George had not been ready and waiting for +him at the club trouble might have arisen. George understood his host's +mood and respected it. Lucas drove rapidly and fiercely, with +appropriate frowns and settings of cruel teeth; his mien indeed had the +arrogance of the performer who, having given only a fraction of his time +to the acquirement of skill, reckons that he can beat the professional +who has given the whole of his time. Lucas's glances at chauffeurs who +hindered his swiftness were masterpieces of high disdain, and he would +accelerate, after circumventing them, with positive ferocity. + +George himself, an implacable critic, could not find fault with the +technique of Lucas's driving. But exacerbation tells, even in the young, +and at Piccadilly Circus, Lucas, in obeying a too suddenly uplifted hand +of a policeman, stopped his engine. The situation, horribly humiliating +for Lucas and also for George, provided pleasure for half the chauffeurs +and drivers in Piccadilly Circus, and was the origin of much jocularity +of a kind then fairly new. Lucas cursed the innocent engine, and George +leapt down to wield the crank. But the engine, apparently resenting +curses, refused to start again. No, it would not start. Lucas leapt down +too. "Get out of the way," he muttered savagely to George, and scowled +at the bonnet as if saying to the engine: "I'm not going to stand any of +your infernal nonsense!" But still the engine refused to start. + +The situation, humiliating before, was now appalling. Two entirely +correct young gentlemen, in evening dress, with light overcoats and +opera hats, struggling with a refractory car that in its obstinacy was +far more dignified than themselves--and the car obstructing traffic at +the very centre of the world in the very hour when the elect of Britain +were driving by on the way to _Tristan_ at the Opera! Sebastians both, +they were martyrized by the poisoned arrows of vulgar wit, shot at them +from all sides and especially from the lofty thrones of hansom-cab +drivers. The policeman ordered them to shove the car to the kerb, and +with the aid of a boy and the policeman himself they did so, opposite +the shuttered front of Swan & Edgar's. + +The two experts then examined the engine in a professional manner; they +did everything but take it down; they tried in vain all known devices to +conquer the recalcitrancy of engines; and when they had reached despair +and fury George, startlingly visited by an idea, demanded: + +"Any petrol in the tank?..." In those days men of fashion were apt to +forget, at moments of crisis, that the first necessity of the engine was +petrol. George behaved magnanimously. He might have extinguished Lucas +with a single inflection as Lucas, shamed to the uttermost, poured a +spare half-tin of petrol into the tank. He refrained. + +In one minute, in less than one minute, they were at the side entrance +to the Cafe Royal, which less than a minute earlier had been +inconceivably distant and unattainable. Lucas dashed first into the +restaurant. To keep ladies waiting in a public place was for him the +very worst crime, surpassing in turpitude arson, embezzlement, and the +murder of innocents. The ladies must have been waiting for a quarter of +an hour, half an hour! His reputation was destroyed! + +However, the ladies had not arrived. + +"That's all right," Lucas breathed, at ease at last. The terrible scowl +had vanished from his face, which was perfectly recomposed into its +urbane, bland charm. + +"Now perhaps you'll inform me who they are, old man," George suggested, +relinquishing his overcoat to a flunkey, and following Lucas into the +cloister set apart for the cleansing of hands which have meddled with +machinery. + +"The Wheeler woman is one--didn't I tell you?" Lucas answered, +unsuccessfully concealing his pride. + +"Wheeler?" + +"Irene Wheeler. You know." + +George was really impressed. Lucas had hitherto said no word as to his +acquaintance with this celebrated woman. It was true that recently Lucas +had been spreading himself in various ways--he had even passed his +Intermediate--but George had not anticipated such a height of +achievement as the feat of entertaining at a restaurant a cynosure like +Irene Wheeler. George had expected quite another sort of company at +dinner, for he had publicly dined with Lucas before. All day he had been +abstracted, listless, and utterly desolate. All day he had gone over +again and again the details of the interview with Mr. Haim, his telegram +to Marguerite and her unspeakable telegram to him, hugging close a +terrific grievance. Only from pique against Marguerite had he accepted +Lucas's invitation. The adventure in Piccadilly Circus had somewhat +enlivened him, and now the fluttering prospect of acquaintance with the +legendary Irene Wheeler pushed Marguerite into the background of his +mind, and excitement became quite pleasant. "And a Miss Ingram," Lucas +added. + +"Not Lois Ingram?" exclaimed George, suddenly dragging the names of +Ingram and Wheeler out of the same drawer of his memory. + +"No. Laurencine. But she has a sister named Lois. What do _you_ know +about her?" Lucas spoke challengingly, as if George had trespassed on +preserves sacred to himself alone. He had not yet admitted that it was +merely Mrs. John Orgreave who had put him in the way of Irene Wheeler. + +George was surprised and shocked that it had never occurred to him to +identify Lois Ingram's wealthy friend Miss Wheeler with the Irene +Wheeler of society columns of newspapers. And Lois Ingram rose in his +esteem, not because of the distinction of her friend, but because she +had laid no boastful stress on the distinction of her friend. + +"Don't you remember?" he said. "I told you once about a girl who jolly +nearly got me into a motor accident all through her fancying herself as +a chauffeur. That was Lois Ingram. Paris girl. Same lot, isn't it?" + +"Oh! Was _that_ Lois?" Lucas murmured. "Well, I'm dashed!" + +They returned in a hurry to the entrance-hall, fearful lest the ladies +might have arrived. However, the ladies had not arrived. Lucas had the +inexpressible satisfaction of finding in an illustrated weekly a +full-page portrait of Miss Irene Wheeler. + +"Here you are!" he ejaculated, with an air of use, as though he was +habitually picking up from the tables of fashionable restaurants +high-class illustrated papers containing portraits of renowned beauties +to whom he said "Come!" and they came. It was a great moment for Lucas. + +Ten minutes later the ladies very calmly arrived, seeming perfectly +unaware that they were three-quarters of an hour behind time. Lucas felt +that, much as he already knew about life, he had learned something +fresh. + +To George, Irene Wheeler was not immediately recognizable as the +original of her portrait. He saw the resemblance when he looked for it, +but if after seeing the photograph he had met the woman in the street he +would have passed her by unknowing. At first he was disappointed in her. +He had never before encountered celebrated people--except architects, +who, Enwright always said, never could be really celebrated--and he had +to learn that celebrated people seldom differ in appearance from +uncelebrated people. Nevertheless it was not to be expected that George +should escape where the most experienced and the most wary of two +capitals had not escaped. He did not agree that she was beautiful, but +her complexion enthralled him. He had never seen such a complexion; +nobody had ever seen such a complexion. It combined extremely marvellous +whites and extremely marvellous pinks, and the skin had the exquisite, +incredible softness of a baby's. Next he was struck by her candid, +ingenuous, inquiring gaze, and by her thin voice with the slight +occasional lisp. The splendid magnificence of her frock and jewels came +into play later. Lastly her demeanour imposed itself. That simple gaze +showed not the slightest diffidence, scarcely even modesty; it was more +brazen than effrontery. She preceded the other three into the +restaurant, where electricity had finally conquered the expiring +daylight, and her entry obviously excited the whole room; yet, guided by +two waving and fawning waiters, and a hundred glances upon her, she +walked to the appointed table without a trace of self-consciousness--as +naturally as a policeman down a street. When she sat down, George on her +right, Lucas on her left, and the tall, virginal Laurencine Ingram +opposite, she was the principal person in the restaurant. George had +already passed from disappointment to an impressed nervousness. The +inquisitive diners might all have been quizzing him instead of Irene +Wheeler. He envied Lucas, who was talking freely to both Miss Wheeler +and Laurencine about what he had ordered for dinner. That morning over a +drawing-board and an architectural problem, Lucas had been humble enough +to George, and George by natural right had laid the law down to Lucas; +but now Lucas, who--George was obliged to admit--never said anything +brilliant or original, was outshining him.... It was unquestionable that +in getting Irene Wheeler to dinner, Lucas, by some mysterious talent +which he possessed, had performed a feat greater even than George had at +first imagined--a prodigious feat. + +George waited for Irene Wheeler to begin to talk. She did not begin to +talk. She was content with the grand function of existing. Lucas showed +her the portrait in the illustrated paper, which he had kept. She said +that it was comparatively an old one, and had been taken at the Durbar +in January. "Were you at the Durbar?" asked the simpleton George. Irene +Wheeler looked at him. "Yes. I was in the Viceroy's house-party," she +answered mildly. And then she said to Lucas that she had sat three times +to photographers that week--"They won't leave me alone"--but that the +proofs were none of them satisfactory. At this Laurencine Ingram boldly +and blushingly protested, maintaining that one of them was lovely. +George was attracted to Laurencine, in whom he saw no likeness to her +sister Lois. She could not long have left school. She was the product +finished for the world; she had been taught everything that was +considered desirable--even to the art of talking easily and yet +virginally on all subjects at table; and she was a nice, honest, +handsome girl, entirely unspoilt by the mysterious operations practised +upon her. She related how she had been present when a famous +photographer arrived at Miss Wheeler's flat with his apparatus, and what +the famous photographer had said. The boys laughed. Miss Wheeler smiled +faintly. "I'm glad we didn't have to go to that play to-night," she +remarked, quitting photography. "However, I shall have to go to-morrow +night. And I don't care for first nights in London, only they will have +me go." In this last phrase, and in the intonation of it, was the first +sign she had given of her American origin; her speech was usually +indistinguishable from English English, which language she had in fact +carefully acquired years earlier. George gathered that Lucas's success +in getting Miss Wheeler to dinner was due to the accident of a first +night being postponed at the last moment and Miss Wheeler thus finding +herself with an empty evening. He covertly examined her. Why was the +feat of getting Miss Wheeler to dinner enormous? Why would photographers +not leave her alone? Why would theatrical managers have her accept boxes +gratis which they could sell for money? Why was she asked to join the +Viceregal party for the Durbar? Why was the restaurant agog? Why was he +himself proud and flattered--yes, proud and flattered--to be seen at the +same table with her?... She was excessively rich, no doubt; she was +reputed to be the niece of a railway man in Indianapolis who was one of +the major rivals of Harriman. She dressed superbly, perhaps too +superbly. But there were innumerable rich and well-dressed women on +earth. After all, she put her gold bag and her gloves down on the table +with just the same gesture as other women did; and little big Laurencine +had a gold bag too. She was not witty. He questioned whether she was +essentially kind. She was not young; her age was an enigma. She had not +a remarkable figure, nor unforgettable hair, nor incendiary eyes. She +seemed too placid and self-centred for love. If she had loved, it must +have been as she sat to photographers or occupied boxes on first +nights--because 'they' would have it so. George was baffled to discover +the origin of her prestige. He had to seek it in her complexion. Her +complexion was indubitably miraculous. He enjoyed looking at it, though +he lacked the experience to know that he was looking at a complexion +held by connoisseurs who do naught else but look at complexions to be a +complexion unique in Europe. George, unsophisticated, thought that the +unaffected simplicity--far exceeding self-confidence--with which she +acquiesced in her prestige was perhaps more miraculous than her +complexion. It staggered him. + +The dinner was a social success. Irene Wheeler listened adroitly, if +without brilliance, and after one glass of wine George found himself +quite able to talk in the Enwright manner about architecture and the +profession of architecture, and also to talk about automobiles. The +casualness with which he mentioned his Final Examination was superb--the +examiners might have been respectfully waiting for him to arrive and +discomfit them. But of course the main subject was automobiles. Even +Laurencine knew the names of all the leading makers, and when the names +of all the leading makers had been enumerated and their products +discussed, the party seemed to think that it had accomplished something +that was both necessary and stylish. When the tablecloth had been +renewed, and the solemn moment came for Everard Lucas to order liqueurs, +George felt almost gay. He glanced round the gilded and mirrored +apartment, now alluringly animated by the subdued yet vivacious +intimacies of a score of white tables, and decided that the institution +of restaurants was a laudable and agreeable institution. Marguerite had +receded further than ever into the background of his mind; and as for +the Final, it had diminished to a formality. + +"And you?" Everard asked Laurencine, after Miss Wheeler. + +George had thought that Laurencine was too young for liqueurs. She had +had no wine. He expected her to say 'Nothing, thanks,' as conventionally +as if her late head mistress had been present. But she hesitated, +smiling, and then, obedient to the profound and universal instinct +which seems to guide all young women to the same liqueur, she said: + +"May I have a _creme de menthe_? I've never had _creme de menthe_." + +George was certainly shocked for an instant. But no one else appeared to +be shocked. Miss Wheeler, in charge of Laurencine, offered no protest. +And then George reflected: "And why not? Why shouldn't she have a _creme +de menthe_?" When Laurencine raised the tiny glass to her firm, large +mouth, George thought that the sight of the young virginal thing tasting +a liqueur was a fine and a beautiful sight. + +"It's just heavenly!" murmured Laurencine ecstatically. + +Miss Wheeler was gazing at George. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, smiling, and rested one elbow on the +table and looked enigmatically through the smoke of his cigar. + +"I was just wondering about you," said Miss Wheeler. Her voice, always +faint, had dropped to a murmur which seemed to expire as it reached +George's ear. + +"Why?" He was flattered. + +"I've been wanting to see you." + +"Really!" he laughed, rather too loudly. "What a pity I didn't know +earlier!" He was disturbed as well as flattered, for such a remark from +such a person as Irene Wheeler to such a person as himself was bound to +be disturbing. His eyes sought audaciously to commune with hers, but +hers were not responsive; they were entirely non-committal. + +"You _are_ the man that wouldn't let my friend Lois drive him in my car, +aren't you?" + +"Yes," he said defiantly, but rather guiltily. "Did she tell you about +that? It's an awful long time ago." + +"She told me something about it." + +"And you've remembered it all this long while!" + +"Yes," she answered, and her thin, queer tone and her tepid, impartial +glance had the effect of a challenge to him to justify himself. + +"And don't you think I was quite right?" he ventured. + +"She drives very well." It was not the sort of answer he was expecting. +His desire was to argue. + +"She didn't drive very well then," he said, with conviction. + +"Was that a reason for your leaving her to drive home alone?" + +Women were astounding! + +"She ought to have let the chauffeur drive," he maintained. + +"Ah! A man mustn't expect too much from a woman." + +"But I was risking my life in that car! Do you mean to say I ought to +have kept on risking it?" + +"I don't express any opinion on that. That was for you to decide.... You +must admit it was very humiliating for poor Lois." + +He felt himself cornered, but whether justly or unjustly he was +uncertain. + +"Was she vexed?" + +"No, she wasn't vexed. Lois isn't the woman to be vexed. But I have an +idea she was a little hurt." + +"Did she say so?" + +"Say so? Lois? She'd never say anything against anybody. Lois is a +perfect angel.... Isn't she, Laurencine?" + +Laurencine was being monopolized by Everard. + +"What did you say?" the girl asked, collecting herself. + +"I was just saying what an angel Lois is." + +"Oh, she _is_!" the younger sister agreed, with immense and sincere +emphasis. + +George, startled, said to himself suddenly: + +"Was I mistaken in her? Some girls you _are_ mistaken in! They're +regular bricks, but they keep it from you at first." + +Somehow, in spite of a slight superficial mortification, he was very +pleased by the episode of the conversation, and his curiosity was +titillated. + +"Lois would have come to-night instead of Laurencine," Miss Wheeler went +on, "only she wasn't feeling very well." + +"Is she in London? I've only seen her once from that day to this, and +then we didn't get near each other owing to the crush. So we didn't +speak. It was at Mrs. Orgreave's." + +"Yes, I know." + +"Did she tell you?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she at your flat?" + +"Yes; but she's not well." + +"Not in bed, I hope, or anything like that?" + +"Oh no! She's not in bed." + +Laurencine threw laughingly across the table: + +"She's as well as I am." + +It was another aspect of the younger sister. + +When they left the restaurant it was nearly empty. They left easily, +slowly, magnificently. The largesse of Everard Lucas--his hat slightly +raked--in the foyer and at the portico was magnificent in both quantity +and manner. There was no need to hurry; the hour, though late for the +end of dinner, was early for separation. They moved and talked without +the slightest diffidence, familiar and confident; the whole world was +reformed and improved for them by the stimulus of food and alcohol. The +night was sultry and dark. The two women threw their cloaks back from +their shoulders, revealing the whiteness of toilettes. At the door the +head-lights of Miss Wheeler's automobile shot horizontally right across +Regent Street. The chauffeur recognized George, and George recognized +the car; he was rather surprised that Miss Wheeler had not had a new car +in eighteen months. Lucas spoke of his own car, which lay beyond in the +middle of the side-street like a ship at anchor. He spoke in such a +strain that Miss Wheeler deigned to ask him to drive her home in it. The +two young men went to light the head-lights. George noticed the angry +scowl on Everard's face when three matches had been blown out in the +capricious breeze. The success of the fourth match restored his face to +perfect benignity. He made the engine roar triumphantly, imperiously +sounded his horn, plunged forward, and drew the car up in front of Miss +Wheeler's. His bliss, when Miss Wheeler had delicately inserted herself +into the space by his side, was stern and yet radiant. The big car, with +George and Laurencine on board, followed the little one like a cat +following a mouse, and Laurencine girlishly interested herself in the +chase. George, with his mind on Lois, kept saying to himself: "She's +been thinking about that little affair ever since last November but one. +They've all been thinking about it." He felt apprehensive, but his +satisfaction amounted to excitement. His attitude was: "At any rate I +gave them something to think about!" Also he breathed appreciatively the +atmosphere of the three women--two seen and one unseen. How +extraordinarily different all of them were from Agg! They reminded him +acutely of his deep need of luxury. After all, the life lived by those +two men about town, George and Everard, was rather humdrum and +monotonous. In spite of Everard's dash, and in spite of George's secret +engagement, neither of them met enough women or enough sorts of women. +George said to himself: "I shall see her to-night. We shall go up to the +flat. She isn't in bed. I shall see her to-night." He wanted to see her +because he had hurt her, and because she had remembered and had talked +about him and had raised curiosity about him in others. Was she really +unwell? Or had she been excusing herself! Was she an angel? He wanted to +see her again in order to judge for himself whether she was an angel. If +Laurencine said she was an angel she must be an angel. Laurencine was a +jolly, honest girl. To be in the car with her was agreeable. But she was +insipid. So he assessed the splendidly budding Laurencine, patronizing +her a little. Miss Wheeler gave him pause. Her simple phrases had +mysterious intonations. He did not understand her glance. He could not +settle the first question about her--her age. She might be very wicked; +certainly she could be very ruthless. And he had no hold over her. He +could give her nothing that she wanted. He doubted whether any man +could. + +"Have you been in London long?" he asked Laurencine. + +"A week," she said. "I came over with Miss Wheeler. I didn't think +mother would let me, but she did." + +"And did your sister come with you?" + +"No; Lois only came yesterday." + +"By herself?" + +"Yes." + +"I suppose you go about a lot?" + +"Oh, we _do_ It's such a change from Paris." + +"Well, I should prefer Paris." + +"You wouldn't! London's much more romantic. Paris is so hard and +matter-of-fact." + +"So's London." + +She squirmed about lissomly on the seat. + +"You don't know what I mean," she said. "I never _can_ make people see +what I mean--about anything." + +He smiled indulgently and dropped the point. + +"Miss Wheeler taken you to Mrs. Orgreave's yet?" + +"Yes; we were there on Saturday afternoon." + +"Well, what do you think of Mrs. Orgreave?" + +"Oh! She's very nice," Laurencine answered, with polite tepidity; and +added eagerly: "Mr. Orgreave's a dear." + +George was glad that she had not been enthusiastic about Mrs. Orgreave. +Her reserve showed that she could discriminate. Ecstasy was not +altogether a habit. If she said that Lois was an angel, Lois probably +was an angel. + +The cars stopped at the foot of a huge block of masonry in a vast leafy +square. George suddenly became very nervous. He thought: "I shall be +seeing her in a minute." + +Then, as he got out of the car, he heard Miss Wheeler saying to Lucas: + +"Well, good night. And thank you so much. It's been most delightful.... +We expect you soon, of course." + +She actually was not asking them to go up! George was excessively +disappointed. He watched Miss Wheeler and Laurencine disappear into the +rich and guarded interior with envy, as though they had entered a +delectable paradise to which he could not aspire; and the fact that Miss +Wheeler had vaguely invited him to call did not brighten him very much. +He had assumed that he would see Lois the angel that night. + + +V + + +The young men finished the evening at Pickering's. Pickering's was +George's club. George considered, rightly, that in the matter of his +club he had had great luck. Pickering's was a small club, and it had had +vicissitudes. Most men whose worldly education had been completed in St. +James's were familiar with its historical name, but few could say +off-hand where it was. Its address was Candle Court, and Candle Court +lay at the end of Candle Alley (a very short passage), between Duke +Street and Bury Street. The Court was in fact a tiny square of several +houses, chiefly used by traders and agents of respectability--as +respectability is understood in St. James's; it had a lamp-post of its +own. The report ran, and was believed by persons entitled to an opinion, +that the Duke of Wellington had for some years hidden there the lovely +desire of his heart from an inquisitive West End. Pickering's had, of +course, originally been a coffee-house; later, like many other +coffee-houses in the neighbourhood, it had developed into a proprietary +club. Misfortunes due to the caprices of taste and to competition had +brought about an arrangement by which the ownership was vested in a +representative committee. The misfortunes had continued, and at the +beginning of the century a crisis was reached, and Pickering's tried +hard to popularize itself, thereby doing violence to its feelings. Rules +were abated, and the entrance-fee fell. It was in this period that +Everard Lucas, whose ears were always open for useful items, heard of it +and suggested it to George. George wanted to join Lucas's club, which +was in St. James's Street itself, but Lucas wisely pointed out that if +they belonged to different clubs each would in practice have two clubs. +Moreover, he said that George might conceivably get a permanent bedroom +there. The first sight of the prim, picturesque square, the first hint +of scandal about the Duke of Wellington, decided George. It was +impossible for a man about town to refuse the chance of belonging to a +club in a Court where the Duke of Wellington had committed follies. + +George was proposed, seconded, and duly elected, together with other new +blood. Some of the old blood naturally objected, but the feud was never +acute. Solely owing to the impression which his young face made on the +powerful and aged hall-porter, George obtained a bedroom. It was small, +and at the top of the house; but it was cheap, it solved the even more +tiresome and uncomfortable problem of lodging; and further it was a +bedroom at Pickering's, and George could say that he lived at his +club--an imposing social advantage. He soon learnt how to employ the +resources of the club for his own utmost benefit. Nobody could surpass +him in choosing a meal inexpensively. He could have his breakfast in his +bedroom for tenpence, or even sixpence when his appetite was poor. He +was well served by a valet who apparently passed his whole life on +stairs and landings. This valet, courteous rather in the style of old +Haim, had a brain just equal to the problems presented by his vocation. +Every morning George would say: "Now, Downs, how soon can I have my +bath?" or "Now, Downs, what can I have for breakfast?" And Downs would +conscientiously cerebrate, and come forth after some seconds with sound +solutions, such as: "I'll see if I can put you in before Mr. de Gales if +you're in a hurry, sir," or "Scrambled eggs, sir--it'll make a bit of a +change." And when George agreed, Downs would exhibit a restrained but +real satisfaction. Yes, George had been very lucky. The club too was +lucky. The oldest member, who being paralysed had not visited the club +for eleven years, died and bequeathed ten thousand pounds to the +institution where he had happily played cards for several decades. +Pickering's was refurnished, and the stringency of its rules +re-established. The right wing of the committee wished that the oldest +member could have managed to die a year or two earlier and so obviated +the crisis. It was recognized, however, by the more reasonable, that you +cannot have everything in this world. + +Pickering's was very dull; but it was still Pickering's. George was +often bored at Pickering's. He soon reached the stage at which a club +member asserts gloomily that the club cookery is simply damnable. +Nevertheless he would have been desolated to leave Pickering's. The +place was useful to him in another respect than the purely material. He +learnt there the code which governs the familiar relations of men about +town. + +On the night of the Cafe Royal dinner, George and Lucas reclined in two +easy chairs in the inner smoking-room of Pickering's. They were alone. +Through the wide archway that marked the division between the inner and +the outer smoking-rooms they could see one solitary old gentleman dozing +in an attitude of abandonment, a magazine on his knees. Ash-trays were +full of ash and cigarette ends and matches. Newspapers were scattered +around, some folded inside out, some not folded, some whose component +sheets had been divided for ever like the members of a ruined family. +The windows were open, and one gave a view of the Court's watchful +lamp-post, and the other of the house--now occupied by an art dealer and +a commission agent--where the Duke had known both illusion and +disillusion. The delicate sound of the collision of billiard-balls came +from somewhere, and the rat-tatting of a tape-machine from somewhere +else. The two friends had arrived at the condition of absolute wisdom +and sagacity and tolerance which is apt to be achieved at a late hour in +clubs by young and old men who have discussed at length the phenomena of +society. + +"Well, I must be toddling," said Lucas, yawning as he looked idly at the +coloured horses on each wall who were for ever passing winning-posts or +soaring over bullfinches or throwing riders into brooks. + +"Here! Hold on!" George protested. "It's early." + +"Is it?" + +They began again to smoke and talk. + +"Nice little thing, What's-her-name! What's her funny name?" + +"Laurencine, do you mean? Yes." Lucas spoke coldly, with a careful +indifference. George, to whom insight had not been denied, understood +that Everard did not altogether care for Laurencine to be referred to as +a little thing, that he had rendered Laurencine sacred by his secret +approval. + +"I say," said George, sitting up slightly, and increasing the intimacy +of his tone, "devilish odd, wasn't it, that the Wheeler woman didn't ask +us up?" + +Hitherto they had avoided this question in their profound gossip. It had +lain between them untouched, like a substance possibly dangerous and +explosive. Yet they could not have parted without touching it, and +George, with characteristic moral courage or rashness, had touched it +first. Lucas was of a mind to reply succinctly that the Wheeler woman's +conduct was not a bit devilish odd. But sincerity won. The dismissal at +the entrance to the Mansions had affected him somewhat deeply. It had +impaired the perfection of his most notable triumph. The temptation to +release his feelings was too strong. + +"Well, if you ask me," he answered, it was. After a little pause he went +on: + +"Especially seeing that she practically asked me to ask them to dinner." +His nice features loosened to dissatisfaction. "The deuce she did!" + +"Yes! Practically asked me! Anyhow, gave me the tip What can you do?" He +implied that, far from deriving unique and unhoped-for glory from the +condescension of Irene Wheeler in consenting to dine with him, he had +conferred a favour on her by his invitation. He implied that brilliant +women all over London competed for his invitations. His manner was +entirely serious; it probably deceived even himself. George's manner +corresponded, instinctively, chivalrously; but George was not +deceived--at any rate in the subconscious depth of his mind. + +"Exactly!" murmured George. + +"Yes" said Lucas. "She said: 'I could bring Laurencine with me, if you +can get another man. That would make a four.' She said she wanted to +wake Laurencine up." + +"Did you tell her you should ask me?" George questioned. + +"Oh! She seemed to know all about you, my boy." + +"Well, but she couldn't know all about me," said George insincerely. +"Well, if you want to know then, she suggested I should ask you." + +"But she'd never seen me!" + +"She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect." + +"Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically assessing an +announcement that had no intrinsic interest for him. In reality he was +greatly excited. + +"Well you know what those sort of women are!" Lucas summed up wisely, as +if referring to truths of knowledge common among men of their kidney. + +"Oh, of course!" + +The magazine slid from the knees of the sleeper. The sleeper snorted and +woke up. The spell was broken. Lucas rose suddenly. "Bye-bye!" He was +giving an ultimatum as to his departure. + +George rose also, but slowly. + +"All that doesn't explain why she didn't ask us up," said he. + +But in his heart he thought he knew why Miss Wheeler hadn't asked them +up. The reason was that she maliciously wanted to tantalize him, George. +She had roused his curiosity about Lois, and then she had said to +herself: "You think you're going to see her to-night, but you just +aren't." Such, according to George, was Irene Wheeler the illustrious. +He reflected on the exasperating affair until he had undressed and got +into bed. But as soon as he had put out the light Marguerite appeared +before him, and at the back of her were the examiners for the Final. He +slept ill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE RUPTURE + +I + + +During the whole of the next day George waited for a letter from +Marguerite. There was nothing at the club by the first post; he went to +the office, hoping that as he had addressed his telegram from Russell +Square she might have written to Russell Square; there was nothing at +Russell Square. At lunch-time no word had arrived at the club; when the +office closed no word had arrived at the office; the last post brought +nothing to the club. He might have sent another telegram to Alexandra +Grove, but he was too proud to do so. He dined alone and most miserably +at the club. Inspired by unhappiness and resentment, he resolved to go +to bed; in bed he might read himself to sleep. But in the hall of the +club his feet faltered. Perhaps it was the sight of hats and sticks that +made him vacillate, or a glimpse of reluctantly dying silver in the +firmament over Candle Court. He wavered; he stood still at the foot of +the stairs. The next moment he was in the street. He had decided to call +on Agg at the studio. Agg might have the clue to Marguerite's astounding +conduct, though he had it not. He took a hansom, after saying he would +walk; he was too impatient for walking. Possibly Marguerite would be at +the studio; possibly a letter of hers had miscarried; letters did +miscarry. He was in a state of peculiar excitement as he paid the +cabman--an enigma to himself. + +The studio was quite dark. Other studios showed lights, but not Agg's. +From one studio came the sound of a mandolin--he thought it was a +mandolin--and the sound seemed pathetic, tragic, to his ears. Agg was +perhaps in bed; he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But +no! He would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for +him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know anything +about Marguerite?" The affianced ought to be the leading authority as to +the doings of Marguerite. He turned away, walked a little, and perceived +the cabman swinging himself cautiously down from his perch in order to +enter a public-house. He turned back. Marguerite too might be in bed at +the studio. Or the girls might be sitting in the dark, talking--a habit +of theirs.... Fanciful suppositions! At any rate he would not knock at +the door of the studio, would not even enter the alley again. What +carried him into the Fulham Road and westwards as far as the Workhouse +tower and the corner of Alexandra Grove? Feet! But surely the feet of +another person, over which he had no control! He went in the lamplit +dimness of Alexandra Grove like a thief; he crept into it. The silver +had not yet died out of the sky; he could see it across the spaces +between the dark houses; it was sad in exactly the same way as the sound +of the mandolin had been sad. + +What did he mean to do in the Grove? Nothing! He was just walking in it +by chance. He could indeed do nothing. For if he rang at No. 8 old Haim +would again confront him in the portico. He passed by No. 8 on the +opposite side of the road. No light showed, except a very dim glow +through the blind of the basement window to the left of the front door. +Those feet beneath him strolled across the road. The basement window was +wide open. The blind being narrower than the window-frame, he could see, +through the railings, into the room within. He saw Marguerite. She was +sitting, in an uncomfortable posture, in the rather high-seated +arm-chair in which formerly, when the room was her studio, she used to +sit at her work. Her head had dropped, on one shoulder. She was asleep. +On the table a candle burned. His heart behaved strangely. He flushed. +All his flesh tingled. The gate creaked horribly as he tiptoed into the +patch of garden. He leaned over the little chasm between the level of +the garden and the window, and supported himself with a hand on the +lower sash. He pushed the blind sideways with the other hand. + +"Marguerite!" in a whisper. Then louder: "Marguerite!" + +She did not stir. She was in a deep sleep. Her hands hung limp. Her face +was very pale and very fatigued. She liberated the same sadness as the +sound of the mandolin and the gleam of silver in the June sky, but it +was far more poignant. At the spectacle of those weary and unconscious +features and of the soft, bodily form, George's resentment was +annihilated. He wondered at his resentment. He was aware of nothing in +himself but warm, protective love. Tenderness surged out from the +impenetrable secrecy of his heart, filled him, overflowed, and floated +in waves towards the sleeper. In the intense sadness, and in the +uncertainty of events, he was happy. + +An older man might have paused, but without hesitancy George put his +foot on the window-sill, pushed down the window farther, and clambered +into the room in which he had first seen Marguerite. His hat, pressing +backward the blind, fell off and bounced its hard felt on the floor, +which at the edges was uncarpeted. The noise of the hat and the general +stir of George's infraction disturbed Marguerite, who awoke and looked +up. The melancholy which she was exhaling suddenly vanished. Her steady +composure in the alarm delighted George. + +"Couldn't wake you," he murmured lightly. It was part of his Five Towns +upbringing to conceal excitement. "Saw you through the window." + +"Oh! George! Was I asleep?" + +Pleasure shone on her face. He deposited his stick and sprang to her. He +sat on the arm of the chair. He bent her head back and examined her +face. He sat on her knee and held her. She did not kiss; she was kissed; +he liked that. Her fatigue was adorable. + +"I came here for something, and I just sat down for a second because I +was so tired, and I must have gone right off.... No! No!" + +The admonishing negative was to stop him from getting up off her knee. +She was exhausted, yet she had vast resources of strength to bear him on +her knee. She was wearing her oldest frock. It was shabby. But it +exquisitely suited her then. It was the frock of her capability, of her +great labours, of her vigil, of her fatigue. It covered, but did not +hide, her beautiful contours. He thought she was marvellously +beautiful--and very young, far younger than himself. As for him, he was +the dandy, in striking contrast to her. His dandyism as he sat on her +knee pleased both of them. He looked older than his years, his shoulders +had broadened, his dark moustache thickened. In his own view he was +utterly adult, as she was in hers. But their young faces so close +together, so confident, were touchingly immature. As he observed her +grave satisfaction at his presence, the comfort which he gave her, he +felt sure of her, and the memory of his just resentment came to him, and +he was tenderly reproachful. + +"I expected to hear from you," he said. The male in him relished the +delicate accusation of his tone. + +Marguerite answered with a little startled intake of breath: + +"She's dead!" + +"Dead?" + +"She died this afternoon. The layer-out left about half an hour ago." + +Death parted them. He rose from her knee, and Marguerite did not try to +prevent him. He was profoundly shocked. With desolating vividness he +recalled the Sunday afternoon when he had carried upstairs the plump, +living woman now dead. He had always liked Mrs. Lob--it was as Mrs. Lob +that he thought of her. He had seen not much of her. Only on that Sunday +afternoon had he and she reached a sort of intimacy--unspoken but real. +He had liked her. He had even admired her. She was no ordinary being. +And he had sympathized with her for Marguerite's quite explicable +defection. He had often wished that those two, the charwoman and his +beloved, could somehow have been brought together. The menaces of death +had brought them together. Mrs. Lob was laid out in the bedroom which he +had once entered. Mrs. Lob had been dying while he dined richly with +Miss Wheeler and Laurencine, and while he talked cynically with Everard +Lucas. And while he had been resenting Marguerite's neglect Marguerite +was watching by the dying bed. Oh! The despicable superficialities of +restaurants and clubs! He was ashamed. The mere receding shadow of death +shamed him. + +"The baby's dead too, of course," Marguerite added. "She ought never to +have had a baby. It seems she had had two miscarriages." + +There were tears in Marguerite's eyes and in her voice. Nevertheless her +tone was rather matter-of-fact as she related these recondite and +sinister things. George thought that women were very strange. Imagine +Marguerite quietly talking to him in this strain! Then the sense of the +formidable secrets that lie hidden in the history of families, and the +sense of the continuity of individual destinies, overwhelmed him. There +was silence. + +"And your exam. begins to-morrow," whispered the astonishing Marguerite. + +"Where's the old gentleman?" + +"He's sitting in the parlour in the dark." + +It was a terrible house: they two intimidated and mournful in the +basement; the widower solitary on the ground floor; the dead bodies, the +wastage and futility of conception and long bearing, up in the bedroom. +And in all the house the light of one candle! George suddenly noticed, +then, that Marguerite was not wearing the thin, delicate ring which he +had long ago given her. Had she removed it because of her manual duties? +He wanted to ask the question, but, even unspoken, it seemed too trivial +for the hour.... + +There was a shuffling sound beyond the door, and a groping on the outer +face of the door. Marguerite jumped up. Mr. Haim stumbled into the room. +He had incredibly aged; he looked incredibly feeble. But as he pointed a +finger at George he was in a fury of anger, and his anger was senile, +ridiculous, awful. + +"I thought I heard voices," he said, half squeaking. "How did you get +in? You didn't come in by the door. Out of my house! My wife lying dead +upstairs, and you choose this night to break in!" He was implacable +against George, absolutely; and George recoiled. + +The opening of the door had created a draught in which the candle-flame +trembled, and the shadow of the old man trembled on the door. + +"You'd better go. I'll write. I'll write," Marguerite murmured to George +very calmly, very gently, very persuasively. She stood between the two +men. Her manner was perfect. It eternally impressed itself on George. +"Father, come and sit down." + +The old man obeyed her. So did George. He snatched his hat and stick. By +the familiar stone steps of the basement, and along the familiar hall, +he felt his way to the door, turned the familiar knob, and departed. + + +II + + +The examination began the next day. Despite his preoccupation about +Marguerite, George's performances during the first days were quite +satisfactory to himself. Indeed, after a few minutes in the +examination-room, after the preliminary critical assessing of the +difficulty of the problems in design, and the questions, and of his +ability to deal with them, George successfully forgot everything except +the great seven-day duel between the self-constituted autocratic +authorities backed by prestige and force, and the aspirants who had +naught but their wits to help them. He was neither a son, nor a friend, +nor a lover; he ceased to have human ties; he had become an examinee. +Marguerite wrote him two short letters which were perfect, save that he +always regarded her handwriting as a little too clerical, too like her +father's. She made no reference whatever to the scene in the basement +room. She said that she could not easily arrange to see him immediately, +and that for the sake of his exam. he ought not to be distracted. She +would have seen him on the Saturday, but on Saturday George learnt that +her father was a little unwell and required, even if he did not need, +constant attention. The funeral, unduly late, occurred by Mr. Haim's +special desire on the Sunday, most of which day George spent with +Everard Lucas. On the Monday he had a rendezvous at eight o'clock with +Marguerite at the studio. + +She opened the door herself; and her welcome was divine. Her gestures +spoke, delicate, and yet robust in their candour. But she was in deep +mourning. + +"Oh!" he said, holding her. "You're wearing black, then." + +"Of course!" she answered sweetly. "You see, I had to be there all +through the funeral. And father would have been frightfully shocked if I +hadn't been in black--naturally." + +"Of course!" he agreed. It was ridiculous that he should be surprised +and somewhat aggrieved to find her in mourning; still, he was surprised +and somewhat aggrieved. + +"Besides----" she added vaguely. + +And that 'besides' disquieted him, and confirmed his grievance. Why +should she wear mourning for a woman to whom she was not related, whom +she had known simply as a charwoman, and who had forced her to leave her +father's house? There was no tie between Marguerite and her stepmother. +George, for his part, had liked the dead woman, but Marguerite had not +even liked her. No, she was not wearing black in honour of the dead, but +to humour the living. And why should her father be humoured? George +privately admitted the unreasonableness, the unsoundness, of these +considerations--obviously mourning wear was imperative for +Marguerite--nevertheless they were present in his mind. + +"That frock's a bit tight, but it suits you," he said, advancing with +her into the studio. + +"It's an old one," she smiled. + +"An old one?" + +"It's one I had for mother." + +He had forgotten that she had had a mother, that she had known what +grief was, only a very few years earlier. He resented these bereavements +and the atmosphere which they disengaged. He wanted a different +atmosphere. + +"Is the exam. really all right?" she appealed to him, taking both his +hands and leaning against him and looking up into his face. + +"What did I tell you in my letter?" + +"Yes, I know." + +"The exam. is as right as rain." + +"I knew it would be." + +"You didn't," he laughed. He imitated her: "'Is the exam. really all +right?'" She just smiled. He went on confidently: "Of course you never +know your luck, you know. There's the viva to-morrow.... Where's old +Agg?" + +"She's gone home." + +"Thoughtful child! How soon will she be back?" + +"About nine," said Marguerite, apparently unaware that George was being +funny. + +"Nine!" + +"Oh, George!" Marguerite exclaimed, breaking away from him. "I'm awfully +sorry, but I must get on with my packing." + +"What packing?" + +"I have to take my things home." + +"What home?" + +"Father's, I mean." + +She was going to live with her father, who would not willingly allow +him, George, to enter the house! How astounding girls were! She had +written to him twice without giving the least hint of her resolve. He +had to learn it as it were incidentally, through the urgency of packing. +She did not tell him she was going--she said she must get on with her +packing! And there, lying on the floor, was an open trunk; and two of +her drawing-boards already had string round them. + +George inquired: + +"How is the old man--to-day?" + +"He's very nervy," said Marguerite briefly and significantly. "I'd +better light the lamp; I shall see better." She seemed to be speaking to +herself. She stood on a chair and lifted the chimney off the central +lamp. George absently passed her his box of matches. + +As she, was replacing the chimney, he said suddenly in a very resolute +tone: + +"This is all very well, Marguerite. But it's going to be jolly awkward +for me." + +She jumped lightly down from the chair, like a little girl. + +"Oh! George! I know!" she cried. "It will be awkward for both of us. But +we shall arrange something." She might have resented his tone. She might +have impulsively defended herself. But she did not. She accepted his +attitude with unreserved benevolence. Her gaze was marvellously +sympathetic. + +"I can't make out what your father's got against me," said George +angrily, building his vexation on her benevolence. "What have I done, I +should like to know." + +"It's simply because you lived there all that time without him knowing +we were engaged. He says if he'd known he would never have let you stay +there a day." She smiled, mournfully, forgivingly, excusingly. + +"But it's preposterous!" + +"Oh! It is." + +"And how does he behave to _you_? Is he treating you decently?" + +"Oh! Fairly. You see, he's got a lot to get over. And he's most +frightfully upset about--his wife. Well, you saw him yourself, didn't +you?" + +"That's no reason why he should treat you badly." + +"But he doesn't, George!" + +"Oh! I know! I know! Do you think I don't know? He's not even decent to +you. I can hear it in your voice. Why should you go back and live with +him if he isn't prepared to appreciate it?" + +"But he expects it, George. And what am I to do? He's all alone. I can't +leave him all alone, can I?" + +George burst out: + +"I tell you what it is. Marguerite. You're too good-natured. That's what +it is. You're too good-natured. And it's a very bad thing." + +Tears came into her eyes; she could not control them. She was grieved by +his remark. + +"I'm not, George, truly. You must remember father's been through a lot +this last week. So have I." + +"I know! I know! I admit all that. But you're too good-natured, and +I'll stick to it." + +She was smiling again. + +"You only think that because you're fond of me. Nobody else would say +it, and I'm not. Help me to lift this trunk on to the chest." + +While the daylight withdrew, and the smell of the lamp strengthened and +then faded, and the shadows cast by the lamp-rays grew blacker, she went +on rapidly with her packing, he serving her at intervals. They said +little. His lower lip fell lower and lower. The evening was immensely, +horribly different from what he had expected and hoped for. He felt once +more the inescapable grip of destiny fastening upon him. + +"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, after a long time. + +"I told father I should be back at a quarter-past nine." + +This statement threw George into a condition of total dark disgust. He +made no remark. But what remarks he could have made--sarcastic, bitter, +unanswerable! Why indeed in the name of heaven should she promise her +father to be back at a quarter-past nine, or at a quarter-past anything? +Was she a servant? Had she no rights? Had he himself, George, no rights? + +A little before nine Agg arrived. Marguerite was fastening the trunk. + +"Now be sure, Agg," said Marguerite. "Don't forget to hang out the +Carter Paterson card at the end of the alley to-morrow morning. I must +have these things at home to-morrow night for certain. The labels are +on. And here's twopence for the man." + +"Do I forget?" retorted Agg cheerfully. "By the way, George, I want to +talk to you." She turned to Marguerite and repeated in quite a different +voice: "I want to talk to him, dear, to-night. Do, let him stay. Will +you?" + +Marguerite gave a puzzled assent. + +"I'll call after I've taken Marguerite to Alexandra Grove, Agg--on my +way back to the club." + +"Oh no, you won't!" said Agg. "I shall be gone to bed then. Look at that +portrait and see how I've worked. My family's concerned about me. It +wants me to go away for a holiday." + +George had not till then noticed the portrait at all. + +"But I must take Marguerite along to the Grove," he insisted. "She can't +go alone." + +"And why can't she go alone? What sort of a conventional world do you +think you live in? Don't girls go home alone? Don't they come in alone? +Don't I? Anybody would think, to listen to some people, that the purdah +flourished in Chelsea. But it's all pretence. I don't ask for the honour +of a private interview with you every night. You've both of you got all +your lives before you. And for once in a way Marguerite's going out +alone. At least, you can take her to the street, I don't mind that. But +don't be outside more than a minute." + +Agg, who had sat down, rose and slowly removed her small hat. With pins +in her mouth she said something about the luggage to Marguerite. + +"All right! All right!" George surrendered gloomily. In truth he was not +sorry to let Marguerite depart solitary. And Agg's demeanour was very +peculiar; he would have been almost afraid to be too obstinate in +denying her request. He had never seen her hysterical, but a suspicion +took him that she might be capable of hysteria.... You never knew, with +that kind of girl, he thought sagaciously. + +In the darkness of the alley George said to Marguerite, feigning +irritation: + +"What on earth does she want?" + +"Agg? Oh! It's probably nothing. She does get excited sometimes, you +know." + +The two girls had parted with strange, hard demonstrations of affection +from Agg. + +"I suppose you'll write," said George coldly. + +"To-morrow, darling," she replied quite simply and gravely. + +Her kiss was warm, complete, faithful, very loving, very sympathetic. +Nothing in her demeanour as she left him showed that George had received +it in a non-committal manner. Yet she must have noticed his wounded +reserve. He did not like such duplicity. He would have preferred her to +be less miraculously angelic. + +When he re-entered the studio, Agg, who very seldom smoked, was puffing +violently at a cigarette. She reclined on one elbow on the settee, her +eyes fixed on the portrait of herself. George was really perturbed by +the baffling queerness of the scenes through which he was passing. + +"Look here, infant-in-arms," she began immediately. "I only wanted to +say two words to you about Marguerite. Can you stand it?" + +There was a pause. George walked in front of her, hiding the easel. + +"Yes," he said gruffly. + +"Well, Marguerite's a magnificent girl. She's extraordinarily capable. +You'd think she could look after herself as well as anyone. But she +can't. I know her far better than you do. She needs looking after. +She'll make a fool of herself if she isn't handled." + +"How do you mean?" + +"You know how I mean." + +"D'you mean about the old man?" + +"I mean about the perfectly horrid old man.... Ah! If I was in your +place, if I was a man," she said passionately, "do you know what I +should do with Marguerite? I should carry her off. I should run away +with her. I should drag her out of the house, and she should know what a +real man was. I'm not going to discuss her with you. I'm not going to +say any more at all. I'm off to bed. But before you go, I do think you +might tell me my portrait's a pretty good thing." + +And she did not say any more. + + +III + + +The written part of the examination lasted four days; and then there was +an interval of one day in which the harassed and harried aspirants might +restore themselves for the two days' ordeal of the viva voce. George had +continued to be well satisfied with his work up to the interval. He +considered that he had perfectly succeeded in separating the lover and +the examinee, and that nothing foreign to the examination could vitiate +his activity therein. It was on the day of repose, a Wednesday, that a +doubt suddenly occurred to him as to the correctness of his answer, in +the "Construction" paper, to a question which began with the following +formidable words: "A girder, freely supported at each end and forty feet +long, carries a load of six tons at a distance of six feet from one end +and another load of ten tons----" Thus it went on for ten lines. He had +always been impatient of detail, and he hated every kind of calculation. +Nevertheless he held that calculations were relatively easy, and that he +could do them as well as the driest duffer in the profession when he set +his mind to them. But the doubt as to the correctness of his answer +developed into a certainty. Facing the question in private again, he +obtained four different solutions in an hour; it was John Orgreave who +ultimately set him right, convicting him of a most elementary +misconception. Forthwith his faith in his whole "Construction" paper +vanished. He grumbled that it was monstrous to give candidates an +unbroken stretch of four hours' work at the end of a four-day effort. +Yet earlier he had been boasting that he had not felt the slightest +fatigue. He had expected to see Marguerite on the day of repose. He did +not see her. She had offered no appointment, and he said to himself +that he had not the slightest intention of running after her. Such had +become the attitude of the lover to the beloved. + +On the Thursday morning, however, he felt fit enough to face a dozen +oral examiners, and he performed his morning exercises in the club +bedroom with a positive ferocity of vigour. And then he was gradually +overtaken by a black moodiness which he could not explain. He had passed +through similar though less acute moods as a boy; but this was the first +of the inexplicable sombre humours which at moments darkened his +manhood. He had not the least suspicion that prolonged nervous tension +due to two distinct causes had nearly worn him out. He was melancholy, +and his melancholy increased. But he was proud; he was defiant. His +self-confidence, as he looked back at the years of genuine hard study +behind him, was complete. He disdained examiners. He knew that with all +their damnable ingenuity they could not floor him. + +The crisis arrived in the afternoon of the first of the two days. His +brain was quite clear. Thousands of details about drainage, ventilation, +shoring, architectural practice, lighting, subsoils, specifications, +iron and steel construction, under-pinning, the properties of building +materials, strains, thrusts, water-supply; thousands of details about +his designs--the designs in his 'testimonies of study,' the design for +his Thesis, and the designs produced during the examination itself--all +these peopled his brain; but they were in order; they were under +control; they were his slaves. For four and a half hours, off and on, he +had admirably displayed the reality of his knowledge, and then he was +sent into a fresh room to meet a fresh examiner. There he stood in the +room alone with his designs for a small provincial town hall--a +key-plan, several one-eighth scale-plans, a piece of half-inch detail, +and two rough perspective sketches which he knew were brilliant. The +room was hot; through the open window came the distant sound of the +traffic of Regent Street. The strange melancholy of a city in summer +floated towards him from the outside and reinforced his own. + +The examiner, who had been snatching tea, entered briskly and sternly. +He was a small, dapper, fair man of about fifty, with wonderfully tended +finger-nails. George despised him because Mr. Enwright despised him, but +he had met him once in the way of the firm's business and found him +urbane. + +"Good afternoon," said George politely. + +The examiner replied, trotting along the length of the desk with quick, +short steps: + +"Now about this work of yours. I've looked at it with some care----" His +speech was like his demeanour and his finger-nails. + +"Boor!" thought George. But he could not actively resent the slight. He +glanced round at the walls; he was in a prison. He was at the mercy of a +tyrant invested with omnipotence. + +The little tyrant, however, was superficially affable. Only now and then +in his prim, courteous voice was there a hint of hostility and cruelty. +He put a number of questions, the answers to which had to be George's +justification. He said "H'm!" and "Ah!" and "Really?" He came to the +matter of spouting. + +"Now, I object to hopper-heads," he said. "I regard them as unhygienic." + +And he looked coldly at George with eyebrows lifted. George returned the +gaze. + +"I know you do, sir," George replied. + +Indeed it was notorious that hopper-heads to vertical spouting were a +special antipathy of the examiner's; he was a famous faddist. But the +reply was a mistake. The examiner, secure in his attributes, ignored the +sally. A little later, taking up the general plan of the town hall, he +said: + +"The fact is, I do--not--care for this kind of thing. The whole +tendency----" + +"Excuse me, sir," George interrupted, with conscious and elaborate +respectfulness. "But surely the question isn't one of personal +preferences. Is the design good or is it bad?" + +"Well, I call it bad," said the examiner, showing testiness. The +examiner too could be impulsive, was indeed apt to be short-tempered. +The next instant he seized one of the brilliant perspective sketches, +and by his mere manner of holding it between his thumb and finger he +sneered at it and condemned it. + +He snapped out, not angrily--rather pityingly: + +"And what the devil's this?" + +George, furious, retorted: + +"What the hell do you think it is?" + +He had not foreseen that he was going to say such a thing. The traffic +in Regent Street, which had been inaudible to both of them, was loud in +their ears. + +The examiner had committed a peccadillo, George a terrible crime. The +next morning the episode, in various forms, was somehow common knowledge +and a source of immense diversion. George went through the second day, +but lifelessly. He was sure he had failed. Apart from the significance +of the fact that the viva voce counted for 550 marks out of a total of +1200, he felt that the Royal Institute of British Architects would know +how to defend its dignity. On the Saturday morning John Orgreave had +positive secret information that George would be plucked. + + +IV + + +On that same Saturday afternoon George and Marguerite went out together. +She had given him a rendezvous in Brompton Cemetery, choosing this spot +partly because it was conveniently near and partly in unconscious +obedience to the traditional instinct of lovers for the society of the +undisturbing dead. Each of them had a roofed habitation, but neither +could employ it for the ends of love. No. 8 was barred to George as much +by his own dignity as by the invisible sword of the old man; and of +course he could not break the immemorial savage taboo of a club by +introducing a girl into it. The Duke of Wellington himself, though +Candle Court was his purdah, could never have broken the taboo of even +so modest a club as Pickering's. Owing to the absence of Agg, who had +gone to Wales with part of her family, the studio in Manresa Road was +equally closed to the pair. + +Marguerite was first at the rendezvous. George saw her walking sedately +near the entrance. Despite her sedateness she had unmistakably the air +of waiting at a tryst. Anybody at a glance would have said that she was +expecting a man. She had the classical demure innocency of her +situation. George did not care for that. Why? She in fact was expecting +a man, and in expecting him she had nothing to be ashamed of. Well, he +did not care for it. He did not care for her being like other girls of +her class. In his pocket he had an invitation from Miss Wheeler for the +next evening. Would Miss Wheeler wait for a man in a public place, +especially a cemetery? Would Lois Ingram? Would Laurencine? He could not +picture them so waiting. Oh, simpleton, unlearned in the world! A snob +too, no doubt! (He actually thought that Hyde Park would have been +'better' than the cemetery for their rendezvous.) And illogical! If No. +8 had been open to them, and the studio, and the club, he would have +accepted with gusto the idea of an open-air rendezvous. But since there +was no alternative to an open-air rendezvous the idea of it humiliated +and repelled him. + +Further, in addition to her culpable demure innocency, Marguerite was +wearing black. Of course she was. She had no choice. Still, he hated her +mourning. Moreover, she was too modest; she did not impose herself. Some +girls wore mourning with splendid defiance. Marguerite seemed to +apologize; seemed to turn the other cheek to death.... He arrived +critical, and naturally he found matter to criticize. + +Her greeting showed quite candidly the pleasure she had in the sight of +him. Her heart was in the hand she gave him; he felt its mystic +throbbings there. + +"How are things?" he began. "I rather thought I should have been hearing +from you." He softened his voice to match the tenderness of her smile, +but he did it consciously. + +She replied: + +"I thought you'd have enough to worry about with the exam. without me." + +It was not a wise speech, because it implied that he was capable of +being worried, of being disturbed in the effort of absorption necessary +for the examination. He laughed a little harshly. + +"Well, you see the result!" + +He had written to tell her of the disastrous incident and that failure +was a certainty; a sort of shame had made him recoil from telling her to +her face; it was easier to be casual in writing than in talking; the +letter had at any rate tempered for both of them the shock of +communication. Now, he was out of humour with her because he had played +the ass with an ass of an examiner--not because she was directly or +indirectly responsible for his doing so; simply because he had done so. +She was the woman. It was true that she in part was indirectly +responsible for the calamity, but he did not believe it, and anyhow +would never have admitted it. + +"Oh! George! What a shame it was!" As usual, not a trace of reproach +from her: an absolute conviction that he was entirely blameless. "What +shall you do? You'll have to sit again." + +"Sit again? Me?" he exclaimed haughtily. "I never shall! I've done with +exams." He meant it. + +"But--shall you give up architecture, then?" + +"Certainly not! My dear girl, what are you thinking of? Of course I +shan't give up architecture. But you needn't pass any exams, to be an +architect. Anybody can call himself an architect, and be an architect, +without passing exams. Exams. are optional. That's what makes old +Enwright so cross with our beautiful profession." + +He laughed again harshly. All the time, beneath his quite genuine +defiance, he was thinking what an idiot he had been to cheek the +examiner, and how staggeringly simple it was to ruin years of industry +by one impulsive moment's folly, and how iniquitous was a world in which +such injustice could be. + +Marguerite was puzzled. In her ignorance she had imagined that +professions were inseparably connected with examinations. However, she +had to find faith to accept his dictum, and she found it. + +"Now about this afternoon," he said. "I vote we take a steamboat down +the river. I've made up my mind I must have a look at Greenwich again +from the water. And we both need a blow." + +"But won't it take a long time?" she mildly objected. + +He turned on her violently, and spoke as he had never spoken: + +"What if it does?" + +He knew that she was thinking of her infernal father, and he would not +have it. He remembered all that Agg had said. Assuredly Agg had shown +nerve, too much nerve, to tackle him in the way she did, and the more he +reflected upon Agg's interference the more he resented it as +impertinent. Still, Agg had happened to talk sense. + +"Oh, nothing!" Marguerite agreed quickly, fearfully. "I should like to +go. I've never been. Do we go to Chelsea Pier? Down Fernshaw Road will +be the nearest." + +"We'll go down Beaufort Street," he decided. He divined that she had +suggested Fernshaw Road in order to avoid passing the end of the Grove, +where her father might conceivably see them. Well, he was not going out +of his way to avoid her father. Nay, he was going slightly out of his +way in order to give her father every chance of beholding them +together. + +Although the day was Saturday there was no stir on Chelsea Pier. The +pier-keeper, indeed, was alone on the pier, which rose high on the +urgent flood-tide, so that the gangway to it sloped unusually upwards. +No steamer was in sight, and it seemed impossible that any steamer +should ever call at that forlorn and decrepit platform that trembled +under the straining of the water. Nevertheless, a steamer did after a +little while appear round the bend, in Battersea Reach; she dropped her +funnel, aimed her sharp nose at an arch of Battersea Bridge, and +finally, poising herself against the strong stream, bumped very gently +and neatly into contact with the pier. The pier-keeper went through all +the classic motions of mooring, unbarring, barring, and casting off, and +in a few seconds the throbbing steamer, which was named with the name of +a great Londoner, left the pier again with George and Marguerite on +board. Nobody had disembarked. The shallow and handsome craft, flying +its gay flags, crossed and recrossed the river, calling at three piers +in the space of a few minutes; but all the piers were like Chelsea Pier; +all the pier-keepers had the air of castaways upon shaking islets. The +passengers on the steamer would not have filled a motor-bus, and they +carried themselves like melancholy adventurers who have begun to doubt +the authenticity of the inspiration which sent them on a mysterious +quest. Such was travel on the Thames in the years immediately before +Londoners came to a final decision that the Thames was meet to be +ignored by the genteel town which it had begotten. + +George and Marguerite sat close together near the prow, saying little, +the one waiting to spring, the other to suffer onslaught. It was in +Lambeth Reach that the broad, brimming river challenged and seized +George's imagination. A gusty, warm, south-west wind met the rushing +tide and blew it up into foamy waves. The wind was powerful, but the +tide was irresistible. Far away, Land's End having divided the Atlantic +surge, that same wind was furiously driving vast waters up the English +Channel and round the Forelands, and also vast waters up the west coast +of Britain. The twin surges had met again in the outer estuary of the +Thames and joined their terrific impulses to defy the very wind which +had given them strength, and the mighty flux swept with unregarding +power through the mushroom city whose existence on its banks was a +transient episode in the everlasting life of the river. + +The river seemed to threaten the city that had confined it in stone. And +George, in the background of his mind, which was obsessed by the +tormenting enigma of the girl by his side, also threatened the city. +With the uncompromising arrogance of the student who has newly acquired +critical ideas, he estimated and judged it. He cursed the Tate Gallery +and utterly damned Doulton's works. He sternly approved Lambeth Palace, +the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Somerset House, Waterloo +Bridge, and St. Paul's. He cursed St. Thomas's Hospital and the hotels. +He patronized New Scotland Yard. The "Isambard Brunel" penetrated more +and more into the heart of the city, fighting for every yard of her +progress. Flags stood out straight in the blue sky traversed by swift +white clouds. Huge rudder-less barges, each with a dwarf in the stern +struggling at a giant's oar, were borne westwards broadside on like +straws upon the surface of a hurrying brook. A launch with an orchestra +on board flew gaily past. Tugs with a serpentine tail of craft threaded +perilously through the increasing traffic. Railway trains, cabs, +coloured omnibuses, cyclists, and footfarers mingled in and complicated +the scene. Then the first ocean-going steamer appeared, belittling all +else. And then the calm, pale beauty of the custom-house at last humbled +George, and for an instant made him think that he could never do +anything worth doing. His pride leapt up, unconquerable. The ocean-going +steamers, as they multiplied on the river, roused in him wild and +painful longings to rush to the ends of the earth and gorge himself on +the immense feast which the great romantic earth had to offer. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed passionately. "I'd give something to go to +Japan." + +"Would you?" Marguerite answered with mildness. She had not the least +notion of what he was feeling. Her voice responded to him, but her +imagination did not respond. True, as he had always known, she had no +ambition! The critical quality of his mood developed. The imperious +impulse came to take her to task. + +"What's the latest about your father?" he asked, with a touch of +impatient, aggrieved disdain. Both were aware that the words had opened +a crucial interview between them. She moved nervously on the seat. The +benches that ran along the deck-rails met in an acute angle at the stem +of the steamer, so that the pair sat opposite each other with their +knees almost touching. He went on: "I hear he hasn't gone back to the +office yet." + +"No," said Marguerite. "But he'll start again on Monday, I think." + +"But is he fit to go back? I thought he looked awful." + +She flushed slightly--at the indirect reference to the episode in the +basement on the night of the death. + +"It will do him good to go back," said Marguerite. "I'm sure he misses +the office dreadfully." + +George gazed at her person. Under the thin glove he suddenly detected +the form of her ring. She was wearing it again, then. (He could not +remember whether she had worn it at their last meeting, in Agg's studio. +The very curious fact was that at their last meeting he had forgotten to +look for the ring.) Not only was she wearing the ring, but she carried a +stylish little handbag which he had given her. When he bought that bag, +in the Burlington Arcade, it had been a bag like any other bag. But now +it had become part of her, individualized by her personality, a +mysterious and provocative bag. Everything she wore, down to her boots +and even her bootlaces so neatly threaded and knotted, was mysterious +and provocative. He examined her face. It was marvellously beautiful; it +was ordinary; it was marvellously beautiful. He knew her to the depths; +he did not know her at all; she was a chance acquaintance; she was a +complete stranger. + +"How are you getting on with him? You know you really ought to tell me." + +"Oh, George!" she said, earnestly vivacious. "You're wrong in thinking +he's not nice to me. He is He's quite forgiven me." + +"Forgiven you!" George took her up. "I should like to know what he had +to forgive." + +"Well," she murmured timorously. "You understand what I mean." + +He drummed his elegant feet on the striated deck. Out of the corner of +his left eye he saw the mediaeval shape of the Tower rapidly +disappearing. In front were the variegated funnels and masts of fleets +gathered together in St. Katherine's Dock and London Dock. The steamer +gained speed as she headed from Cherry Gardens Pier towards the middle +of the river. She was a frail trifle compared with the big boats that +lined the wharves; but in herself she had size and irresistible force, +travelling quite smoothly over the short, riotous, sparkling waves which +her cut-water divided and spurned away on either side. Only a tremor +faintly vibrated throughout her being. + +"Has he forgiven you for being engaged?" George demanded, with rough +sarcasm. + +She showed no resentment of his tone, but replied gently: + +"I did try to mention it once, but it was no use--he wasn't in a +condition. He made me quite afraid--not for me of course, but for him." + +"Well, I give it up!" said George. "I simply give it up! It's past me. +How soon's he going to _be_ in condition? He can't keep us walking about +the streets for ever." + +"No, of course not!" She smiled to placate him. + +There was a pause, and then George, his eyes fixed on her hand, +remarked: + +"I see you've got your ring on." + +She too looked at her hand. + +"My ring? Naturally. What do you mean?" + +He proceeded cruelly: + +"I suppose you don't wear it in the house, so that the sight of it +shan't annoy him." + +She flushed once more. + +"Oh, George, dear!" Her glance asked for mercy, for magnanimity. + +"Do you wear it when you're in the house, or don't you?" + +Her eyes fell. + +"I daren't excite him. Truly, I daren't. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't be +right." + +She was admitting George's haphazard charge against her. He was +astounded. But he merely flung back his head and raised his eyebrows. He +thought: + +"And yet she sticks to it he's nice to her! My God!" + +He said nothing aloud. The Royal Hospital, Greenwich, showed itself in +the distance like a domed island rising fabulously out of the blue-green +water. Even far off, before he could decipher the main contours of the +gigantic quadruple pile, the vision excited him. His mind, darkened by +the most dreadful apprehensions concerning Marguerite, dwelt on it +darkly, sardonically, and yet with pleasure. And he proudly compared his +own disillusions with those of his greatest forerunners. His studies, +and the example of Mr. Enwright, had inspired him with an extremely +enthusiastic worship of Inigo Jones, whom he classed, not without +reason, among the great creative artists of Europe. He snorted when he +heard the Royal Hospital referred to as the largest and finest +charitable institution in the world. For him it was the supreme English +architectural work. He snorted at the thought of that pompous and absurd +monarch James I ordering Inigo Jones to design him a palace surpassing +all palaces and choosing a sublime site therefor, and then doing +nothing. He snorted at the thought of that deluded monarch Charles I +ordering Inigo Jones to design him a palace surpassing all palaces, and +receiving from Inigo Jones the plans of a structure which would have +equalled in beauty and eclipsed in grandeur any European structure of +the Christian era--even Chambord, even the Escurial, even +Versailles--and then accomplishing nothing beyond a tiny fragment of the +sublime dream. He snorted at the thought that Inigo Jones had died at +the age of nearly eighty ere the foundations of the Greenwich palace had +begun to be dug, and without having seen more than the fragment of his +unique Whitehall--after a youth spent in arranging masques for a stupid +court, and an old age spent in disappointment. But then no English +monarch had ever begun and finished a palace. George wished, rather +venturesomely, that he had lived under Francis I!... + +The largest and finest charitable institution! The ineffable William and +Mary had merely turned it into a charitable institution because they did +not know what else to do with it. The mighty halls which ought to have +resounded to the laughter of the mistresses of Charles II were diverted +to the inevitable squalor of almsgiving. The mutilated victims of the +egotism and the fatuity of kings were imprisoned there together under +the rules and regulations of charity, the cruellest of all rules and +regulations. And all was done meanly--that is, all that interested +George. Christopher Wren, who was building St. Paul's and fighting +libels and slanders at a salary of two hundred a year, came down to +Greenwich and for years worked immortally for nothing amid material +difficulties that never ceased to multiply; and he too was beaten by the +huge monster. Then Vanbrugh arrived and blithely finished in corrupt +brick and flaming manifestations of decadence that which the pure and +monumental genius of Inigo Jones had first conceived. The north +frontages were marvels of beauty; the final erections to the south +amounted to an outrage upon Jones and Wren. Still, the affair was the +largest and finest charitable institution on earth! What a country, +thought George, hugging injustice! So it had treated Jones and Wren and +many another. So it had treated Enwright. And so it would treat, was +already treating, him, George. He did not care. As the steamer +approached Greenwich, and the details of the aborted palace grew +clearer, and he could distinguish between the genius of Jones and the +genius of Wren, he felt grimly and victoriously sure that both Jones and +Wren had had the best of the struggle against indifference and +philistinism--as he too would have the best of the struggle, though he +should die obscure and in penury. He was miserable and resentful, and +yet he was triumphant. The steamer stopped at the town-pier. + +"Are we there?" said Marguerite. "Already?" + +"Yes," said he. "And I think we may as well go back by the same +steamer." + +She concurred. However, an official insisted on them disembarking, even +if they meant to re-embark at once. They, went ashore. The facade of the +palace-hospital stretched majestically to the left of them, in sharp +perspective, a sensational spectacle. + +"It's very large," Marguerite commented. Her voice was nervous. + +"Yes, it's rather more than large," he said dryly. + +He would not share his thoughts with her. He knew that she had some +inklings of taste, but in that moment he preferred to pretend that her +artistic perception was on a level with that of William and Mary. They +boarded the steamer again, and took their old places; and the menacing +problem of their predicament was still between them. + +"We can have some tea downstairs if you like," he said, after the +steamer had turned round and started upstream. + +She answered in tones imperfectly controlled: + +"No, thank you. I feel as if I couldn't swallow anything." And she +looked up at him very quickly; with the embryo of a smile, and then +looked down again very quickly, because she could not bring the smile to +maturity. + +George thought: + +"Am I going to have a scene with her--on the steamer?" It would not +matter much if a scene did occur. There was nobody else on deck forward +of the bridge. They were alone--they were more solitary than they might +have been in the studio, or in any room at No. 8. The steamer was now +nearly heading the wind, but she travelled more smoothly, for she had +the last of the flood-tide under her. + +George said kindly and persuasively: + +"Upon my soul, I don't know what the old gentleman's got against me." + +She eagerly accepted his advance, which seemed to give her courage. + +"But there's nothing to know, dear. We both know that. There's nothing +at all. And yet of course I can understand it. So can you. In fact it +was you who first explained it to me. If you'd left No. 8 when I did and +he'd heard of our engagement afterwards, he wouldn't have thought +anything of it. But it was you staying on in the house that did it, and +him not knowing of the engagement. He thought you used to come to see me +at nights at the studio, me and Agg, and make fun of everything at No. +8--especially of his wife. He's evidently got some such idea in his +head, and there's no getting it out again." + +"But it's childish." + +"I know. However, we've said all this before, haven't we?" + +"But the idea's _got_ to be got out of his head again!" said George +vigorously--more dictatorially and less persuasively than before. + +Marguerite offered no remark. + +"And after all," George continued, "he couldn't have been so desperately +keen on--your stepmother. When he married her your mother hadn't been +dead so very long, had she?" + +"No. But he never cared for mother anything like so much as he cared for +Mrs. Lobley--at least not as far back as I can remember. It was a +different sort of thing altogether. I think he was perfectly mad about +Mrs. Lobley. Oh! He stood mother's death much--much better than hers! +You've no idea--" + +"Oh yes, I have. We know all about that sort of thing," said George the +man of the world impatiently. + +Marguerite said tenderly: + +"It's broken him." + +"Nonsense!" + +"It has, George." Her voice was very soft. + +But George would not listen to the softness of her voice. + +"Well," he objected firmly and strongly, "supposing it has! What then? +We're sorry for him. What then? That affair has nothing to do with our +affair. Is all that reason why I shouldn't see you in your own home? Or +are we to depend on Agg--when she happens to be at her studio? Or are we +always to see each other in the street, or in museums and things--or +steamers--just as if you were a shop-girl? We may just as well look +facts in the face, you know." + +She flushed. Her features changed under emotion. + +"Oh! George! I don't know what to do." + +"Then you think he's determined not to have anything to do with me?" + +She was silent. + +"You think he's determined not to have anything to do with me, I say?" + +"He may change," Marguerite murmured. + +"'May change' be dashed! We've got to know where we stand." + +He most surprisingly stood up, staring at her. She did not speak, but +she lifted her eyes to his with timid courage. They were wet. George +abruptly walked away along the deck. The steamer was passing the +custom-house again. The tide had now almost slacked. Fresh and heavier +clouds had overcast the sky. All the varied thoughts of the afternoon +were active in George's head at once: architecture, architects, beauty, +professional injustices, girls--his girl. Each affected the others, for +they were deeply entangled. It is a fact that he could not put Inigo +Jones and Christopher Wren out of his head; he wondered what had been +their experiences with women, histories and textbooks of architecture +did not treat of this surely important aspect of architecture! He +glanced at Marguerite from the distance. He remembered what Agg had said +to him about her; but what Agg had said did not appear to help him +practically.... Why had he left Marguerite? Why was he standing thirty +feet from her and observing her inimically? He walked back to her, sat +down, and said calmly: + +"Listen to me, darling. Suppose we arrange now, definitely, to get +married in two years' time. How will that do for you?" + +"But, George, can you be sure that you'll be able to marry in two +years?" + +He put his chin forward. + +"You needn't worry about that," said he. "You needn't think because I've +failed in an exam. I don't know what I'm about. You leave all that to +me. In two years I shall be able enough to keep a wife--_and_ well! Now, +shall we arrange to get married in two years' time?" + +"It might be a fearful drag for you," she said. "Because, you know, I +don't really earn very much." + +"That's not the point. I don't care what you earn. I shan't want you to +earn anything--so far as that goes. Any earning that's wanted I shall be +prepared to do. I'll put it like this: Supposing I'm in a position to +keep you, shall we arrange to get married in two years' time?" He found +a fierce pleasure in reiterating the phrase. "So long as that's +understood, I don't mind the rest. If we have to depend on Agg, or meet +in the streets--never mind. It'll be an infernal nuisance, but I expect +I can stand it as well as you can. Moreover, I quite see your +difficulty--quite. And let's hope the old gentleman will begin to have a +little sense." + +"Oh, George! If he only would!" + +He did not like her habit of "Oh, George! Oh! George!" + +"Well?" He waited, ignoring her pious aspiration. + +"I don't know what to say, George." + +He restrained himself. + +"We're engaged, aren't we?" She gave no answer, and he repeated: "We're +engaged, aren't we?" + +"Yes." + +"That's all right. Well, will you give me your absolute promise to marry +me in two years' time--if I'm in a position to keep you? It's quite +simple. You say you don't know what to say. But you've got to know what +to say." As he looked at her averted face, his calmness began to leave +him. + +"Oh, George! I can't promise that!" she burst out, showing at length her +emotion. The observant skipper on the bridge noted that there were a boy +and a girl forward having a bit of a tiff. + +George trembled. All that Agg had said recurred to him once more. But +what could he do to act on it? Anger was gaining, on him. + +"Why not?" he menaced. + +"It would have to depend on how father was. Surely you must see that!" + +"Indeed I don't see it. I see quite the contrary. We're engaged. You've +got the first call on me, and I've got the first call on you--not your +father." The skin over his nose was tight, owing to the sudden swelling +of two points, one on either side of the bone. + +"George, I couldn't leave him--again. I think now I may have been wrong +to leave him before. However, that's over. I couldn't leave him again. +It would be very wrong. He'd be all alone." + +"Well, then, let him be friends with me." + +"I do wish he would." + +"Yes. Well, wishing won't do much good. If there's any trouble it's +entirely your father's fault. And what I want to know is--will you give +me your absolute promise to marry me in two years' time?" + +"I can't, George. It wouldn't be honest. I can't! I can't! How can you +ask me to throw over my duty to father?" + +He rose and walked away again. She was profoundly moved, but no sympathy +for her mitigated his resentment. He considered that her attitude was +utterly monstrous--monstrous! He could not find a word adequate for it. +He was furious; his fury increased with each moment. He returned to the +prow, but did not sit down. + +"Don't you think, then, you ought to choose between your father and me?" +he said in a low, hard voice, standing over her. + +"What do you mean?" she faltered. + +"What do I mean? It's plain enough what I mean, isn't it? Your father +may live twenty years yet. Nobody knows. The older he gets the more +obstinate he'll be. We may be kept hanging about for years and years and +years. Indefinitely. What's the sense of it? You say you've got your +duty, but what's the object of being engaged?" + +"Do you want to break it off, George?" + +"Now don't put it like that. You know I don't want to break it off. You +know I want to marry you. Only you won't, and I'm not going to be made a +fool of. I'm absolutely innocent." + +"Of course you are!" she agreed eagerly. + +"Well, I'm not going to be made a fool of by your father. If we're +engaged, you know what it means. Marriage. If it doesn't mean that, then +I say we've no right to be engaged." + +Marguerite seemed to recoil at the last words, but she recovered +herself. And then, heedless of being in a public place, she drew off her +glove, and drew the engagement ring from her finger, and held it out to +George. She could not speak. The gesture was her language. George was +extremely staggered. He was stupefied for an instant. Then he took the +ring, and under an uncontrollable savage impulse he threw it into the +river. He did not move for a considerable time, staring at the river in +front. Neither did she move. At length he said in a cold voice, without +moving his head: + +"Here's Chelsea Pier." + +She got up and walked to the rail amidships. He followed. The steamer +moored. A section of rail slid aside. The pier-keeper gave a hand to +Marguerite, who jumped on to the pier. George hesitated. The pier-keeper +challenged him testily: + +"Now then, are ye coming ashore or aren't ye?" + +George could not move. The pier-keeper banged the rail to close the gap, +and cast off the ropes, and the steamer resumed her voyage. + +A minute later George saw Marguerite slowly crossing the gangway from +the pier to the embankment. There she went! She was about to be +swallowed up in the waste of human dwellings, in the measureless and +tragic expanse of the indifferent town.... She was gone. Curse her, with +her reliability! She was too reliable. He knew that. Her father could +rely on her. Curse her, with her outrageous, incredibly cruel, and +unjust sense of duty! She had held him once. Once the sight of her had +made him turn hot and cold. Once the prospect of life without her had +seemed unbearable. He had loved her instinctively and intensely. He now +judged and condemned her. Her beauty, her sweetness, her belief in him, +her reliability--these qualities were neutralized by her sense of duty, +awful, uncompromising, blind to fundamental justice. The affair was +over. If he knew her, he knew also himself. The affair was over. He was +in despair. His mind went round and round like a life-prisoner +exercising in an enclosed yard. No escape! Till then, he had always +believed in his luck. Infantile delusion! He was now aware that destiny +had struck him a blow once for all. But of course he did not perceive +that he was too young, not ripe, for such a blow. The mark of destiny +was on his features, and it was out of place there.... He had lost +Marguerite. And what had he lost? What was there in her? She was not +brilliant; she had no position; she had neither learning nor wit. He +could remember nothing remarkable that they had ever said to each other. +Indeed, their conversations had generally been rather banal. But he +could remember how they had felt, how he had felt, in their hours +together.... The sensation communicated to him by her hand when he had +drawn off her glove in the tremendous silence of the hansom! Marvellous, +exquisite, magical sensation that no words of his could render! And +there had been others as rare. These scenes were love; they were +Marguerite; they were what he had lost.... Strange, that he should throw +the ring into the river! Nevertheless it was a right gesture. She +deserved it. She was absolutely wrong; he was absolutely right--she had +admitted it. Towards him she had no excuse. Logically her attitude was +absurd. Yet no argument would change it. Stupid--that was what she was! +Stupid! And ruthless! She would be capable of martyrizing the whole +world to her sense of duty, her damnable, insane sense of duty.... She +was gone. He was ruined; she had ruined him. But he respected her. He +hated to respect her, but he respected her. + +A thought leapt up in his mind--and who could have guessed it? It was +the thought that the secrecy of the engagement would save him from a +great deal of public humiliation. He would have loathed saying: "We've +broken it off." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +INSPIRATION + +I + + +George, despite his own dispositions, as he went up in the lift, to +obviate the danger of such a mishap, was put out of countenance by the +overwhelming splendour of Miss Irene Wheeler's flat. And he did not +quite recover his aplomb until the dinner was nearly finished. The rooms +were very large and lofty; they blazed with electric light, though the +day had not yet gone; they gleamed with the polish of furniture, enamel, +bookbindings, marble, ivory, and precious metals; they were ennobled by +magnificent pictures, and purified by immense quantities of lovely +flowers. George had made the mistake of arriving last. He found in the +vast drawing-room five people who had the air of being at home and +intimate together. There were, in addition to the hostess, Lois and +Laurencine Ingram, Everard Lucas, and a Frenchman from the French +Embassy whose name he did not catch. Miss Wheeler wore an elaborate +Oriental costume, and apologized for its simplicity on the grounds that +she was fatigued by a crowded and tiresome reception which she had held +that afternoon, and that the dinner was to be without ceremony. This +said, her conversation seemed to fail, but she remained by George's +side, apart from the others. George saw not the least vestige of the +ruinous disorder which, in the society to which he was accustomed, +usually accompanied a big afternoon tea, or any sign of a lack of +ceremony. He had encountered two male servants in the hall, and had also +glimpsed a mulatto woman in a black dress and a white apron, and a +Frenchwoman in a black dress and a black apron. Now a third man-servant +entered, bearing an enormous silver-gilt tray on which were +multitudinous bottles, glasses, decanters, and jugs. George comprehended +that _aperitifs_ were being offered. The tray contained enough cocktails +and other combinations, some already mingled and some not, to produce a +factitious appetite in the stomachs of a whole platoon. The girls +declined, Miss Wheeler declined, the Frenchman declined, George declined +(from prudence and diffidence); only Lucas took an _aperitif_, and he +took it, as George admitted, in style. The man-servant, superbly +indifferent to refusals, marched processionally off with the loaded +tray. The great principle of conspicuous ritualistic waste had been +illustrated in a manner to satisfy the most exacting standard of the +leisured class; and incidentally a subject of talk was provided. + +George observed the name of 'Renoir' on the gorgeous frame of a gorgeous +portrait in oils of the hostess. + +"Is that a Renoir?" he asked the taciturn Miss Wheeler, who seemed to +jump at the opening with relief. + +"Yes," she said, with her slight lisp. "I'm glad you noticed it. Come +and look at it. Do you think it's a good one? Do you like Renoir?" + +By good fortune George had seen a Renoir or two in Paris under the +guidance of Mr. Enwright. They stared at the portrait together. + +"It's awfully distinguished," he decided, employing a useful adjective +which he had borrowed from Mr. Enwright. + +"Isn't it!" she said, turning her wondrous complexion towards him, and +admiring his adjective. "I have a Boldini too." + +He followed her across the room to the Boldini portrait of herself, +which was dazzling in its malicious flattery. + +"And here's a Nicholson," she said. + +Those three portraits were the most striking pictures in the _salon_, +but there were others of at least equal value. + +"Are you interested in fans?" she demanded, and pulled down a switch +which illuminated the interior of a large cabinet full of fans. She +pointed out fans painted by Lami, Glaize, Jacquemart. "That one is +supposed to be a Lancret," she said. "But I'm not sure about it, and I +don't know anybody that is. Here's the latest book on the subject." She +indicated Lady Charlotte Schreiber's work in two volumes which, bound in +vellum and gold, lay on a table. "But of course it only deals with +English fans. However, Conder is going to do me a couple. He was here +yesterday to see me about them. Of course you know him. What a wonderful +man! The only really cosmopolitan artist in England, I say, now +Beardsley's dead. I've got a Siegfried drawing by Beardsley. He was a +great friend of mine. I adored him." + +"This is a fine thing," said George, touching a bronze of a young girl +on the same table as the books. + +"You think so?" Miss Wheeler responded uncertainly. "I suppose it _is_. +It's a Gilbert. He gave it me. But do you really think it compares with +this Barye? It doesn't, does it?" She directed him to another bronze of +a crouching cheetah. + +So she moved him about. He was dazed. His modest supply of adjectives +proved inadequate. When she paused, he murmured: + +"It's a great room you've managed to get here." + +"Ah!" she cried thinly. "But you've no idea of the trouble I've had over +this room. Do you know it's really two rooms. I had to take two flats in +order to fix this room." + +She was launched on a supreme topic, and George heard a full history. +She would not have a house. She would have a flat. She instructed +house-agents to find for her the best flat in London. There was no best +flat in London. London landlords did not understand flats, which were +comprehended only in Paris. The least imperfect flats in London were two +on a floor, and as their drawing-rooms happened to be contiguous on +their longer sides, she had the idea of leasing two intolerable flats so +as to obtain one flat that was tolerable. She had had terrible +difficulties about the central heating. No flats in London were +centrally heated except in the corridors and on the staircases. However, +she had imposed her will on the landlord, and radiators had appeared in +every room. George had a vision of excessive wealth subjugating the +greatest artists and riding with implacable egotism over the customs and +institutions of a city obstinately conservative. The cost and the +complexity of Irene Wheeler's existence amazed and intimidated +George--for this double flat was only one of her residences. He wondered +what his parents would say if they could see him casually treading the +oak parquetry and the heavy rugs of the resplendent abode. And then he +thought, the humble and suspicious upstart: "There must be something +funny about her, or she wouldn't be asking _me_ here!" + +They went in to dinner, without ceremony. George was last, the hostess +close to his side. + +"Who's the Frenchman?" he inquired casually, with the sudden boldness +that often breaks out of timidity. "I didn't catch." + +"It's Monsieur Defourcambault," said Miss Wheeler in a low voice of +sincere admiration. "He's from the Embassy. A most interesting man. Been +everywhere. Seen everything. Read everything. Done everything." + +George could not but be struck by the ingenuous earnestness of her tone, +so different from the perfunctory accents in which she had catalogued +her objects of art. + +The dining-room, the dinner, and the service of the dinner were equally +superb. The broad table seemed small in the midst of the great +mysterious chamber, of which the illumination was confined by shades to +the centre. The glance wandering round the obscurity of the walls could +rest on nothing that was not obviously in good taste and very costly. +The three men-servants, moving soundless as phantoms, brought burdens +from a hidden country behind a gigantic screen, and at intervals in the +twilight near the screen could be detected the transient gleam of the +white apron of the mulatto, whose sex clashed delicately and piquantly +with the grave, priest-like performances of the male menials. The table +was of mahogany covered with a sheet of plate-glass. A large gold +epergne glittered in the middle. Suitably dispersed about the rim of the +board were six rectangular islands of pale lace, and on each island lay +a complete set of the innumerable instruments and condiments necessary +to the proper consumption of the meal. Thus, every diner dined +independently, cut off from his fellows, but able to communicate with +them across expanses of plate-glass over mahogany. George was confused +by the multiplicity of metal tools and crystal receptacles--he alone had +four wine-glasses--but in the handling of the tools he was saved from +shame by remembering the maxim--a masterpiece of terse clarity worthy of +a class which has given its best brains to the perfecting of the +formalities preliminary to deglutition: "Take always from the outside." + +The man from the French Embassy sat on the right of the hostess, and +George on her left. George had Lois Ingram on his left. Laurencine was +opposite her sister. Everard Lucas, by command of the hostess, had taken +the foot of the table and was a sort of 'Mr. Vice.' The six people were +soon divided into two equal groups, one silent and the other talkative, +the talkative three being M. Defourcambault, Laurencine and Lucas. The +diplomatist, though he could speak diplomatic English, persisted in +speaking French. Laurencine spoke French quite perfectly, with exactly +the same idiomatic ease as the Frenchman. Lucas neither spoke nor +understood French--he had been to a great public school. Nevertheless +these three attained positive loquacity. Lucas guessed at words, or the +Frenchman obliged with bits of English, or Laurencine interpreted. +Laurencine was far less prim and far more girlish than at the Cafe +Royal. She kept all the freshness of her intensely virginal quality, but +she was at ease. Her rather large body was at ease, continually restless +in awkward and exquisite gestures; she laughed at ease, and made fun at +ease. She appeared to have no sex-consciousness, nor even to suspect +that she was a most delightful creature. The conversation was disjointed +in its gaiety, and had no claim to the attention of the serious. +Laurencine said that Lucas ought really to know French. Lucas said he +would learn if she would teach him. Laurencine said that she would teach +him if he would have his first lesson instantly, during dinner. Lucas +said that wasn't fair. Laurencine said that it was. Both of them +appealed to M. Defourcambault. M. Defourcambault said that it was fair. +Lucas said that there was a plot between them, but that he would consent +to learn at once if Laurencine would play the piano for him after +dinner. Laurencine said she didn't play. Lucas said she did. M. +Defourcambault, invoked once again, said that she played magnificently. +Laurencine blushed, and asked M. Defourcambault how he could!... And so +on, indefinitely. It was all naught; yet the taciturn three, smiling +indulgently and glancing from one to another of the talkers, as taciturn +and constrained persons must, envied that peculiar ability to maintain a +rush and gush of chatter. + +George was greatly disappointed in Lois. In the period before dinner his +eyes had avoided her, and now, since they sat side by side, he could not +properly see her without deliberately looking at her: which he would not +do. She gave no manifestation. She was almost glum. Her French, though +free, was markedly inferior to Laurencine's. She denied any interest in +music. George decided, with self-condemnation, that he had been +deliberately creating in his own mind an illusion about her; on no other +hypothesis could either his impatience to meet her to-night, or his +disappointment at not meeting her on the night of the Cafe Royal dinner, +be explained. She was nothing, after all. And he did not deeply care for +Miss Irene Wheeler, whom he could watch at will. She might be concealing +something very marvellous, but she was dull, and she ignored the finer +responsibilities of a hostess. She collected many beautiful things; she +had some knowledge of what they were; she must be interested in them--or +why should she trouble to possess them? She must have taste. And yet had +she taste? Was she interested in her environment? A tone, a word, will +create suspicion that the exhibition of expertise for hours cannot +allay. George did not like the Frenchman. The Frenchman was about +thirty--small, thin, fair, with the worn face of the man who lives +several lives at once. He did not look kind; he did not look reliable; +and he offered little evidence in support of Miss Wheeler's ardent +assertion that he had been everywhere, seen everything, read everything, +done everything. He assuredly had not, for example, read Verlaine, who +was mentioned by Miss Wheeler. Now George had read one or two poems of +Verlaine, and thought them unique; hence he despised M. Defourcambault. +He could read French, in a way, but he was incapable of speaking a +single word of it in the presence of compatriots; the least +mono-syllable would have died on his lips. He was absurdly envious of +those who could speak two languages; he thought sometimes that he would +prefer to be able to speak two languages than to do anything else in the +world; not to be able to speak two languages humiliated him intensely; +he decided to 'take up French seriously' on the morrow; but he had +several times arrived at a similar decision. + +If Lois was glum, George too was glum. He wished he had not come to the +dinner; he wished he could be magically transported to the solitude of +his room at the club. He slipped into a reverie about the Marguerite +affair. Nobody could have divined that scarcely twenty-four hours +earlier he had played a principal part in a tragedy affecting his whole +life. He had borne the stroke better than he otherwise would have done +for the simple reason that nobody knew of his trouble. He had not to +arrange his countenance for the benefit of people who were aware what +was behind the countenance. But also he was philosophical. He recognized +that the Marguerite affair was over. She would never give way, and he +would never give way. She was wrong. He had been victimized. He had +behaved with wisdom and with correctness (save for the detail of +throwing the ring into the Thames). Agg's warnings and injunctions were +ridiculous. What could he have done that he had not done? Run away with +Marguerite, carry her off? Silly! No, he was well out of the affair. He +perceived the limitations of the world in which Marguerite lived. It was +a world too small and too austere for him. He required the spaciousness +and the splendour of the new world in which Irene Wheeler and the +Ingrams lived. Yea, though it was a world that excited the sardonic in +him, he liked it. It flattered authentic, if unsuspected, appetites in +him. Still, the image of Marguerite inhabited his memory. He saw her as +she stood between himself and old Haim in the basement of No. 8. He +heard her.... She was absolutely unlike any other girl; she was so +gentle, so acquiescent. Only she put her lover second to her father.... +What would Miss Wheeler think of the basement of No. 8? + +The chatterers, apropos of songs in musical comedies, were talking about +a French popular song concerning Boulanger. + +"You knew Boulanger, didn't you, Jules?" Miss Wheeler suggested. + +M. Defourcambault looked round, content. He related in English how his +father had been in the very centre of the Boulangist movement, and had +predicted disaster to the General's cause from the instant that Madame +de Bonnemain came on the scene. (Out of consideration for the girls, M. +Defourcambault phrased his narrative with neat discretion.) His +grandfather also had been of his father's opinion, and his grandfather +was in the Senate, and had been Minister at Brussels.... He affirmed +that Madame de Bonnemain had telegraphed to Boulanger to leave Paris at +the very moment when his presence in Paris was essential, and Boulanger +had obediently gone. He said that he always remembered what his mother +had said to him: a clever woman irregularly in love with a man may make +his fortune, but a stupid woman is certain to ruin it. Finally he +related how he, Jules Defourcambault, had driven the General's carriage +on a famous occasion through Paris, and how the populace in its frenzy +of idolatry had even climbed on to the roof of the carriage. + +"And what did you do, then?" George demanded in the hard tone of a +cross-examiner. + +"I drove straight on," said M. Defourcambault, returning George's cold +stare. + +This close glimpse into history--into politics and passion--excited +George considerably. He was furiously envious of M. Defourcambault, who +had been in the middle of things all his life, whose father, mother, and +grandfather were all in the middle of things. M. Defourcambault had an +immense and unfair advantage over him. To whatever heights he might +rise, George would never be in a position to talk as M. Defourcambault +talked of his forbears. He would always have to stand alone, and to +fight for all he wanted. He could not even refer to his father. He +scorned M. Defourcambault because M. Defourcambault was not worthy of +his heritage. M. Defourcambault was a little rotter, yet he had driven +the carriage of Boulanger in a crisis of the history of France! Miss +Wheeler, however, did not scorn M. Defourcambault. On the contrary, she +looked at him with admiration, as though he had now proved that he had +been everywhere, seen everything, and done everything. George's mood was +black. He was a nobody; he would always be a nobody; why should he be +wasting his time and looking a fool in this new world? + + +II + + +After dinner, in the drawing-room which had cost Irene Wheeler an extra +flat, there was, during coffee, a certain amount of general dullness, +slackness, and self-consciousness which demonstrated once more Miss +Wheeler's defects as a hostess. Miss Wheeler would not or could not act +as shepherdess and inspirer to her guests. She reclined, and charmingly +left them to manufacture the evening for her. George was still +disappointed and disgusted; for he had imagined, very absurdly as he +admitted, that artistic luxuriousness always implied social dexterity +and the ability to energize and reinvigorate diversion without apparent +effort. There were moments during coffee which reminded him of the +maladroit hospitalities of the Five Towns. + +Then Everard Lucas opened the piano, and the duel between him and +Laurencine was resumed. The girl yielded. Electric lights were adjusted. +She began to play, while Lucas, smoking, leaned over the piano. George +was standing by himself at a little distance behind the piano. He had +perhaps been on his way to a chair when suddenly caught and immobilized +by one of those hazards which do notoriously occur--the victim never +remembers how--in drawing-rooms. Hands in pockets, he looked aimlessly +about, smiling perfunctorily, and wondering where he should settle or +whether he should remain where he was. In the deep embrasure of the +large east bow-window Lois was lounging. She beckoned to him, not with +her hand but with a brief, bright smile--she smiled rarely--and with a +lifting of the chin. He responded alertly and pleasurably, and went to +sit beside her. Such invitations from young women holding themselves +apart in obscurity are never received without excitement and never +unanswered. + +Crimson curtains of brocaded silk would have cut off the embrasure +entirely from the room had they been fully drawn, but they were not +fully drawn; one was not drawn at all, and the other was only half +drawn. Still, the mere fact of the curtains, drawn or undrawn, did +morally separate the embrasure from the _salon_; and the shadows +thickened in front of the window. The smile had gone from Lois's face, +but it had been there. Sequins glittered on her dark dress, the line of +the low neck of which was distinct against the pallor of the flesh. +George could follow the outlines of her slanted, plump body from the +hair and freckled face down to the elaborate shoes. The eyes were half +closed. She did not speak. The figure of Laurencine, whose back was +towards the window, received an aura from the electric light immediately +over the music-stand of the piano. She played brilliantly. She played +with a brilliance that astonished George.... She was exceedingly clever, +was this awkward girl who had not long since left school Her body might +be awkward, but not her hands. The music radiated from the piano and +filled the room with brightness, with the illusion of the joy of life, +and with a sense of triumph. To George it was an intoxication. + +A man-servant entered with a priceless collection of bon-bons, some of +which he deferentially placed on a small table in the embrasure. To do +so he had to come into the embrasure, disturbing the solitude, which had +already begun to exist, of Lois and George. He ignored the pair. His +sublime indifference seemed to say: "I am beyond good and evil." But at +the same time it left them more sensitively awake to themselves than +before. The hostess indolently muttered an order to the man, and in +passing the door on his way out he extinguished several lights. The +place and the hour grew romantic. George was impressed by the scene, and +he eagerly allowed it to impress him. It was, to him, a marvellous +scene; the splendour of the apartment, the richly attired girls, the +gay, exciting music, the spots of high light, the glooms, the glimpses +everywhere of lovely objects. He said to himself: "I was born for this." + +Lois turned her head slowly and looked out of the window. + +"Wonderful view from here," she murmured. + +George turned his head. The flat was on the sixth story. The slope of +central London lay beneath. There was no moon, but there were stars in a +clear night. Roofs; lighted windows; lines of lighted traffic; lines of +lamps patterning the invisible meadows of a park; hiatuses of blackness; +beyond, several towers scarcely discernible against the sky--the towers +of Parliament, and the high tower of the Roman Catholic Cathedral: these +were London. + +"You haven't seen it in daytime, have you?" said Lois. + +"No. I'd sooner see it at night." + +"So would I." + +The reply, the sympathy in it, the soft, thrilled tone of It, startled +him. His curiosity about Lois was being justified, after all. And he was +startled too at the extraordinary surprises of his own being. Yesterday +he had parted from Marguerite; not ten years ago, but yesterday. And now +already he was conscious of pleasure, both physical and spiritual, in +the voice of another girl heard in the withdrawn obscurity of the +embrasure. Yes, and a girl whom he had despised! Yesterday he had +seriously believed himself to be a celibate for life; he had dismissed +for ever the hope of happiness. He had seen naught but a dogged and +eternal infelicity. And now he was, if not finding happiness, expecting +it. He felt disloyal--less precisely to Marguerite than to a vanished +ideal. He felt that he ought to be ashamed. For Marguerite still +existed; she was existing at that moment less than three miles +off--somewhere over there in the dark. + +"See the Cathedral tower?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered. "What a shame Bentley died, wasn't it?" + +He was more than startled, now--he was amazed and enchanted. Something +touching and strange in her voice usually hard; something in the elegant +fragility of her slipper! Everybody knew that Bentley was the architect +of the Cathedral and that he had died of cancer on the tongue. The +knowledge was not esoteric; it did not by itself indicate a passion for +architecture or a comprehension of architecture. Yet when she said the +exclamatory words, leaning far back in the seat, her throat emerging +from the sequined frock, her tapping slipper peeping out beneath the +skirt, she cast a spell on him. He perceived in her a woman gifted and +endowed. This was the girl whom he had bullied in the automobile. She +must have bowed in secret to his bullying; though he knew she had been +hurt by it, she had given no sign of resentment, and her voice was +acquiescent. Above all, she had remembered him. + +"You only like doing very large buildings, don't you?" she suggested. + +"Who told you?" + +"Everard." + +"Oh! Did old Lucas tell you? Well, he's quite right." + +He had a sudden desire to talk to her about the great municipal building +in the north that was soon to be competed for. He yielded to the desire. +She listened, motionless. He gave vent to his regret that Mr. Enwright +absolutely declined to enter for the competition. He said he had had +ideas for it, and would have liked to work for it. + +"But why don't you go in for it yourself, George?" she murmured gravely. + +"Me!" he exclaimed, almost frightened. "It wouldn't be any good. I'm too +young. Besides----" + +"How old are you?" + +"Twenty-one." + +"Good heavens! You look twenty-five at least! I know I should go in for +it if I were you--if I were a man." + +He understood her. She could not talk well. She could not easily be +agreeable; she could easily be rude; she could not play the piano like +the delightful Laurencine. But she was passionate. And she knew the +force of ambition. He admired ambition perhaps more than anything. +Ambition roused him. She was ambitious when she drove the automobile and +endangered his life.... She had called him by his Christian name quite +naturally. There was absolutely no nonsense about her. Now Marguerite +was not in the slightest degree ambitious. The word had no significance +for her. + +"I couldn't!" he insisted humbly. "I don't know enough. It's a terrific +affair." + +She made no response. But she looked at him, and suddenly he saw the +angel that Irene Wheeler and Laurencine had so enthusiastically spoken +of at the Cafe Royal! + +"I couldn't!" he murmured. + +He was insisting too much. He was insisting against himself. She had +implanted the idea in his mind. Why had he not thought of it? Certainly +he had not thought of it. Had he lacked courage to think of it? He +beheld the idea as though it was an utterly original discovery, +revolutionary, dismaying, and seductive. His inchoate plans for the +building took form afresh in his brain. And the luxury by which he was +surrounded whipped his ambition till it writhed. + +Curious, she said no more! After a moment she sat up and took a sweet. + +George saw, in a far corner, Jules Defourcambault talking very quietly +to Irene Wheeler, whose lackadaisical face had become ingenuous and +ardent as she listened to him under the shelter of the dazzling music. +George felt himself to be within the sphere of unguessed and highly +perturbing forces. + + +III + + +He left early. Lucas seemed to regard his departure as the act of a +traitor, but he insisted on leaving. And in spite of Lucas's great +social success he inwardly condescended to Lucas. Lucas was not a +serious man and could not comprehend seriousness. George went because he +had to go, because the power of an idea drove him forth. He had no +intention of sleeping. He walked automatically through dark London, and +his eyes, turned within, saw nothing of the city. He did not walk +quickly--he was too preoccupied to walk quickly--yet in his brain he was +hurrying, he had not a moment to lose. The goal was immensely far off. +His haste was as absurd and as fine as that of a man who, starting to +cross Europe on foot, must needs run in order to get out of Calais and +be fairly on his way. + +At Russell Square he wondered whether he would be able to get into the +office. However, there was still a light in the basement, and he rang +the house-bell. The housekeeper's daughter, a girl who played at being +parlourmaid in the afternoons and brought bad tea and thick +bread-and-butter to the privileged in the office, opened the front door +with bridling exclamations of astonishment. She had her best frock on; +her hair was in curling-pins; she smelt delicately of beer; the +excitement of the Sunday League excursion and of the evening's dalliance +had not quite cooled in this respectable and experienced young creature +of central London. She was very feminine and provocative and +unparlourmaidish, standing there in the hall, and George passed by her +as callously as though she had been a real parlourmaid on duty. She had +to fly to her mother for the key of the office. Taking the key from the +breathless, ardent little thing, he said that he would see to the front +door being properly shut when he went out. That was all. Her legitimate +curiosity about his visit had to go to bed hungry. + +In the office he switched on the lights in Haim's cubicle, in the +pupils' room, and in the principals' room. He enjoyed the illumination +and the solitude. He took deep breaths. He walked about. After rummaging +for the sketches and the printed site-plan of the town hall projected by +the northern city, he discovered them under John Orgreave's desk. He +moved them to Mr. Enwright's desk, which was the best one, and he bent +over them rapturously. Yes, the idea of entering for the competition +himself was a magnificent idea. Strange that it should have occurred +not to him, but to Lois! A disconcerting girl, Lois! She had said that +he looked twenty-five. He liked that. Why should he not enter for the +competition himself? He would enter for it. The decision was made, as +usual without consulting anybody; instinct was his sole guide. Failure +in the final examination was beside the point. Moreover, though he had +sworn never to sit again, he could easily sit again in December; he +could pass the exam, on his head. He might win the competition; to be +even in the selected first six or ten would rank as a glorious +achievement. But why should he not win outright? He was lucky, always +had been lucky. It was essential that he should win outright. It was +essential that he should create vast and grandiose structures, that he +should have both artistic fame and worldly success. He could not wait +long for success. He required luxury. He required a position enabling +him to meet anybody and everybody on equal terms, and to fulfil all his +desires. + +He would not admit that he was too young for the enterprise. He was not +too young. He refused to be too young. And indeed he felt that he had +that very night become adult, and that a new impulse, reducing all +previous impulses to unimportance, had inspired his life. He owed the +impulse to the baffling Lois. Marguerite would never have given him such +an impulse. Marguerite had no ambition either for herself or for him. +She was profoundly the wrong girl for him. He admitted his error +candidly, with the eagerness of youth. He had no shame about the +blunder. And the girl's environment was wrong for him also. What had he +to do with Chelsea? Chelsea was a parish; it was not the world. He had +been gravely disappointed in Chelsea. Marguerite had no shimmer of +romance. She was homely. And she was content with her sphere. And she +was not elegant; she had no kind of smartness; who would look twice at +her? And she was unjust, she was unfair. She had lacerated his highly +sensitive pride. She had dealt his conceit a frightful wound. He would +not think of it. + +And in fact he could ignore the wound in the exquisite activity of +creating town halls for mighty municipalities. He drew plans with +passion and with fury; he had scores of alternative schemes; he was a +god fashioning worlds. Having drawn plans, he drew elevations and +perspectives; he rushed to the files (rushed--because he was in haste to +reach the goal) and studied afresh the schedules of accommodation for +other municipal buildings that had been competed for in the past. Much +as he hated detail, he stooped rather humbly to detail that night, and +contended with it in all honesty. He worked for hours before he thought +of lighting a cigarette. + +It was something uncanny beyond the large windows that first gently and +perceptibly began to draw away his mind from the profusion of town halls +on the desk, and so indirectly reminded him of the existence of +cigarettes. When he lighted a cigarette he stretched himself and glanced +at the dark windows, of which the blinds had not been pulled down. He +understood then what was the matter. Dawn was the matter. The windows +were no longer quite dark. He looked out. A faint pallor in the sky, and +some stars sickening therein, and underneath the silent square with its +patient trees and indefatigable lamps! The cigarette tasted bad in his +mouth, but he would not give it up. He yawned heavily. The melancholy of +the square, awaiting without hope the slow, hard dawn, overcame him +suddenly.... Marguerite was a beautiful girl; her nose was marvellous; +he could never forget it. He could never forget her gesture as she +intervened between him and her father in the basement at Alexandra +Grove. They had painted lamp-shades together. She was angelically kind; +she could not be ruffled; she would never criticize, never grasp, never +exhibit selfishness. She was a unique combination of the serious and the +sensuous. He felt the passionate, ecstatic clinging of her arm as they +walked under the interminable chain of lamp-posts on Chelsea Embankment. +Magical hours!... And how she could absorb herself in her work! And what +a damned shame it was that rascally employers should have cut down her +prices! It was intolerable; it would not bear thinking about. He dropped +the cigarette and stamped on it angrily. Then he returned to the desk, +and put his head in his hands and shut his eyes. + +He awakened with a start of misgiving. He was alone in the huge house +(for the basement was under the house and, somehow, did not count). +Something was astir in the house. He could hear it through the doors +ajar. His flesh crept. It was exactly like the flap of a washing-cloth +on the stone stairs; it stopped; it came nearer. He thought inevitably +of the dead Mrs. Haim, once charwoman and step cleaner. In an instant he +believed fully in all that he had ever heard about ghosts and spirit +manifestations. An icy wave passed down his spine. He felt that if the +phantom of Mrs. Haim was approaching him he simply could not bear to +meet it. The ordeal would kill him. Then he decided that the sounds were +not those of a washing-cloth, but of slippered feet. Odd that he should +have been so deluded. Somebody was coming down the long stairs from the +upper stories, uninhabited at night. Burglars? He was still very +perturbed, but differently perturbed. He could not move a muscle. The +suspense as the footsteps hesitated at the cubicle was awful. George +stood up straight and called out in a rough voice--louder than he +expected it to be: + +"Who's there?" + +Mr. Enwright appeared. He was wearing beautiful blue pyjamas and a +plum-coloured silk dressing-gown and doe-skin slippers. His hair was +extremely deranged; he blinked rapidly, and his lined face seemed very +old. + +"Well, I like this, I like this!" he said in a quiet, sardonic tone. +"Sitting at my desk and blazing my electricity away! I happened to get +up, and I looked out of the window and noticed the glare below. So I +came to see what was afoot. Do you know you frightened me?--and I don't +like being frightened." + +"I hadn't the slightest notion you ever slept here," George feebly +stammered. + +"Didn't you know I'd decided to keep a couple of rooms here for myself?" + +"I had heard something about it, but I didn't know you'd really moved +in. I--I've been away so much." + +"I moved in, as you call it, to-day--yesterday, and a nice night you're +giving me! And even supposing I hadn't moved in, what's that got to do +with your being here? Give me a cigarette." + +With hurrying deference George gave the cigarette, and struck a match +for it, and as he held the match he had a near view of Mr. Enwright's +prosaic unshaved chin. The house was no longer the haunt of lurking +phantoms; it was a common worldly house without any mystery or any +menace. George's skin was no longer the field of abnormal phenomena. +Dawn was conquering Russell Square. On the other hand, George was no +longer a giant of energy, initiating out of ample experience a +tremendous and superb enterprise. He was suddenly diminished to a boy, +or at best a lad. He really felt that it was ridiculous for him to be +sketching and scratching away there in the middle of the night in his +dress-clothes. Even his overcoat, hat, and fancy muffler cast on a chair +seemed ridiculous. He was a child, pretending to be an adult. He glanced +like a child at Mr. Enwright; he roughened his hair with his hand like a +child. He had the most wistful and apologetic air. + +He said: + +"I just came along here for a bit instead of going to bed. I didn't know +it was so late." + +"Do you often just come along here?" + +"No. I never did it before. But to-night----" + +"What is it you're _at_?" + +"I'd been thinking a bit about that new town hall." + +"What new town hall?" + +"You know----" + +Mr. Enwright did know. + +"But haven't I even yet succeeded in making it clear that this firm is +not going in for that particular competition?" + +Mr. Enwright's sarcastic and discontented tone challenged George, who +stiffened. + +"Oh! I know the firm isn't going in for it. But what's the matter with +me going in for it?" + +He forced himself to meet Mr. Enwright's eyes, but he could not help +blushing. He was scarcely out of his articles; he had failed in the +Final; and he aspired to create the largest English public building of +the last half-century. + +"Are you quite mad?" Mr. Enwright turned away from the desk to the +farther window, hiding his countenance. + +"Yes," said George firmly. "Quite!" + +Mr. Enwright, after a pause, came back to the desk. + +"Well, it's something to admit that," he sneered. "At any rate, we know +where we are. Let's have a look at the horrid mess." + +He made a number of curt observations as he handled the sheets of +sketches. + +"I see you've got that Saracenic touch in again." + +"What's the scale here?" + +"Is this really a town hall, or are you trying to beat the Temple at +Karnak?" + +"If that's meant for an Ionic capital, no assessor would stand it. It's +against all the textbooks to have Ionic capitals where there's a +side-view of them. Not that it matters to me." + +"Have you made the slightest attempt to cube it up? You'd never get out +of this under half a million, you know." + +Shaking his head, he retired once more to the window. George began to +breathe more freely, as one who has fronted danger and still lives. Mr. +Enwright addressed the window: + +"It's absolute folly to start on a thing like that before the conditions +are out. Absolute folly. Have you done all that to-night?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you've shifted the stuff.... But you haven't the slightest notion +what accommodation they want. You simply don't know." + +"I know what accommodation they _ought_ to want with four hundred +thousand inhabitants," George retorted pugnaciously. + +"Is it four hundred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with bland innocence. +He generally left statistics to his partner. + +"Four hundred and twenty-five." + +"You've looked it up?" + +"I have." + +Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again. + +"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the principal sheet +and blinking. + +"_I shall go in for it_!" The thought swept through George's brain like +a fierce flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and +incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those produced +by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught admiration and +benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was intensely happy, +encouraged, and proud. He began to talk eagerly; he babbled, entrusting +himself to Mr. Enwright's benevolence. + +"Of course there's the Final. If they give six months for the thing I +could easily get through the Final before sending-in day. I could take a +room somewhere. I shouldn't really want any assistance--clerk, I mean. I +could do it all myself...." He ran on until Mr. Enwright stopped him. + +"You could have a room here--upstairs." + +"Could I?" + +"But you would want some help. And you needn't think they'll give six +months, because they won't. They might give five." + +"That's no good." + +"Why isn't it any good?" snapped Mr. Enwright. "You don't suppose +they're going to issue the conditions just yet, do you? Not a day before +September, not a day. And you can take it from me!" + +"Oh! Hurrah!" + +"But look here, my boy, let's be clear about one thing." + +"Yes?" + +"You're quite mad." + +They looked at each other. + +"The harmless kind, though," said George confidently, well aware that +Mr. Enwright doted upon him. + +In another minute the principal had gone to bed, without having uttered +one word as to his health. George had announced that he should tidy the +sacred desk before departing. When he had done that he wrote a letter, +in pencil. "It's the least I can do," he said to himself seriously. He +began: + +"DEAR MISS INGRAM."--"Dash it!--She calls me 'George,'" he thought, and +tore up the sheet.--"DEAR LOIS,--I think after what you said it's only +due to you to tell you that I've decided to go in for that competition +on my own. Thanks for the tip.--Yours, GEORGE CANNON" + +He surveyed the message. + +"That's about right," he murmured. + +Then he looked at his watch. It showed 3.15, but it had ceased to beat. +He added at the foot of the letter: "Monday, 3.30 a.m." He stole one of +John Orgreave's ready-stamped envelopes. + +In quitting the house he inadvertently banged the heavy front door. + +"Do 'em good!" he said, thinking of awakened sleepers. + +It was now quite light. He dropped the letter into the pillar-box round +the corner, and as soon as he had irretrievably done so, the thought +occurred to him: "I wish I hadn't put '3.30 a.m.' There's something +rottenly sentimental about it." The chill fresh air was bracing him to a +more perfect sanity. He raised the collar of his overcoat. + + +IV + + +At the club on Tuesday morning Downs brought to his bedside a letter +addressed in a large, striking, and untidy hand. Not until he had +generally examined the letter did he realize that it was from Lois +Ingram. He remembered having mentioned to her that he lived at his +club--Pickering's; but he had laid no stress on the detail, nor had she +seemed to notice it. Yet she must have noticed it. + +"DEAR GEORGE,--I am so glad. Miss Wheeler is going to her bootmaker's in +Conduit Street to-morrow afternoon. She's always such a long time there. +Come and have tea with me at the new Prosser's in Regent Street, four +sharp. I shall have half an hour.--L.I." + +In his heart he pretended to jeer at this letter. He said it was 'like' +Lois. She calmly assumed that at a sign from her he, a busy man, would +arrange to be free in the middle of the afternoon! Doubtless the letter +was the consequence of putting '3.30 a.m.' on his own letter. What could +a fellow expect?... + +All pretence! In reality the letter flattered and excited him. He +thought upon the necktie he would wear. + +By the same post arrived a small parcel: it contained a ring, a few +other bits of jewellery, and all the letters and notes that he had ever +written or scribbled to Marguerite. He did not want the jewellery back; +he did not want the letters back. To receive them somehow humiliated +him. Surely she might have omitted this nauseous conventionality! She +was so exasperatingly conscientious. Her neat, clerk-like calligraphy, +on the label of the parcel, exasperated him. She had carefully kept +every scrap of a missive from him. He hated to look at the letters. What +could he do with them except rip them up? And the miserable +trinkets--which she had worn, which had been part of her? As for him, he +had not kept all her letters--not by any means. There might be a few, +lying about in drawers. He would have to collect and return them. Odious +job! And he could not ask anybody else to do it for him. + +He was obliged to question Lucas about the Regent Street Prosser's, of +which, regrettably, he had never heard. He did not, in so many words, +request John Orgreave for the favour of an hour off. He was now out of +his articles, though still by the force of inertia at the office, and +therefore he informed John Orgreave that unless Mr. John had any +objection he proposed to take an hour off. Mr. Enwright was not in. +Lucas knew vaguely of the rendezvous, having somewhere met Laurencine. + +From the outside Prosser's was not distinguishable from any other part +of Regent Street. But George could not mistake it, because Miss +Wheeler's car was drawn up in front of the establishment, and Lois was +waiting for him therein. Strange procedure! She smiled and then frowned, +and got out sternly. She said scarcely anything, and he found that he +could make only such silly remarks as: "Hope I'm not late, am I?" + +The new Prosser's was a grandiose by-product of chocolate. The firm had +taken the leading ideas of the chief tea-shop companies catering for the +million in hundreds of establishments arranged according to pattern, and +elaborated them with what is called in its advertisements 'cachet.' Its +prices were not as cheap as those of the popular houses, but they could +not be called dear. George and Lois pushed through a crowded lane of +chocolate and confectionery, past a staircase which bore a large notice: +"Please keep to the right." This notice was needed. They came at length +to the main hall, under a dome, with a gallery between the dome and the +ground. The floor was carpeted. The multitudinous small tables had +cloths, flowers, silver, and menus knotted with red satin ribbon. The +place was full of people, people seated at the tables and people walking +about. Above the rail of the gallery could be seen the hats and heads of +more people. People were entering all the time and leaving all the time. +Scores of waitresses, in pale green and white, moved to and fro like an +alien and mercenary population. The heat, the stir, the hum, and the +clatter were terrific. And from on high descended thin, strident music +in a rapid and monotonous rhythm. + +"No room!" said George, feeling that he had at last got into the true +arena of the struggle for life. + +"Oh yes!" said Lois, with superior confidence. + +She bore mercilessly across the floor. Round the edge of the huge room, +beneath the gallery, were a number of little alcoves framed in fretted +Moorish arches of white-enamelled wood. Three persons were just emerging +from one of these. She sprang within, and sank into a wicker arm-chair. + +"There is always a table," she breathed, surveying the whole scene with +a smile of conquest. + +George sat down opposite to her with his back to the hall; he could +survey nothing but Lois, and the world of the mirror behind her. + +"That's one of father's maxims," she said. + +"What is?" + +"'There is always a table.' Well, you know, there always is." + +"He must be a very wise man." + +"He is." + +"What's his special line?" + +She exclaimed: + +"Don't you know father? Hasn't Miss Wheeler told you? Or Mrs. Orgreave?" + +"No." + +"But you must know father. Father's 'Parisian' in _The Sunday Journal_." + +Despite the mention of this ancient and very dignified newspaper, George +felt a sense of disappointment. He had little esteem for journalists, +whom Mr. Enwright was continually scoffing at, and whom he imagined to +be all poor. He had conceived Mr. Ingram as perhaps a rich cosmopolitan +financier, or a rich idler--but at any rate rich, whatever he might be. + +"Of course he does lots of other work besides that. He writes for the +_Pall Mall Gazette_ and the _St. James's Gazette._ In fact it's his +proud boast that he writes for all the gazettes, and he's the only man +who does. That's because he's so liked. Everybody adores him. I adore +him myself. He's a great pal of mine. But he's very strict." + +"Strict?" + +"Yes," she insisted, rather defensively. "Why not? I should like a +strawberry ice, and a lemon-squash, and a millefeuille cake. Don't be +alarmed, please. I'm a cave-woman. You've got to get used to it." + +"What's a cave-woman?" + +"It's something primitive. You must come over to Paris. If father likes +you, he'll take you to one of the weekly lunches of the Anglo-American +Press Circle. He always does that when he likes anyone. He's the +Treasurer.... Haven't you got any millefeuille cakes?" she demanded of +the waitress, who had come to renew the table and had deposited a basket +of various cakes. + +"I'm afraid we haven't, miss," answered the waitress, not comprehending +the strange word any better than George did. + +"Bit rowdy, isn't it?" George observed, looking round, when the waitress +had gone. + +Lois said with earnestness: + +"I simply love these big, noisy places. They make me feel alive." + +He looked at her. She was very well dressed--more stylistic than any +girl that he could see in the mirror. He could not be sure whether or +not her yellow eyes had a slight cast; if they had, it was so slight as +to be almost imperceptible. There was no trace of diffidence in them; +they commanded. She was not a girl whom you could masculinely protect. +On the contrary, she would protect not only herself but others. + +"Haven't you cream?" she curtly challenged the waitress, arriving with +ice, lemon-squash, and George's tea. + +The alien mercenary met her glance inimically for a second, and then, +shutting her lips together, walked off with the milk. At Prosser's the +waitresses did not wear caps, and were, in theory, ladies. Lois would +have none of the theory; the waitress was ready to die for it and +carried it away with her intact. George preferred milk to cream, but he +said nothing. + +"Yes," Lois went on. "You ought to come to Paris. You have been, haven't +you? I remember you told me. We're supposed to go back next week, but if +Irene doesn't go, I shan't." She frowned. + +George said that positively he would come to Paris. + +When they had fairly begun the rich, barbaric meal, Lois asked abruptly: + +"Why did you write in the middle of the night?" + +Sometimes her voice was veiled. + +"Why did I write in the middle of the night? Because I thought I would." +He spoke masterfully. He didn't mean to stand any of her cheek. + +"Oh!" she laughed nicely. "_I_ didn't mind. I liked it--awfully. It was +just the sort of thing I should have done myself. But you might tell me +all about it. I think I deserve that much, don't you?" + +Thus he told her all about it--how he had arranged everything, got a +room, meant to have his name painted on the door, meant to make his +parents take their holiday on the north-east coast for a change, so that +he could study the site, meant to work like a hundred devils, etc. He +saw with satisfaction that the arrogant, wilful creature was impressed. + +She said: + +"Now listen to me. You'll win that competition." + +"I shan't," he said. "But it's worth trying, for the experience--that's +what Enwright says." + +She said: + +"I don't care a fig what Enwright says. You'll win that competition. I'm +always right when I sort of feel--you know." + +For the moment he believed in the miraculous, inexplicable intuitions of +women. + +"Oh!" she cried, as the invisible orchestra started a new tune. "Do you +know that? It's the first time I've heard it in London. It's the +_machiche_. It's all over Paris. I think it's the most wonderful tune in +the world." Her body swayed; her foot tapped. + +George listened. Yes, it was a maddening tune. + +"It is," he agreed eagerly. + +She cried: + +"Oh! I do love pleasure! And success! And money! Don't you?" + +Her eyes had softened; they were liquid with yearning; but there was +something frankly sensual in them. This quality, swiftly revealed, +attracted George intensely for an instant. + +Immediately afterwards she asked the time, and said she must go. + +"I daren't keep Irene waiting," she said. Her eyes now had a hard +glitter. + +In full Regent Street he put the haughty girl into Irene's automobile, +which had turned round; he was proud to be seen in the act; he privately +enjoyed the glances of common, unsuccessful persons. As he walked away +he smiled to himself, to hide from himself his own nervous excitement. +She was a handful, she was. Within her life burned and blazed. He +remembered Mr. Prince's remark: "You must have made a considerable +impression on her," or words to that effect. The startling thought +visited him: "I shall marry that woman." Then another thought: "Not if I +know it! I don't like her. I do not like her. I don't like her eyes." + +She had, however, tremendously intensified in him the desire for +success. He hurried off to work. The days passed too slowly, and yet +they were too short for his task. He could not wait for the fullness of +time. His life had become a breathless race. "I shall win. I can't +possibly win. The thing's idiotic. I might.... Enwright's rather +struck." Yes, it was Mr. Enwright's attitude that inspired him. To have +impressed Mr. Enwright--by Jove, it was something! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +COMPETITION + +I + + +On the face of the door on the third floor of the house in Russell +Square the words 'G.E. Cannon' appeared in dirty white paint and the +freshly added initials 'A.R.I.B.A.' in clean white paint. The addition +of the triumphant initials (indicating that George had kissed the rod of +the Royal Institute of British Architects in order to conquer) had put +the sign as a whole out of centre, throwing it considerably to the right +on the green door-face. Within the small and bare room, on an evening in +earliest spring in 1904, sat George at the customary large flat desk of +the architect. He had just switched on the electric light over his head. +He looked sterner and older; he looked very worried, fretful, exhausted. +He was thin and pale; his eyes burned, and there were dark patches under +the eyes; the discipline of the hair had been rather gravely neglected. +In front of George lay a number of large plans, mounted on thick +cardboard, whose upper surface had a slight convex curve. There were +plans of the basement of the projected town hall, of the ground floor, +of the building at a height of twelve feet from the ground, of the +mezzanine floor, of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth floors; +these plans were coloured. Further, in plain black and white, there were +a plan of the roof (with tower), a longitudinal section on the central +axis, two other sections, three elevations, and a perspective view of +the entire edifice. Seventeen sheets in all. + +The sum of work seemed tremendous; it made the mind dizzy; it made +George smile with terrible satisfaction at his own industry. For he had +engaged very little help. He would have been compelled to engage more, +had not the Corporation extended by one month the time for sending in. +The Corporation had behaved with singular enlightenment. Its schedules +of required accommodation (George's copy was scored over everywhere in +pencil and ink and seriously torn) were held to be admirably drawn, and +its supplementary circular of answers to questions from competitors had +displayed a clarity and a breadth of mind unusual in corporations. +Still more to the point, the Corporation had appointed a second assessor +to act with Sir Hugh Corver. In short, it had shown that it was under no +mandarin's thumb, and that what it really and seriously wanted was the +best design that the profession could produce. Mr. Enwright, indeed, had +nearly admitted regret at having kept out of the immense affair. John +Orgreave had expressed regret with vigour and candour. They had in the +main left George alone, though occasionally at night Mr. Enwright, in +the little room, had suggested valuable solutions of certain problems. +In detail he was severely critical of George's design, and he would pour +delicate satires upon the idiosyncrasy which caused the wilful boy to +'impurify' (a word from Enwright's private vocabulary) a Renaissance +creation with Saracenic tendencies in the treatment of arches and +wall-spaces. + +Nevertheless Mr. Enwright greatly respected the design in its entirety, +and both he and John Orgreave (who had collected by the subterranean +channels of the profession a large amount of fact and rumour about the +efforts of various competitors) opined that it stood a fair chance of +being among the selected six or ten whose authors would be invited to +submit final designs for the final award. George tried to be hopeful; +but he could not be hopeful by trying. It was impossible to believe that +he would succeed; the notion was preposterous; yet at moments, when he +was not cultivating optimism, optimism would impregnate all his being, +and he would be convinced that it was impossible not to win. How +inconceivably grand! His chief rallying thought was that he had +undertaken a gigantic task and had accomplished it. Well or ill, he had +accomplished it. He said to himself aloud: + +"I've done it! I've done it!" + +And that he actually had done it was almost incredible. The very sheets +of drawings were almost incredible. But they existed there. All was +complete. The declaration that the design was G.E. Cannon's personal +work, drawn in his own office by his ordinary staff, was there, in the +printed envelope officially supplied by the Corporation. The estimate of +cost and the cubing was there. The explanatory report on the design, +duly typewritten, was there. Nothing lacked. + +"I've done it! I've done it!" + +And then, tired as he was, the conscience of the creative artist and of +the competitor began to annoy him and spur him. The perspective drawing +did not quite satisfy--and there was still time. The point of view for +the perspective drawing was too high up, and the result was a certain +marring of the nobility of the lines, and certainly a diminishment of +the effect of the tower. He had previously started another perspective +drawing with a lower view-point, but he had mistakenly cast it aside. He +ought to finish the first one and substitute it for the second one. 'The +perspective drawing had a moral importance; it had a special influence +on the assessors and committees. Horrid, tiresome labour! Three, four, +five, or six hours of highly concentrated tedium. Was it worth while? It +was not. Mr. Enwright liked the finished drawing. He, George, could not +face a further strain. And yet he was not content.... Pooh! Who said he +could not face a further strain? Of course he could face it. If he did +not face it, his conscience would accuse him of cowardice during the +rest of his life, and he would never be able to say honestly: "I did my +level best with the thing." He snapped his fingers lightly, and in one +second had decided to finish the original perspective drawing, and in +his very finest style. He would complete it some time during the night. +In the morning it could be mounted. The drawings were to go to the north +in a case on the morrow by passenger train, and to be met at their +destination by a commissionaire common to several competitors; this +commissionaire would deliver them to the Town Clerk in accordance with +the conditions. In a few minutes George was at work, excited, having +forgotten all fatigue. He was saying to himself that he would run out +towards eight o'clock for a chop or a steak. As he worked he perceived +that he had been quite right to throw over the second drawing; he +wondered that he could have felt any hesitation; the new drawing would +be immeasurably superior. + +Mr. Haim 'stepped up,' discreetly knocking, entering with dignity. The +relations between these two had little by little resumed their old, +purely formal quality. Both seemed to have forgotten that passionate +anger had ever separated them and joined them together. George was +young, and capable of oblivion. Mr. Haim had beaten him in the struggle +and could afford to forget. They conversed politely, as though the old +man had no daughter and the youth had never had a lover. Mr. Haim had +even assisted with the lettering of the sheets--not because George +needed his help, but because Mr. Haim's calligraphic pride needed to +help. To refuse the stately offer would have been to insult. Mr. Haim +had aged, but not greatly. + +"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Cannon." + +"Oh! Dash it!... Thanks!" + +After all George was no longer on the staff of Lucas & Enwright, and Mr. +Haim was conferring a favour. + +Down below in the big office everybody had gone except the factotum. + +George seized the telephone receiver and called brusquely for attention. + +"Is that Mr. Cannon?" + +"Yes. Who is it?" + +"Oh! It's you, George! How nice to hear your voice again!" + +He recognized, but not instantly, the voice of Lois Ingram. He was not +surprised. Indeed he had suspected that the disturber of work must be +either Lois or Miss Wheeler, or possibly Laurencine. The three had been +in London again for several days, and he had known from Lucas that a +theatre-party had been arranged for that night to witness the +irresistible musical comedy, _The Gay Spark_, Lucas and M. +Defourcambault were to be of the party. George had not yet seen Lois +since her latest return to London; he had only seen her twice since the +previous summer; he had not visited Paris in the interval. The tone of +her voice, even as transformed by the telephone, was caressing. He had +to think of some suitable response to her startling amiability, and to +utter it with conviction. He tried to hold fast in his mind to the image +of the perspective with its countless complexities and the co-ordination +of them all; the thing seemed to be retreating from him, and he dared +not let it go. + +"Do you know," said Lois, "I only came to London to celebrate the +sending-in of your design. I hear it's marvellous. Aren't you glad +you've finished it?" + +"Well, I haven't finished it," said George. "I'm on it now." + +What did the girl mean by saying she'd only come to London to celebrate +the end of his work? An invention on her part! Still, it flattered him. +She was very strange. + +"But Everard's told us you'd finished a bit earlier than you'd expected. +We counted on seeing your lordship to-morrow. But now we've got to see +you to-night." + +"Awfully sorry I can't." + +"But look here, George. You must really. The party's all broken up. Miss +Wheeler's had to go back to Paris to-night, and Jules can't come. +Everything's upset. The flat's going to be closed, and Laurencine and, I +will have to leave to-morrow. It's most frightfully annoying. We've got +the box all right, and Everard's coming, and you must make the fourth. +We must have a fourth. Laurencine's here at the phone, and she says the +same as me." + +"Wish I could!" George answered shortly. "Look here! What train are you +going by to-morrow? I'll come and see you off. I shall be free then." + +"But, George. We _want_ you to come to-night." There seemed positively +to be tears in the faint voice. "Why can't you come? You must come." + +"I haven't finished one of the drawings. I tell you I'm on it now. It'll +take me half the night, or more. I'm just in the thick of it, you see." +He spoke with a slight resentful impatience--less at her +over-persuasiveness than at the fact that his mind and the drawing were +being more and more separated. Soon he would have lost the right mood, +and he would be compelled to re-create it before he could resume the +work. The forcible, gradual dragging away of his mind from its +passionately gripped objective was torture. He had an impulse to throw +down the receiver and run off. + +The distant squeaking voice changed to the petulant: + +"You are horrid. You could come right enough if you wanted to." + +"But don't you understand? It's awfully important for me." + +He was astounded, absolutely astounded. She would not understand. She +had decided that he must go to the musical comedy and nothing else +mattered. His whole future did not matter. + +"Oh! Very well, then," Lois said, undisguisedly vexed. "Of course, if +you won't, you won't. But really when two girls _implore_ you like +that.... And we have to leave to-morrow, and everything's upset!... I do +think it's ... However, good night." + +"Here! Hold hard a sec. I'll come for an hour or so. What's the number +of the box?" + +"Fourteen," said the voice brokenly. + +Immediately afterwards she rang off. George was hurt and bewildered. The +girl was incredibly ruthless. She was mad. Why had he yielded? Only a +silly conventional feeling had made him yield. And yet he was a great +scorner of convention. He went upstairs again to the perspective +drawing. He looked at his watch. He might work for half an hour before +leaving to dress. No, he could not. The mood had vanished. The +perspective had slipped into another universe. He could not even pick up +a pen. He despised himself terribly, despairingly, for yielding. + + +II + + +In spite of all this he anticipated with pleasure the theatre-party. He +wanted to go; he was glad he was going; the memory of Lois in the +tea-palace excited him. And he could refuse a hearing to his conscience, +and could prevent himself from thinking uncomfortably of the future, as +well as most young men. His secret, unadmitted voluptuous eagerness was +alloyed only by an apprehension that after the scene over the telephone +Lois might be peevish and ungracious. The fear proved to be baseless. + +Owing to the imperfections of the club laundry and the erring humanity +of Downs, he arrived late. _The Gay Spark_ had begun. He found a +darkened auditorium and a glowing stage. In the dim box Lois and +Laurencine were sitting in front on gilt chairs. Lucas sat behind +Laurencine, and there was an empty chair behind Lois. Her gesture, her +smile, her glance, as she turned to George and looked up, were touching. +She was delighted to see him; she had the mien of a child who has got +what it wanted and has absolutely forgotten that it ever pouted, +shrieked, and stamped its foot. She was determined to charm her +uttermost. Her eye in the gloom was soft with mysterious invitations. +George looked about the interior of the box; he saw the rich cloaks of +the girls hanging up next to glossy masculine hats, the large mirror on +the wall, and mother-of-pearl opera-glasses, chocolates, and flowers on +the crimson ledge. He was very close to the powerfully built and yet +plastic Lois. He could watch her changing curves as she breathed; the +faint scent she used rose to his nostrils. He thought, with contained +rapture: "Nothing in the world is equal to this." He did not care a fig +for the effect of perspective drawings or the result of the competition. +Lois, her head half-turned towards him, her gaze lost in the sombre +distances of the auditorium, talked in a low tone, ignoring the +performance. He gathered that the sudden departure of Irene Wheeler had +unusually impressed and disconcerted and, to a certain extent, mortified +the sisters, who could not explain it, and who resented the compulsion +to go back to Paris at once. And he detected in Lois, not for the first +time, a grievance that Irene kept her, Lois, apart from the main current +of her apparently gorgeous social career. Obviously an evening at which +the sole guests were two girls and a youth all quite unknown to +newspapers could not be a major item in the life of a woman such as +Irene Wheeler. She had left them unceremoniously to themselves at the +last moment, as it were permitting them to do what they liked within the +limits of goodness for one night, and commanding them to return sagely +home on the morrow. A red-nosed actor, hands in pockets, waddled +self-consciously on to the stage, and the packed audience, emitting +murmurs of satisfaction, applauded. Conversations were interrupted. +George, expectant, gave his attention to the show. He knew little or +nothing of musical comedy, having come under influences which had taught +him to despise it. His stepfather, for example, could be very sarcastic +about musical comedy, and through both Enwright and John Orgreave George +had further cultivated the habit of classical music, already acquired in +boyhood at home in the Five Towns. In the previous year, despite the +calls upon his time of study for examinations, George had attended the +Covent Garden performances of the Wagnerian "Ring" as he might have +attended High Mass. He knew by name a considerable percentage of the +hundred odd themes in "The Ring," and it was his boast that he could +identify practically all the forty-seven themes in _The Meistersingers_. +He raved about Ternina in _Tristan_. He had worshipped the Joachim +quartet. He was acquainted with all the popular symphonies of Beethoven, +Schubert, Schumann, Mozart, Glazounov, and Tschaikovsky. He even +frequented the Philharmonic Concerts, which were then conducted by a +composer of sentimental drawing-room ballads, and though he would not +class this conductor with Richter or Henry J. Wood, he yet believed that +somehow, by the magic of the sacred name of the Philharmonic Society, +the balladmonger in the man expired in the act of raising the baton and +was replaced by a serious and sensitive artist. He was accustomed to +hear the same pieces of music again and again and again, and they were +all or nearly all very fine, indisputably great. It never occurred to +him that once they had been unfamiliar and had had to fight for the +notice of persons who indulged in music exactly as he indulged in music. +He had no traffic with the unfamiliar. Unfamiliar items on a programme +displeased him. He had heard compositions by Richard Strauss, but he +could make nothing of them, and his timid, untravelled taste feared to +like them. Mr. Enwright himself was mainly inimical to Strauss, as to +most of modern Germany, perhaps because of the new architecture in +Berlin. George knew that there existed young English composers with such +names as Cyril Scott, Balfour Gardiner, Donald Tovey--for he had seen +these names recently on the front page of _The Daily Telegraph_--but he +had never gone to the extent of listening to their works. He was +entirely sure that they could not hold a candle to Wagner, and his +sub-conscious idea was that it was rather like their cheek to compose at +all. He had not noticed that Hugo Wolf had just died, nor indeed had he +noticed that Hugo Wolf had ever lived. + +Nevertheless this lofty and exclusive adherent of the 'best' music was +not prejudiced in advance against _The Gay Spark_. He was anxious to +enjoy it and he expected to enjoy it. _The Gay Spark_ had already an +enormous prestige; it bore the agreeable, captivating label of Vienna; +and immense sums were being made out of it in all the capitals of the +world. George did not hope for immortal strains, but he anticipated a +distinguished, lilting gaiety, and in the 'book' a witty and +cosmopolitan flavour that would lift the thing high above such English +musical comedies as he had seen. It was impossible that a work of so +universal and prodigious a vogue should not have unquestionable virtues. + +The sight of the red-nosed comedian rather shocked George, who had +supposed that red-nosed comedians belonged to the past. However, the man +was atoned for by three extremely beautiful and graceful young girls who +followed him. Round about the small group was ranged a semicircle of +handsome creatures in long skirts, behind whom was another semicircle of +young men in white flannels; the scene was a street in Mandalay. The +red-nosed comedian began by making a joke concerning his mother-in-law, +and another concerning mendacious statements to his wife to explain his +nocturnal absences from home, and another concerning his intoxicated +condition. The three extremely beautiful and graceful young girls +laughed deliriously at the red-nosed comedian; they replied in a similar +vein. They clasped his neck and kissed him rapturously, and thereupon he +sang a song, of which the message was that all three extremely beautiful +and graceful girls practised professionally the most ancient and stable +of feminine vocations; the girls, by means of many refrains, confirmed +this definition of their status in society. Then the four of them +danced, and there was enthusiastic applause from every part of the house +except the semicircle of European odalisques lost, for some unexplained +reason, in Mandalay. These ladies, the indubitable physical attractions +of each of whom were known by the management to fill five or six stalls +every night, took no pains whatever to hide that they were acutely bored +by the whole proceedings. Self-sufficient in their beauty, deeply aware +of the power of their beauty, they deigned to move a lackadaisical arm +or leg at intervals in accordance with the respectful suggestions of the +conductor. + +Soon afterwards the gay spark herself appeared, amid a hysteria of +applause. She played the part of the wife of a military officer, and +displayed therein a marvellous, a terrifying vitality of tongue, leg, +and arm. The young men in white flannels surrounded her, and she could +flirt with all of them; she was on intimate terms with the red-nosed +comedian, and also with the trio of delightful wantons, and her ideals +in life seemed to be identical with theirs. When, through the arrival of +certain dandies twirling canes, and the mysterious transformation of the +Burmese street into a Parisian cafe, these ideals were on the point of +realization, there was a great burst of brass in the orchestra, +succeeded by a violent chorus, some kicking, and a general wassail, and +the curtain fell on the first act. It had to be raised four times before +the gratefully appreciative clapping would cease. + +The auditorium shone with light; it grew murmurous with ecstatic +approval. The virginal face of Laurencine shot its rapture to Lucas as +she turned to shake hands with George. + +"Jolly well done, isn't it?" said Lucas. + +"Yes," said George. + +Lucas, too content to notice the perfunctoriness of George's +affirmative, went on: + +"When you think that they're performing it this very night in St. +Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, Brussels, and, I fancy, Rome, but I'm not +sure--marvellous, isn't it?" + +"It is," said George ambiguously. + +Though continuing to like him, he now definitely despised Everard. The +fellow had no artistic perceptions; he was a child. By some means he had +got through his Final, and was soon to be a junior partner in Enwright & +Lucas. George, however, did not envy Everard the soft situation; he only +pitied Enwright & Lucas. Everard had often urged George to go to musical +comedies more frequently, hinting that they were frightfully better +than George could conceive. _The Gay Spark_ gave Lucas away entirely; it +gave away his method of existence. + +"I don't believe you like it," said sharp Laurencine. + +"I adore it," George protested. "Don't you?" + +"Oh! _I_ do, of course," said Laurencine. "I knew I should." + +Lucas, instinctively on the defence, said: + +"The second act's much better than the first." + +George's hopes, dashed but not broken, recovered somewhat. After all +there had been one or two gleams of real jokes, and a catchiness in +certain airs; and the spark possessed temperament in profusion. It was +possible that the next act might be diverting. + +"You do look tired," said Laurencine. + +"Oh no, darling!" Lois objected. "I think he looks splendid." + +She was intensely happy in the theatre. The box was very well +placed--since Irene had bought it--with a view equally good of the stage +and of the semicircle of boxes. Lois' glance wandered blissfully round +the boxes, all occupied by gay parties, and over the vivacious stalls. +She gazed, and she enjoyed being gazed at. She bathed herself in the +glitter and the gaudiness and the opulence and the humanity, as in tonic +fluid. She seemed to float sinuously and voluptuously immersed in it, as +in tepid water lit with sunshine. + +"Do have a choc.," she invited eagerly. + +George took a chocolate. She took one. They all took one. They all had +the unconscious pride of youth that does not know itself young. Each was +different from the others. George showed the reserve of the artist; +Lucas the ease of the connoisseur of mundane spectacles; Laurencine the +sturdy, catholic, girlish innocence that nothing can corrupt. And the +sovereign was Lois. She straightened her shoulders; she leaned +languorously; she looked up, she looked down; she spoke softly and +loudly; she laughed and smiled. And in every movement and in every +gesture and tone she symbolized the ecstasy of life. She sought +pleasure, and she had found it, and she had no afterthought. She was +infectious; she was irresistible, and terrible too. For it was +dismaying, at any rate to George, to dwell on the fierceness of her +instinct and on the fierceness of its satisfaction. To George her +burning eyes were wistful, pathetic, in their simplicity. He felt a sort +of fearful pity for her. And he admired her--she was something +definite; she was something magnificently outright; she did live. Also +he liked her; the implications in her glance appealed to him. The +peculiar accents in which she referred to the enigma of Irene Wheeler +were extraordinarily attractive to that part of his nature which was +perverse and sophisticated. "At least she is not a simpleton," he +thought. "And she doesn't pretend to be. Some day I shall talk to her." + +The orchestra resumed; the lights went out. Lois settled herself to +fresh enchantment as the curtain rolled up to disclose the bright halls +and staircases of a supper-club. The second act was an amplification and +inflammation of the themes of the first. As for the music, George +listened in vain for an original tune, even for a tune of which he could +not foretell the end from the beginning; the one or two engaging bits of +melody which enlivened the first act were employed again in the second. +The disdainful, lethargic chorus was the same; the same trio of +delicious wantons fondled and kissed the same red-nosed comedian, who +was still in the same state of inebriety, and the gay spark flitted +roysteringly through the same evolutions, in pursuit of the same simple +ideals. The jocularity pivoted unendingly on the same twin centres of +alcohol and concupiscence. Gradually the latter grew to more and more +importance, and the piece became a high and candid homage to the impulse +by force of which alone one generation succeeds another. No beautiful +and graceful young girl on the stage blenched before the salacious +witticisms of the tireless comedian; on the contrary he remained the +darling of the stage. And as he was the darling of the stage, so was he +the darling of the audience. + +And if no beautiful and graceful young girl blenched on the stage, +neither did the beautiful and graceful young girls in the audience +blench. You could see them sitting happily with their fathers and +mothers and cousins and uncles and aunts, savouring the spectacle from +dim stalls and boxes in the most perfect respectability. Laurencine +leaning her elbows on the ledge of the box, watched with eager, parted +lips, and never showed the slightest sign of uneasiness. + +George was uneasy; he was distressed. The extraordinary juxtaposition of +respectability and a ribald sexual display startled but did not distress +him. If the whole audience was ready to stand it he certainly was. He +had no desire to protect people from themselves, nor to blush on behalf +of others--whoever they might be. Had anybody accused him of saintliness +he would have resented the charge, quite justifiably, and if the wit of +_The Gay Spark_ had been witty, he would have enjoyed it without a +qualm. What distressed him, what utterly desolated him, was the +grossness, the poorness, the cheapness, the dullness, and the +uninventive monotony of the interminable entertainment. He yawned, he +could not help yawning; he yawned his soul away. Lois must have heard +him yawning, but she did not move. He looked at her curiously, +pitifully, speculating how much of her luxury was due to Irene Wheeler, +and how little to 'Parisian' of _The Sunday Journal_--for he had been +inquiring about the fruits of journalism. The vision of his own office +and of the perspective drawing rose seductively and irresistibly in his +mind. He could not stay in the theatre; he felt that if he stayed he +would be in danger of dropping down dead, suffocated by tedium; and the +drawing must be finished; it would not wait; it was the most urgent +thing in the world. And not a syllable had any person in the box said to +him about his great task. Lois's forearm, braceleted, lay on the front +of the box. Unceremoniously he took her hand. + +"Bye-bye." + +"You aren't going?" Her whisper was incredulous. + +"Must." + +He gave her no chance to expostulate. With one movement he had seized +his hat and coat and slid from the box, just as the finale of the act +was imminent and the red-nosed comedian was measuring the gay spark for +new _lingerie_ with a giant property-cigar. He had not said good-bye to +Laurencine. He had not asked about their departure on the morrow. But he +was free. + +In the foyer a couple--a woman in a rose plush _sortie de bal_, and a +blade--were mysteriously talking. The blade looked at him, smiled, and +left the lady. + +"Hal_lo_, old fellow!" It was Buckingham Smith, who had been getting on +in the world. + +They shook hands. + +"You've left Chelsea, haven't you?" + +"Yes," said George. + +"So've I. Don't see much of the old gang nowadays. Heard anything of old +Princey lately?" + +George replied that he had not. The colloquy was over in a moment. + +"You must come and see my show--next week," Buck Smith called out after +the departing George. + +"I will," cried George. + +He walked quickly up to Russell Square, impatient to steep himself anew +in his work. All sense of fatigue had left him. Time seemed to be flying +past him, and he rushing towards an unknown fate. On the previous day he +had received an enheartening, challenging, sardonic letter from his +stepfather, who referred to politics and envisaged a new epoch for the +country. Edwin Clayhanger was a Radical of a type found only in the +Midlands and the North. For many years Clayhanger's party, to which he +was passionately faithful, had had no war-cry and no programme worthy of +its traditions. The increasing success of the campaign against +Protection, and certain signs that the introduction of Chinese labour +into South Africa could be effectively resisted, had excited the +middle-aged provincial--now an Alderman--and he had managed to +communicate fire to George. But in George, though he sturdily shared his +stepfather's views, the resulting righteous energy was diverted to +architectural creation. + + +III + + +The circumstances in which, about a month later, George lunched with the +Ingram family at their flat in the Rue d'Athenes, near the Gare St. +Lazare, Paris, had an appearance of the utmost simplicity and +ordinariness. He had been down to Staffordshire for a rest, and had +returned unrested. And then Mr. Enwright had suggested that it would do +him good to go to Paris, even to go alone. He went, with no plan, but +having made careful arrangements for the telegraphing to him of the +result of the competition, which was daily expected. By this time he was +very seriously convinced that there was no hope of him being among the +selected six or ten, and he preferred to get the news away from London +rather than in it; he felt that he could not face London on the day or +the morrow of a defeat which would of course render his youthful +audacity ridiculous. + +He arrived in Paris on a Wednesday evening, and took a room in a _maison +meublee_ of the Rue de Seze. Every inexperienced traveller in Paris has +a friend who knows a lodging in Paris which he alleges is better and +cheaper than any other lodging--and which is not. The house in the Rue +de Seze was the economical paradise of Buckingham Smith, whom George had +encountered again at the Buckingham Smith exhibition. Buckingham Smith, +with over half his pictures bearing the red seal that indicates 'Sold,' +felt justified in posing to the younger George as a cosmopolitan +expert--especially as his opinions on modern French art were changing. +George spent three solitary and dejected days in Paris, affecting an +interest in museums and architecture and French opera, and committing +follies. Near the end of the third day, a Saturday, he suddenly sent a +threepenny express note to Lois Ingram. He would have telephoned had he +dared to use the French telephone. On Sunday morning, an aproned valet +having informed him that Monsieur was demanded at the telephone, he had +to use the telephone. Lois told him that he must come to lunch, and that +afterwards he would be escorted to the races. Dejection was instantly +transformed into a gay excitation. Proud of having spoken through a +French telephone, he began to conceive romantically the interior of a +Paris home--he had seen naught but a studio or so with Mr. Enwright--and +to thrill at the prospect of Sunday races. Not merely had he never seen +a horse-race on a Sunday--he had never seen a horse-race at all. He +perhaps was conscious of a genuine interest in Lois and her environment, +but what most satisfied and flattered him, after his loneliness, was the +bare fact of possessing social relations in Paris at all. + +The Ingram home was up four flights of naked oaken stairs, fairly swept, +in a plain, flat-fronted house. The door of the home was opened by a +dark, untidy, dishevelled, uncapped, fat girl, with a full apron, +dazzling white and rectangularly creased, that had obviously just been +taken out of a drawer. Familiarly and amicably smiling, she led him into +a small, modest drawing-room where were Lois and her father and mother. +Lois was enigmatic and taciturn. Mr. and Mrs. Ingram were ingenuous, +loquacious, and at ease. Both of them had twinkling eyes. Mrs. Ingram +was rather stout and grey and small, and wore a quiet, inexpensive blue +dress, embroidered at the neck in the Morrisian manner, of no kind of +fashionableness. She spoke in a low voice, smiled to herself with a +benevolence that was not without a touch of the sardonic, and often +looked at the floor or at the ceiling. Mr. Ingram, very slim and neat, +was quite as small as his wife, and seemed smaller. He talked much and +rather amusingly, in a somewhat mincing tone, as it were apologetically, +truly anxious to please. He had an extremely fair complexion, and his +youthfulness was quite startling. His golden hair and perfect teeth +might have belonged to a boy. George leapt immediately into familiarity +with these two. But nobody could have less resembled his preconceived +image of 'Parisian' than Mr. Ingram. And he could not understand a bit +whence or how such a pair had produced their daughter Lois. Laurencine +was a far more comprehensible offspring for them. + +The dining-room was even less spacious than the drawing-room, and as +unpretentious. The furniture everywhere was sparse, but there were one +or two rich knick-knacks, and an abundance of signed photographs. The +few pictures, too, were signed, and they drew attention. On the table +the napkins, save George's, were in rings, and each ring different from +the others. George's napkin had the air of a wealthy, stiff, shiny +relative of the rest. Evidently in that home the long art of making both +ends meet was daily practised. George grew light-hearted and happy, +despite the supreme preoccupation which only a telegram could allay. He +had keenly the sensation of being abroad. The multiplicity of doors, the +panelling of the doors, the narrow planking of the oaken floor, the +moulding of the cornices, the shape of the windows, the view of the +courtyard from the dining-room and of attics and chimney-cowls from the +drawing-room, the closed anthracite stoves in lieu of fires, the +crockery, the wine-bottle, the mustard, the grey salt, the +unconventional gestures and smiles and exclamations of the unkempt +maid--all these strange details enchanted him, and they all set off very +vividly the intense, nice, honest, reassuring Englishness of the host +and hostess. + +It was not until after the others were seated for the meal that +Laurencine made her appearance. She was a magnificent and handsome +virgin, big-boned, physically a little awkward, candid. How exquisitely +and absurdly she flushed in shaking hands with George! With what a +delicious mock-furious setting of the teeth and tossing of the head she +frowned at her mother's reproaches for being late! This family knew the +meaning of intimacy but not of ceremony. Laurencine sat down at her +father's left; George was next to her on Mrs. Ingram's right. Lois had +the whole of the opposite side of the table. + +"Does he know?" Laurencine asked; and turning to George: "Do you know?" + +"Know what?" + +"You'd better tell him, dad. You like talking, and he ought to know. I +shan't be able to eat if he doesn't. It would be so ridiculous sitting +here and pretending." + +Mrs. Ingram looked upwards across the room at a corner of the ceiling, +and smiled faintly. + +"You might," she said, "begin by asking Mr. Cannon if he particularly +wants to be burdened with the weight of your secrets, my dear child." + +"Oh! I particularly do," said George. + +"There's no secret about it--at least there won't be soon," said +Laurencine. + +Lois spoke simultaneously: + +"My dear mother, please call George George. If we call him George, you +can't possibly call him Mr. Cannon." + +"I quite admit," Mrs. Ingram replied to her eldest, "I quite admit that +you and Laurencine are entitled to criticise my relations with my +husband, because he's your father. But I propose to carry on my affairs +with other men just according to my own ideas, and any interference will +be resented. I've had a bad night, owing to the garage again, and I +don't feel equal to calling George George. I've only known him about +twenty minutes. Moreover, I might be misunderstood, mightn't I, Mr. +Cannon?" + +"You might," said George. + +"Now, dad!" Laurencine admonished. + +Mr. Ingram, addressing George, began: + +"Laurencine suffers from a grave form of self-consciousness----" + +"I don't, dad." + +"It is a disease akin to conceit. Her sufferings are sometimes so acute +that she cannot sit up straight and is obliged to loll and curl her legs +round the legs of the chair. We are all very sorry for her. The only +treatment is brutal candour, as she herself advocates----" + +Laurencine jumped up, towered over her father, and covered his mouth +with her hand. + +"This simple hand," said Mr. Ingram, seizing it, "will soon bear a ring. +Laurencine is engaged to be married." + +"I'm not, father." She sat down again. + +"Well, you are not. But you will be, I presume, by post-time to-night. A +young man of the name of Lucas has written to Laurencine this morning in +a certain sense, and he has also written to me. Laurencine has seen my +letter, and I've seen hers. But my envelope contained only one letter. +Whether her envelope contained more than one, whether the epistle which +I saw is written in the style usually practised by the present age, +whether it was composed for the special purpose of being shown to me, I +do not know, and discretion and nice gentlemanly feeling forbid me to +inquire. However----" + +At this point, Laurencine snatched her father's napkin off his knees and +put it on her own. + +"However, my wife and I have met this Mr. Lucas, and as our opinion +about him is not wholly unfavourable, the matter was satisfactorily and +quickly arranged--even before I had had my bath; Laurencine and I will +spend the afternoon in writing suitable communications to Mr. Lucas. I +am ready to show her mine for a shilling, but I doubt if five pounds +would procure me a sight of hers. Yet she is only an amateur writer and +I'm a professional." + +There was a little silence, and then George said awkwardly: + +"I congratulate old Lucas." + +"This news must have astonished you extremely," observed Mr. Ingram. "It +must have come as a complete surprise. In fact you are doubtless in the +condition known to charwomen as capable of being knocked down with a +feather." + +"Oh! Quite!" George agreed. + +Nevertheless, in spite of his light tone, he regretted the engagement. +He did not think Lucas was worthy of the splendid girl. He felt sorry +for her. At that moment she faced him bravely, and smiled. Her face had +a tremendous deep crimson flush. There was a woman somewhere in the +girl! Strange phenomenon! And another strange phenomenon: if Laurencine +had been self-conscious, George also was self-conscious; and he avoided +Lois's eyes! Why? He wondered whether the circumstances in which he had +come to Paris and entered the Ingram home were as simple and ordinary as +they superficially appeared. + +"Laurencine," said her mother, "give your father back his serviette!" + +"Mine's fallen." + +"Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Ingram very benevolently, and he bent +down and retrieved Laurencine's napkin, which he kept. "And now," he +proceeded, "the serious operation being over and the patient out of +danger, shall we talk about something else for a few moments?" + +"I should think so indeed!" Laurencine exclaimed, suddenly gay. "George, +when _shall_ you know about the competition?" + +"Any minute, I might," said he. + +They all talked sympathetically to George on the new subject. + +After lunch, Lois disappeared. She came back resplendent for the races, +when coffee had long been finished in the drawing-room. + +"Why aren't you ready, Laure?" she demanded. + +"I'm not going, darling." + +"Lois," Mr. Ingram exhorted, "don't forget the afternoon is to be spent +in literary composition." + +"It isn't," Laurencine contradicted. "I may as well tell you I've +written all I mean to write in the way of letters for one day. But I +don't want to go, really, Lois darling." + +"No. She wants to think," Mrs. Ingram explained. + +Lois set her lips together, and then glimpsed herself in the large +mirror over the anthracite stove. She looked too rich and complicated +for that simple drawing-room. + +A performance on a horn made itself heard in the street below. + +"There he is!" said Laurencine. + +She opened a window and ran out on to the balcony and leaned over; then +glanced within the room and nodded. George had assumed that Irene +Wheeler was the author and hostess of the race-party, and he was not +mistaken. Irene's automobile had been sent round to embark him and the +girls. Mrs. Ingram urged him to come again the next day, and he said +ardently that he would. Mrs. Ingram's 'affair' with him was progressing +rapidly. + +"But I hope you'll call me George, then," he added. + +"I may!" she said. "I may! I may go even further." + +Lois and George descended the stairs in silence. He had not seen her, +nor written to her, since the night of the comedy when he had so +abruptly left the box. Once or twice at the Ingrams' he had fancied that +she might be vexed with him for that unceremonious departure. But she +was not. The frank sigh of relief which she gave on reaching the foot of +the interminable stairs, and her equally frank smile, had no reserve +whatever. + +The chauffeur's welcoming grin seemed to indicate that he was much +attached to Miss Ingram. He touched his hat, bowed, and spoke to her at +some length in French. Lois frowned. + +"It seems Miss Wheeler doesn't feel equal to going out this afternoon," +she translated to George. "But she insists that we shall use the car all +the same." + +"Is she ill?" + +"She's lying down, trying to sleep." + +"Well, then, I suppose we'd better use the car, hadn't we?" + +Lois said seriously: + +"If you don't object, I don't." + + +IV + + +At Longchamps the sun most candidly and lovingly blessed the elaborate +desecration of the English Sabbath. The delicately ornamented grand +stands, the flags, the swards, the terraces, the alleys, the booths, the +notice-boards, the vast dappled sea of hats and faces in the distant +cheaper parts of the Hippodrome, were laved in the descending, caressing +floods of voluptuous, warm sunshine. The air itself seemed luminous. The +enchantment of the sun was irresistible; it stunned apprehensions and +sad memories, obliterating for a moment all that was or might be unhappy +in the past or in the future. George yielded to it. He abandoned his +preoccupations about the unsatisfactoriness of using somebody else's car +in the absence of the owner, about Mr. and Mrs. Ingram's ignorance of +the fact that their daughter had gone off alone with him, about Lois's +perfect indifference to this fact, about the engagement of Laurencine to +a man not her equal in worth, about the strange, uncomfortable effect of +Laurencine's engagement upon his attitude towards Lois, and finally and +supremely about the competition. He gave himself up to the bright warmth +like an animal, and forgot. And he became part of the marvellous and +complicated splendour of the scene, took pride in it, took even credit +for it (Heaven knew why!), and gradually passed from insular +astonishment to a bland, calm acceptance of the miracles of sensuous +beatitude which civilization had to offer. + +After all, he was born to such experiences; they were his right; and he +was equal to them. Nevertheless his conviction of the miraculous +fortunately was not impaired. What was impaired was his conviction of +his own culture. He was constantly thinking that he knew everything or +could imagine everything, and constantly undergoing the shock of +undeception; but the shock of the Longchamps Sunday was excessive. He +had quite failed to imagine the race-meeting; he had imagined an +organism brilliant, perhaps, but barbaric and without form and style; he +had imagined grotesque contrasts of squalor, rascality, and fashion; he +had imagined an affair predominantly equine and masculine. The reality +did not correspond; it transcended his imagination; it painfully +demonstrated his jejune crudity. The Hippodrome was as formalized and +stylistic as an Italian garden; the only contrasts were those of one +elegance with another; horses were not to be seen, except occasionally +in the distance when under their riders they shot past some dark +background a flitting blur of primary colours with a rumble of muffled +thunder; and women, not men, predominated. + +On entering the Hippodrome George and Lois had met a group of +fashionably attired women, and he had thought: "There's a bunch of jolly +well-dressed ones." But as the reserved precincts opened out before him +he saw none but fashionably attired women. They were there not in +hundreds but in thousands. They sat in rows on the grand stands; they +jostled each other on the staircases; they thronged the alleys and +swards. The men were negligible beside them. And they were not only +fashionably and very fashionably attired--all their frocks and all their +hats and all their parasols and all their boots were new, glittering, +spick-and-span; were complex and expensive; not one feared the sun. The +conception of what those innumerable chromatic toilettes had cost in the +toil, stitch by stitch, of malodorous workrooms and in the fatigue of +pale, industrious creatures was really formidable. But it could not +detract from the scenic triumph. The scenic triumph dazzlingly justified +itself, and proved beyond any cavilling that earth was a grand, +intoxicating place, and Longchamps under the sun an unequalled paradise +of the senses.... Ah! These women were finished--finished to the least +detail of coiffure, sunshade-handle, hatpin, jewellery, handbag, +bootlace, glove, stocking, _lingerie_. Each was the product of many arts +in co-ordination. Each was of great price. And there were thousands of +them. They were as cheap as periwinkles. George thought: "This is +Paris." + +He said aloud: + +"Seems to be a fine lot of new clothes knocking about." + +Evidently for Lois his tone was too impressed, not sufficiently casual. +She replied in her condescending manner, which he detested: + +"My poor George, considering that this is the opening of the spring +season, and the place where all the new spring fashions are tried +out--what did you expect?" + +The dolt had not known that he was assisting at a solemnity recognized +as such by experts throughout the clothed world. But Lois knew all those +things. She herself was trying out a new toilette, for which doubtless +Irene Wheeler was partly sponsor. She could hold her own on the terraces +with the rest. She was staggeringly different now from the daughter of +the simple home in the Rue d'Athenes. + +The eyes of the splendid women aroused George's antipathy, because he +seemed to detect antipathy in them--not against himself but against the +male in him. These women, though by their glances they largely +mistrusted and despised each other, had the air of having combined +sexually against a whole sex. The situation was very contradictory. They +had beautified and ornamented themselves in order to attract a whole +sex, and yet they appeared to resent the necessity and instinct to +attract. They submitted with a secret repugnance to the mysterious and +supreme bond which kept the sexes inexorably together. And while +stooping to fascinate, while deliberately seeking attention, they still +had the assured mien of conquerors. Their eyes said that they knew they +were indispensable, that they had a transcendent role to play, that no +concealed baseness of the inimical sex was hidden from them, and that +they meant to exploit their position to the full. These Latin women +exhibited a logic, an elegance, and a frankness beyond the reach of the +Anglo-Saxon. Their eyes said not that they had been disillusioned, but +rather that they had never had illusions. They admitted the facts; they +admitted everything--economic dependence, chicane, the intention to +seize every advantage, ruthless egotism. They had no shame for a +depravity which they shared equally with the inescapable and cherished +enemy And it was the youngest who, beneath the languishing and the +softness and the invitation deceitful and irresistible, gazed outmost +triumphantly to the enemy: "You are the victims. We have tried our +strength and your infirmity." They were heroic. There was a feeling in +the bright air of melancholy and doom as the two hostile forces, +inseparable, inextricably involved together, surveyed the opponent in +the everlasting conflict. George felt its influence upon himself, upon +Lois, upon the whole scene. The eyes of the most feminine women in the +world, denying their smiles and their lure, had discovered to him +something which marked a definite change in his estimate of certain +ultimate earthly values. + +Lois said: + +"Perhaps a telegram is waiting for you at the hotel." + +"Well, I can wait till I get back," he replied stoutly. + +He thought, looking at her by his side: + +"She is just like these Frenchwomen!" And for some reason he felt proud. + +"You needn't," said Lois, "We can telephone from under the grand stand +if you like." + +"But I don't know the number." + +"We can get that out of the book, of course." + +"I don't reckon I can use these French telephones." + +"Oh! My poor boy, I'll telephone for you--unless you prefer not to risk +knowing the worst." + +Yes, her tone was the tone of a strange woman. And it was she who +thirsted for the result of the competition. + +Controlling himself, submissively he asked her to telephone for him, and +she agreed in a delightfully agreeable voice. She seemed to know the +entire geography of the Hippodrome. She secured a telephone-cabin in a +very business-like manner. As she entered the cabin she said to George: + +"I'll ask them if a telegram has come, and if it has I'll ask them to +open it and read it to me, or spell it--of course it'll be in +English.... Eh?" + +Through the half-open door of the cabin he watched her, and listened. +She rapidly turned over the foul and torn pages of the telephone-book +with her thumb. She spoke into the instrument very clearly, curtly, and +authoritatively. George could translate in his mind what she said--his +great resolve to learn French had carried him so far. + +"On the part of Monsieur Cannon, one of your clients, Monsieur Cannon of +London. Has there arrived a telegram for him?" + +She waited. The squalor of the public box increased the effect of her +young and proud stylishness and of her perfume. George waited, humbled +by her superior skill in the arts of life, and saying anxiously to +himself: "Perhaps in a moment I shall know the result," almost +trembling. + +She hung up the instrument, and, with a glance at George, shook her +head. + +"There isn't anything," she murmured. + +He said: + +"It's very queer, isn't it? However..." + +As they emerged from the arcana of the grand stand, Lois was stopped by +a tall, rather handsome Jew, who, saluting her with what George esteemed +to be French exaggeration of gesture, nevertheless addressed her in a +confidential tone in English. George, having with British restraint +acknowledged the salute, stood aside, and gazed discreetly away from the +pair. He could not hear what was being said. After several minutes Lois +rejoined George, and they went back into the crowds and the sun. She did +not speak. She did not utter one word. Only, when the numbers went up +for a certain race, she remarked: + +"This is the Prix du Cadran. It's the principal race of the afternoon." + +And when that was over, amid cheering that ran about the field like fire +through dried bush, she added: + +"I think I ought to go back now. I told the chauffeur to be here after +the Prix du Cadran. What time is it exactly?" + +They sat side by side in the long, open car, facing the chauffeur's +creaseless back. After passing the Cascade, the car swerved into the +Allee de Longchamps which led in an absolutely straight line, two miles +long, to the Port Maillot and the city. Spring decorated the magnificent +wooded thoroughfare. The side-alleys, aisles of an interminable nave, +were sprinkled with revellers and lovers and the most respectable +families half hidden amid black branches and gleams of tender green. +Automobiles and carriages threaded the main alley at varying speeds. The +number of ancient horse-cabs gradually increased until, after the +intersection of the Allee de la Reine Marguerite, they thronged the vast +road. All the humble and shabby genteel people in Paris who could +possibly afford a cab seemed to have taken a cab. Nearly every cab was +overloaded. The sight of this vast pathetic effort of the disinherited +towards gaiety and distraction and the mood of spring, intensified the +vague sadness in George due to the race-crowd, Lois's silence, and the +lack of news about the competition. + +At length Lois said, scowling--no doubt involuntarily: + +"I think I'd better tell you now. Irene Wheeler's committed suicide. +Shot herself." She pressed her lips together and looked at the road. + +George gave a startled exclamation. He could not for an instant credit +the astounding news. + +"But how do you know? Who told you?" + +"The man who spoke to me in the grand stand. He's correspondent of _The +London Courier_--friend of father's of course." + +George protested: + +"Then why on earth didn't you tell me before?... Shot herself! What +for?" + +"I didn't tell you before because I couldn't." + +All the violence of George's nature came to the surface as he said +brutally: + +"Of course you could!" + +"I tell you I couldn't!" she cried. "I knew the car wouldn't be there +for us until after the Prix du Cadran. And if I'd told you I couldn't +have borne to be walking about that place three-quarters of an hour. We +should have had to talk about it. I couldn't have borne that. And so you +needn't be cross, please." + +But her voice did not break, nor her eyes shine. + +"I was wondering whether I should tell the chauffeur at once, or let him +find it out." + +"I should let him find it out," said George. "He doesn't know that you +know. Besides, it might upset his driving." + +"Oh! I shouldn't mind about his driving," Lois murmured disdainfully. + + +V + + +When the uninformed chauffeur drove the car with a grand sweep under the +marquise of the ostentatious pale yellow block in the Avenue Hoche where +Irene Wheeler had had her flat, Mr. Ingram and a police-agent were +standing on the steps, but nobody else was near. Little Mr. Ingram came +forward anxiously, his eyes humid, and his face drawn with pain and +distress. + +"We know," said Lois. "I met Mr. Cardow at Longchamps. He knew." + +Mr. Ingram's pain and distress seemed to increase. + +He said, after a moment: + +"Alfred will drive you home, dear, at once. _Alfred, vous seriez gentil +de reconduire Mademoiselle a la rue d'Athenes."_ He had the air of +supplicating the amiable chauffeur. "Mr. Cannon, I particularly want a +few words with you." + +"But, father, I must come in!" said Lois. "I must----" + +"You will go home immediately. Please, please do not add to my +difficulties. I shall come home myself as quickly as possible. You can +do nothing here. The seals have been affixed." + +Lois raised her chin in silence. + +Then Mr. Ingram turned to the police-agent, spoke to him in French, and +pointed to the car persuasively; and the police-agent permissively +nodded. The chauffeur, with an affectation of detachment worthy of the +greatest days of valetry, drove off, leaving George behind. Mr. Ingram +descended the steps. + +"I think, perhaps, we might go to a cafe," said he in a tone which +dispersed George's fear of a discussion as to the propriety of the +unchaperoned visit to the races. + +They sat down on the _terrasse_ of a large cafe near the Place des +Ternes, a few hundred yards away from the Avenue Hoche. The cafe was +nearly empty, citizens being either in the Bois or on the main +boulevards. Mr. Ingram sadly ordered bocks. The waiter, flapping his +long apron, called out in a loud voice as he went within: "_Deux blonds, +deux._" George supplied cigarettes. + +"Mr. Cannon," began Mr. Ingram, "it is advisable for me to tell you a +most marvellous and painful story. I have only just heard it. It has +overwhelmed me, but I must do my duty." He paused. + +"Certainly," said George self-consciously, not knowing what to say. He +nearly blushed as, in an attempt to seem at ease, he gazed negligently +round at the rows of chairs and marble tables, and at the sparse traffic +of the somnolent Place. + +Mr. Ingram proceeded. + +"When I first knew Irene Wheeler she was an art student here. So was I. +But I was already married, of course, and older than she. Exactly what +her age was I should not care to say. I can, however, say quite +truthfully that her appearance has scarcely altered in those nineteen +years. She always affirmed that her relatives, in Indianapolis, were +wealthy--or at least had money, but that they were very mean with her. +She lived in the simplest way. As for me, I had to give up art for +something less capricious, but capricious enough in all conscience. Miss +Wheeler went to America and was away for some time--a year or two. When +she came back to Paris she told us that she had made peace with her +people, and that her uncle, whom for present purposes I will call Mr. X, +a very celebrated railway magnate of Indianapolis, had adopted her. Her +new manner of life amply confirmed these statements." + +"_Deux bocks_," cried the waiter, slapping down on the table two saucers +and two stout glass mugs filled with frothing golden liquid. + +George, unaccustomed to the ritual of cafes, began at once to sip, but +Mr. Ingram, aware that the true boulevardier always ignores his bock for +several minutes, behaved accordingly. + +"She was evidently extremely rich. I have had some experience, and I +estimate that she had the handling of at least half a million francs a +year. She seemed to be absolutely her own mistress. You have had an +opportunity of judging her style of existence. However, her attitude +towards ourselves was entirely unchanged. She remained intimate with my +wife, who, I may say, is an excellent judge of character, and she was +exceedingly kind to our girls, especially Lois--but Laurencine too--and +as they grew up she treated them like sisters. Now, Mr. Cannon, I shall +be perfectly frank with you. I shall not pretend that I was not rather +useful to Miss Wheeler--I mean in the Press. She had social ambitions. +And why not? One may condescend towards them, but do they not serve a +purpose in the structure of society? Very rich as she was, it was easy +for me to be useful to her. And at worst her pleasure in publicity was +quite innocent--indeed, it was so innocent as to be charming. Naive, +shall we call it?" + +Here Mr. Ingram smiled sadly, tasted his bock, and threw away the end of +a cigarette. + +"Well," he resumed, "I am coming to the point. This is the point, which +I have learnt scarcely an hour ago--I was called up on the telephone +immediately after you and Lois had gone. This is the point. Mr. X was +not poor Irene's uncle, and he had not adopted her. But it was his money +that she was spending." Mr. Ingram gazed fixedly at George. + +"I see," said George calmly, rising to the role of man of the world. "I +see." He had strange mixed sensations of pleasure, pride, and confusion. +"And you've just found this out?" + +"I have just found it out from Mr. X himself, whom I met for the first +time to-day--in poor Irene's flat. I never assisted at such a scene. +Never! It positively unnerved me. Mr. X is a man of fifty-five, +fabulously wealthy, used to command, autocratic, famous in all the Stock +Exchanges of the world. When I tell you that he cried like a child ... +Oh! I never had such an experience. His infatuation for +Irene--indescribable! Indescribable! She had made her own terms with +him. He told me himself. Astounding terms, but for him it was those +terms or nothing. He accepted them--had to. She was to be quite free. +The most absolute discretion was to be observed. He came to Paris or +London every year, and sometimes she went to America. She utterly +refused to live in America." + +"Why didn't she marry him?" + +"He has a wife. I have no doubt in my own mind that one of his reasons +for accepting her extraordinary terms was to keep in close touch with +her at all costs in case his wife should die. Otherwise he might have +lost her altogether. He told me many things about poor Irene's family in +Indianapolis which I will not repeat. It was true that they had money, +as Irene said; but as for anything else ...! The real name was not +Wheeler." + +"Has he been over, here long?" + +"He landed at Cherbourg last night. Just arrived." + +"And she killed herself at once." + +"Whether the deed was done immediately before or immediately after his +arrival is not yet established. And I need hardly tell you that Mr. X +has already fixed up arrangements not to appear in the case at all. But +one thing is sure--she had made all the preparations for suicide, made +them with the greatest care. The girls saw her yesterday, and both Lois +and I spoke to her on the telephone this morning. Not a trace of +anything in her voice. I assume she had given a message for Lois to the +chauffeur." + +"Yes," said George. "We never dreamed----" + +"Of course not. Of course not." + +"But why did she----" + +"Another man, my dear sir! Another man! A young man named +Defourcambault, in the French Embassy in London." + +"Oh, him!" George burst out. "I know him," he added fiercely. + +"You do? Yes, I remember Laurencine saying.... Poor Irene, I fear, was +very deeply in love with him. She had written to Mr. X about +Defourcambault. He showed me the letter--most touching, really most +touching. His answer to it was to come to Europe at once. But poor +Irene's death had nothing to do with his coming. She did not know he was +coming. She shot herself as she lay in bed, and on the pillow was a +letter from this man Defourcambault--well, saying good-bye to her. I saw +the letter. Not a letter that I should wish to remember. Perhaps she had +told him something of her life. I much fear that Defourcambault will be +fetched from London, though I hope not. There would be no object.... No, +thank you. I will not smoke again. I only wanted to say this to you. All +Paris knows that my daughters were intimate with poor Irene. Now, if +anything comes out, if anything _should_ come out, if there's any +talk--you see my fear. I wish to assure you, Mr. Cannon, that I had not +the slightest suspicion, not the slightest. And yet we journalists +cannot exactly be called ingenuous! But I had not the slightest +suspicion, nor had my wife. You know the situation between Laurencine +and your friend Lucas. You and he are very intimate, I believe. May I +count on you to explain everything from my point of view to Mr. Lucas? I +could not bear that the least cloud should rest upon my little +Laurencine." + +"You needn't trouble about Lucas," said George positively. "Lucas 'll be +all right. Still, I'll talk to him." + +"Thank you very much. Thank you very much. I knew I could rely on you. +I've kept you a long time, but I'm sure you understand. I'm thinking +only of my girls. Not for anything would I have them know the truth +about the affair." + +"But aren't they bound to know it?" George asked. + +Mr. Ingram was wounded. "I hope not. I hope not," he said gravely. "It +is not right that young girls should know such things." + +"But surely, sooner or later----" + +"Ah! After they are married, conceivably. That would be quite +different," he admitted, with cheerfulness. "And now," he smiled, "I'm +afraid I've got to go and write the case up for London. I can catch the +mail, I think. If not, I must cable. But they hate me to cable when the +mail is possible. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +Simultaneously he signalled to a taxi and knocked on the window for the +attendance of the waiter. + +"Thanks. If you're going anywhere near the Place de l'Opera," said +George. + + +VI + + +He was excited, rather than saddened, by the tragic event. He was indeed +very excited. And also he had a deep satisfaction, because it seemed to +him that he had at last been truly admitted into the great secret +fellowship of adult males. The initiation flattered his pride. He left +Mr. Ingram at the door of an English newspaper office in the Boulevard +des Italiens, and, after vainly asking for telegrams at the hotel, +walked away, aimlessly at first, along broad pavements encumbered with +the chairs and tables of vast, crowded cafes, and with bright Sunday +idlers and sinister street-vendors. But in a moment he had decided that +he must and ought to pay a call in the Rue d'Athenes. Mr. Ingram had +said nothing about his seeing Lois again, had not referred to Mrs. +Ingram's invitation to repeat his visit, might even vaguely object to an +immediate interview between him and Lois. Yet he could not, as a man of +the world, abandon Lois so unceremoniously. He owed something to Lois +and he owed something to himself. And he was a free adult. The call was +natural and necessary, and if Mr. Ingram did not like it he must, in the +Five Towns phrase, lump it. George set off to find the Rue d'Athenes +unguided. It was pleasurable to think that there was a private abode in +the city of cafes, hotels, and museums to which he had the social right +of entry. + +The watching concierge of the house nodded to him politely as he began +to mount the stairs. The Ingrams' servant smiled upon him as upon an old +and familiarly respected friend. + +"Mademoiselle Lois?" he said, with directness. + +The slatternly, benevolent girl widened her mouth still further in a +smile still more cordial, and led him to the drawing-room. As she did so +she picked up a newspaper packet that lay on a table in the tiny hall, +and, without putting it on a salver, deposited it in front of Lois, who +was alone in the drawing-room. George wondered what Lois would have +thought of such an outrage upon established ritual had it happened to +her in the home of Irene Wheeler instead of in her own; and then the +imagined vision of Irene lying dead in the sumptuous home in the Avenue +Hoche seemed to render all established ritual absurd. + +"So you've come!" exclaimed Lois harshly. "Mother's quite knocked over, +and Laurencine's looking after her. All the usual eau-de-Cologne +business. And I should say father's not much better. My poor parents! +What did dad want you for?" + +The servant had closed the door. Lois had got up from her chair and was +walking about the room, pulling aside a curtain and looking out, tapping +the mantelpiece with her hand, tapping with her feet the base of the +stove, George had the sensation of being locked in a cage with a +mysterious, incalculable, and powerful animal. He was fascinated. He +thought: "I wanted to see her alone and I am seeing her alone!" + +"Well?" she insisted. "What did dad want you for?" + +"Oh! He told me a few things about Miss Wheeler." + +"I suppose he told you about Jules, and I suppose he told you I wasn't +to know on any account! Poor old dad! Instead of feeling he's my father, +d'you know what I feel? I feel as if I was his mother. He's _so_ clever; +he's frightfully clever; but he was never meant for this world. He's +just a beautiful child. How in Heaven's name could he think that a girl +like me could be intimate with Irene, and not know about the things that +were in her mind? How could he? Why! I've talked for hours with Irene +about Jules! She'd much sooner talk with me even than with mother. She's +cried in front of me. But I never cried. I always told her she was +making a mistake about Jules. I detested the little worm. But she +couldn't see it. No, she couldn't. She'd have quarrelled with me if I'd +let her quarrel. However, I wouldn't let her. Fancy quarrelling--over a +man! She couldn't help being mad over Jules. I told her she +couldn't--that was why I bore with her. I always told her he was only +playing with her. The one thing that I didn't tell her was that she was +too old for him. She really believed she never got any older. When I say +too old for him, I mean for her sake, not for his. He didn't think she +was too old. He couldn't--with that complexion of hers. I never envied +her anything else except her complexion and her money. But he wouldn't +marry an American. His people wouldn't let him. He's got to marry into a +family like his own, and there're only about ten for him to choose from. +I know she wrote to him on Thursday. She must have had the answer this +morning. Of course she had a revolver. I've got one myself. She went to +bed and did it. She used to say to me that if ever she did it that was +how she would do it.... And father tells me not to add to his +difficulties! Don't you think it's comic?... But she never told me +everything. I knew that. I accused her of it. She admitted it. +However..." + +Lois spoke in a low, regular murmur, experimentally aware that privacy +in a Paris flat is relative. There were four doors in the walls of the +drawing-room, and a bedroom on either side. At moments George could +scarcely catch her words. He had never heard her say so much at once, +for she was taciturn by habit, even awkward in conversation. She +glowered at him darkly. The idea flashed through his mind: "There can't +be another girl like her. She's unique." He almost trembled at the +revelation. He was afraid, and yet courageous, challenging, combative. +She had grandeur. It might be moral, or not; but it was grandeur. +And--(that touch about the complexion!)--she could remember her +freckles! She might, in her hard egotism, in the rushing impulses of her +appetites--she might be an enemy, an enemy to close with whom would be +terrible rapture, and the war of the sexes was a sublime war, infinitely +superior in emotions to tame peace. (And had she not been certified an +angel? Had he not himself seen the angel in her?) She dwarfed her father +and mother. The conception, especially, of Mr. Ingram at lunch, +deliciously playful and dominating, and now with the adroit wit crushed +out of him and only a naive sentimentality left, was comic--as she had +ruthlessly characterized it. She alone towered formidably over the +devastated ruins of Irene's earthly splendour. + +He said nothing. + +She rang the bell by the mantelpiece. He heard it ring. No answer. She +rang again. + +"_Arrivez donc, jeune fille!_" she exclaimed impatiently. + +The servant came. + +"_Apportez du the, Seraphine._" + +"_Oui, mademoiselle._" + +Then Lois lounged towards the table and tore sharply the wrapper of the +newspaper. George was still standing. + +"He's probably got something in about her this week--about her soiree +last Tuesday. We weren't invited. Of course he went." + +George saw the name the _Sunday Journal_. The paper had come by the +afternoon mail, and had been delivered, according to weekly custom, by +messenger from Mr. Ingram's office. Lois's tone and attitude tore +fatally the whole factitious 'Parisian' tradition, as her hand had torn +the wrapper. + +"See here," she said quietly, after a few seconds, and gave the +newspaper with her thumb indicating a paragraph. + +He could hardly read the heading, because it unnerved him; nor the +opening lines. But he read this: "The following six architects have been +selected by the Assessors and will be immediately requested by the +Corporation to submit final designs for the town hall: Mr. Whinburn, +Mr.... Mr.... Mr. George E. Cannon ..." + +"What did I always tell you?" she said. + +And then she said: + +"Your telegram must have been addressed wrong, or something." + +He sat down. Once again he was afraid. He was afraid of winning in the +final competition. A vista of mayors, corporations, town clerks, +committees, contractors, clerks-of-works, frightened him. He was afraid +of his immaturity, of his inexperience. He could not carry out the +enterprise; he would reap only ignominy. His greatest desire had been +granted. He had expected, in the event, to be wildly happy. But he was +not happy. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed. + +Lois, who had resumed the paper, read out: + +"In accordance with the conditions of the competition, each of the above +named will receive a honorarium of one hundred guineas." + +She looked at him. + +"You'll get that town hall to do," she said positively. "You're bound to +get it. You'll see." + +Her incomprehensible but convincing faith passed mysteriously into him. +A holy dew relieved him. He began to feel happy. + +Lois glanced again at the paper, which with arms outstretched she held +in front of her like a man, like the men at Pickering's. Suddenly it +fell rustling to the floor, and she burst into tears. + +She murmured indistinctly: "The last thing she did was for my +pleasure--sending the car." + +George jumped up, animated by an inexpressible tenderness for her. She +had weakened. He moved towards her. He did not consider what he was +doing; he had naught to say; but his instinctive arms were about to +clasp her. He was unimaginably disturbed. She straightened and stiffened +in a second. + +"But of course you've not got it yet," she said harshly, with apparent +irrelevance. + +Seraphine entered bouncingly with the tea. Lois regarded the tray, and +remarked the absence of the strainer. + +"_Et la passoire_?" she demanded, with implacable sternness. + +Seraphine gave a careless, apologetic gesture. + + +VII + + +It was late in September, when most people had returned to London after +the holidays. John Orgreave mounted to the upper floor of the house in +Russell Square where George had his office. Underneath George's name on +the door had been newly painted the word 'Inquiries,' and on another +door, opposite, the word 'Private.' John Orgreave knocked with +exaggerated noise at this second door and went into what was now +George's private room. + +"I suppose one ought to knock," he said in his hearty voice. + +"Hallo, Mr. Orgreave!" George exclaimed, jumping up. + +"If the mountain doesn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must come to the +mountain," said John Orgreave. + +"Come in," said George. + +He noticed, and ignored, the touch of sarcasm in John Orgreave's +attitude. He had noticed a similar phenomenon in the attitude of various +people within the last four days, since architectural circles and even +the world in general had begun to resound with the echoing news that the +competition for the northern town hall had been won by a youth not +twenty-three years of age. Mr. Enwright had been almost cross, asserting +that the victory was perhaps a fluke, as the design of another +competitor was in reality superior to George's. Mr. Enwright had also +said, in his crabbed way: "You'll soon cut me out"; and, George +protesting, had gone on: "Oh! Yes, you will. I've been through this sort +of thing before. I know what I'm talking about. You're no different from +the rest." Whereupon George, impatient and genuinely annoyed, had +retorted upon him quite curtly, and had remembered what many +persons had said about Mr. Enwright's wrong-headed jealous +sensitiveness--animadversions which he, as a worshipper of Mr. Enwright, +had been accustomed to rebut. Further, Lucas himself had not erred by +the extravagance of his enthusiasm for George's earth-shaking success. +For example, Lucas had said: "Don't go and get above yourself, old chap. +They may decide not to build it after all. You never know with these +corporations." A remark extremely undeserved, for George considered that +the modesty and simplicity of his own demeanour under the stress of an +inordinate triumph were rather notable. Still, he had his dignity to +maintain against the satiric, and his position was such that he could +afford to maintain it. + +Anyhow, he preferred the sardonic bearing of his professional intimates +to the sycophancy of certain acquaintances and of eager snobs unknown to +him. Among sundry telegrams received was one composed regardless of cost +and signed 'Turnbull.' He could not discover who Turnbull might be until +John Orgreave had reminded him of the wigged, brown, conversational +gentleman whom he had met, on one occasion only, at Adela's. In addition +to telegrams he had had letters, some of which contained requests for +money (demanded even as a right by the unlucky from the lucky), and an +assortment of charity circulars, money-lenders' circulars, and +bucket-shop lures. His mother's great sprawling letter had pleased him +better than any save one. The exception was his stepfather's. Edwin +Clayhanger, duly passing on to the next generation the benevolent +Midland gibe which he had inherited, wrote: + +"DEAR GEORGE,--It's better than a bat in the eye with a burnt +stick.--Yours affectionately, NUNKS" + +As a boy George had at one period called his stepfather 'Nunks,' but he +had not used the appellation for years. He was touched now. + +The newspapers had been hot after him, and he knew not how to defend +himself. His photograph was implored. He was waylaid by journalists +shabby and by journalists spruce, and the resulting interviews made him +squirm. He became a man of mark at Pickering's. Photographers entreated +him to sit free of charge. What irritated him in the whole vast affair +was the continual insistence upon his lack of years. Nobody seemed to be +interested in his design for the town hall; everybody had the air of +regarding him as a youthful prodigy, a performing animal. Personally he +did not consider that he was so very young. (Nevertheless he did +consider that he was a youthful prodigy. He could recall no architect in +history who had done what he had done at his age.) The town clerk who +travelled from the North to see him treated his age in a different +manner, the patronizing. He did not care for the town clerk. However, +the town clerk was atoned for by the chairman of the new town hall +sub-committee, a true human being named Soulter, with a terrific accent +and a taste for architecture, pictures, and music. Mr. Soulter, though +at least forty-five, treated George, without any appearance of effort, +as a coeval. George immediately liked him, and the mere existence of Mr. +Soulter had the effect of dissipating nearly all George's horrible +qualms and apprehensions about his own competence to face the +overwhelming job of erection. Mr. Soulter was most soothing in the +matter of specifications and contractors. + +"So you've got into your new room," said John Orgreave. + +Never before had he mounted to see George either in the new room or in +the old room. The simple fact of the presence there of one of the +partners in the historic firm below compensated for much teasing sarcasm +and half-veiled jealousy. It was a sign. It was a seal authenticating +renown. + +"Yes." + +"I only wanted to give you a message from Adela. The Ingram young woman +is staying with us----" + +"Lois?" The name shot out of him unbidden. + +"Yes. You're humbly supplicated to go to tea to-day. Four o'clock. Thank +God I've not forgotten it!" + +George arrived fifty-five minutes late at Bedford Park. Throughout the +journey thither he kept repeating: "She said I should do it. And I've +done it! I've done it! I've done it!" The triumph was still so close +behind him that he was constantly realizing it afresh, and saying, +wonder-struck: "I've done it." And the miraculous phantasm of the town +hall, uplifted in solid stone, formed itself again and again in his +enchanted mind, against a background of tremendous new ambitions rising +endlessly one behind another like snowy alps. + +"Is this what you call four o'clock?" twittered Adela, between cajolery +and protest, somewhat older and facially more artificial, but eternally +blonde; still holding her fair head on one side and sinuously waving the +palm. + +"Sorry! Sorry! I was kept at the last moment by a journalist johnny." + +"Oh! Of course!" said Adela, pooh-poohing with her lips. "Of course we +expect that story nowadays!" + +"Well, it was a chap from the _Builder_, or I wouldn't have seen him. +Can't trifle with a trade paper, you know." + +He thought: + +"She's like the rest of them, as jealous as the devil." + +Then Lois came into the room, hatted and gloved, in half-mourning. She +was pale, and appreciably thinner; she looked nervous, weak, and weary. +As he shook hands with her he felt very self-conscious, as though in +winning the competition and fulfilling her prophecy he had done +something dubious for which he ought to apologize. This was exceedingly +strange, but it was so. She had been ill after the death of Irene +Wheeler. Having left Paris for London on the day following the races, he +had written to her about nothing in particular, a letter which meant +everything but what it said--and had received an answer from Laurencine, +who announced that her sister was in bed, and likely to be in bed; and +that father and mother wished to be remembered to him. Then he wrote to +Laurencine. When the result of the final competition was published he +had written again to Lois. It seemed to him that he was bound to do so, +for had she not willed and decided his victory? No reply; but there had +scarcely been time for a reply. + +"Did you get my letter?" he smiled. + +"This afternoon," she said gravely. "It followed me here. Now I have to +go to Irene's flat. I should have been gone in another minute." + +"She _will_ go alone," Adela put in anxiously. + +"I shall be back for dinner," said Lois, and to the stupefaction of +George she moved towards the door. + +But just as she opened the door she turned her head and, looking at +George with a frown, murmured: + +"You can come with me if you like." + +Adela burst out: + +"He hasn't had any tea!" + +"I'm not urging him to come, my dear. Good-bye." + +Adela and George exchanged a glance, each signalling to the other that +perhaps this sick, strange girl ought to be humoured. He abandoned the +tea.... He was in the street with Lois. He was in the train with her. +Her ticket was in his pocket. He had explained to her why he was late, +and she had smiled, amiably but enigmatically. He thought: "She's no +right to go on like this. But what does it matter?" She said nothing +about the competition--not a word of congratulation. Indeed she hardly +spoke beyond telling him that she had to choose some object at the flat. +He was aware of the principal terms of Irene's will, which indeed had +caused the last flutter of excitement before oblivion so quickly +descended upon the notoriety of the social star. Irene's renown had +survived her complexion by only a few short weeks. The will was of a +rather romantic nature. Nobody familiar with the intimate circumstances +would have been surprised if Irene had divided her fortune between Lois +and Laurencine. The bulk of it, however, went back to Indianapolis. The +gross total fell far short of popular estimates. Lois and Laurencine +received five thousand pounds apiece, and in addition they were +requested to select each an object from Irene's belongings--Lois out of +the London flat, Laurencine out of the Paris flat. Lois had come to +London to choose, and she was staying with Adela, the sole chaperon +available. Since the death of Irene, Mrs. Ingram had been excessively +strict in the matter of chaperons. + +They took a hansom at Victoria. Across the great square, whose leaves +were just yellowing, George saw the huge block of flats, and in one +story all the blinds were down. Lois marched first into the lift, +masterfully, as though she inhabited the block. She asked no one's +permission. Characteristically she had an order from the solicitors, and +the keys of the flat. She opened the door without any trouble. They were +inside, within the pale-sheeted interior. Scarcely a thing had yet been +moved, for, with the formalities of the judicatures of France, England, +and the State of Indiana to be complied with, events marched slowly +under the sticky manipulation of three different legal firms. Lois and +George walked cautiously across the dusty, dulled parquets into the vast +drawing-room. George doffed his hat. + +"I'd better draw the blinds up," he suggested. + +"No, no!" she sharply commanded. "I can see quite well. I don't want any +more light." + +There was the piano upon which Laurencine had played! The embrasure of +the window! The corner in which Irene had sat spellbound by Jules +Defourcambault! The portraits of Irene, at least one of which would +perpetuate her name! The glazed cases full of her collections!... The +chief pieces of furniture and all the chairs were draped in the pale, +ghostly sheeting. + +Suddenly Lois, rushing to the mantelpiece, cried: + +"This is what I shall take." + +It was a large photograph of Jules Defourcambault, bearing the words: +"_A Miss Irene Wheeler. Hommages respectueux de_ J.D.F." + +"You won't!" he exclaimed, incredulous, shocked. He thought: "She is +mad!" + +"Yes, I shall." + +There were hundreds of beautiful objects in the place, and she chose a +banal photograph of a despicable creature whom she detested. + +"Why don't you take one of _her_ portraits? Or even a fan. What on earth +do you want with a thing like that?" His voice was changing. + +"I shall take it and keep it for ever. He was the cause of it all. This +photograph was everything to her once." + +George revolted utterly, and said with cold, harsh displeasure: + +"You're simply being morbid. There's no sense in it." + +She dropped down into a chair, and the impress of her body dragged the +dust-sheet from its gilt arms, exposing them. She put her face in her +hands and sobbed. + +"You're awfully cruel!" she murmured thickly. + +The sobs continued, shaking her body. She was beautifully dressed. Her +shoes were adorable, and the semi-transparent hose over her fine ankles. +She made a most disturbing, an unbearable, figure of compassion. She +needed wisdom, protection, guidance, strength. Every bit of her seemed +to appeal for these qualities. But at the same time she dismayed. He +moved nearer to her. Yes, she had grandeur. All the costly and valuable +objects in the drawing-room she had rejected in favour of the +satisfaction of a morbid and terrible whim. Who could have foreseen it? +He moved still nearer. He stood over her. He seized her yielding wrists. +He lifted her veil. Tears were running down her cheeks from the yellow +eyes. She looked at him through her tears. + +"You're frightfully cruel," she feebly repeated. + +"And what if I am?" he said solemnly. Did she really think him hard, had +she always thought him hard--she, the hard one? How strange! Yet no +doubt he was hard. + +His paramount idea was: + +"She had faith in me." It was as if her faith had created the man he +was. She was passionately ambitious; so was he. + +And when he kissed her wet mouth, and stroked with incredible delicacy +those streaming cheeks, he felt himself full of foreboding. But he was +proud and confident. + +He took her back to Bedford Park. She carried the photograph, unwrapped; +but he ventured no comment. She went straight up to her room. + +"_You_ must tell Mrs. Orgreave," she said on the stairs. + +Adela made a strange remark: + +"Oh! But we always intended you to marry Lois!" + + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER I + +THE TRIUMPH + +I + + +George came into the conjugal bedroom. The hour was about three o'clock +in the afternoon. Lois lay on the sofa at the foot of the twin beds. It +was perhaps characteristic of her that she sincerely preferred the sofa +to her bed. Sometimes in the night, when she could not sleep, she would +get up and go sighing to the sofa, and, with nothing but a slippery +eiderdown to cover her, sleep perfectly till George arose in the +morning. Quite contentedly conventional in most matters of mere social +deportment, she often resisted purely physical conventions. A bed was +the recognized machine for slumber; hence she would instinctively choose +another machine. Also, the sofa was nearer to the ground. She liked to +be near the ground. She had welcomed with ardour the first beginnings of +the new fashion which now regularly permits ladies to sit on the +hearth-rug after a ceremonial dinner and prop their backs with cushions +or mantelpieces. Doubtless a trait of the 'cave-woman' that as a girl +she had called herself! + +She was now stretched on the sofa in a luxurious and expensive ribboned +muslin negligee, untidy, pale, haggard, heavy, shapeless, the expectant +mother intensely conscious of her own body and determined to maintain +all the privileges of the exacting role which nature had for the third +time assigned to her. Little Laurencine, aged eight, and little Lois, +aged five, in their summer white, were fondling her, tumbling about her, +burying themselves in her; she reclined careless, benignant, and +acquiescent under their tiny assaults; it was at moments as though the +three were one being. When their father appeared in the doorway, she +warned them in an apparently awed tone that father was there, and that +nursey was waiting for them and that they must run off quietly. And she +kissed them with the enormous kiss of a giantess suddenly rendered +passionate by a vast uprush of elemental feeling. And they ran off, +smiling confidently at their father, giggling, chattering about +important affairs in their intolerable, shrieking voices. George could +never understand why Lois should attempt, as she constantly did, to +instil into them awe of their father; his attitude to the children made +it impossible that she should succeed. But she kept on trying. The +cave-woman again! George would say to himself: "All women are +cave-women." + +"Have you come to pack?" she asked, with fatigued fretfulness, showing +no sign of surprise at his arrival. + +"Oh no!" he answered, and implied that in his over-charged existence +packing would have to be done when it could, if at all. "I only came in +for one second to see if I could root out that straw hat I wore last +year." + +"Do open the window," she implored grievously. + +"It is open." + +"Both sides?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, open it more." + +"It's wide open." + +"Both sides?" + +"Yes." + +"It's so stuffy in this room," she complained, expelling much breath. + +It was stuffy in the room. The room was too full of the multitudinous +belongings and furniture of wife and husband. It was too small for its +uses. The pair, unduly thrown together, needed two rooms. But the house +could not yield them two rooms, though from the outside it had an air of +spaciousness. The space was employed in complying with custom, in +imitating the disposition of larger houses, and in persuading the tenant +that he was as good as his betters. There was a basement, because the +house belonged to the basement era, and because it is simpler to burrow +than to erect. On the ground floor were the hall--narrow, and the +dining-room--narrow. To have placed the dining-room elsewhere would have +been to double the number of stairs between it and the kitchen; +moreover, the situation of the dining-room in all such correct houses is +immutably fixed by the code Thus the handiest room in the house was +occupied during four hours of the twenty-four, and wasted during the +remaining twenty. Behind the dining-room was a very small room +appointed by the code to be George's 'den.' It would never have been +used at all had not George considered it his duty to use it +occasionally, and had not Lois at intervals taken a fancy to it because +it was not hers. + +The whole of the first floor was occupied by the landing, the well of +the staircase, and the drawing-room, which last was inevitably shaped in +the resemblance of an L. The small back portion of it over George's den +was never utilized save by the grand piano and rare pianists. Still, the +code demanded that the drawing-room should have this strange appendage, +and that a grand piano should reside in it modestly, apologetically, +like a shame that cannot be entirely concealed. Nearly every house in +Elm Park Road, and every house in scores of miles of other correct +streets in the West End, had a drawing-room shaped in the semblance of +an L, and a grand piano in the hinterland thereof. The drawing-room, +like the dining-room, was occupied during about four hours of the +twenty-four, and wasted during the remaining twenty. + +The two main floors of the house being in such manner accounted for, the +family and its dependents principally lived aloft on the second and +third floors. Eight souls slept up there nightly. A miracle of +compression! + +George had had the house for ten years; he entered it as a bridegroom. +He had stayed in it for seven years because the landlord would only +confide it to him on lease, and at the end of the seven years he lacked +the initiative to leave it. An ugly house, utterly without architectural +merit! A strange house for an architect to inhabit! George, however, had +never liked it. Before his marriage he had discovered a magnificent +house in Fitzroy Square, a domestic masterpiece of the Adams period, +exquisitely designed without and within, huge rooms and many rooms, +lovely ceilings, a forged-iron stair-rail out of Paradise; a house +appreciably nearer to the centre than the one in Elm Park Road, and with +a lower rental. George would have taken the house, had not Lois pointed +out to him its fatal disadvantage, which had escaped him, namely, that +people simply did not live in Fitzroy Square. Instantly Lois entered +Fitzroy Square, George knew himself for a blind fool. Of course the +house was impossible. He was positively ashamed to show her the house. +She admitted that it was beautiful. So Elm Park Road was finally +selected, Elm Park Road being a street where people could, and in fact +did, live. It was astounding how Lois, with her small and fragmentary +knowledge of London, yet knew, precisely and infallibly, by instinct, by +the sound of the names of the thoroughfares, by magic diabolical or +celestial, what streets were inhabitable and what were not. And +something in George agreed with her. + +He now rummaged among hat-boxes beneath the beds, pulled one out, and +discovered a straw hat in it. + +"Will it do?" he questioned doubtfully. + +"Let me look at it." + +He approached her and gave her the hat, which she carefully examined, +frowning. + +"Put it on," she said. + +He put it on, and she gazed at him for what seemed to him an +unnecessarily long time. His thought was that she liked to hold him +under her gaze. + +"Well?" he exclaimed impatiently. + +"It's quite all right," she said. "What's the matter with it? It makes +you look about fourteen." He felt envy in her voice. Then she added: +"But surely you won't be able to wear that thing to-morrow?" + +"Of course not. I only want it for this afternoon.... This sun." + +"Oh!" she cried. "I do think it's a shame I can't go to the Opening! +It's just my luck." + +He considered that she arraigned her luck much too often; he considered +that on the whole her luck was decidedly good. But he knew that she had +to be humoured. It was her right to be humoured. + +"Yes," he said judicially and rather shortly. "I'm sorry too! But what +are you going to do about it? If you can't go, you can't. And you know +it's absolutely out of the question." As a fact he was glad that her +condition made such an excursion impossible for her. She would certainly +have been rather a ticklish handful for him at the Opening. + +"But I should so have _enjoyed_ it!" she insisted, with emphasis. + +There it was, the thirst for enjoyment, pleasure! The supreme, +unslakable thirst! She had always had it, and he had always hardened +himself against it--while often, nevertheless, accepting with secret +pleasure the satisfactions of her thirst. Thus, for example, in the +matter of dancing. She had shared to the full in the extraordinary craze +for dancing which had held the West End for several years. Owing to her +initiative they had belonged to two dancing clubs whose members met +weekly in the saloons of the great hotels. The majority of the members +were acutely tedious to George, but Lois was quite uncritical, save on +the main point; she divided the members into good dancers and bad +dancers. George was a pretty good dancer. He liked dancing. Membership +of these clubs involved expense, it interfered with his sleep, it made +his early mornings more like defeats than triumphs, it prevented him +from duly reading and sketching. But he liked dancing. While resenting +the compulsion to outrage his conscience, he enjoyed the sin. What +exasperated him was Lois's argument that that kind of thing "did him +good" professionally, and was indeed essential to the career of a rising +or risen young architect, and that also it was good for his health and +his mind. He wished that she would not so unconvincingly pretend that +self-indulgence was not what it was. These pretences, however, seemed to +be a necessity of her nature. She reasoned similarly about the dinners +and theatre-parties which they gave and attended. Next to dancing she +adored dinners and theatre-parties. She would sooner eat a bad dinner in +company anywhere than a good dinner quietly at home; she would far +sooner go to a bad play than to none at all; she was in fact never bored +in the theatre or in the music-hall. Never! + +Once, by misfortune--as George privately deemed--he had got a small job +(erection of a dwelling-house at Hampstead) through a dinner. Lois had +never forgotten it, and she would adduce the trifle again and again as +evidence of the sanity of her ideas about social life. George really did +not care for designing houses; they were not worth the trouble; he +habitually thought in public edifices and the palaces of kings, nobles, +and plutocrats of taste. Moreover, his commission on the house would not +have kept his own household in being for a month--and yet the owner, +while obviously proud to be the patron of the celebrated prodigy George +Cannon, had the air of doing George Cannon a favour! + +And so her ambition, rather than his, had driven them both ruthlessly +on. Both were overpressed, but George considerably more than Lois. Lois +was never, in ordinary times, really tired. Dinners, teas, even lunches, +restaurants, theatres, music-halls, other people's houses, clubs, +dancing, changing clothes, getting into autos and taxis and getting out +of autos and taxis, looking at watches, writing down engagements, going +to bed with a sigh at the lateness of the hour, waking up fatigued to +the complexities of the new day--she coped admirably with it all. She +regarded it as natural; she regarded it as inevitable and proper. She +enjoyed it. She wanted it, and that which she wanted she must have. Yet +her attitude to George was almost invariably one of deep solicitude for +him. She would look at him with eyes troubled and anxious for his +welfare. When they were driving to a dance which he had no desire to +attend, she would put her arm in his and squeeze his arm and murmur: +"Coco, I don't _like_ you working so hard." (Coco was her pet name for +him, a souvenir of Paris.) + +He acknowledged that, having chosen her role, she played it well. She +made him comfortable. She was a good housekeeper, and a fair organizer +generally. She knew how to be well served. He thought that her manner +to servants was often inexcusable, but she "kept" her servants, and they +would "do anything" for her. Further, except that she could not shine in +conversation, she was a good hostess. She never made mistakes, never +became muddled, never forgot. Of course she had friends to whom he was +indifferent or perhaps slightly hostile, but she was entitled to her +friends, as he to his. And she was a good mother. Stranger still, though +she understood none of the arts and had no logical taste, she possessed +a gift of guessing or of divination which, in all affairs relating to +the home, was the practical equivalent of genuine taste. George had +first noticed this faculty in her when she put a thousand pounds of her +money to a thousand pounds of his stepfather's and they began to buy +furniture. The house was beautifully furnished, and she had done her +share. And in the alterations, additions, and replacements which for +several years she had the habit of springing upon him, she rarely +offended him. Still, he knew indubitably that she had not taste,--anyhow +in his sense of the term,--and would never, never acquire it. An +astonishing creature! He had not finished being astonished at her. In +some respects he had not even come to a decision about her. For +instance, he suspected that she had "no notion of money," but he could +not be sure. She did what she liked with her own income, which was about +two hundred a year; that is to say, she clothed herself out of it. Her +household accounts were unknown to him; he had once essayed to +comprehend them, but had drawn back affrighted. + +"Well," she said plaintively. "Now you're here, I think you might sit a +bit with me. It's most awfully lonely for me." + +"I can't possibly," he said, with calm. "I have to rush off to the club +to see Davids about that business." + +She ignored his inescapable duties! It was nothing to her that he had a +hundred affairs to arrange before his night-journey to the north. She +wanted him to sit with her. Therefore she thought that he ought to sit +with her, and she would be conscious of a grievance if he did not. +'Lonely!' Because the children were going out for an hour or so! +Besides, even if it was lonely, facts were facts, and destiny was +destiny and had to be borne. + +"What business?" + +"You know." + +"Oh! That!... Well, can't you go after tea?" + +Incurable! + +"Here, lass!" he said, with a laugh. "If I stop arguing here I shall +miss him." + +He bent down, and prepared his lips to kiss her. He smiled superiorly, +indulgently. He was the stronger. She defeated him sometimes; she +gravely defeated him in the general arrangement and colour of their +joint existence; but he was the stronger. She had known it for over ten +years. They had had two tremendous, critical, highly dangerous battles. +He had won them both. Lois had wanted to be married in Paris. He had +been ready to agree until suddenly it occurred to him that French legal +formalities might necessitate an undue disclosure as to his parentage +and the bigamy of which his mother had been a victim. He refused +absolutely to be married in Paris. He said: "You're English and I'm +English, and the proper place for us to be married is England." There +were good counter-arguments, but he would not have them. Curiously, at +this very period, news came from his stepfather of his father's death in +America. He kept it to himself. Again, on the night itself of their +marriage, he had said to her: "_Now give me that revolver you've got_." +At her protesting refusal he had said: "My wife is not going about with +any revolver. Not if I know it!" He was playful but determined. He +startled her, for the altercation lasted two hours. On the other hand he +had never said a word about the photograph of Jules Defourcambault, and +had never seen it. Somewhere, in some mysterious fastness, the +mysterious woman kept it. + +His lips were close to hers, and his eyes to her eyes. Most persons +called her eyes golden, but to him they were just yellow. They had an +infinitesimal cast, to which nobody ever referred. They were voluptuous +eyes. He examined her face. She was still young; but the fine impressive +imprint of existence was upon her features, and the insipid freshness +had departed. She blinked, acquiescent. Her eyes changed, melting. He +could almost see into her brain, and watch there the impulse of +repentance for an unreasonable caprice, and the intense resolve to think +in the future only of her husband's welfare. She was like that.... She +could be an angel.... He knew that he was hard. He guessed that he might +be inordinately hard He would bear people down. Why had he not been +touched by her helpless condition? She was indeed touching as she lay. +She wanted to keep him near her and she could not. She wanted acutely to +go to the north, and she was imprisoned. She would have to pass the +night alone, and the next night alone. Danger and great suffering lay in +front of her. And she was she; she was herself, with all her terrific +instincts. She could not alter herself. Did she not merit compassion? +Still, _he must go to his club_. + +He kissed her tenderly. She half lifted her head, and kissed him exactly +as she kissed his children, like a giantess, and as though she was the +ark of wisdom from everlasting, and he a callow boy whose safety +depended upon her sagacious, loving direction. + +From the top of the flight of stairs leading from the ground floor, +George, waiting till it was over, witnessed the departure of his family +for the afternoon promenade. A prodigious affair! The parlourmaid (a +delightful creature who was, unfortunately, soon to make an excellent +match above her station) amiably helped the nursemaid to get the +perambulator down the steps. The parlourmaid wore her immutable uniform, +and the nursemaid wore her immutable uniform. Various things had to be +packed into the perambulator, and then little Lois had to be packed into +it--not because she could not walk, but because it was not desirable for +her to arrive at the playground tired. Nursey's sunshade was +undiscoverable, and little Laurencine's little sunshade had to be +retrieved from underneath little Lois in the depths of the perambulator. +Nursey's book had fallen on the steps. Then the tiny but elaborate +perambulator of Laurencine's doll had to go down the steps, and the doll +had to be therein ensconced under Laurencine's own direction, and +Laurencine's sunshade had to be opened, and Laurencine had to prove to +the maids that she could hold the sunshade in one hand and push the +doll's perambulator with the other. Finally, the procession of human +beings and vehicles moved, munitioned, provisioned, like a caravan +setting forth into the desert, the parlourmaid amiably waving adieux. + +George thought: "I support all that. It all depends on me. I have +brought it all into existence." And his reflections embraced Lois +upstairs, and the two colleagues of the parlourmaid in the kitchen, and +the endless apparatus of the house, and the people at his office and the +apparatus there, and the experiences that awaited him on the morrow, and +all his responsibilities, and all his apprehensions for the future. And +he was amazed and dismayed by the burden which almost unwittingly he +bore night and day. But he felt too that it was rather fine. He felt +that he was in the midst of life. + +As he was cranking his car, which he had left unattended at the kerb, +Mrs. Buckingham Smith's magnificent car driven by her magnificent +chauffeur, swept in silence up to the door and sweetly stopped. George's +car was a very little one, and he was his own chauffeur, and had to walk +home from the garage when he had done with it. The contemplation of Buck +Smith's career showed George that there are degrees of success. Buck +Smith received a thousand pounds for a portrait (in the French manner of +painting)--and refused commissions at that. Buck Smith had a kind of +palace in Melbury Road. By the side of Buck Smith. George was a +struggling semi-failure. Mrs. Buck Smith, the lady whom George had first +glimpsed in the foyer of a theatre, was a superb Jewess whom Buck had +enticed from the stage. George did not like her because she was apt, in +ecstasy, to froth at the mouth, and for other reasons; but she was one +of his wife's most intimate friends. Lois, usually taciturn, would +chatter with Adah for hours. + +"I thought I'd come and see Lois," said Mrs. Buck, effulgently smiling, +as George handed her out of the car. "How is the dear thing? You just +flying off?" + +"You'll do her all the good in the world," George replied. "I can't +stop. I have to leave town to-night, and I'm full up." + +"Oh yes! The Opening! How perfectly splendid!" Tiny bubbles showed +between her glorious lips. "What a shame it is poor Lois isn't able to +go!" + +"Yes," said George. "But look here! Don't you go and tell her so. That's +quite the wrong tack." + +"I see! I see!" said Mrs. Buck, gazing at him as one who was capable of +subtle comprehensions. "By the way," she added, as she turned to mount +the steps, "I ran across Everard Lucas at the Berkeley to-day. Lunching +there. I said I was coming here. He told me to tell you, if I saw you, +that old Mr. Haim or Home or some such name was dead. He said you'd be +interested." + +"By Jove!" George ejaculated. "Is he? Haven't seen him for years and +years." + + +II + + +He got into his car and drove off at speed. Beneath his off-hand words +to Mrs. Buckingham Smith he was conscious of a quickly growing, tender +sympathy for Marguerite Haim. The hardness in him was dissolved almost +instantaneously. He saw Marguerite, who had been adamantine in the +difference which separated them, as the image of pliancy, sweetness, +altruism, and devotion; and he saw her lips and the rapt glance of her +eyes as beautiful as in the past. What a soft, soothing, assuaging +contrast with the difficult Lois, so imperious and egoistic! (An +unforgettable phrase of Lois's had inhabited his mind for over a decade: +"Fancy quarrelling over a man!") He had never met Marguerite since their +separation, and for years he had heard nothing whatever about her; he +did not under-estimate the ordeal of meeting her again. Yet he at once +decided that he must meet her again. He simply could not ignore her in +her bereavement and new loneliness. To write to her would be absurd; it +would be a cowardly evasion; moreover, he could not frame a letter. He +must prove to her and to himself that he had a sense of decent +kindliness which would rise above conventional trifles when occasion +demanded. + +At the top of Elm Park Gardens, instead of turning east towards +Piccadilly he turned west in the direction of the Workhouse tower. And +thus he exposed the unreality of the grandiose pleas with which +professional men impose on their wives and on themselves. A few minutes +earlier his appointment at the club (not Pickering's, to which, however, +he still belonged, but a much greater institution, the Artists, in +Albemarle Street) had been an affair of extreme importance, upon which +might depend his future career, for did it not concern negotiations for +a London factory, which was to be revolutionary in design, and to cost +L150,000, and which, erected, would form a permanent advertisement of +the genius of George Cannon? Now he remembered that Sir Isaac Davids, +the patron of all the arts and the influencer of commissions, had said +that he would probably but not certainly be at the club that afternoon, +and he argued that in any event half an hour sooner or later would not +make or mar the business. Indeed, he went further, and persuaded himself +that between that moment and dinner he had nothing to do except sign a +few routine letters at the office. Still, it was just as well that Lois +should remain in delusion as to his being seriously pressed for time. + +As he curved, slackening and accelerating, with the perfect assurance of +long habit, through the swift, intricate, towering motor traffic of +Fulham Road, it was inevitable that he should recall the days, eleven +years ago, when through a sedate traffic of trotting horses enlivened +with a few motors and motor-buses, he used to run down on his +motor-cycle to visit Marguerite. It was inevitable that he should think +upon what had happened to him in the meantime. His body felt, honestly, +no older. The shoulders had broadened, the moustache was fiercer, there +were semicircular furrows under the eyes; but he was as slim and agile +as ever, and did his morning exercises as regularly as he took his bath. +More, he was still, somehow, the youthful prodigy who had won the +biggest competition of modern years while almost an infant. He was still +known as such, regarded as such, greeted as such, referred to as such at +intervals in the Press. His fame in his own world seemed not to have +deteriorated. But disappointment had slowly, imperceptibly, eaten into +him. He was far off the sublime heights of Sir Hugh Corver, though he +met Sir Hugh apparently as an equal on the Council of the Royal Society +of British Architects. Work had not surged in upon him. He had not been +able to pick and choose among commissions. He had never won another +competition. Again and again his hopes had been horribly defeated in +these ghastly enterprises, of which two were still pending. He was a man +of one job. And a quarter of his professional life had slipped behind +him! His dreams were changed. Formerly he had dreamed in architectural +forms; now he dreamed in percentages. His one job had been enormous and +lucrative, but he had lived on it for a decade, and it was done. And +outside it he had earned probably less than twelve hundred pounds. + +And if the job had been enormous, his responsibilities were likewise +enormous. Home expenses with an increasing family; establishment +expenses; a heavy insurance! Slavery to habits! The common story, +without the slightest originality in it. The idea recurred continually: +it was the fault of Lois, of that embodied, implacable instinct which +Lois was! And it was the fault of circumstance, of the structure of +society, of existence itself. And it was his fault too. And the whole of +the blame would be his if disaster came. Imagine those kids with the +perambulator and the doll's perambulator--imagine them in an earthquake! +He could see no future beyond, perhaps, eight months ahead. No, he could +not! Of course his stepfather was a sure resource. But he could not +conceive himself confessing failure to his stepfather or to anybody on +earth. Yet, if he did not very soon obtain more work, remunerative and +on a large scale ... if he did not ... However, he would obtain more +work. It was impossible that he should not obtain it. The matter with +Sir Isaac was as good as arranged. And the chances of winning at any +rate one of the two competitions were very favourable.... He dismissed +every apprehension. His health was too good to tolerate apprehensions +permanently. And he had a superstitious faith in his wife's +superstitious faith in him, and in his luck. The dark mood quickly +faded. It had been induced, not by the spectacle of his wife and family +and household seen somehow from a new angle, but by the recollection of +the past. Though he often went through dark moods, they were not moods +of financial pessimism; they seemed to be causeless, inexplicable, and +indescribable--abysses in which cerebration ceased. + + +III + + +She was just closing the side gate leading to the studio when he drove +up. He recognized her face over the top of the gate. At the first glance +it seemed to be absolutely unchanged--the same really beautiful lips, +the same nose, the same look in the eyes. Had a decade passed by her and +left no trace? He lost his nerve for an instant, and brought the car to +a standstill with less than his usual adroitness. She hesitated. + +"I was coming to see you," he called out hastily, boyishly, not in the +least measuring his effects. He jumped from the car, and said in a +lower, more intimate tone: "I've only this minute heard about Mr. Haim. +I'm awfully sorry. I thought I'd come along at once." + +"How nice of you!" she replied, quite simply and naturally, with a +smile. "Do come in." + +The tension was eased. + +She pulled at the gate, which creaked. He then saw plainly the whole of +her figure. She was dressed in black, and wore what the newspaper +advertisement called a 'matron's coat.' The decade had not passed by her +and left no trace. She had been appointed to a share in the mysterious +purpose. Her bust, too, was ampler; only her face, rather pale like the +face of Lois, was unaltered in its innocent contours. He felt that he +was blushing. He had no instinctive jealousy nor resentment; it did not +appear strange to him that this woman in the matron's coat was the girl +he had passionately kissed in that very house; and indeed the woman was +not the girl--the connexion between the woman and the girl had snapped. +Nevertheless, he was extremely self-conscious; but not she. And in his +astonishment he wondered at the secretiveness of London. His house and +hers were not more than half a mile apart, and yet in eleven years he +had never set eyes on her house. Nearly always, on leaving his house, he +would go up Elm Park Gardens and turn to the right. If he was not in the +car he would never turn to the left. Occasionally he had flown past the +end of the Grove in the car; not once, however, had he entered the +Grove. He lived in Chelsea and she lived in Chelsea, but not the same +Chelsea; his was not the Chelsea of the studios and the King's Road. +They had existed close together, side by side, for years and years--and +she had been hidden from him. + +As they walked towards the studio door she told him that 'they' had +buried her father a week ago and that 'they' were living in the studio, +and had already arranged to let the lower part of the house. She had the +air of assuming that he was aware of the main happenings in her life, +only a little belated in the knowledge of her father's death. She was +quite cheerful. He pretended to himself to speculate as to the identity +of her husband. He would not ask: "And who is your husband?". All the +time he knew who her husband was: it could be no other than one man. She +opened the studio door with a latchkey. He was right. At a table Mr. +Prince was putting sheets of etching-paper to soak in a porcelain bath. + +"Well! Well! Well!" exclaimed Mr. Prince warmly, not flustered, not a +bit embarrassed, and not too demonstrative. He came forward, delicately +drying the tips of his fingers on a rag, and shook hands. His hair was +almost white, his thin, benevolent face amazingly lined; his voice had a +constant little vibration. Yet George could not believe that he was an +old man. + +"He only heard to-day about father, and he's called at once," said +Marguerite. "Isn't it just like him?" + +The last phrase surprised and thrilled George. Did she mean it? Her +kind, calm, ingenuous face showed that obviously she meant it. + +"It is," said Mr. Prince seriously. "Very good of you, old man." + +After some talk about Mr. Haim, and about old times, and about changes, +during which Marguerite took off her matron's coat and Mr. Prince gently +hung it up for her, they all sat down near to one another and near the +unlighted stove. The studio seemed to be precisely as of old, except +that it was very clean. Marguerite, in a high-backed wicker-chair, began +slowly to remove her hat, which she perched behind her on the chair. Mr. +Prince produced a tin of Gold Flake cigarettes. + +"And so you're living in the studio?" said George. + +"We have the two rooms at the top of the house of course," answered Mr. +Prince, glancing at the staircase. "I don't know whether it's quite the +wisest thing, with all those stairs; you see how we're fixed"--he +glanced at Marguerite--"but we had a fine chance to let the house, and +in these days it's as well to be cautious." + +Marguerite smiled happily and patted her husband's hand. + +"Of course it's the wisest thing," she said. + +"Why! What's the matter with these days?" George demanded. "How's the +work?" + +"Oh!" said Mr. Prince, in a new tone. "I've one or two things that might +interest you." + +He displayed some prints, and chatted of his labours. He was still +etching; he would die etching. This was the etcher of European renown. +He referred to the Vienna acquisition as though it was an affair of a +few weeks ago. He had disposed of an etching to Stockholm, and mentioned +that he had exhibited at the International Show in Rome. He said that +his things were attracting attention at a gallery in Bond Street. He +displayed catalogues and press-cuttings. + +"These are jolly fine," said George enthusiastically, as he examined the +prints on his knee. + +"I'm glad you like them," said Mr. Prince, pleased. "I think I've +improved." + +But in spite of his European renown, Mr. Prince had remained practically +unknown. His name would not call forth the 'Oh yes!' of recognition from +the earnest frequenter of fashionable exhibitions who takes pride in his +familiarity with names. The etchings of Prince were not subscribed for +in advance. He could not rank with the stars--Cameron, Muirhead Bone, +Legros, Brangwyn. Probably he could command not more than two or three +guineas for a print. He had never been the subject of a profusely +laudatory illustrated article in the _Studio_. With his white hair he +was what in the mart is esteemed a failure. He knew it. Withal he had a +notable self-respect and a notable confidence. There was no timidity in +him, even if his cautiousness was excessive. He possessed sagacity and +he had used it. He knew where he was. He had something substantial up +his sleeve. There was no wistful appeal in his eye, as of a man who +hopes for the best and fears the worst. He could meet dealers with a +firm glance, for throughout life he had subjugated his desires to his +resources. His look was modest but independent; and Marguerite had the +same look. + +"Hallo!" cried George. "I see you've got that here!" He pointed to Celia +Agg's portrait of herself as Bonnie Prince Charlie. + +"Yes," said Marguerite. "She insisted on me taking it when she gave up +painting." + +"Gave up painting?" + +"Very good, isn't it?" said Mr. Prince gravely. "Pity she ever did give +up painting, I think," he added in a peculiar tone. + +"Yes, it is," George agreed insincerely, for the painting now seemed to +him rather tenth-rate. "But what on earth did she stop painting for?" + +Marguerite replied, with reserve: + +"Oh! Didn't you know? She's quite gone in for this suffragette business. +No one ever sees her now. Not even her people." + +"Been in prison," said Mr. Prince, sardonically disapproving, "I always +said she'd end in that kind of thing, didn't I, Margy?" + +"You did, dear," said Marguerite, with wifely eagerness. + +These two respected not only themselves but each other. The ensuing +conversation showed that Mr. Prince was somewhat disgusted with the +mundane movement, and that Marguerite was his disciple. They were more +and more leaving the world alone; their self-sufficiency was increasing +with the narrow regularity of their habits. They seldom went out; and +when they did, they came home the more deeply convinced that all was not +well with the world, and that they belonged to the small remnant of the +wise and the sane. George was in two minds about them, or rather about +Mr. Prince. He secretly condescended to him, but on the other hand he +envied him. The man was benevolent; he spent his life in the creation of +beauty; and he was secure. Surely an ideal existence! Yes, George wished +that he could say as much for himself. Marguerite, completely deprived +of ambition, would never have led any man into insecurity. He had +realized already that afternoon that there were different degrees of +success; he now realized that there were different kinds of success. + +"Well!" he rose suddenly. "I must be off. I'm very busy." + +"I suppose you are," said Mr. Prince. Untrue to assert that his glance +was never wistful! It was ever so slightly wistful then. + +George comprehended that Mr. Prince admired him and looked up to him +after all. + +"My town hall is being opened to-morrow." + +"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you." + +They knew a good deal about him--where he lived, the statistics of his +family, and so on. He picked up his hat. + +"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said Marguerite, gazing +straight into his eyes. + +"Rather!" said Mr. Prince. + +They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this Bird-of-paradise. +But they did not urge him to stay longer. + +As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a half-finished +book-cover design on a table. + +"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to examine. + +Husband and wife, always more interested in their own affairs than in +other people's, responded willingly to his curiosity. George praised, +and his praise was greatly esteemed. Mr. Prince talked about the changes +in trade bindings, which were all for the worse. The bright spot was +that Marguerite's price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings. +This improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to them. +To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after vicissitudes, of four +shillings in fourteen years should be capable of causing them so much +joy. He and they lived in absolutely different worlds. + +"This is the last I shall let her do for a long time," observed Mr. +Prince. "I shouldn't have let her do this one, but the doctor, who's a +friend of ours, said there wouldn't be any harm, and of course it's +always advisable to break a connexion as little as possible. You never +know...." + +George smiled, returning their flattery. + +"You aren't going to tell me that that matters to _you_!" + +Mr. Prince fixed George with his eye. + +"When the European War starts in earnest I think most of us will need +all we've been able to get together." + +"What European War?" asked George, with a touch of disdain. "You don't +mean to say that this Sarajevo business will lead to a European War!" + +"No, I don't," said Mr. Prince very firmly. "Germany's diplomatists are +much too clever for that. They're clever enough to find a better excuse. +But they will find it, and soon." + +George saw that Mr. Prince, having opened up a subject which apparently +was dear to him, had to be handled with discretion. He guessed at once, +from the certainty and the emotion of Mr. Prince's phrases, that Mr. +Prince must have talked a lot about a European War. So he mildly +replied: + +"Do you really think so?" + +"Do I think so? My dear fellow, you have only to look at the facts. +Austria undoubtedly annexed Bosnia at Germany's instigation. Look at +what led to Algeciras. Look at Agadir. Look at the increase in the +German army last July. And look at the special levy. The thing's as +clear as day." Mr. Prince now seemed to be a little angry with George, +who had moved into the doorway. + +"I'll tell you what I think," said George, with the assurance with which +as a rule he announced his opinions. "We're Germany's only serious +rival. It's us she's up against. She can only fight us on the sea. If +she fought us now on the sea she'd be wiped out. That's admitted. In ten +years, if she keeps on building, she might have a chance. But not now! +Not yet! And she knows it." George did not mention that he had borrowed +the whole weighty argument from his stepfather; but he spoke with +finality, and was rather startled when Mr. Prince blew the whole weighty +argument into the air with one scornful, pitying exhalation. + +Mr. Prince said: "Nothing in it! Nothing in it! It's our alliances that +will be the ruin of us. We shall be dragged into war. If Germany chooses +to fight on land everybody will have to fight on land. When she gets to +Paris, what are we going to do about it? We shall be dragged into war. +It's the damnable alliances that Sir Edward Grey has let us in for." Mr. +Prince fixed George afresh. "That man ought to be shot. What do we want +with alliances?... Have you heard Lord Roberts?" + +George admitted weakly, and as if ashamed, that he had not. + +"Well, you should." + +"Oh yes," Marguerite ingenuously put in. "Alfred's been very strong on +the European War ever since he heard Lord Roberts speak at Chelsea Town +Hall." + +George then understood the situation. Mr. Prince, through the hazard of +a visit to Chelsea Town Hall, had become obsessed by a single idea, an +idea which his natural apprehensions had well nourished. A common +phenomenon! George had met before the man obsessed by one idea, with his +crude reasoning, his impatience, and his flashing eye. As for himself he +did not pretend to be an expert in politics; he had no time for +politics; but he was interested in them, and held strong views about +them; and among his strongest views was the view that the crudity of the +average imperialist was noxious, and a source of real danger. 'That man +ought to be shot.' Imagine such a remark! He felt that he must soothe +Mr. Prince as he would soothe a child. And he did so, with all the tact +acquired at municipal committee meetings in the north. + +His, last impression, on departure, was that Mr. Prince was an excellent +and most lovable fellow, despite his obsession. "Glad to see you at any +time," said Mr. Prince, with genuine cordiality, critically and somewhat +inimically assessing the car, which he referred to as 'she.' Marguerite +had remained in the studio. She was wonderful. She admired her husband +too simply, and she was too content, but she had marvellous qualities of +naturalness, common sense in demeanour, realism, and placidity. Thanks +to her remarkable instinct for taking things for granted, the interview +had been totally immune from constraint. It was difficult, and she had +made it seem easy. No fuss, no false sentiment! And she looked very +nice, very interesting, quite attractive, in her mourning and in her +expectancy. A fine couple. Unassuming of course, narrow, +opinionated--(he surmised that the last days of the late Mr. Haim had +been disciplined)--but no fools either, and fundamentally decent. While +condescending to them, he somehow envied them. But he knew what the +opinion of Lois about them would be! + + +IV + + +After a period of shallow sleep he woke up in the morning factitiously +refreshed as the train was rumbling slowly over the high-level bridge. +The sun blinked full in his eyes when he looked out through the +trellis-work of the bridge. Far below, the river was tinged with the +pale blue of the sky. Big ships lay in the river as if they had never +moved and never could move; a steamer in process of painting, with her +sides lifted above the water, gleamed in irregular patches of brilliant +scarlet. A lively tug passed down-stream, proud of her early rising; +and, smaller even than the tug, a smack, running close-hauled, bowed to +the puffs of the light breeze. Farther away the lofty chimneys sent +their scarves of smoke into the air, and the vast skeletons of incipient +vessels could be descried through webs of staging. The translucent +freshness of the calm scene was miraculous; it divinely intoxicated the +soul, and left no squalor and no ugliness anywhere. + +Then, as the line curved, came the view of the city beneath its delicate +canopy of mist. The city was built on escarpments, on ridges, on hills, +and sagged here and there into great hollows. The serrated silhouette of +it wrote romance upon the sky, and the contours of the naked earth +beyond lost themselves grandly in the mystery of the north. The jutting +custom-house was a fine piece of architecture. From the eighteen-forties +it challenged grimly the modern architect. On his hasty first visit to +the city George had noticed little save that custom-house. He had seen a +slatternly provincial town, large and picturesque certainly, but with +small sense of form or dignity. He had decided that his town hall would +stand quite unique in the town. But soon the city had imposed itself +upon him and taught him the rudiments of humility. It contained an +immense quantity of interesting architecture of various periods, which +could not be appreciated at a glance. It was a hoary place. It went back +to the Romans and further. Its fragmentary walls had survived through +seven centuries, its cathedral through six, its chief churches through +five. It had the most perfect Norman keep within two hundred miles. It +had ancient halls, mansions, towers, markets, and jail. And to these the +Victorian-Edwardian age had added museums, law courts, theatres; such +astonishing modernities as swimming-baths, power-houses, joint-stock +banks, lending libraries, and art schools; and whole monumental streets +and squares from the designs of a native architect without whose +respectable name no history of British architecture could be called +complete. George's town hall was the largest building in the city; but +it did not dominate the city nor dwarf it; the city easily digested it. +Arriving in the city by train the traveller, if he knew where to look, +could just distinguish a bit of the town hall tower, amid masses of +granite and brick: which glimpse symbolized the relation between the +city and the town hall and had its due effect on the Midland conceit of +George. + +But what impressed George more than the stout, physical aspects of the +city was the sense of its huge, adventurous, corporate life, continuous +from century to century. It had known terrible battles, obstinate +sieges, famines, cholera, a general conflagration, and, in the twentieth +century, strikes that possibly were worse than pestilence. It had +fiercely survived them all. It was a city passionate and highly +vitalized. George had soon begun to be familiar with its organic +existence from the inside. The amazing delays in the construction of the +town hall were characteristic of the city, originating as they did not +from sloth or indecision but from the obduracy of the human will. At the +start a sensational municipal election had put the whole project on the +shelf for two years, and George had received a compensatory one per cent +on the estimated cost according to contract, and had abandoned his hope. +But the pertinacity of Mr. Soulter, first Councillor, then Alderman, +then Mayor, the true father of the town hall, had been victorious in the +end. Next there had been an infinity of trouble with owners of adjacent +properties and with the foundations. Next the local contractor, who had +got the work through a ruthless and ingenious conspiracy of associates +on the Council, had gone bankrupt. Next came the gigantic building +strike, in which conflicting volitions fought each other for many months +to the devastation of an entire group of trades. Finally was the +inflexible resolution of Mr. Soulter that the town hall should not be +opened and used until it was finished in every part and every detail of +furniture and decoration. + +George, by his frequent sojourns in the city, and his official connexion +with the authorities, had several opportunities to observe the cabals, +the chicane, and the personal animosities and friendships which +functioned in secret at the very heart of the city's life. He knew the +idiosyncrasies of councillors and aldermen in committee; he had learnt +more about mankind in the committee-rooms of the old town hall than he +could have learnt in ten thousand London clubs. He could divide the city +council infallibly into wire-pullers, axe-grinders, vain nincompoops, +honest mediocrities, and the handful who combined honesty with sagacity +and sagacity with strength. At beefy luncheon-tables, and in gorgeous, +stuffy bars tapestried with Lincrusta-Walton, he had listened to the +innumerable tales of the town, in which greed, crookedness, ambition, +rectitude, hatred, and sexual love were extraordinarily mixed--the last +being by far the smallest ingredient. He liked the town; he revelled in +it. It seemed to him splendid in its ineradicable, ever-changing, +changeless humanity. And as the train bored its way through the granite +bowels of the city, he thought pleasurably upon all these matters. And +with them in his mind there gradually mingled the images of Lois and +Marguerite. He cared not what their virtues were or what their faults +were. He enjoyed reflecting upon them, picturing them with their +contrasted attributes, following them into the future as they developed +blindly under the unperceived sway of the paramount instincts which had +impelled and would always impel them towards their ultimate destiny. He +thought upon himself, and about himself he was very sturdily cheerful, +because he had had a most satisfactory interview with Sir Isaac on the +previous afternoon. + +A few minutes later he walked behind a portmanteau-bearing night-porter +into the wide-corridored, sleeping hotel, whose dust glittered in the +straight shafts of early sunlight. He stopped at the big slate under the +staircase and wrote in chalk opposite the number 187: "Not to be called +till 12 o'clock, under pain of death." And the porter, a friend of some +years' standing, laughed. On the second floor that same porter dropped +the baggage on the linoleum and rattled the key in the lock with a high +disregard of sleepers. In the bedroom the porter undid the straps of the +portmanteau, and then: + +"Anything else, sir?" + +"That's all, John." + +And as he turned to leave, John stopped and remarked in a tone of +concern: + +"Sorry to say Alderman Soulter's ill in bed, sir. Won't be able to come +to the Opening. It's him as'll be madder than anybody, ill or not." + +George was shocked, and almost frightened. In his opinion the true +intelligence of the city was embodied in Mr. Soulter. Mr. Soulter had +been a father to him, had understood his aims and fought for them again +and again. Without Mr. Soulter he felt defenceless before the ordeal of +the Opening, and he wished that he might fly back to London instantly. +Nevertheless the contact of the cool, clean sheets was exquisite, and he +went to sleep at once, just as he was realizing the extremity of his +fatigue. + +He did not have his sleep out. Despite the menace of death, a courageous +creature heavily knocked at his door at ten o'clock and entered. It was +a page-boy with a telegram. George opened the envelope resentfully. + +"No answer." + +The telegram read: + +"Am told we have got it.--PONTING" + +Ponting was George's assistant. The news referred to a competition for +an enormous barracks in India--one of the two competitions pending. It +had come sooner than expected. Was it true? George was aware that +Ponting had useful acquaintanceship with a clerk in the India Office. + +He thought, trying not to believe: + +"Of course Ponting will swallow anything." + +But he made no attempt to sleep again. He was too elated. + + +V + + +Through a strange circumstance George arrived late for the Opening lunch +in the lower hall, but he was late in grave company. He had been +wandering aimlessly and quite alone about the great interiors of the +town hall when he caught sight of Mr. Phirrips, the contractor, with the +bishop and the most famous sporting peer of the north, a man who for +some mystical reason was idolized by the masses of the city. +Unfortunately Mr. Phirrips also caught sight of George. "Bishop, here is +Mr. Cannon, our architect. He will be able to explain perhaps better--" +And in an instant Mr. Phirrips had executed one of those feats of +prestidigitation for which he was renowned in contracting circles, left +George with the bishop, and gone off with his highly prized quarry, the +sporting peer. George, despite much worldliness, had never before had +speech with a bishop. However, the bishop played his part in a +soothingly conventional way, manipulated his apron and his calves with +senile dignity, stood still and gazed ardently at ceilings and vistas, +and said at intervals, explosively and hoarsely: "Ha! Very, interesting! +Very interesting! Very fine! Very fine! Noble!" He also put intelligent +questions to the youthful architect, such as: "How many bricks have been +used in this building?" He was very leisurely, as though the whole of +eternity was his. + +"I'm afraid we may be late for the luncheon," George ventured. + +The bishop looked at him blandly, leaning forward, and replied, after +holding his mouth open for a moment: + +"They will not begin without us. I say grace." His antique eye twinkled. + +After this George liked him, and understood that he was really a bishop. + +In the immense hubbub of the lower hall the bishop was seized upon by +officials, and conducted to a chair a few places to the right of His +Worship the Mayor. Though there was considerable disorder and confusion +(doubtless owing to the absence of Alderman Soulter, who had held all +the strings in his hand) everybody agreed that the luncheon scene in the +lower hall was magnificent. The Mayor, in his high chair and in his +heavy chain and glittering robe, ruled in the centre of the principal +table, from which lesser tables ran at right angles. The Aldermen and +Councillors, also chained and robed, well sustained the brilliance of +the Mayor, and the ceremonial officials of the city surpassed both Mayor +and Council in grandeur. Sundry peers and M.P.'s and illustrious +capitalists enhanced the array of renown, and the bishop was rivalled by +priestly dignitaries scarcely less grandiose than himself. And then +there were the women. The women had been let in. During ten years of +familiarity with the city's life George had hardly spoken to a woman, +except Mr. Soulter's Scotch half-sister. The men lived a life of their +own, which often extended to the evenings, and very many of them when +mentioning women employed a peculiar tone. But now the women were +disclosed in bulk, and the display startled George. He suddenly saw all +the city fathers and their sons in a new light. + +The bishop had his appointed chair, with a fine feminine hat on either +side of him, but George could not find that any particular chair had +been appointed to himself. Eventually he saw an empty chair in the +middle of a row of men at the right-hand transverse table, and he took +it. He had expected, as the sole artistic creator of the town hall whose +completion the gathering celebrated, to be the object of a great deal of +curiosity at the luncheon. But in this expectation he was deceived. If +any curiosity concerning him existed, it was admirably concealed. The +authorities, however, had not entirely forgotten him, for the Town Clerk +that morning had told him that he must reply to the toast of his health. +He had protested against the shortness of the notice, whereupon the +Town Clerk had said casually that a few words would suffice--anything, +in fact, and had hastened off. George was now getting nervous. He was +afraid of hearing his own voice in that long, low interior which he had +made. He had no desire to eat. He felt tired. Still, his case was less +acute than it would have been had the august personage originally hoped +for attended the luncheon. The august personage had not attended on +account of an objection, apropos of an extreme passage in an election +campaign speech, to the occupant of the mayoral chair (who had thus +failed to be transformed into a Lord Mayor). The whole city had then, +though the Mayor was not over-popular, rallied to its representative, +and the Council had determined that the inauguration should be a purely +municipal affair, a family party, proving to the august and to the world +that the city was self-sufficing. The episode was characteristic. + +George heard a concert of laughter, which echoed across the room. At the +end of the main table Mr. Phirrips had become a centre of gaiety. Mr. +Phirrips, whom George and the clerk-of-the-works had had severe and +constant difficulty in keeping reasonably near the narrow path of +rectitude, was a merry, sharp, smart, middle-aged man with a skin that +always looked as if he had just made use of an irritant soap. He was one +of the largest contractors in England, and his name on the hoarding of +any building in course of erection seemed to give distinction to that +building. He was very rich, and popular in municipal circles, and +especially with certain councillors, including a labour councillor. +George wondered whether Mr. Phirrips would make a speech. No toast-list +was visible in George's vicinity. + +To George the meal seemed to pass with astounding celerity. The old +bishop said grace in six words. The Toast-master bawled for silence. The +health of all classes of society who could rely upon good doctors was +proposed and heartily drunk--princes, prelates, legislators, warriors, +judges--but the catalogue was cut short before any eccentric person +could propose the health of the one-roomed poor, of whom the city was +excessively prolific. And then the Mayor addressed himself to the great +business of the town hall. George listened with throat dry; by way of +precaution he had drunk nothing during the meal; and at each toast he +had merely raised the glass to his lips and infinitesimally sipped; the +coffee was bad and cold and left a taste in his mouth; but everything +that he had eaten left a taste in his mouth. The Mayor began: +"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,--During the building of +this--er--er--_structure_...." All his speech was in that manner and +that key. Nevertheless he was an able and strong individual, and as an +old trade union leader could be fiercely eloquent with working-men. He +mentioned Alderman Soulter, and there was a tremendous cheer. He did not +mention Alderman Soulter again; a feud burned between these two. After +Alderman Soulter he mentioned finance. He said that that was not the +time to refer to finance, and then spoke of nothing else but finance +throughout the remainder of his speech, until he came to the +peroration--"success and prosperity to our new town hall, the grandest +civic monument which any city has erected to itself in this country +within living memory, aye, and beyond." The frantic applause atoned for +the lack of attention and the semi-audible chattering which had marred +the latter part of the interminable and sagacious harangue. George +thought: "Pardon me! The city has not erected this civic monument. I +have erected it." And he thought upon all the labour he had put into it, +and all the beauty and magnificence which he had evolved. Alderman +Soulter should have replied on behalf of the town hall committee, and +the Alderman who took his place apologized for his inability to fill the +role, and said little. + +Then the Toast-master bawled incomprehensibly for the twentieth time, +and a councillor arose and in timid tones said: + +"I rise to propose the toast of the architect and contractor." + +George was so astounded that he caught scarcely anything of the speech. +It was incredible to him that he, the creative artist, who was solely +responsible for the architecture and decoration of the monument, in +whose unique mind it had existed long before the second brick had been +placed upon the first, should be bracketed in a toast with the tradesman +and middleman who had merely supervised the execution of his scheme +according to rules of thumb. He flushed. He wanted to walk out. But +nobody else appeared to be disturbed. George, who had never before +attended an inauguration, was simply not aware that the toast 'architect +and contractor' was the classic British toast, invariably drunk on such +occasions, and never criticised. He thought: "What a country!" and +remembered hundreds of Mr. Enwright's remarks.... Phrases of the orator +wandered into his ear. "The competition system.... We went to Sir Hugh +Corver, the head of the architectural profession [loud applause] and Sir +Hugh Corver assured us that the design of Mr. George Cannon was the +best. [Hear, hear! Hear, hear!]... Mr. Phirrip, head of the famous firm +of Phirrips Limited [loud applause] ... fortunate, after our misfortune +with the original contractor to obtain such a leading light.... Cannot +sufficiently thank these two--er _officials_ for the intellect, energy, +and patience they have put into their work." + +As the speech was concluding, a tactless man sitting next to George, +with whom he had progressed very slowly in acquaintance during the +lunch, leaned towards him and murmured in a confidential tone: + +"Did I tell you both naval yards up here have just had orders to work +day and night? Yes. Fact." + +George's mind ran back to Mr. Prince, and Mr. Prince's prophecy of war. +Was there something in it after all? The thought passed in an instant, +but the last vestiges of his equanimity had gone. Hearing his name he +jumped up in a mist inhabited by inimical phantoms, and, amid feeble +acclamations here and there, said he knew not what in a voice now +absurdly loud and now absurdly soft, and sat down, amid more feeble +acclamations, feeling an angry fool. It was the most hideous experience. +He lit a cigarette, his first that day. + +When Mr. Phirrips rose, the warm clapping was expectant of good things. + +"When I was a little boy I remember my father telling me that this town +hall had been started. I never expected to live to see it finished--" + +Delighted guffaws, uproarious laughter, explosions of mirth, interrupted +this witty reference to the delays in construction. The speaker smiled +at ease. His eyes glinted. He knew his audience, held it consummately, +and went on. + +In the afternoon there was a conversazione, or reception, for the +lunchers and also for the outer fringe of the city's solid +respectability. The whole of the town hall from basement to roof was +open to view, and citizens of all ages wandered in it everywhere, +admiring it, quizzing it, and feeling proudly that it was theirs. George +too wandered about, feeling that it was his. He was slowly recovering +from the humiliation of the lunch. Much of the building pleased him +greatly; at the excellence of some effects and details he marvelled; the +entry into the large hall from the grand staircase was dramatic, just as +he had had intended it should be; the organ was being played, and word +went round that the acoustic (or acoostic) properties of the auditorium +were perfect, and unrivalled by any auditorium in the kingdom. On the +other hand, the crudity of certain other effects and details irritated +the creator, helping him to perceive how much he had learnt in ten +years; in ten years, for example, his ideas about mouldings had been +quite transformed. What chiefly satisfied him was the demonstration, +everywhere, that he had mastered his deep natural impatience of minutiae +--that instinct which often so violently resented the exacting +irksomeness of trifles in the realization of a splendid idea. At +intervals he met an acquaintance and talked, but nobody at all appeared +to comprehend that he alone was the creator of the mighty pile, and that +all the individuals present might be divided artistically into two +classes--himself in one class, the entire remainder in the other. And +nobody appeared to be inconvenienced by the sense of the height of his +achievement or of the splendour of his triumph that day. It is true that +the north hates to seem impressed, and will descend to any duplicity in +order not to seem impressed. + +The Town Clerk's clerk came importantly up to him and asked: + +"How many reserved seats would you like for the concert?" + +A grand ballad concert, at which the most sentimental of contraltos, +helped by other first-class throats, was to minister wholesale to the +insatiable secret sentimentality of the north, had been arranged for the +evening. + +"One will be enough," said George. + +"Are you alone?" asked the Town Clerk's clerk. + +George took the ticket. None of the city fathers or their fashionable +sons had even invited him to dinner. He went forth and had tea alone, +while reading in an evening paper about the Austro-Serbian situation, in +the tea-rooms attached to a cinema-palace. The gorgeous rooms, throbbing +to two-steps and fox-trots, were crammed with customers; but the +waitresses behaved competently. Thence he drove out in a taxi to the +residence of Alderman Soulter. He could see neither the Alderman nor +Miss Soulter; he learnt that the condition of the patient was +reassuring, and that the patient had a very good constitution. Back at +the hotel, he had to wait for dinner. In due course he ate the customary +desolating table-d'hote dinner which is served simultaneously in the +vast, odorous dining-rooms, all furnished alike, of scores and scores of +grand hotels throughout the provinces. Having filled his cigar-case, he +set out once more into the beautiful summer evening. In broad Side Gate +were massed the chief resorts of amusement. The facade of the Empire +music-hall glowed with great rubies and emeralds and amethysts and +topazes in the fading light. Its lure was more powerful than the lure of +the ballad concert. Ignoring his quasi-official duty to the greatest of +sentimental contraltos, he pushed into the splendid foyer of the Empire. +One solitary stall, half a crown, was left for the second house; he +bought it, eager in transgression; he felt that the ballad concert would +have sent him mad. + +The auditorium of the Empire was far larger than the auditorium of the +town hall, and it was covered with gold. The curving rows of +plush-covered easy chairs extended backwards until faces became +indistinguishable points in the smoke-misted gloom. Every seat was +occupied; the ballad concert had made no impression upon the music-hall. +The same stars that he could see in London appeared on the gigantic +stage in the same songs and monologues; and as in London the +indispensable revue was performed, but with a grosser and more direct +licentiousness than the West End would have permitted. And all proceeded +with inexorable exactitude according to time-table. And in scores and +scores of similar Empires, Hippodromes, Alhambras, and Pavilions +throughout the provinces, similar entertainments were proceeding with +the same exactitude--another example of the huge standardization of +life. George laughed with the best at the inventive drollery of the +knock-about comedians--Britain's sole genuine contribution to the art of +the modern stage. But there were items in the Empire programme that were +as awful in their tedium as anything at the ballad concert could +be--moments when George could not bear to look over the footlights. And +these items were applauded in ecstasy by the enchanted audience. He +thought of the stupidity, the insensibility, the sheer ignorance of the +exalted lunchers; and he compared them with these qualities in the +Empire audience, and asked himself sardonically whether all artists had +lived in vain. But the atmosphere of the Empire was comfortable, +reassuring, inspiring. The men had their pipes, cigarettes, and women; +the women had the men, the luxury, the glitter, the publicity. They had +attained, they were happy. The frightful curse of the provinces, ennui, +had been conjured away by the beneficent and sublime institution +invented, organized, and controlled by three great trusts. + +George stayed till the end of the show. The emptying of the theatre was +like a battle, like the flight of millions from a conflagration. All +humanity seemed to be crowded into the corridors and staircases. Jostled +and disordered, he emerged into the broad street, along which huge, +lighted trams slowly thundered. He walked a little, starting a fresh +cigar. The multitude had resumed its calm. A few noisy men laughed and +swore obscene oaths; and girls, either in couples or with men, trudged, +demure and unshocked, past the roysterers, as though they had neither +ears to hear nor eyes to see. In a few minutes the processions were +dissipated, dissolved into the vastness of the city, and the pavements +nearly deserted. George strolled on towards the Square. The town hall +stood up against the velvet pallor of the starry summer night, massive, +lovely, supreme, deserted. He had conceived it in an office in Russell +Square when he was a boy. And there it was, the mightiest monument of +the city which had endured through centuries of astounding corporate +adventure. He was overwhelmed, and he was inexpressibly triumphant. +Throughout the day he had had no recognition; and as regards the future, +few, while ignorantly admiring the monument, would give a thought to the +artist. Books were eternally signed, and pictures, and sculpture. But +the architect was forgotten. What did it matter? If the creators of +Gothic cathedrals had to accept oblivion, he might. The tower should be +his signature. And no artist could imprint his influence so powerfully +and so mysteriously upon the unconscious city as he was doing. And the +planet was whirling the whole city round like an atom in the icy spaces +between the stars. And perhaps Lois was lying expectant, discontented, +upon the sofa, thinking rebelliously. He was filled with the realization +of universality. + +At the hotel another telegram awaited him. + +"Good old Ponting!" he exclaimed, after reading it. The message ran: + +"We have won it.--PONTING" + +He said: + +"Why 'we,' Ponting? You didn't win it. I won it." + +He said: + +"Sir Hugh Corver is not going to be the head of the architectural +profession. I am." He felt the assurance of that in his bones. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ROLL-CALL + +I + + +The telephone rang in the principal's room of George's office in Museum +Street. He raised his head from the drawing-board with the false gesture +of fatigued impatience which, as a business man, he had long since +acquired, and took the instrument. As a fact he was not really busy; he +was only pretending to be busy; and he rather enjoyed the summons of the +telephone, with its eternal promise of some romantic new turn of +existence. Nevertheless, though he was quite alone, he had to affect +that the telephone was his bane. + +"Can Sir Isaac Davids speak to you, sir, from the Artists Club?" + +"Put him on." + +Immediately came the thick, rich voice of Sir Isaac, with its +implications of cynicism and triumphant disdain--attenuated and weakened +in the telephone, suggesting an object seen through the wrong end of a +telescope. + +"Is that you, Cannon?" + +"It is," said George shortly. Without yet knowing it, he had already +begun to hate Sir Isaac. His criticism of Sir Isaac was that the man was +too damnably sure of himself. And not all Sir Isaac's obvious power, +and influence, and vast potential usefulness to a young architect, +could prevent George from occasionally, as he put it, 'standing up to +the fellow.' + +"Well, you'd better come along here, if you can. I want to see you," +said the unruffled voice of Sir Isaac. + +"Now?" + +"Yes." + +"All right." + +As George replaced the instrument, he murmured: + +"I know what that means. It's all off." And after a moment: "I knew +jolly well it would be." + +He glanced round the very orderly room, to which, by judicious +furnishing, he had given a severe distinction at no great cost. On the +walls were a few interesting things, including a couple of his own +perspectives. A neo-impressionist oil-sketch over the mantelpiece, with +blue trees and red fields and a girl whose face was a featureless blob, +imperiously monopolized the attention of the beholder, warning him, +whoever he might be, that the inescapable revolutionary future was now +at hand. The room and everything in it, that entity upon which George +had spent so much trouble, and of which he had been so proud, seemed +futile, pointless, utterly unprofitable. + +The winning of the Indian limited competition, coupled with the firm +rumour that Sir Isaac Davids had singled him out for patronage, had +brilliantly renewed George's reputation and the jealousy which proved +its reality. The professional journals had been full of him, and +everybody assured everybody that his ultimate, complete permanent +success had never been in doubt. The fact that the barracks would be the +largest barracks in India indicated to the superstitious, and to George +himself, that destiny intended him always to break records. After the +largest town hall, the largest barracks; and it was said that Sir +Isaac's factory was to be the largest factory! But the outbreak of war +had overthrown all reputations, save the military and the political. +Every value was changed according to a fresh standard, as in a +shipwreck. For a week George had felt an actual physical weight in the +stomach. This weight was his own selfish woe, but it was also the woe of +the entire friendly world. Every architect knew and said that the +profession of architecture would be ruined for years. Then the India +Office woke George up. The attitude of the India Office was overbearing. +It implied that it had been marvellously original and virtuous in +submitting the affair of its barracks to even a limited competition, +when it might just as easily have awarded the job to any architect whom +it happened to know, or whom its wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know, +or whose wife, cousin, or aunt happened to know the India Office--and +further, that George ought therefore to be deeply grateful. It said that +in view of the war the barracks must be erected with the utmost +possible, or rather with quite impossible, dispatch, and that George +would probably have to go to India at once. Simultaneously it daily +modified George's accepted plans for the structure, exactly as though it +was a professional architect and George an amateur, and it involved him +in a seemly but intense altercation between itself and the subordinate +bureaucracy of a Presidency. It kept George employed. In due course +people discovered that business must proceed as usual, and even the +architectural profession, despite its traditional pessimism, had hopes +of municipalities and other bodies which were to inaugurate public works +in order to diminish unemployment. + +Nevertheless George had extreme difficulty in applying himself +efficiently to urgent tasks. He kept thinking: "It's come! It's come!" +He could not get over the fact that it had come--the European War which +had obsessed men's minds for so many years past. He saved the face of +his own theory as to the immediate impossibility of a great war, by +positively asserting that Germany would never have fought had she +foreseen that Britain would fight. He prophesied (to himself) Germany's +victory, German domination of Europe, and, as the grand central +phenomenon, mysterious ruin for George Edwin Cannon. But the next +instant he would be convinced that Germany would be smashed, and +quickly. Germany, he reckoned superiorly, in 'taking on England' had +'bitten off more than she could chew.' + +He knew almost naught of the progress of the fighting. He had obtained +an expensive map of Western Europe and some flagged pins, and had hung +the map up in his hall and had stuck the pins into it with exactitude. +He had moved the pins daily, until little Laurencine one morning, aloft +on a chair, decided to change all the positions of the opposing armies. +Laurencine established German army corps in Marseilles, the +Knockmillydown Mountains, and Torquay, while sending the French to +Elsinore and Aberdeen. There was trouble in the house. Laurencine +suffered, and was given to understand that war was a serious matter. +Still, George soon afterwards had ceased to manipulate the pins; they +seemed to be incapable of arousing his imagination; he could not be +bothered with them; he could not make the effort necessary to acquire a +scientific conception of the western campaign--not to mention the +eastern, as to which his ignorance was nearly perfect. + +Yet he read much about the war. Some of the recounted episodes deeply +and ineffaceably impressed him. For example, an American newspaper +correspondent had written a dramatic description of the German army +marching, marching steadily along a great Belgian high road--a +procession without beginning and without end--and of the procession +being halted for his benefit, and of a German officer therein who struck +a soldier several times in the face angrily with his cane, while the man +stood stiffly at attention. George had an ardent desire to spend a few +minutes alone with that officer; he could not get the soldier's bruised +cheek out of his memory. + +Again, he was moved and even dismayed by the recitals of the entry of +the German army into Brussels and of its breaking into the goose-step as +it reached the Grande Place, though he regarded the goose-step as too +ridiculous and contemptible for words. Then the French defence of +Dinant, and the Belgian defence of Liege, failure as it was, and the +obstinate resistance at Namur, inspired him; and the engagements between +Belgians and Uhlans, in which the clumsy Uhlans were always scattered, +destroyed for him the dread significance of the term 'Uhlan.' + +He simply did not comprehend that all these events were negligible +trifles, that no American correspondent had seen the hundredth part of +the enemy forces, that the troops which marched through Brussels were a +tiny, theatrical side-show, a circus, that the attack on Liege had been +mismanaged, that the great battle at Dinant was a mere skirmish in the +new scale of war, and the engagements with Uhlans mere scuffles, and +that behind the screen of these infinitesimal phenomena _the German +army_, unimagined in its hugeness, horror, and might, was creeping like +a fatal and monstrous caterpillar surely towards France. + +A similar screen hid from him the realities of England. He saw bunting +and recruits, and the crowds outside consulates. But he had no idea of +the ceaseless flight of innumerable crammed trains day and night +southwards, of the gathering together of Atlantic liners and excursion +steamers from all the coasts into an unprecedented Armada, of the +sighting of the vanguard of that Armada by an incredulous Boulogne, of +the landing of British regiments and guns and aeroplanes in the midst of +a Boulogne wonderstruck and delirious, and of the thrill which thereupon +ecstatically shivered through France. He knew only that 'the +Expeditionary Force had landed in safety.' + +He could not believe that a British Army could face successfully the +legendary Prussians with their Great General Staff, and yet he had a +mystic and entirely illogical belief in the invincibility of the British +Army. He had read somewhere that the German forces amounted in all to +the equivalent of over three hundred divisions; he had been reliably +told that the British forces in France amounted to three divisions and +some cavalry. It was most absurd; but his mysticism survived the +absurdity, so richly was it nourished by news from the strange, +inartistic colonies, where architecture was not understood. Revelation +came to George that the British Empire, which he had always suspected to +be an invention of those intolerable persons the Imperialists, was after +all something more than a crude pink smear across the map of the world. + +Withal he was acutely dejected as he left his office to go to the club. + + +II + + +Sir Isaac was sitting quite alone in the large smoking-room of the +Artists in Albemarle Street--a beautiful apartment terribly disfigured +by its pictures, which had been procured from fashionable members in the +fashionable taste of twenty years earlier, and were crying aloud for +some one brave enough to put them out of their misery. No interpretation +of the word 'artist' could by any ingenuity be stretched to include Sir +Isaac. Nevertheless he belonged to the club, and so did a number of +other men in like case. The difference between Sir Isaac and the rest +was that Sir Isaac did actually buy pictures, though seldom from +fashionable painters. + +He was a personage of about forty-five years, with a rather prominent +belly, but not otherwise stout; a dark man; plenty of stiff black hair +(except for one small central bald patch); a rank moustache, and a +clean-shaven chin apparently woaded in the manner of the ancient +Britons; elegantly and yet severely dressed--braided morning-coat, +striped trousers, small, skin-fitting boots, a black flowered-silk +necktie. As soon as you drew near him you became aware of his +respiratory processes; you were bound to notice continually that without +ceasing he carried on the elemental business of existence. Hair sprouted +from his nose, and the nose was enormous; it led at a pronounced slope +to his high forehead, which went on upwards at exactly the same angle +and was lost in his hair. If the chin had weakly receded, as it often +does in this type, Sir Isaac would have had a face like a spear-head, +like a ram of which the sharp point was the top of his nose; but Sir +Isaac's chin was square, and the wall of it perpendicular. + +His expression was usually inquisitive, dissatisfied, and +disdainful--the effect being produced by a slight lifting of the back of +the nostrils and a slight tipping forward of the whole head. His tone, +however, often by its bluff good-humour, contradicted the expression. He +had in an extreme degree the appearance of a Jew, and he had the names +of a Jew; and most people said he was a Jew. But he himself seriously +denied it. He asserted that he came of a Welsh Nonconformist family, +addicted to christening its infants out of the Bible, and could prove +his descent for generations--not that he minded being taken for a Jew +(he would add), was indeed rather flattered thereby, but he simply was +not a Jew. At any rate he was Welsh. A journalist had described him in a +phrase: "All the time he's talking to you in English you feel he's +thinking something different in Welsh." He was an exceedingly rich +industrial, and had made his money by organization; he seemed always to +have leisure. + +"Here," he curtly advised George, producing a magnificent Partaga, +similar to the one he was himself smoking, "you'd better have this." + +He cut the cigar carefully with a club tool, and pushed the match-stand +across the table with a brusque gesture. George would not thank him for +the cigar. + +"You're on that Indian barracks, aren't you?" + +"Yes. They're in a Hades of a hurry." + +"Well, my factory is in much more of a hurry." + +George was startled. He had heard nothing of the factory for a month, +and had assumed that the war had scotched the enterprise. + +He said: + +"Then the war won't stop you?" + +Sir Isaac shook his head slowly, with an arrogant smile. It then +occurred to George that this man differed strangely from all other +men--because the sinister spell of the war had been powerless over him +alone. All other men bore the war in their faces and in their gestures, +but this man did not. + +"I'm going to make munitions now--explosives. I'm going to have the +biggest explosives factory in the world. However, the modifications in +the general plan won't be serious. I want to talk to you about that." + +"Have you got contracts, then, already?" + +"No. Both the War Office and the Admiralty have told me they have all +the explosives they want," he sneered. "But I've made a few inquiries, +and I think that by the time my factory's up they'll be wanting more +explosives than they can get. In fact I wish I could build half a dozen +factories. Dare say I shall." + +"Then you think we're in for a long war?" + +"Not specially that. If it's a long war you English will win. If it's a +short war the Germans will win, and it will be the end of France as a +great power. That's all." + +"Won't it be the end of your factory too?" + +"Noh!" exclaimed Sir Isaac, with careless compassion in his deep, viscid +voice. "If it's a short war, there'll be another war. You English will +never leave it alone. So that whatever happens, if I take up explosives, +I can't go wrong. It's velvet." + +"It seems to me we shall bust up the whole world if we aren't careful, +soon." + +Sir Isaac smiled more compassion. + +"Not at all," he said easily. "Not at all. Things are always arranged in +the end--more or less satisfactorily, of course. It's up to the +individual to look out for himself." + +George said: + +"I was thinking of going into the Army." + +The statement was not strictly untrue, but he had never formulated it, +and he had never thought consecutively of such a project, which did +indeed appear too wild and unpractical for serious consideration. + +"This recruiting's been upsetting you." + +George's vague patriotism seemed to curdle at these half-dozen scornful +words. + +"Do you think I oughtn't to go into the Army, Sir Isaac?" + +"My dear boy, any----can go into the Army. And if you go into the Army +you'll lose your special qualities. I see you as the best factory +designer we have, architecturally. You've only just started, but you +have it in you. And your barracks is pretty good. Of course, if you +choose to indulge in sentimentality you can deprive the country of an +architect in a million and make it a present of a mediocre soldier--for +you haven't got the mind of a soldier. But if you do that, mark my +words--you'll only do it to satisfy the egotism that you call your +heart, you'll only do it in order to feel comfortable; just as a woman +gives a penny to a beggar and thinks it's charity when it's nothing of +the sort. There are fellows that go and enlist because they hear a band +play." + +"Yes," George concurred. He hated to feel himself confronted by a mind +more realistic than his own, but he was realistic enough to admit the +fact. What Sir Isaac said was unanswerable, and it appealed very +strongly to George. He cast away his sentimentality, ashamed of it. And +at the same time he felt greatly relieved in other ways. + +"You'd better put this Indian barracks on one side as much as you can, +or employ some one to help you. I shall want all your energies." + +"But I shall probably have to go to India. The thing's very urgent." + +Sir Isaac scorned him in a profound gaze. The smoke from their two +magnificent cigars mingled in a canopy above them. + +"Not it!" said Sir Isaac. "What's more, it's not wanted at all. They +think it is, because they're absolutely incapable of thought. They know +the word 'war' and they know the word 'barracks.' They put them together +and imagine it's logic. They say: 'We were going to build a barracks, +and now we're at war. Therefore we must hurry up with the barracks.' +That's how they reason, and the official mind will never get beyond it. +_Why_ do they want the barracks? If they want the barracks, what's the +meaning of what they call 'the response of the Indian Empire'? Are they +going to send troops to India or take them away from India? They're +going to take them away, of course. Mutiny of India's silent millions? +Rubbish! Not because a mutiny would contradict the far-famed 'response +of the Indian Empire,' but because India's silent millions haven't got a +rifle amongst them. You needn't tell me they've given you forty reasons +for getting on with that barracks. I know their reasons. All of 'em put +together only mean that in a dull, dim Oxford-and-Cambridge way they see +a connexion between the word 'war' and the word 'barracks.'" + +George laughed, and then, after a few seconds, Sir Isaac gave a short, +rough laugh. + +"But if they insist on me going to India--" George began, and paused. + +Sir Isaac grew meditative. + +"I say, speaking of voyages," he murmured in a tone almost dreamy. "If +you have any loose money, put it into ships, and keep it there. You'll +double it, you'll treble it.... Any ships. No matter what ships." + +"Well, I haven't got any loose money," said George curtly. "And what I +want to know is, if they insist on me going to India, what am I to do?" + +"Tell them you can't go. Tell 'em your professional engagements won't +permit it. They'll lick your boots, and ask humbly if you can suggest +any suitable person to represent you. I shall want all your energies, +and my factory will be worth more to this country in the war than all +the barracks under heaven. Now just bend your eye to these." + +He took some papers from his tail-pocket. The discussion grew technical. + + +III + + +George sailed down Piccadilly westwards on the top of a motor-bus. The +August afternoon was superb. Piccadilly showed more than its usual +splendour of traffic, for the class to whom the sacred word 'England' +signified personal dominion and a vast apparatus of personal luxury +either had not gone away for its holiday or had returned therefrom in a +hurry. The newspaper placards spoke of great feats of arms by the +Allies. Through the leafage of Hyde Park could be seen uncountable smart +troops manoeuvring in bodies. On the top of the motor-bus a student of +war was explaining to an ignorant friend that the active adhesion of +Japan, just announced, meant the beginning of the end for Germany. From +Japan he went to Namur, seeing that Namur was the 'chief bastion' of the +defensive line, and that hence the Germans would not be 'allowed' to +take it. Almost every motor-bus carried a fine specimen of this type of +philosopher, to whom the whole travelling company listened while +pretending not to listen. George despised him for his manner, but agreed +with some of his reasoning. + +George was thinking chiefly about Sir Isaac. Impressive person, Sir +Isaac, even if hateful! It was remarkable how the fellow seemed always +to have leisure. Organization, of course! Indubitably the fellow's +arguments could not be gainsaid. The firing-line was not the only or +even the most important part of the national war machine. To suppose +otherwise was to share the crude errors of the childlike populace and +its Press. Men were useless without guns, guns without shot, shot +without explosives; and explosives could not be produced without a +factory. The populace would never understand the close interdependence +of various activities; it would never see beyond the recruiting station; +it was meet only for pity. Sir Isaac had uttered a very wise saying: +"Things are always arranged in the end ... It's up to the individual to +look out for himself." Sir Isaac was freed from the thrall of +mob-sentimentality. He was a super-man. And he was converting George +into a super-man. George might have gone back to the office, but he was +going home instead, because he could think creatively just as well +outside the office as inside--so why should he accept the convention of +the ordinary professional man. (Sir Isaac assuredly did not.) He had +telephoned to the office. A single consideration appealed to him: How +could he now best serve his country? Beyond question he could now serve +his country best as an architect. If his duty marched with his +advantage, what matter? It was up to the individual to look out for +himself. And he, George, with already an immense reputation, would +steadily enhance his reputation, which in the end would surpass all +others in the profession. The war could not really touch him--no more +than it could touch Sir Isaac; by good fortune, and by virtue of the +impartiality of his intelligence, he was above the war.... Yes, Sir +Isaac, disliked and unwillingly but deeply respected, had cleared his +ideas for him. + +In Elm Park Gardens he met the white-clad son of a Tory M.P. who lived +in that dignified street. + +"The very man! Come and make a fourth, will you, Cannon?" asked the +youth, dandiacal in flannels, persuasively and flatteringly. + +George demanded with firmness: + +"Who are the other two?" + +"Miss Horton and Gladys What's-her-name." + +Why shouldn't he play at tennis? It was necessary to keep fit. + +"All right. But not for long, you know." + +"That's all right. Hurry up and get into your things." + +"Ten minutes." + +And in little more than ten minutes he was swinging a racket on the +private sward that separates Elm Park Gardens East from Elm Park Gardens +West, and is common to the residents of both. He had not encountered +Lois at home, and had not thought it necessary to seek her out. He and +she were often invited to play tennis in Elm Park Gardens. + +The grass was beautifully kept. At a little distance two gardeners were +at work, and a revolving sprinkler whirled sprays of glinting water in a +wide circle. The back windows of the two streets disclosed not the +slightest untidiness nor deshabille; rising irregularly in tier over +tier to the high roof-line, they were all open, and all neatly +curtained, and many of them had gorgeous sun-blinds. The sound of one +or two pianos emerged faintly on the warm, still afternoon. Miss Horton +and the slim Gladys were dressed in white, with short skirts, at once +elegant and athletic. Miss Horton, very tall and strong, with clear +eyes, and a complexion damaged by undue exposure to healthy fresh air, +was a fine player of many years' experience, now at the decline of her +powers. She played seriously, every stroke conscientious and calculated, +and she gave polite, good-humoured hints to the youth, her partner. +George and Gladys were together. Gladys, eighteen, was a delightful +girl, the raw material of a very sound player; she held herself well, +and knew by instinct what style was. A white belt defined her waist in +the most enchanting fashion. George appreciated her, as a specimen of +the newest generation of English girls. There were thousands of them in +London alone, an endless supply, with none of the namby-pambiness and +the sloppiness and the blowziness of their forerunners. Walking in +Piccadilly or Bond Street or the Park, you might nowadays fancy yourself +in Paris ... Why indeed should he not be playing tennis at that hour? +The month was August. The apparatus of pleasure was there. Used or +unused, it would still be there. It could not be destroyed simply +because the times were grave. And there was his health; he would work +better after the exercise. What purpose could there be in mournful +inactivity? Yet continuously, as he ran about the court, and smiled at +Gladys, and called out the score, and exclaimed upon his failures in +precision, the strange, physical weight oppressed his stomach. He +supposed that nearly everybody carried that physical weight. But did Sir +Isaac? Did the delicious Gladys? The youth on the other side of the net +was in the highest spirits because in a few days he would be entering +Sandhurst. + +A butler appeared from the French window of the ground floor of the +M.P.'s house, walked down the curving path screened by a pergola, and +came near the court with a small white paper in his solemn hand. At a +suitable moment he gave the paper to the young master, who glanced at it +and stuffed it into his pocket; the butler departed. A few minutes later +the players changed courts. While the girls chatted apart, the youth +leaped over the net, and, drawing the paper from his pocket, showed it +furtively to George. It bore the words: + +"Namur has fallen." + +The M.P.'s household received special news by telephone from a friend at +the War Office. + +The youth raised his eyebrows, and with a side-glance seemed to say that +there could be no object in telling the women immediately. The next +instant the game was resumed with full ardour. + +George missed his strokes. Like thousands of other people, untaught by +the episode of Liege, he had counted upon Namur. Namur, the bastion, the +shoulder of the newly forming line, if not impregnable, was expected to +hold out for many days. And it had tumbled like a tin church, and with +it the brave edifice of his confidence. He saw the Germans inevitably in +Paris, blowing up Paris quarter by quarter, arrondissement by +arrondissement, imposing peace, dictating peace, forcing upon Europe +unspeakable humiliations. He saw Great Britain compelled to bow; and he +saw worse than that. And the German officer, having struck across the +face with his cane the soldier standing at attention, would go back to +Germany in triumph more arrogant than ever, to ogle adoring virgins and +push cowed and fatuous citizens off the pavement into the gutter. The +solid houses of Elm Park Gardens, with their rich sun-blinds, the +perfect sward, the white-frocked girls, the respectful gardeners, the +red motor-buses flitting past behind the screen of bushes in the +distance, even the butler in his majestic and invulnerable +self-conceit--the whole systematized scene of correctness and tradition +trembled as if perceived through the quivering of hot air. Gladys, +reliant on the male and feeling that the male could no longer be relied +on, went 'off her game,' with apologies; the experience of Miss Horton +asserted itself, and the hard-fought set was lost by George and his +partner. He reminded the company that he had only come for a short time, +and left in a mood of bitter blackness. + + +IV + + +In front of his own house George saw a tradesman's coupe of the +superior, discreet sort, with a smart horse (the same being more +'distinctive' than motor-traction), a driver liveried in black, and the +initials of the firm in a restrained monogram on the doors. He thought: +"She's blueing money again. Of course it's her own, but--" He was +extremely sardonic. In the drawing-room he found not only Lois but +Laurencine and an attentive, respectful, bright-faced figure rather +stylishly dressed in black. This last was fastening a tea-gown on the +back of pale Lois, who stood up with a fatigued, brave air. Laurencine +sat critically observant on the end of a sofa. The furniture of the room +was heaped with tea-gowns, and other garments not very dissimilar, +producing a rich and exciting effect. All three women quickened to +George's entry. + +"Oh! George!" said Lois querulously. "Are you going to play tennis? I +wish I could! I'm so glad you came in; we'd no idea you were in the +house, had we, Laurencine? Laurencine's giving me a tea-gown. Which of +them do you prefer? It's no good me having one you don't like." + +He had been unjust to her, then. + +"It's really her birthday present," said Laurencine, "only a bit late. +Oh! Dear! Darling, do sit down, you're standing too long." + +Both Laurencine and the young woman in black regarded Lois with soft +compassion, and she sat down. Laurencine too was a mother. But she had +retained her girlhood. She was a splendid, powerful, erect creature, +handsome, with a frank, benevolent, sane face, at the height of her +physical perfection. George had a great fondness for her. Years earlier +he had wondered how it was that he had not fallen in love with her +instead of with Lois. But he knew the reason now. She lacked force of +individuality. She was an adorer by instinct. She adored Lois; Lois +could do no wrong. More strange, she adored her husband. Ingenuous +simpleton! Yet wise! Another thing was that her mind was too pure. +Instead of understanding, it rejected. It was a mind absolutely +impregnable to certain phenomena. And this girl still enjoyed musical +comedies and their successors in vogue, the revues! + +"The Germans have taken Namur," George announced. + +The news impressed. Even the young woman in black permitted herself by a +facial gesture to show that she was interested in the war as well as in +tea-gowns, and apart from its effect on tea-gowns. + +"Oh! Dear!" murmured Laurencine. + +"Is it serious?" Lois demanded. + +"You bet it is!" George replied. + +"But what's Sir John French doing, then? I say, Laurencine, I think I +shall have that pale blue one, after all, if you don't mind." The black +young woman went across to the piano and brought the pale blue one. +"George, don't you think so?" + +The gown was deferentially held out for his inspection. + +"Well, I can't judge if I don't see it on, can I?" he said, yielding +superciliously to their mood. Women were incurable. Namur had fallen, +but the room was full of finery, and the finery claimed attention. And +if Paris had fallen, it would have been the same. So he told himself. +Nevertheless the spectacle of the heaped finery and its absorbed +priestess was very agreeable. Lois rose. Laurencine and the priestess +helped her to remove the white gown she wore, and to put on the blue +one. The presence of the male somewhat disturbed the priestess, but the +male had signified a wish and the wish was flattering and had to be +fulfilled. George, cynically, enjoyed her constraint. He might at least +have looked out of the window, but he would not. + +"Yes, that's fine," he decided carelessly, when the operation was done. +He did not care a pin which tea-gown Lois had. + +"I knew you'd like it better," said Lois eagerly. The other two, in +words or by demeanour, applauded his august choice. + +The affair was over. The priestess began to collect her scattered stock +into a light trunk. Behind her back, Lois took hold of Laurencine and +kissed her fondly. Laurencine smiled, and persuaded Lois into a chair. + +"You will of course keep that on, madam?" the priestess suggested. + +"Oh yes, darling, you must rest, really!" said Laurencine earnestly. + +"Thank you, madam." + +In three minutes the priestess, bearing easily the trunk by a strap, had +gone, bowing. Lois's old tea-gown, flung across the head of the sofa, +alone remained to brighten the furniture. + +The drawing-room door opened again immediately, and a military officer +entered. Laurencine sprang up with a little girlish scream and ran to +him. + +"Oh! Dearest! Have you got them already? You never told me you would +have! How lovely you look!" + +Blushing with pleasure and pride, she kissed him. It was Everard Lucas. +Laurencine had come to Elm Park Road that afternoon with the first news +that Everard, through a major known to his late mother, had been offered +a commission in a Territorial line regiment. George, who saw Lucas but +seldom, had not the slightest idea of this enormous family event, and +he was astounded; he had not been so taken back by anything perhaps for +years. Lucas was rounder and his face somewhat coarser than in the past; +but the uniform had created a new Lucas. It was beautifully made and he +wore it well; it suited him; he had the fine military air of a regular; +he showed no awkwardness, only a simple vanity. + +"Don't you feel as if you must kiss him, Lois darling?" said Laurencine. + +"Oh! I certainly must!" Lois cried, forgetting her woes in the new +tea-gown and in the sudden ecstasy produced by the advent of an officer +into the family. + +Lucas bent down and kissed his sister-in-law, while Laurencine beheld +the act with delight. + +"The children must see you before you go," said Lois. + +"Madam, they shall see their uncle," Lucas answered. At any rate his +agreeable voice had not coarsened. He turned to George: "What d'you +think of it, George?" + +"My boy, I'm proud of you," said George. In his tennis-flannels he felt +like one who has arrived at an evening party in morning-dress. And +indeed he was proud of Lucas. Something profound and ingenuous in him +rose into his eyes and caused them to shine. + +Lucas related his adventures with the tailor and other purveyors, and +explained that he had to 'join his regiment' the next day, but would be +able to remain in London for the present. George questioned him about +his business affairs. + +"No difficulty about that whatever!" said Lucas lightly. "The old firm +will carry on as usual; Enwright and Orgreave will have to manage it +between them; and of course they wouldn't dream of trying to cut off the +spondulicks. Not that I should let that stop me if they did." + +"Yes, it's all very well for _you_ to talk like that!" said Lois, with a +swift change of tone. "You've got partners to do your work for you, and +you've got money.... Have you written to mother, Laurencine?" + +George objected to his wife making excuses. His gaze faltered. + +"Of course, darling!" Laurencine answered eagerly, agreeing with her +sister's differentiation between George and Everard. "No, not yet. But +I'm going to to-night. Everard, we ought to be off." + +"I've got a taxi outside," said Lucas. + +"A taxi?" she repeated in a disappointed tone. And then, as an +afterthought: "Well, I have to call at Debenham's." + +The fact was that Laurencine wanted to be seen walking with her military +officer in some well-frequented thoroughfare. They lived at Hampstead. + +Lois rang the bell. + +"Ask nurse to bring the children down, please--at once," she told the +parlourmaid. + +"So this is the new tea-gown, if I mistake not!" observed Lucas in the +pause. "_Tres chic_! I suppose Laurencine's told you all about the +chauffeur being run off with against his will by a passionate virgin. +_I_ couldn't start the car this morning myself." + +"You never could start a car by yourself, my boy," said George. "What's +this about the passionate virgin?" + + +V + + +George woke up in the middle of the night. Lois slept calmly; he could +just hear her soft breathing. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms, +of the health of children, the incalculable quality in wives, the touchy +stupidity of nurses and servants. The mere human weight of the household +oppressed him terribly. And he thought of the adamant of landlords, the +shifty rapacity of tradesmen, the incompetence of clerks, the mere +pompous foolishness of Government departments, the arrogance of Jew +patrons, and the terrifying complexity of problems of architecture on a +large scale. He was the Atlas supporting a vast world a thousand times +more complex than any problem of architecture. He wondered how he did +it. But he did do it, alone; and he kept on doing it. Let him shirk the +burden, and not a world but an entire universe would crumble. If he told +Lois that he was going to leave her, she would collapse; she would do +dreadful things. He was indispensable not only at home but +professionally. All was upon his shoulders and upon nobody else's. He +was bound, he was a prisoner, he had no choice, he was performing his +highest duty, he was fulfilling the widest usefulness of which he was +capable ... Besides, supposing he did go insane and shirk the burden, +they would all say that he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform--the +mere sight of the uniform!--like a girl! He could not stand that, +because it would be true. Not that he would ever admit its truth! He +recalled Lucas's tact in refraining from any suggestion, even a jocular +suggestion, that he, George, ought also to be in uniform. Lucas was +always tactful. Be damned to his tact! And the too eager excuses made +by Lois in his behalf also grated on his susceptibility. He had no need +of excuses. The woman was taciturn by nature, and yet she was constantly +saying too much! And did any of the three of them--Lois, Laurencine, and +Lucas--really appreciate the war? They did not. They could not envisage +it. Lucas was wearing uniform solely in obedience to an instinct. + +At this point the cycle of his reflections was completed, and began +again. He thought of all the occupied bedrooms.... Thus, in the dark, +warm night the contents of his mind revolved endlessly, with extreme +tedium and extreme distress, and each moment his mood became more +morbid. + +An occasional sound of traffic penetrated into the room,--strangely +mournful, a reminder of the immense and ineffable melancholy of a city +which could not wholly lose itself in sleep. The window lightened. He +could descry his wife's portable clock on the night-table. A quarter to +four. Turning over savagely in bed, he muttered: "My night's done for. +And nearly five hours to breakfast. Good God!" The cycle resumed, and +was enlarged. + +At intervals he imagined that he dozed; he did doze, if it is possible +while you are dozing to know that you doze. His personality separated +into two personalities, if not more. He was on a vast plain, and yet he +was not there, and the essential point of the scene was that he was not +there. Thousands and tens of thousands of men stood on this plain, which +had no visible boundaries. A roll-call was proceeding. A resounding and +mysterious voice called out names, and at each name a man stepped +briskly from the crowds and saluted and walked away. But there was no +visible person to receive the salute; the voice was bodiless. George +became increasingly apprehensive; he feared a disaster, yet he could not +believe that it would occur. It did occur. Before it arrived he knew +that it was arriving. The voice cried solemnly: + +"George Edwin Cannon." + +An awful stillness and silence followed, enveloping the entire infinite +plain. George trembled. He was there, but he was not there. Men looked +at each other, raising their eyebrows. The voice did not deign to repeat +the call. After a suitable pause, the voice cried solemnly: + +"Everard Lucas." + +And Lucas in his new uniform stepped gravely forward and saluted and +walked away. + +"Was I asleep or awake?" George asked himself. He could not decide. At +any rate the scene impressed him. The bigness of the plain, the summons, +the silence, the utter absence of an expression of reproof or regret--of +any comment whatever. + +At five o'clock he arose, and sat down in his dressing-gown at Lois's +very untidy and very small writing-desk, and wrote a letter on her +notepaper. The early morning was lovely; it was celestial. + +"DEAR DAVIDS," the letter began.--That would annoy the fellow, who liked +the address respectful.--"Dear Davids, I have decided to join the Army, +and therefore cannot proceed further with your commission. However, the +general idea is complete. I advise you to get it carried out by Lucas & +Enwright. Enwright is the best architect in England. You may take this +from me. I'm his disciple. You might ring me up at the office this +afternoon.--Yours faithfully, GEORGE CANNON" + +"P.S.--Assuming you go to Lucas & Enwright, I can either make some +arrangement with them as to sharing fees myself, or you can pay me an +agreed sum for the work I've done, and start afresh elsewhere. I shall +want all the money I can get hold of." + +Yes, Sir Isaac would be very angry. George smiled. He was not +triumphant, but he was calm. In the full sanity of the morning, every +reason against his going into the Army had vanished. The material +objection was ridiculous--with Edwin Clayhanger at the back of him! +Moreover, some money would be coming in. The professional objection was +equally ridiculous. The design for the Indian barracks existed complete; +and middle-aged mediocrity could carry it out in a fashion, and Lucas & +Enwright could carry it out better than he could carry it out himself. +As for Davids, he had written. There was nothing else of importance in +his office. The other competition had not been won. If people said that +he had been influenced by Lucas's uniform, well, they must say it. They +would not say it for more than a few days. After a few days the one +interesting fact would be that he had joined. By such simple and curt +arguments did he annihilate the once overwhelming reasons against his +joining the Army. + +But he did not trouble to marshal the reasons in favour of his joining +the Army. He had only one reason: he must! He quite ignored the larger +aspects of the war--the future of civilization, freedom versus slavery, +right versus wrong, even the responsibilities of citizenship and the +implications of patriotism. His decision was the product, not of +argument, but of feeling. However, he did not feel a bit virtuous. He +had to join the Army, and 'that was all there was to it.' A beastly +nuisance, this world-war! It was interfering with his private affairs; +it might put an end to his private affairs altogether; he hated +soldiering; he looked inimically at the military caste. An unspeakable +nuisance. But there the war was, and he was going to answer to his name. +He simply could not tolerate the dreadful silence and stillness on the +plain after his name had been called. "Pooh! Sheer sentimentality!" he +said to himself, thinking of the vision--half-dream, half-fancy. "Rotten +sentimentality!" + +He asked: + +"Damn it! Am I an Englishman or am I not?" + +Like most Englishmen, he was much more an Englishman than he ever +suspected. + +"What on earth are you doing, George?" + +At the voice of his wife he gave a nervous jump, and then instantly +controlled himself and looked round. Her voice was soft, liquid, weak +with slumber. But, lying calmly on one side, her head half buried in the +pillow, and the bedclothes pushed back from her shoulders, she was +wideawake and gazed at him steadily. + +"I'm just writing a letter," he answered gruffly. + +"Now? What letter?" + +"Here! You shall read it." He walked straight across the room in his gay +pyjamas only partly hidden by the splendid dressing-gown, and handed her +the letter. Moving nothing but her hand, she took the letter and held it +in front of her eyes. He sat down between the beds, on the edge of his +own bed, facing her. + +"Whatever is it?" + +"Read it. You've got it," he said, with impatience. He was trembling, +aware that the crisis had suddenly leapt at him. + +"Oh!" + +She had read the opening phrase; she had received the first shock. But +the tone of her exclamation gave no clue at all to her attitude. It +might mean anything--anything. She shut her eyes; then glanced at him, +terror-struck, appealing, wistful, implacable. + +"Not at once?" + +"Yes, at once." + +"But surely you'll at least wait until after October." + +He shook his head. + +"But why can't you?" + +"I can't." + +"But there's no object--" + +"I've got to do it." + +"You're horribly cruel." + +"Well, that's me!" He was sullen, and as hard as a diamond. + +"George, I shall never be able to stand it. It's too much to expect. +It'll kill me." + +"Not it! What's the use of talking like that? If I'd been in the +Territorials before the war, like lots of chaps, I should have been gone +long ago, and you'd have stood it all right. Don't you understand we're +at war? Do you imagine the war can wait for things like babies?" + +She cried: + +"It's no good your going on in that strain. You can't leave me alone +with all this house on my shoulders, and so that's flat." + +"Who wants to leave you all alone in the house? You can go and stay at +Ladderedge, children and nurse and all." This scheme presented itself to +him as he spoke. + +"Of course I can't! We can't go and plant ourselves on people like that. +Besides--" + +"Can't you? You'll see!" + +He caught her eye. Why was he being so brutal to her? What conceivable +purpose was served by this harshness? He perceived that his nerves were +overstrung. And in a swift rush of insight he saw the whole situation +from her point of view. She was exhausted by gestation; she lived in a +world distorted. Could she help her temperament? She was in the gravest +need of his support; and he was an ass, a blundering fool. His severity +melted within him, and secretly he became tender as only a man can be. + +"You silly girl!" he said, slightly modifying his voice, taking care not +to disclose all at once the change in his mood. + +"You silly girl! Can't you see they'll be so proud to have you they +won't be able to contain themselves? They'll turn the whole place +upside-down for you. I know them. They'll pretend it's nothing, but +mother won't sleep at night for thinking how to arrange things for the +best, and as for my cuckoo of an uncle, if you notice something funny +about your feet, it'll be the esteemed alderman licking your boots. +You'll have the time of your life. In fact they'll ruin your character +for you. There'll be no holding you afterwards." + +She did not smile, but her eyes smiled. He had got the better of her. He +had been cleverer than she was. She was beaten. + +"But we shall have no money." + +"Read the letter, child. I'm not a fool." + +"I know you're not a fool. No one knows that better than me." + +He went on: + +"And what's uncle's money for, if it comes to that?" + +"But we can't spunge on them like that!" + +"Spunge be dashed! What's money for? It's no good till it's spent. If he +can't spend it on us, who can he spend it on? He always makes out he's +fiendishly hard, but he's the most generous idiot ever born." + +"Yes, you're awfully like him." + +"I'm not." + +He was suddenly alive to the marvellous charm of the intimacy of the +scene with his wife, in the early summer dawn, in the silent, enchanted +house of sleepers, in the disorder of the heaped bedroom. They were +alone together, shameless in front of one another, and nobody knew or +saw, or could ever know or see. Their relations were unique, the +resultant of long custom, of friction, of misunderstanding, of +affection, of incomprehensible instincts, of destiny itself. He thought: +"I have lived for this sensation, and it is worth living for." + +Without the slightest movement, she invited him with her strange eyes, +and as she did so she was as mysterious as ever she had been. He bent +down responsively. She put her hot, clammy hands on his shoulders, and +kept his head at a little distance and looked through his eyes into his +soul. The letter had dropped to the floor. + +"I knew you would!" she murmured, and then snatched him to her, and +kissed him, and kept her mouth on his. + +"You didn't," he said, as soon as she loosed him. "I didn't know +myself." + +But he privately admitted that perhaps she did know. She had every +fault, but she was intelligent. Constantly he was faced with that fact. +She did not understand the significance of the war; she lacked +imagination; but her understanding was sometimes terrible. She was +devious; but she had a religion. He was her religion. She would cast the +god underfoot--and then in a passion of repentance restore it ardently +to the sacred niche. + +She said: + +"I couldn't have borne it if Everard had gone and you hadn't. But of +course you meant to go all the time." + +That was how she saved his amour-propre. + +"I always knew you were a genius--" + +"Oh! Chuck it, kid!" + +"But you're more, somehow. This business--" + +"You don't mean joining the Army?" + +"Yes." + +"What rot! There's nothing in it. Fellows are doing it everywhere." + +She smiled superiorly, and then inquired: + +"How do you join? What are you going to do? Shall you ask Everard?" + +"Well--" he hesitated. He had no desire to consult Lucas. + +"Why don't you see Colonel Rannion?" she Suggested. + +"Jove! That's a scheme. Never thought of him!" + +Her satisfaction at the answer was childlike, and he was filled with +delight that it should be so. They launched themselves into an +interminable discussion about every possible arrangement of everything. +But in a pause of it he destroyed its tremendous importance by remarking +casually: + +"No hurry, of course. I bet you I shall be kept knocking about here for +months." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IN THE MACHINE + +I + + +Colonel Rannion was brother of the wife of the man for whom George had +built the house at Hampstead. George had met him several times at the +dinners and other reunions to which a sympathetic architect is often +invited in the dwelling that he has created. Colonel Rannion had greatly +liked his sister's house, had accordingly shown much esteem for George, +and had even spoken of ordering a house for himself. + +Just as breakfast was being served, George had the idea of ringing up +the Hampstead people for the Colonel's address, which he obtained at +once. The Colonel was staying at the Berkeley Hotel. The next moment he +got the Berkeley, and the Colonel in person. The Colonel remembered him +instantly. George said he wanted to see him. What about? Well, a +commission. The Colonel said he had to leave the hotel in twenty-five +minutes. "I can be with you in less than a quarter of an hour," said +George--or rather, not George, but some subconscious instinct within +him, acting independently of him. The children, with nurse, were in the +dining-room, waiting to breakfast with father. They were washed, they +were dressed; the dining-room had been cleaned; the pleasant smell of +breakfast-cooking wandered through the rooms; since the early talk +between George and Lois in the silent, sleeping house the house had +gradually come to life; it was now in full being--even to the girl +scrubbing the front steps--except that Lois was asleep. Exhausted after +the strange and crucial scene, she had dozed off, and had never moved +throughout George's dressing. + +Now he rushed into the dining-room--"I have to go, nurse. Fardy can't +have his breakfast with you!"--and rushed out. A minute previously he +had felt a serious need of food after the long, sleepless morning. The +need vanished. He scurried up Elm Park Gardens like a boy in the warm, +fresh air, and stopped a taxi. He was extremely excited. None but Lois +knew the great secret. He had kept it to himself. He might have burst +into the kitchen--for he was very apt to be informal--and said: "Well, +cook, I'm going into the Army!" What a household sensation the news +would cause, and what an office sensation! His action would affect the +lives of all manner of people. And the house, at present alive and +organic, would soon be dead. He was afraid. What he was doing was +tremendous. Was it madness? He had a feeling of unreality. + +At the entrance to the Berkeley Hotel lay a large automobile, with a +spurred and highly polished military chauffeur. At the door of Colonel +Rannion's room was stationed a spurred and highly polished, erect +orderly--formidable contrast to the flaccid waiters who slouched palely +in the corridors. The orderly went into the room and saluted with a +click. George followed, as into a dentist's surgery. It was a small, +elegant, private sitting-room resembling a boudoir. In the midst of +delicately tinted cushions and flower-vases stood Colonel Rannion, +grey-haired, blue-eyed, very straight, very tall, very slim--the +slimness accentuated by a close-fitted uniform which began with red tabs +and ended in light leggings and gleaming spurs. He conformed absolutely +to the traditional physical type of soldier, and the sight of him gave +pleasure. + +"Good morning. Cannon. Glad to see you." He seemed to put a secret +meaning into the last words. + +He shook hands as he spoke, firmly, decisively, efficiently. + +"I hope I'm not troubling you too much," George began. + +"Troubling me! Sit down. You want a commission. The Army wants to give +commissions to men like you. I think you would make a good officer." + +"Of course I'm absolutely ignorant of the Army. Absolutely." + +"Yes. What a pity that is! If you'd only been a pre-war Territorial you +might have done three weeks' urgent work for your country by this time." +The remark was a polite reproof. + +"I might," admitted George, to whom the notion of working for his +country had never before occurred. + +"Do you think you'd like the Artillery?" Colonel Rannion questioned +sharply. His tone was increasing in sharpness. + +With an equal sharpness George answered unhesitatingly: "Yes, I +should." + +"Can you ride?" + +"I can _ride_. In holidays and so on I get on my mother's horses." + +"Have you hunted?" + +"Never." + +"H'm!... Well, I know my friend Colonel Hullocher, who commands the +Second Brigade of--er--my Division, is short of an officer. Would you +care for that?" + +"Certainly." + +Without saying anything else Colonel Rannion took up the telephone. In +less than half a minute George heard him saying: "Colonel Hullocher.... +Ask him to be good enough to come to the telephone at once.... That you, +Hullocher?" + +George actually trembled. He no longer felt that heavy weight on his +stomach, but he felt 'all gone.' He saw himself lying wounded near a +huge gun on a battlefield. + +Colonel Rannion was continuing into the telephone: + +"I can recommend a friend of mine to you for a commission. George +Cannon--C-a-n-n-o-n--the architect. I don't know whether you know of +him.... Oh! About thirty.... No, but I think he'd suit you.... Who +recommends him? _I_ do.... Like to see him, I suppose, first?... No, no +necessity to see him. I'll tell him.... Yes, I shall see you in the +course of the day." The conversation then apparently deviated to other +subjects, and drew to a close.... "Good-bye. Thanks.... Oh! I say. Shall +he get his kit?... Cannon.... Yes, he'd better. Yes, that's understood +of course. Good-bye." + +"That will be quite all right," said Colonel Rannion to George. "Colonel +Hullocher thinks you may as well see to your kit at once, provided of +course you pass the doctor and you are ready to work for nothing until +your commission comes along." + +"Oh! Naturally!" George agreed, in a dream. He was saying to himself, +frightened, astounded, staggered, and yet uplifted: "_Get my kit! Get my +kit_! But it's scarcely a minute since I decided to go into the Army." + +"I may get your commission ante-dated. I haven't all the papers here, +but give me an address where I can find you at once, and you shall have +them this afternoon. I'll get the Colonel to send them to the +Territorial Association to-morrow, and probably in about a month you'll +be in the _Gazette_. I don't know when Colonel Hullocher will want you +to report for duty, but I shall see him to-day. You'll get a telegram +when you're needed. Now I must go. Which way are you going?" + +"I'm going home for my breakfast," said George, writing down his two +addresses. + +Colonel Rannion said: + +"I'm off to Wimbledon. I can drop you in Fulham Road if you like." + +In the automobile George received a few useful hints, but owing to the +speed of the vehicle the time was far too short for any extensive +instruction. The car drew up. For an instant Colonel Rannion became +freely cordial. "He must rather have cottoned to me, or he wouldn't have +done what he has," thought George, proud to be seen in converse with a +staff-officer, waving a hand in adieu. And he thought: "Perhaps next +time I see him I shall be saluting him!" + +The children and nurse were still at breakfast. Nothing had changed in +the house during his absence. But the whole house was changed. It was a +house unconvincing, incredible, which might vanish at any moment. He +himself was incredible. What had happened was incredible. The screeching +voices of the children were not real voices, and the children were +apparitions. The newspaper was illegible. Its messages for the most part +had no meaning, and such as bore a meaning seemed to be utterly +unimportant. The first reality, for George was food. He discovered that +he could not eat the food--could not swallow; the nausea was acute. He +drank a little coffee, and then went upstairs to see his wife. Outside +the bedroom door he stood hesitant. A desolating sadness of +disappointment suddenly surged over him. He had destroyed his ambitions, +he had transformed all his life, by a single unreflecting and +irretrievable impulse. What he had done was terrific, and yet he had +done it as though it were naught ... The mood passed as suddenly as it +had come, and left him matter-of-fact, grim, as it were swimming +strongly on and with the mighty current which had caught him. He went +into the bedroom on the current. Lois was awake. + +"I've seen Colonel Rannion." + +"You haven't, George!" + +"Yes, I have. I've just come back." + +"Well?" + +He replied with his damnable affected casualness: "I'm in the Army. +Royal Field Artillery. And so that's that." + +"But where's your uniform?" + +"I knew you'd say that. I'm in mufti, you see." + + +II + + +He promptly received his papers and returned them. His medical +examination was quite satisfactory. Then there was no further sign from +the Army. The Army might have completely forgotten him; his enrolment in +the Army might have been an illusion. Every day and every hour he +expected a telegram of command. It was in anticipation of the telegram, +curt and inexorable, that he kept harrying his tradesmen. To be caught +unprepared by the telegram would be a disaster. But the tradesmen had +lessons to teach him, and by the time the kit was approximately +completed he had learnt the lessons. Whether the transaction concerned +his tunic, breeches, spurs, leggings, cane, sword, socks, shirts, cap, +camp field-kit, or any of the numerous other articles without which an +officer might not respectably enter the British Army, the chief lesson +was the same, namely, that the tradesmen were bearing the brunt of the +war. Those who had enrolled and made spectacular sacrifices of homes and +careers and limbs and lives were enjoying a glorious game amid the +laudations of an ecstatic populace, but the real work was being done in +the shops and in the workrooms. The mere aspect of tradesmen was enough +to restore the lost modesty of officers. Useless to argue with the +tradesmen, to expostulate, to vituperate. The facts were in their +favour; the sublime law of supply and demand was in their favour. If the +suddenly unloosed military ardour had not been kept down it might have +submerged the Island. The tradesmen kept it down, and the Island was +saved by them from militarization. Majors and colonels and even generals +had to flatter and cajole tradesmen. As for lieutenants, they cringed. +And all officers were obliged to be grateful for the opportunity to +acquire goods at prices fifty per cent higher than would have been +charged to civilians. Within a few days George, who had need of every +obtainable sovereign for family purposes, had disbursed some forty +pounds out of his own pocket in order to exercise the privilege of +defending, at the risk of ruin and death, the ideals of his country. + +At the end of the week what, as a civilian, he would have described as +his first 'suit' had not been delivered, and he spent Saturday afternoon +and Sunday in most uncomfortable apprehension of the telegraph-boy and +in studying an artillery manual now known to hundreds of thousands as +'F.A.T.' On the Monday morning he collected such portions of his kit as +had to be worn with the 'suit' (leggings, boots, spurs, cap, shirt, +collar, etc.), and took them in a taxi to the tailor's, intending to +change there and emerge a soldier. The clothes were not ready, but the +tailor, intimidated by real violence, promised them for three o'clock. +At three o'clock they were still not ready, for buttons had to be +altered on the breeches; another hour was needed. + +George went to call at Lucas & Enwright's. That office seemed to +function as usual, for Everard Lucas alone had left it for the +profession of arms. The factotum in the cubicle was a young man of the +finest military age, and there were two other good ones in the clerks' +room, including a clerk just transferred from George's own office. And +George thought of his own office, already shut up, and his glance was +sardonic. Mr. Enwright sat alone in the principals' room, John Orgreave +being abroad in London in pursuit of George's two landlords--the +landlord of his house and the landlord of his office--neither of whom +had yet been brought to see that George's caprice for a military career +entitled him in the slightest degree to slip out of contracts +remunerative to the sacred caste of landlords. Lucas & Enwright had +behaved handsomely to George, having taken everything over, assumed all +responsibilities, and allotted to George more than a fair share of +percentages. And John Orgreave, who in his rough provincial way was an +admirable negotiator, had voluntarily busied himself with the affair of +the resilition of George's leases. + +"Not gone, then?" Mr. Enwright greeted him. "Well, you'd better be +going, or I shan't get my chance of being Vice-President." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Orgreave was at a committee at the Institute this morning. It seems you +might have been the next Vice, in spite of your tender years, if you'd +stayed. You're becoming the rage, you know." + +"Am I?" said George, startled. + +He hungered for further details of this great and highly disturbing +matter, but Enwright, jealous by nature and excusably jealous by reason +of the fact that despite his immense artistic reputation he had never +succeeded in being even Vice-President of the Institute, would say no +more. Indeed he took a malicious pleasure in saying no more. + +The ageing man, more hypochondriacal, thinner, and more wrinkled than +ever, was full to the brim of one subject--India. Somebody at the India +Office had flattered him by showing a knowledge of his work. The India +Office had very graciously agreed to the transfer of the barracks +enterprise to Lucas & Enwright, and now Mr. Enwright was for going to +India himself. He had never been there. Indian scenery, Indian manners, +Indian architecture boiled in his brain. The menace of German raiders +would not prevent him from going to India. He had already revisited the +photographs of Indian buildings at South Kensington Museum. Moreover, he +had persuaded himself that the erection of the barracks formed an urgent +and vital part of British war activity. + +At the same time he was convinced that the war would soon end, and in +favour of Germany. He assumed, as being beyond doubt, that a German army +would occupy Paris, and when George, with a wave of the hand, pushed the +enemy back and magically rendered Paris impregnable, he nearly lost his +temper. This embittered Englishman would not hear a word against the +miraculous efficiency of the Germans, whom he admired as much as he +hated them. The German military reputation could not have been safer in +Potsdam than it was in Russell Square. George, impatient of his master +and inspirer, rose to depart, whereupon Mr. Enwright began to talk at +large about the terrible derangement of his daily life caused by the +sudden disappearance of his favourite barber, deemed now to have been a +spy. "But the only barber who ever really understood my chin," said Mr. +Enwright. George went, shaking hands perfunctorily. Mr. Enwright was too +preoccupied to wish him luck. + +The clothes were ready at the tailor's, and they passed the tests. +George stood up disguised as a second-lieutenant in the R.F.A., booted, +spurred, gloved, nicely managing a cane. He examined himself in the +great mirror and was well pleased with his military appearance. In +particular, his dark moustache fitted the role excellently. + +"Now you'll send the overcoat and all my civilian things down this +afternoon, without fail," he said. "I'll let you have an address for the +other suit." + +And he walked manfully out of the shop. Before he could find himself, a +superb serjeant-major strode up, saluted in the highest and strictest +perfection, and passed. The encounter was unfortunate. George, taken +aback, muddled his share of the rite. Further, the self-consciousness of +the potential Vice-President of the Royal Institute of British +Architects was so extreme in uniform that it could scarcely have been +more extreme had he been thrust by destiny into Oxford Street naked. He +returned to the shop and said: + +"I think I'll take everything home myself, to make sure. You might get +me a taxi." + +He crept into his own house furtively with his parcels, like a criminal, +though he well knew that the servants would be ready to worship him as a +new god. The children were evidently out. Lois was not in the +drawing-room. He ran to the bedroom. She lay on the sofa. + +"Here I am!" he announced, posing bravely for her inspection. + +She did not move for a few seconds. Her eyes were hard-set. Then she +gave a tremendous shattering sob, and burst into wild tears. George +stooped to pick up a telegram which was lying on the floor. It read: + +"You are to report to Adjutant Headquarters Second First West Midland +R.F.A. Wimbledon to-morrow Tuesday before noon." + +The Army had not forgotten him. Throughout the week his name upon +various forms had been under the eye of authority, and at last the order +had gone forth. + + +III + + +The next morning, after a disturbed night, Lois was taken ill. George +telephoned for the doctor, and as soon as he had seen the patient the +doctor telephoned for the nurse, and as soon as the doctor had +telephoned for the nurse George telephoned for Laurencine. What with +George's uniform and approaching departure, and the premature seizure of +Lois, the household had, in an exceedingly short time, reached a state +of intense excitement and inefficiency. Nurse was with Lois; the +children were with cook in the kitchen; the other two servants were +noisily and vaguely active on the stairs and the landings. The breakfast +had been very badly cooked; the newspapers, with a detailed description +of the retreat from Mons, were not glanced at. George was expecting a +letter from his mother concerning the arrangements for the visit of Lois +and the children to Ladderedge, already decided upon, and no letter had +come. + +At half-past ten he sent the parlourmaid to get a taxi. Having inspected +his luggage in the hall, he went to the telephone again and ascertained +that Laurencine had actually started from home. Almost at the same +moment a taxi stopped in front of the house. "She's been jolly quick," +thought George, meaning the parlourmaid; but going to the window he saw +that his stepfather and his mother were in the taxi. He did not rush out +to them. He did not move. The comfortable sense of the perfect +reliability and benevolence of his 'people' filled and warmed him. They +had not written again; they had just come themselves. + +He affectionately and critically watched them as they got out of the +taxi. Alderman Edwin Clayhanger, undeniably stout, with grey hair and +beard, was passing from middle-age into the shadow of the sixties. He +dressed well, but the flat crown of his felt hat, and the artificial, +exaggerated squareness of the broad shoulders, gave him a provincial +appearance. His gesture as he paid the driver was absolutely +characteristic--a mixture of the dignified and the boyish, the +impressive and the timid. He had descended from the vehicle with +precautions, but Mrs. Clayhanger jumped down lightly, though she was +about as old and as grey as her husband. Her costume was not successful; +she did not understand and never had understood how to dress herself. +But she had kept her figure; she was as slim as a girl, and as restless. + +George ran to the door, which the feverish parlourmaid had neglected to +shut. His mother, mounting the steps, was struck full in the face by the +apparition of her son in uniform. The Alderman, behind her, cried +mockingly to cover his emotion: "Hal_lo_! Hal_lo_!" + +"When did you come up?" asked George quietly, taking his mother's hand +and kissing her. She slid past him into the house. Her eyes were moist. + +"Last night," the Alderman answered. "Last train. Your mother's idea. +All of a sudden. Thought you might be leaving." + +"Well, I am," said George. "I have to report at Headquarters at +Wimbledon by twelve o'clock. It's rather a good thing you've come. Lois +is ill. Oh! Here's _my_ taxi." The parlourmaid had driven up. + +"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayhanger. + +"Yes. I've sent for the doctor, and he's sent for the nurse. I'm +expecting the nurse every minute." + +"You don't mean to say--" Mrs. Clayhanger began. + +George nodded. + +"She _must_ have had a shock. I knew what it would be for her. It's all +very well, but--" Mrs. Clayhanger again left a sentence unfinished. + +"I've sent for Laurencine too," said George. "She also may be here any +minute." + +"Oh!" said the old lady tartly. "I can stay as long as you like, you +know. Lois and I get on splendidly." + +It was true. They had had one enormous quarrel, which had mysteriously +ended by both of them denying superiorly to all males that any quarrel +had ever occurred. + +"Well, come into the dining-room." + +"I think I'll go up and see Lois at once," said Mrs. Clayhanger. + +"The doctor's there." + +"What if he is?" + +The Alderman put in: + +"Now look here, missis. Don't startle her." + +Mrs. Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went upstairs. + +"This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with his stick to +the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall floor. + +"Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it all in the +taxi, May. Come along in, uncle." + +"Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me." + +"Where are you staying?" + +"Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!" + +They were now within the dining-room. + +"Yes." In the presence and under the influence of his people George at +once ceased to be an expansive Londoner, and reverted to the character +of the Five Towns. + +"I suppose she'll be all _right_?" + +"Doctor seems to think so." + +"Yes. They generally are." The Alderman sighed pleasantly and dropped +rather heavily into a chair. + +"Have a cigarette?" + +"No!" The Alderman refused regretfully. "I've got a new rule now. I +don't smoke till after dinner." + +There was a pause. + +"I'm glad we came." + +"So'm I." + +"You needn't worry about anything. Your mother and I will see to +everything. I'll go up and have a talk with Johnnie about the leases." + +"Thanks." + +"What about money?" + +"I'll write you. No hurry." + +"What sort of a woman is Laurencine? I've scarcely set eyes on her." + +"She's fine." + +"She is?" + +"Yes." + +"Will she hit it off with your mother?" + +"Trust her." + +"Well, then, I think I'll have one o' them cigarettes." + +They smoked in taciturnity, nervous but relieved. They had said what +they had to say to each other. After a time George remarked: + +"I heard last night there was a chance of me being Vice-President of the +Institute this year if I hadn't gone into the Army." + +Mr. Clayhanger raised his eyebrows. + +"That'll keep all right for later." + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Clayhanger hurried into the dining-room. She had removed her hat +and gloves. + +"Lois wants to see you." + +"I was just coming up. I've got to go now." He glanced at his watch. + +"Go where?" It was like Mrs. Clayhanger to ask a question to which she +knew the answer. Her ardent eyes, set a little too close together in the +thin, lined, nervous face, burned upon him challengingly. + +"I told you! I have to report at Headquarters before noon." + +"But you don't mean to say you're going to leave your wife like this! +She's very ill." + +"I'm bound to leave her." + +"But you can't leave her." + +The Alderman said: + +"The boy's quite right. If he's got to report he's got to report." + +"And supposing she was dying?" + +"Now, missis, we needn't suppose that. She isn't." + +"It would be just the same if she was," Mrs. Clayhanger retorted +bitterly. "I don't know what men are coming to. But I know this--all +husbands are selfish. They probably don't know it, but they are." + +She wept angrily. + +"Don't you understand I'm in the machine now, mater?" said George +resentfully as he left the room. + +In the bedroom Lois lay on her back, pale, perspiring, moaning. He +kissed her, glanced at the doctor for instructions, and departed. Lois +was not in a condition to talk, and the doctor wished her not to speak. +Then George went to the kitchen and took leave of the children, and +incidentally of the servants. The nurse was arriving as he re-entered +the dining-room; he had seized his cap in the hall and put it on. + +"Better give me an address," said the Alderman. + +"You might wire during the day," George said, scribbling on a loose leaf +from his pocket-book, which he had to search for in unfamiliar pockets. + +"The idea had occurred to me," the Alderman smiled. + +"Au revoir, mater." + +"But you've got plenty of time!" she protested. + +"I know," said he. "I'm not going to be late. I haven't the slightest +notion where Headquarters are, and supposing the taxi had a break-down!" + +He divined from the way in which she kissed him good-bye that she was +excessively proud of him. + +"Mater," he said, "I see you're still a girl." + +As he was leaving, Mr. Clayhanger halted him. + +"You said something in your last letter about storing the furniture, +didn't you? Have ye made any inquiries?" + +"No. But I've told Orgreave. You might look into that, because--well, +you'll see." + +From the hall he glanced into the dining-room and up the stairs. The +furniture that filled the house had been new ten years earlier; it had +been anybody's furniture. The passage of ten years, marvellously swift, +had given character to the furniture, charged it with associations, +scarred it with the history of a family--his family, individualized it, +humanized it. It was no longer anybody's furniture. With a pang he +pictured it numbered and crowded into a warehouse, forlorn, thick with +dust, tragic, exiled from men and women. + +He drove off, waving. His stepfather waved from the door, his mother +waved from the dining-room; the cook had taken the children into the +drawing-room, where they shook their short, chubby arms at him, smiling. +On the second floor the back of the large rectangular mirror on the +dressing-table presented a flat and wooden negative to his anxious +curiosity. + +In the neighbourhood of Wimbledon the taxi-driver ascertained his +destination at the first inquiry from a strolling soldier. It was the +Blue Lion public-house. The taxi skirted the Common, parts of which were +covered with horse-lines and tents. Farther on, in vague suburban +streets, the taxi stopped at a corner building with a blatant, curved +gilt sign and a very big lamp. A sentry did something with his rifle as +George got out, and another soldier obligingly took the luggage. A +clumsy painted board stuck on a pole at the entrance to a side-passage +indicated that George had indeed arrived at his Headquarters. He was +directed to a small, frowzy apartment, which apparently had once been +the land-lord's sitting-room. Two officers, Colonel Hullocher and his +Adjutant, both with ribbons, were seated close together at a littered +deal table, behind a telephone whose cord, instead of descending +modestly to the floor, went up in sight of all men to the ceiling. In a +corner a soldier, the Colonel's confidential clerk, was writing at +another table. Everything was dirty and untidy. Neither of the officers +looked at George. The Adjutant was excitedly reading to the Colonel and +the Colonel was excitedly listening and muttering. The clerk too was in +a state of excitement. George advanced towards the table, and saluted +and stood at attention. The Adjutant continued to read and the Colonel +to murmur, but the Adjutant did manage to give a momentary surreptitious +glance at George. After some time the Colonel, who was a short, stout, +bald, restless man, interrupted the reading, and, still without having +looked at George, growled impatiently to the Adjutant: + +"Who's this fellow?" + +The Adjutant replied smoothly: + +"Mr. Cannon, sir." + +The Colonel said: + +"He's got a devilish odd way of saluting. I must go now." And jumped up +and went cyclonically as far as the door. At the door he paused and +looked George full in the face, glaring. + +"You came to me with a special recommendation?" he demanded loudly. + +"Colonel Rannion kindly recommended me, sir." + +"General Rannion, sir. Haven't you seen this morning's _Times_? You +should read your Gazette." + +"Yes, sir." + +"You're the celebrated architect?" + +"I'm an architect, sir." + +"I wish you would condescend to answer, yes or no, sir. That's the +second time. I say--you're the celebrated architect?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, remember this. When you come into the Army what you were before +you came into the Army has not the slightest importance." + +"Yes, sir." + +Colonel Hullocher glared in silence for a moment, and was gone. The +clerk slipped out after him. + +The Adjutant rose: + +"Now, Cannon, we're all very busy." + +And shook hands. + + +IV + + +The same afternoon, indeed within about two hours of his entrance into +the Army, George found himself driving back from Wimbledon to London in +a motor-bus. + +Colonel Hullocher had vanished out of his world, and he had been sent to +another and still more frowzy public-house which was the Headquarters of +No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade. He was allotted to No. 2 Battery, +subject to the approval of Major Craim, the commanding officer. Major +Craim was young and fair and benevolent, and at once approvingly +welcomed George, who thereupon became the junior subaltern of the +Battery. The other half-dozen officers, to whom he was introduced one by +one as they came in, seemed amiable and very well-mannered, if unduly +excited. When, immediately before lunch, the Major was called away to +lunch with Colonel Hullocher, the excitement of the mess seemed to boil +over. The enormous fact was that the whole Division--yeomanry, infantry, +and artillery--had been ordered to trek southward the next morning. The +Division was not ready to trek; in particular the Second Brigade of its +artillery, and quite specially Battery No. 2 of the Second Brigade, was +not ready to trek. Nevertheless it would trek. It might even trek to +France. Southward was Franceward, and there were those who joyously +believed that this First Line Territorial Division was destined to lead +the Territorial Army in France. + +All the officers had a schoolboyish demeanour; all of them called one +another by diminutives ending in 'y'; all of them were pretty young. +But George soon divided them into two distinct groups--those who worried +about the smooth working of the great trek, and those who did not. Among +the former was Captain Resmith, the second in command, a dark man with a +positive, strong voice, somewhat similar to George in appearance. +Captain Resmith took George very seriously, and promised to initiate him +personally into as many technical mysteries as could be compressed into +one afternoon. Then a Major Tumulty, middle-aged and pale, came +hurriedly into the stuffy room and said without any prologue: + +"Now I must have one of you chaps this afternoon. Otherwise I promise +you you won't get all the things you want." + +Silence fell on the mess. + +"The C.O. isn't here, sir," said Captain Resmith. + +"I can't help that. I'm not going alone." + +"Cannon, you'd better go with Major Tumulty. Major, this is Mr. Cannon, +our latest addition." + +George only knew about Major Tumulty that he was Major Tumulty and that +he did not belong to No. 2 Battery. So far as George was concerned he +was a major in the air. After drinking a glass of port with the mess, +Major Tumulty suddenly remembered that he was in a hurry, and took +George off and put him into a scarlet London-General motor-bus that was +throbbing at the door of the public-house, with an ordinary civilian +driver at the steering-wheel and a soldier on the step. George felt like +a parcel; he had no choice of movement, no responsibility, no knowledge. +The mentality of a parcel was not disagreeable to him. But at times, +vaguely uneasy, he would start out of it, and ask himself: "What is +wrong?" And then the vision of a distant, half-forgotten street called +Elm Park Road would rise in his mind and he would remember: "My wife is +very ill, and everything is upset at home." + +The motor-bus travelled a few yards and stopped; and out of yet another +office a soldier carried, staggering, a heavy bag with a brass lock, and +dropped it on the floor of the bus between the Major and George; and the +bus, after a good imitation by the soldier-conductor of a professional +double ting on the bell, went away afresh. + +"That's money," said the Major, in his mild, veiled voice, pointing to +the bag. + +Little by little George learnt that the Major had 'won' the bus 'out of' +the War Office, and had been using it daily for several days for the +purpose of buying and collecting urgent stores and equipment. The bus +had become celebrated within the Division in an astoundingly short time, +and on this, the last day preceding the trek, the various units had +burdened the good-natured Major with a multitude of commissions. + +"I try to keep accounts," said the Major. "But I know I've made a loss +every day. I've been in the T.F. ever since there was one, and it has +always cost me money. Now, I shall put you in charge of this little +book." + +The little book was a penny account-book, with pages lettered in pencil +A, B, C, D, etc., and items scribbled on each page. + +"The letters show the batteries," the Major explained. "I've got a key +to the batteries somewhere in my pocket. And here's what I call my grand +list." He produced a roll of foolscap. "I like everything orderly. It +saves so much trouble, doesn't it? I mean in the end. Now, as I buy +things I shall strike them off here, and I want you to strike them off +in your book and put down the price from the bill. I always insist on a +receipted bill. It saves so much trouble in the end. I meant to bring a +file or a clip for the bills, but I forgot. You understand, don't you?" + +George answered solemnly and sharply: + +"Yes, sir." + +The Major weakly cried: + +"Hall!" + +"Yessir!" The soldier-conductor came to attention. + +"Did you tell him to go to Harrods first?" + +"Yessir!" + +"I think we might go and sit on the top," said the Major. "It's a nice +afternoon." + +So the two officers went and sat on the top of the motor-bus. The Major +gossiped with soothing tranquillity. He said that he was a pianoforte +manufacturer; his father, from whom he had inherited, had traded under a +German name because people preferred German pianos to English; he now +regretted this piece of astuteness on the part of his father; he was +trying to sell his business--he had had enough of it. + +"Hi! You!" he called, standing up quite unexpectedly and leaning over +the front of the bus to hail the driver. "Hi! You!" But the driver did +not hear, and the bus drove forward like fate. The Major, who had +hitherto seemed to be exempt from the general perturbation of Wimbledon +troops, suddenly showed excitement. "We must stop this bus somehow! Why +the devil doesn't he stop? I've forgotten the rope-shop." + +"I'll stop it, sir," said George, maintaining an admirable presence of +mind in the crisis, and he rose and pushed down the knob of the +signal-rod at the back of the bus. The bus did actually stop. + +"Ah!" murmured the Major, calmed. + +The soldier raced upstairs. + +"Hall!" + +"Yessir." + +"Do you know a rope and string shop near the Granville Theatre of +Varieties at Walham Green?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville." + +"Yessir." + +The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw the first +contents-bill of the afternoon papers. + +"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked. + +"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons business is +serious." + +"Yes, sir." + +The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. When the rope +had been purchased and new silver brought forth from the bag, and the +receipt made out, and the item struck off and the amount entered, and +the bus had started again, George perceived that he would soon be +passing the end of Elm Park Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect +the bus into Elm Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He +dared not. The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless +unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its forehead, +rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham Road, pursued by the +disappointed glances of gesturing wayfarers who wanted it to take them +to Liverpool Street. + +After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major stopped his +bus at a Tube station in the north of London. + +"I mustn't forget my pens," said he. "I have to spend three-quarters of +my time mewed up in the office, and I don't grumble; but I'm very +particular about nibs, and if I don't have my own I cannot work. It's +useless to expect it." + +Then to the soldier: + +"Hall! You go down to Partridge & Cooper's, at the corner of Chancery +Lane and Fleet Street, and buy a sixpenny box of their 'No. 6 Velvet' +pen-nibs. You understand: 'No. 6 Velvet.'" + +"Yessir. With the bus, sir?" + +"With the bus. Here's sixpence." He took a coin out of the bag, locked +it, and gave the key to George. "And keep an eye on this bag, my boy. +You will then come back and wait for us--let me see--outside Piccadilly +Tube Station in Jermyn Street." + +"Yessir." + +The Major and George entered the North London station and proceeded to +the lift. + +"Tickets!" demanded the lift-man. + +The Major halted and gazed at him. + +"On service!" said the Major, with resentment and disdain. "A fortnight +ago you civilians were raising your hats to us. Now you ask us for +tickets! Haven't you grasped yet that there's a war on? Don't you think +you'd look better in khaki?" He showed excitement, as at every personal +encounter. + +The lift-man bowed his head, inarticulately muttering, and the officers +passed into the lift, having created a certain amount of interest among +the other passengers. The Major was tranquillized in a moment. They came +to the surface again at Piccadilly Circus, where at the lift a similar +scene occurred. + +"Do you know anything about pyjamas?" said the Major. + +"Well, sir--" + +"I never wear them myself. I'm rather old-fashioned. But I have to buy +three pairs--suits for Colonel Hullocher--at Swan & Edgar's. Oh! Bother +it! Have you any money? I forgot to take some out of the bag." + +The Major purchased the pyjamas with George's money, and his attitude +towards the shopman during the transaction was defiant, indicating to +the shopman that, though personally he, the Major, never wore pyjamas, +he was an expert in pyjamas and not to be gulled. George took the +resulting parcel and the receipted bill, and they walked across to +Jermyn Street, where surely the bus, with the sixpenny box of pens, was +waiting for them. It was perfectly magical. As the vehicle swung with +them into the Circus the Major exclaimed: + +"We're getting on very well. What do you say to some tea?" + +"Certainly, sir." + +The bus, having stopped by order at the second tea-house on the left in +Piccadilly, was immediately assaulted, without success, by several +would-be passengers. A policeman, outraged by the spectacle of a bus +stationary at a spot where buses are absolutely forbidden to be +stationary, hurried forward in fury. But the Major, instantly excited, +was ready for him. + +"This motor-bus is a military vehicle on service, and I'll thank you to +mind your own business. If you've any complaints to make, you'd better +make them to Lord Kitchener." + +The policeman touched his hat. + +"They have music here," said the Major mildly, entering the tea-house. +"I always like music. Makes things so much jollier, doesn't it?" + +During tea the Major inquired about George's individual circumstances, +and George said that he was an architect. + +"Student of bricks and mortar, eh?" said the Major benevolently. "How +long have you been in the Army?" + +"Rather less than half a day, sir." + +The Major, raising his eyebrows, was very interested and kind. +Perceiving that he had virgin material under his hands, he began to +shape the material, and talked much about the niceties of the etiquette +of saluting. George listened, yet at intervals his attention would +wander, and he would be in Elm Park Road. But the illusion of home was +very faint. His wife and family seemed to be slipping away from him. +"How is it," he thought, "that I am not more upset about Lois than I +am?" The various professional and family matters which in his haste he +had left unsettled were diminishing hourly in their apparent importance. +He came back to the tea-house with a start, hearing the Major praise his +business capacity as displayed during the afternoon. The friendly aspect +of the thin, pallid face inspired him with a sort of emotional audacity, +and in ten words he suddenly informed the Major of his domestic +situation. + +"H'm!" said the Major. "I'm a bachelor myself." + +There was a pause. + +"I'll give you a tip," said the Major, resuming the interrupted topic. +"War is a business. The more business capacity you have, the more likely +you are to succeed. I'm a business man myself." + +On leaving the tea-house they discovered the military vehicle surrounded +by an enchanted multitude who were staring through its windows at the +merchandise--blankets, pans, kettles, saddles, ropes, parcels, stoves, +baskets, and box of nibs--within, while the policeman strove in vain to +keep both the road and the pavement clear. George preceded the Major, +pushing aside with haughty military impatience the civilians so +reluctant to move. He felt as though he had been in the Army for years. +No longer did his uniform cause him the slightest self-consciousness. + +At Wimbledon in the dusk the bus was met by several military wagons each +from a different unit, and each anxious to obtain goods. This piece of +organization rather impressed George. + +"Well, my boy," said the Major, "you'd better go and report yourself. +You've been a great help to me." + +George saluted according to the Major's own doctrine, and departed. At +Battery Headquarters he met Captain Resmith. + +"How did you get on with Auntie?" asked Resmith in his loud, firm voice. + +George winked. + +Resmith gave a scarcely perceptible smile. + +"Look here," he said. "I'm just going round the horse-lines. If you'll +come with me I'll show you a thing or two, and we can choose a mount for +you. Then after dinner if you like I'll take you through the orders for +to-morrow. By the way, there's a telegram for you." + +The telegram read: + +"Girl. Everything fairly satisfactory. Don't worry too much. Laurencine +sleeps here.--NUNKS" + +The telegram was entirely characteristic of his stepfather--curt, exact, +realistic, kind. + +He thought: + +"Three girls, by Jove!" + + +V + + +The early sun, carrying into autumn the tradition of a magnificent +summer, shone on the artillery camps. The four guns of the No. 2 Battery +of the Second Brigade were ranged side by side in the vast vague space +in front of the officers' hutments. Each gun had six horses in three +pairs, and a rider for each pair. On the guns and the gun-teams +everything glittered that could glitter--leather, metal, coats of +horses, faces of men. Captain Resmith rode round, examining harness and +equipment with a microscope that he called his eye. George rode round +after him. Sometimes Captain Resmith spoke to a N.C.O., sometimes even +to a man, but for the most part the men stared straight in front of them +into eternity. Major Craim trotted up. Captain Resmith approached the +Major and saluted, saying in his best military voice: + +"The Battery is all correct and ready to move off, sir." + +The Major in his drawing-room voice replied: + +"Thank you, Captain Resmith." + +Silence reigned in No. 2 Battery, except for the faint jingling +restlessness of the horses. + +Then Colonel Hullocher and his Adjutant pranced into sight. The Adjutant +saluted the Major and made an inquiry. The Major saluted, and all three +chatted a little. + +George, who had accompanied Captain Resmith into the background, +murmured to him, as cautiously as a convict talking at exercise: + +"He's got his knife into me." + +"Who?" + +"The Colonel." + +"Don't you know why?" + +"No. I was specially recommended to him." + +"Well, that's one reason, isn't it? But there was a difficulty between +him and the Major as to when you should come. The old man got the better +of him--always does. But he's a good officer." + +"Who?" + +"Hullocher. Shut up." + +These two had reached familiarity with the swiftness characteristic of +martial life. + +During the brief colloquy Resmith had sat very upright on his horse, the +chin slightly lifted, the head quite still, even the lips scarcely +moving to articulate. Colonel Hullocher seemed now to be approaching. It +was a false alarm. The Colonel and his Adjutant pranced off. After a +long time, and at a considerable distance, could just be heard the voice +of the Colonel ordering the Brigade to move. But No. 2 Battery did not +stir for another long period. Suddenly, amid a devolution of orders, No. +2 Battery moved. The Major, attended by his trumpeter, and followed by +the Battery staff of range-takers, director-men, telephonists, and the +serjeant-major, inaugurated a sinuous procession into the uneven, +rutted track leading to the side-road. Then the guns one by one wheeled +to the right, the horses' hoofs stamping into the damp ground as they +turned, and became part of the procession. Then the quartermaster and +other N.C.O.'s and men joined; and last were Captain Resmith, attended +by _his_ trumpeter, and George. Resmith looked over his shoulder at the +Third Battery which surged behind. There were nearly two hundred men and +over a hundred and fifty horses and many vehicles in the Battery. The +Major was far out of sight, and the tail of the column was equally out +of sight in the rear, for the total length of Major Craim's cavalcade +exceeded a mile; and of the Brigade three miles, and two other similar +Brigades somewhere in the region of Wimbledon were participating in the +grand Divisional trek. + +Captain Resmith cantered ahead to a bend in the track, and anxiously +watched a gun-team take the sharp curve, which was also a sharp slope. +The impression of superb, dangerous physical power was tremendous. The +distended nostrils of horses, the gliding of their muscles under the +glossy skin, the muffled thud of their hoofs in the loose soil, the +grimacing of the men as they used spur and thong, the fierce straining +of straps and chains, the creaking, the grinding, and finally the +swaying of the 90-millimetre gun, coddled and polished, as it swung +helplessly forward, stern first, and its long nose describing an arc in +the air behind--these things marvellously quickened the blood. + +"Good men!" said Captain Resmith, enthusiastic. "It's great, isn't it? +You know, there's nothing so fine as a battery--nothing in the whole +world." + +George heartily agreed with him. + +"This is the best Battery in the Division," said Resmith religiously. + +And George was religiously convinced that it was. + +He was astoundingly happy. He thought, amazed, that he had never been so +happy, or at any rate so uplifted, in all his life. He simply could not +comprehend his state of bliss, which had begun that morning at 6.30 when +the grey-headed, simple-minded servant allotted to him had wakened him, +according to instructions, with a mug of tea. Perhaps it was the far, +thin sound of bugles that produced the rapturous effect, or the fresh +air blowing in through the broken pane of the hut, or the slanting +sunlight, or the feeling that he had no responsibility and nothing to do +but blindly obey orders. + +He had gone to sleep as depressed as he was tired. A sense of futility +had got the better of him. The excursion of the afternoon had certainly +been ridiculous in a high degree. He had hoped for a more useful +evening. Captain Resmith had indeed taken him to the horse-lines, and he +had tried a mount which was very suitable, and Captain Resmith had said +that he possessed a naturally good seat and hands, and had given him a +few sagacious tips. It was plain to him that Resmith had the Major's +orders to take him in tutelage and make an officer of him. But the +satisfactoriness of the evening had suddenly ceased. Scarcely had +Resmith begun to expound the orders, and George to read the thrilling +words, 'Second Lieutenant G.E. Cannon to ride with Captain Resmith,' +when the mess had impulsively decided to celebrate the last night in +camp by a dinner at the hotel near the station, and George, fit for +nothing more important, had been detailed to run off and arrange for the +rich repast. The bulk of the mess was late to arrive, and George spent +the time in writing a descriptive and falsely gay letter on slips of +yellow Army paper to Lois. The dinner, with its facile laughter and +equally facile cynicism, had bored him; for he had joined the Army in +order to save an Empire and a world from being enslaved. He had lain +down in his truckle-bed and listened to the last echoing sounds in the +too-resonant corridor of the hutments, and thought of the wisdom of Sir +Isaac Davids, and of the peril to his wife, and of the peril to the +earth, and of his own irremediable bondage to the military machine. He, +with all his consciousness of power, had been put to school again; +deprived of the right to answer back, to argue, even to think. If one +set in authority said that black was white, his most sacred duty was to +concur and believe. And there was no escape.... + +And then, no sooner had he gone to sleep than it was bright day, and the +faint, clear call of bugles had pierced the clouds of his depression and +they had vanished! Every moment of the early morning had been exquisite. +Although he had not been across a horse for months, he rode comfortably, +and the animal was reliable. Resmith in fact had had to warn him against +fatiguing himself. But he knew that he was incapable of fatigue. The +day's trek was naught--fifteen miles or less--to Epsom Downs, at a +walk!... Lois? He had expected a letter from 'Nunks' or his mother, but +there was no letter, and no news was good news, at any rate with 'Nunks' +in charge of communications. Lois could not fail to be all right. He +recalled the wise generalization of 'Nunks' on that point ... Breakfast +was a paradisiacal meal. He had never 'fancied' a meal so much. And +Resmith had greatly enheartened him by saying sternly: "You've got +exactly the right tone with the men. Don't you go trying to alter it." +The general excitement was intense, and the solemn synchronizing of +watches increased it further. An orderly brought a newspaper, and nobody +would do more than disdainfully glance at it. The usual daily stuff +about the war!... Whereas Epsom Downs glittered in the imagination like +a Canaan. And it lay southward. Probably they were not going to France, +but probably they would have the honour of defending the coast against +invasion. George desired to master gunnery instantly, and Resmith +soothed him with the assurance that he would soon be sent away on a +gunnery course, which would give him beans. And in the meantime George +might whet his teeth on the detailed arrangements for feeding and +camping the Battery on Epsom Downs. This organization gave George pause, +especially when he remembered that the Battery was a very trifling item +in the Division, and when Resmith casually informed him that a Division +on the trek occupied fifteen miles of road. He began to perceive the +difference between the Army and a circus, and to figure the Staff as +something other than a club of haughty, aristocratic idlers in red hats. +And when the Battery was fairly under way in the side-road, with another +Battery in front and another Battery behind, and more Artillery Brigades +and uncounted Infantry Brigades and a screen of Yeomanry all invisibly +marching over the map in the direction of Epsom, and bound to reach a +certain lettered square on the map at a certain minute--when this +dynamic situation presented itself to the tentacles of his grasping +mind, he really did feel that there could be no game equal to war. + +The Battery 'rode easy,' the men were smoking, talking, and singing in +snatches, when suddenly all sounds were silenced. Captain Resmith, who +had been summoned to the Major, reined in his horse, and George did +likewise, and the Battery passed by them on the left. The Major's voice +was heard: + +"No. 2 Battery. Eyes--_right_!" + +George asked: + +"What's this?" + +"C.R.A.'s ahead," murmured Resmith. + +Then another officer cried: + +"Right section. Eyes--_right_." + +And then an N.C.O. bawled: + +"A sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +Then only did George, from the rear, see the drivers, with a +simultaneous gesture, twist their heads very sharply to the right, raise +their whips, and fling the thongs over the withers of the hand-horses, +while the section-officer saluted. + +Another N.C.O. bawled: + +"B sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +And the same action followed. + +Then another officer cried: + +"Left section. Eyes--_right_." + +So the rite proceeded. + +Resmith and George had now gone back to their proper places. George +could see the drivers of the last gun gathering up the whip thongs into +their hands preparatory to the salute. C sub-section received the +command. + +And then, not many yards ahead, the voice of an N.C.O.: + +"D sub-section. Eyes--_right_." + +Heads turned; whips were raised and flung outwards; horses swerved +slightly. + +"Get ready," muttered Resmith to George. + +The figure of the C.R.A., Brigadier-General Rannion, motionless on a +charger, came into view. George's heart was beating high. Resmith and he +saluted. The General gazed hard at him and never moved. They passed +ahead. + +The officer commanding the Third Battery had already called: + +"Battery. _Eyes--right."_ + +The marvellous ceremonial slipped rearwards. George was aware of tears +in his eyes. He was aware of the sentiment of worship. He felt that he +would have done anything, accomplished any deed, died, at the bidding of +the motionless figure on the charger. It was most curious. + +There was a terrific crash of wood far behind. Resmith chuckled. + +"One of those G.S. wagons has knocked down the Automobile Club +'Cross-Roads' sign," he said. "Good thing it wasn't a lamp-post! You +see, with their eyes right, they can't look where they're going, and the +whip touches up the horses, and before you can say knife they're into +something. Jolly glad it's only the Am. Col. Jones will hear of this." +He chuckled again. Jones was the Captain commanding the Ammunition +Column. + +The order ran down the line: + +"Eyes--_front_." + +Soon afterwards they came to some policemen, and two girls in very gay +frocks with bicycles, and the cross-roads. The Battery swung into the +great high road whose sign-post said, 'To Ewell and Epsom.' Another unit +had been halted to let the Artillery pass into its definitive place in +the vast trek. It was about this time that George began to notice the +dust. Rain had fallen before dawn and made the roads perfect; but now +either all the moisture had evaporated in the blazing sun, or the +Battery had reached a zone where rain had not fallen. At first the dust +rose only in a shallow sea to the height of fetlocks; but gradually it +ascended and made clouds, and deposited a layer on the face and on the +tongue and in the throat. And the surface itself of the road, +exasperated by innumerable hoofs and wheels, seemed to be in a kind of +crawling fermentation. The smell of humanity and horses was strong. The +men were less inclined to sing. + +"Left!" yelled a voice. + +And another: + +"_Left_!" + +And still another, very close on the second one: + +"LEFT!" + +"Keep your distances there!" Resmith shouted violently. + +A horn sounded, and the next moment a motor-car, apparently full of +red-hats, rushed past the Battery, overtaking it, in a blinding storm of +dust. It was gone, like a ghost. + +"That's the Almighty himself," Resmith explained, with unconscious awe +and devotion in his powerful voice. "Gramstone, Major-General." + +George, profoundly impressed (he knew not why), noticed in his brain a +tiny embryo of a thought that it might be agreeable to ride in a car. + +A hand went up, and the Battery stopped. It was the first halt. + +"Look at your watch," said Resmith, smiling. + +"Ten to, exactly." + +"That's right. We have ten minutes in each hour." + +All dismounted, examined horses for galls, and looked at their shoes, +took pulls at water-bottles, lit cigarettes, expectorated, coughed, +flicked at flies with handkerchiefs. The party also went past, and +shortly afterwards returned with the stretcher laden. + + +VI + + +It was after the long halt at midday that the weather changed. The +horses, martyrized by insects, had been elaborately watered and fed with +immense labour; officers and men had eaten rations and dust from their +haversacks, and for the most part emptied their water-bottles; and the +march had been resumed in a temper captious and somewhat exacerbated. + +"Get your horse away; he's kicking mine!" said Captain Resmith +impatiently to George, reflecting the general mood. And George, who was +beginning to experience fatigue in the region of the knees, visited on +his horse the resentment he felt at Resmith's tone. + +At precisely that moment some drops of rain fell. Nobody could believe +at first that the drops were raindrops for the whole landscape was +quivering in hot sunshine. However, an examination of the firmament +showed a cloud perpendicularly overhead; the drops multiplied; the cloud +slowly obscured the sun. An almost audible sigh of relief passed down +the line. Everybody was freshened and elated. Some men with an instinct +for the apposite started to sing: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +And nearly the whole Battery joined in the tune. The rain persevered, +thickening. The sun accepted defeat. The sky lost all its blue. Orders +were given as to clothing. George had the sensation that something was +lacking to him, and found that it was an umbrella. On the outskirts of +Ewell the Battery was splashing through puddles of water; the coats of +horses and of men had darkened; guns, poles, and caps carried chaplets +of raindrops; and all those stern riders, so proud and scornful, with +chins hidden in high, upturned collars, and long garments disposed +majestically over their legs and the flanks of the horses, nevertheless +knew in secret that the conquering rain had got down the backs of their +necks, and into their boots and into their very knees but they were +still nobly maintaining the illusion of impermeability against it. The +Battery, riding now stiffly 'eyes front,' was halted unexpectedly in +Ewell, filling the whole of the village, to the village's extreme +content. Many minutes elapsed. Rumour floated down that something, was +wrong in front. Captain Resmith had much inspectorial cantering to do, +and George faithfully followed him for some time. At one end of the +village a woman was selling fruit and ginger-beer to the soldiers at +siege prices; at the other, men and women out of the little gardened +houses were eagerly distributing hot tea and hot coffee free of charge. +The two girls from the crossroads entered the village, pushing their +bicycles, one of which had apparently lost a pedal. They wore +mackintoshes, and were still laughing. + +At length George said: + +"If you don't mind I'll stick where I am for a bit." + +"Tired, eh?" Resmith asked callously. + +"Well! I shall be if I keep on." + +"Dismount, my canny boy. Didn't I tell you what would happen to you? At +your age--" + +"Why! How old d'you think I am?" + +"Well, my canny boy, you'll never see thirty again, I suppose." + +"No, I shan't. Nor you either." + +Captain Resmith said: + +"I'm twenty-four." + +George was thunder-struck. The fellow was a boy, and George had been +treating him as an equal! But then the fellow was also George's superior +officer, and immeasurably his superior in physique. Do what he would, +harden himself as he might, George at thirty-three could never hope to +rival the sinews of the boy of twenty-four, who incidentally could +instruct him on every conceivable military subject. George, standing by +his sodden horse, felt humiliated and annoyed as Resmith cantered off to +speak to the officer commanding the Ammunition Column. But on the trek +there was no outlet for such a sentiment as annoyance. He was Resmith's +junior and Resmith's inferior, and must behave, and expect to be behaved +to, as such. + +"Never mind!" he said to himself. His determination to learn the art and +craft of war was almost savage in ferocity. + +When the Battery at length departed from Ewell the rain had completed +its victory but at the same time had lost much of its prestige. The +riders, abandoning illusion, admitting frankly that they were wet to the +skin, knowing that all their clothing was soaked, and satisfied that +they could not be wetter than they were if the bottom fell out of the +sky, simply derided the rain and plodded forward. Groups of them even +disdained the weather in lusty song. But not George. George was +exhausted. He was ready to fall off his horse. The sensation of fatigue +about the knees and in the small of his back was absolute torture. +Resmith told him to ride without stirrups and dangle his legs. The +relief was real, but only temporary. And the Battery moved on at the +horribly monotonous, tiring walk. Epsom was incredibly distant. George +gave up hope of Epsom; and he was right to do so, for Epsom never came. +The Battery had taken a secondary road to the left which climbed slowly +to the Downs. At the top of this road, under the railway bridge, just +before fields ceased to be enclosed, stood the two girls. Their bicycles +leaned against the brick wall. They had taken off their mackintoshes, +and it was plain from their clinging coloured garments that they too +were utterly drenched. They laughed no more. Over the open Downs the +wind was sweeping the rain in front of it; and the wind was the night +wind, for the sky had begun to darken into dusk. The Battery debouched +into a main road which seemed full of promise, but left it again within +a couple of hundred yards, and was once more on the menacing, high, +naked Downs, with a wide and desolate view of unfeatured plains to the +north. The bugles sounded sharply in the wet air, and the Battery, now +apparently alone in the world, came to a halt. George dropped off his +horse. A multiplicity of orders followed. Amorphous confusion was +produced out of a straight line. This was the bivouacking ground. And +there was nothing--nothing but the track by which they had arrived, and +the Downs, and a distant blur to the west in the shape of the Epsom +Grand Stand, and the heavy, ceaseless rain, and the threat of the +fast-descending night. According to the theory of the Divisional Staff a +dump furnished by the Army Service Corps ought to have existed at a spot +corresponding to the final letter in the words 'Burgh Heath' on the map, +but the information quickly became general that no such dump did in +practice exist. To George the situation was merely incredible. He knew +that for himself there was only one reasonable course of conduct. He +ought to have a boiling bath, go to bed with his dressing-gown over his +pyjamas, and take a full basin of hot bread-and-milk adulterated by the +addition of brandy--and sleep. Horses and men surged perilously around +him. The anarchical disorder, however, must have been less acute than he +imagined, for a soldier appeared and took away his horse; he let the +reins slip from his dazed hand. The track had been transformed into a +morass of viscous mud. + + +VII + + +It was night. The heavy rain drove out of the dark void from every +direction at once, and baptized the chilled faces of men as though it +had been discharged from the hundred-holed rose of a full watering-can. +The right and the left sections of the Battery were disposed on either +side of the track. Fires were burning. Horse-lines had been laid down, +and by the light of flickering flames the dim forms of tethered animals +could be seen with their noses to the ground pessimistically pretending +to munch what green turf had survived in the mud. Lanterns moved +mysteriously to and fro. In the distance to the west more illuminations +showed that another unit had camped along the track. The quartermaster +of No. 2, had produced meagre tinned meats and biscuits from his +emergency stores, and had made a certain quantity of tea in dixies; he +had even found a half-feed of oats for the horses; so that both horses +and men were somewhat appeased. But the officers had had nothing, and +the Army Service Corps detachment was still undiscoverable. + +George sat on an empty box at the edge of the track, submissive to the +rain. Resmith had sent him to overlook men cutting straight branches in +a wood on Park Downs, and then he had overlooked them as, with the said +branches and with waterproofs laced together in pairs, they had erected +sleeping shelters for the officers under the imperfect shelter of the +sole tree within the precincts of the camp. From these purely ornamental +occupations he had returned in a condition approximating to collapse, +without desire and without hope. The invincible cheerfulness of unseen +men chanting music-hall songs in the drenched night made no impression +on him, nor the terrible staccato curtness of a N.C.O. mounting guard. +Volition had gone out of him; his heart was as empty as his stomach. + +Then a group of officers approached, with a mounted officer in the +middle of them, and a lantern swinging. The group was not proceeding in +any particular direction, but following the restless motions of the +uneasy horse. George, suddenly startled, recognized the voice of the +rider; it was Colonel Hullocher's voice. The Brigade-Commander had come +in person to investigate the melancholy inexcusable case of No. 2 +Battery, and he was cursing all men and all things, and especially the +Divisional Staff. It appeared that the Staff was responsible for the +hitch of organization. During the day the Staff had altered its +arrangements for No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade, and had sent an +incomplete message to the Army Service Corps Headquarters. The A.S.C. +had waited in vain for the completion of the message, and had then, at +dark, dispatched a convoy with provender for No. 2 with instructions to +find No. 2. This convoy had not merely not found No. 2--it had lost +itself, vanished in the dark universe of rain. But let not No. 2 imagine +that No. 2 was blameless! No. 2 ought to have found the convoy. By some +means, human or divine, by the exercise of second sight or the vision of +cats or the scent of hounds, it ought to have found the convoy, and +there was no excuse for it not having done so. Such was the expressed +opinion of Colonel Hullocher, and a recital by Major Craim of the +measures taken by him did nothing to shake that opinion. + +"How exactly do you stand now?" the Colonel fiercely demanded. + +"The men and the horses will manage fairly well with what they've had, +sir," said the Major; and he incautiously added: "But my officers +haven't had anything at all." + +The Colonel seized the opening with fury. + +"What the devil do I care for your officers? It's your horses and your +men that I'm thinking about. It's to-morrow morning that I'm thinking +about. I--" + +The horse, revolving, cut short his harangue. + +"Keep that d--d lantern out of his eyes!" cried the Colonel. + +George jumped up, and as he did so the water swished in his boots, and a +stream poured off his cap. The horse was being fatally attracted towards +him. The beam of the lantern fell on him, illuminating before his face +the long slants of rain. + +"Ha! Who's this?" the Colonel demanded, steadying the horse. + +George smartly saluted, forgetting his fatigue. + +"You, is it? And what are _you_ supposed to be doing? Look here--" +Colonel Hullocher stopped in full career of invective, remembering +military etiquette. "Major, I suggest you send Mr. Cannon with some men +to find the convoy." The Major having eagerly concurred, the Colonel +went on: "Take a few men and search every road and track between here +and Kingswood Station--systematically. Kingswood's the rail-head, and +somewhere between here and there that convoy is bound to be. +Systematically, mind! It's not a technical job. All that's wanted is +common sense and thoroughness." + +The Colonel's gaze was ruthlessly challenging. George met it stiffly. He +knew that the roads, if not the tracks, had already been searched. He +knew that he was being victimized by a chance impulse of the Colonel's. +But he ignored all that. He was coldly angry and resentful. Utterly +forgetting his fatigue, he inimically surveyed the Colonel's squat, +shining figure in the cavalry coat, a pyramid of which the apex was a +round head surmounted by a dripping cap. + +"Yes, sir," he snapped. + +By rights the tyrant ought to have rolled off his horse dead. But +Colonel Hullocher was not thus vulnerable. He could give glance for +glance with perhaps any human being on earth, and indeed thought little +more of subalterns than of rabbits. + +He finished, after a pause: + +"You will be good enough, Major, to let this officer report to me +personally when he has found the convoy." + +"Certainly, sir." + +The horse bounded away, scattering the group. + +Rather less than half an hour later George had five men (including his +own servant and Resmith's) and six lanterns round a cask, on the top of +which was his map. There were six possible variations of route to +Kingswood Station, and he explained them all, allotting one to each man +and keeping one for himself. He could detect the men exchanging looks, +but what the looks signified he could not tell. He gave instructions +that everybody should go forward until either discovering the convoy or +reaching Kingswood. He said with a positive air of conviction that by +this means the convoy could not fail to be discovered. The men received +the statement with strict agnosticism; they could not see things with +the eye of faith, fortified though they were with tea and tinned meats. +An offered reward of ten shillings to the man who should hit on the +convoy did not appreciably inspirit them. George himself was of course +not a bit convinced by his own argument, and had not the slightest +expectation that the convoy would be found. The map, which the breeze +lifted and upon which the rain drummed, seemed to be entirely +unconnected with the actual facts of the earth's surface. The party +mounted tired, unwilling horses and filed off. Some soldiers in the +darkness, watching the string of lanterns, gave a half-ironical +'Hurrah.' One by one, as the tracks bifurcated, George dispatched his +men, with renewed insistent advice, and at last he and his horse were +alone on the Downs. + +His clothes were exceedingly heavy with all the moisture they had +imbibed. Repose had mitigated his fatigue, but every slow, slouching +step of the horse intensified it again--and at a tremendous rate. Still, +he did not care, having mastered the great truth that he would either +tall off the horse in exhaustion or arrive at Kingswood--and which of +the alternatives happened did not appear to him to matter seriously. The +whole affair was fantastic; it was unreal, in addition to being silly. +But, real or unreal, he would finish it. If he was a phantom and +Kingswood a mirage, the phantom would reach the mirage or sink senseless +into astral mud. He had Colonel Hullocher in mind, and, quite +illogically, he envisaged the Colonel as a reality. Often he had heard +of the ways of the Army, and had scarcely credited the tales told and +printed. Well, he now credited them. Was it conceivable that that madman +of a Colonel had packed him, George, off on such a wild and idiotic +errand in the middle of the night, merely out of caprice? Were such +doings-- + +He faintly heard voices through the rain, and the horse started at this +sign of life from the black, unknown world beyond the circle of +lantern-light. George was both frightened and puzzled. He thought of +ghosts and haunted moors. Then he noticed a penumbra round about the +form of what might be a small hillock to the left of the track. He +quitted the track, and cautiously edged his horse forward, having +commendably obscured the lantern beneath his overcoat. The farther side +of the hillock had been tunnelled to a depth of perhaps three feet; a +lantern suspended somehow in the roof showed the spade which had done +the work; it also showed, within the cavity, the two girls who had +accompanied the Brigade from Wimbledon, together with two soldiers. The +soldiers were rankers, but one of the girls talked with perfect +correctness in a very refined voice; the other was silently eating. Both +were obviously tired to the limit of endurance, and very dirty and +draggled. The gay colours of their smart frocks had, however, survived +the hardships of the day. George was absolutely amazed by the spectacle. +The vagaries of autocratic Colonels were nothing when compared to this +extravagance of human nature, this glimpse of the subterranean life of +regiments, this triumphant and forlorn love-folly in the midst of the +inclement, pitiless night. And he was touched, too. The glimmer of the +lantern on the green and yellow of the short skirts half disclosed under +the mackintoshes was at once pathetic and exciting. The girl who had +been eating gave a terrible scream; she had caught sight of the figure +on horseback. The horse shied violently and stood still. George +persuaded him back into the track and rode on, guessing that already he +had become a genuine phantom for the self-absorbed group awakened out of +its ecstasy by the mysterious vision of a nightrider. + +Half a mile farther on he saw the red end of a cigarette swimming on the +sea of darkness; his lantern had expired, and he had not yet tried to +relight it. + +"Hi there!" he cried. "Who are you?" + +The cigarette approached him, in a wavy movement, and a man's figure was +vaguely discerned. + +"A.S.C. convoy, sir." + +"Where are you supposed to be going to?" + +"No. 2 Battery, Second Brigade, sir. Can't find it, sir. And we've got +off the road. The G.S. wagon fell into a hole and broke an axle, sir." + +"And what do you think you're doing?" + +"Waiting for daylight, sir." + +The man's youthful voice was quite cheerful. + +"D'you know what time it is?" + +"No, sir." + +"How many other vehicles have you got?" + +"Three altogether, sir. Six horses." + +"Well, I'm from No. 2 Battery, and I'm looking for you. You've +unharnessed, I suppose." + +"Oh yes, sir, and fed." + +"Well, you'd better harness up your other two carts like lightning and +come along with me. Show me the way. We'll see about the G.S. wagon +later on." + +"It's about a hundred yards from here, sir." + +For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue. Exultation, +though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every part of his body. +Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, he rode comfortably on hard +packages till within sight of the Battery camp, when he took saddle +again and went off alone to find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand +Stand, where Colonel Hullocher and other grandees had billeted +themselves. The Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite +ready to eat George. + +"Ah! You, is it? Found that convoy?" + +George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was conceivable: + +"Yes, sir." + +"Brought it back?" + +"Part of it, sir." + +He explained the circumstances. + +The Colonel coughed, and said: + +"Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?" + +George reflected for an instant. The Colonel seemingly had a core of +decency, but George said in his heart: "I've not done with you yet, my +fat friend." And aloud, grimly. + +"Thank you very much, sir. But I shall ask you to excuse me." + +Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by this +unparalleled response. + +The Colonel barked: + +"Why? Teetotaller?" + +"No, sir. But I've eaten nothing since lunch, and a glass of whisky +might make me drunk." + +Colonel Hullocher might have offered George some food to accompany the +whisky, but he did not. He had already done a marvel; a miracle was not +to be expected. He looked at George and George looked at him. + +"No doubt you're right. Good night." + +"Good night, sir." George saluted and marched off. + + +VIII + + +He prepared to turn in. The process was the simplest in the world. He +had only to wrap a pair of blankets round his soaked clothes, and, +holding them in place with one hand, creep under the shelter. There were +four shelters. The Major had a small one, nearest the trunk of the tree, +and the others were double shelters, to hold two officers apiece. He +glanced about. The invisible camp was silent and still, save for a +couple of lieutenants who were walking to and fro like young ducks in +the heavy rain. Faint fires here and there in the distance showed how +the troops were spread over the Downs. Heaven and earth were equally +mysterious and inscrutable. He inserted himself cautiously into the +aperture of the shelter, where Resmith already lay asleep, and, having +pushed back his cap, arranged his right arm for a pillow. The clammy +ground had been covered with dry horse-litter. As soon as he was settled +the noise of the rain ceaselessly pattering on the waterproof became +important. He could feel the chill of the wind on his feet, which, with +Resmith's, projected beyond the shelter. The conditions were certainly +astounding. Yet, despite extreme fatigue, he was not depressed. On the +contrary he was well satisfied. He had accomplished something. He had +been challenged, and had accepted the challenge, and had won. The +demeanour of the mess when he got back to the camp clearly indicated +that he had acquired prestige. He was the man who had organized an +exhaustive search for the convoy and had found the convoy in the pitchy +blackness. He was the man who had saved the unit from an undeserved +shame. The mess had greeted him with warm food. Perhaps he had been +lucky--the hazard of a lighted cigarette in the darkness! Yes, but luck +was in everything. The credit was his, and men duly gave it to him, and +he took it. He thought almost kindly of Colonel Hullocher, against whom +he had measured himself. The result of the match was a draw, but he had +provided the efficient bully with matter for reflection. After all, +Hullocher was right. When you were moving a Division, jobs had to be +done, possible or impossible; human beings had to be driven; the +supernatural had to be achieved. And it had been! That which in the +morning existed at Wimbledon now existed on the Downs. There it lay, +safe and chiefly asleep, in defiance of the weather and of accidents and +miscarriage! And the next day it would go on. + +The vast ambitions of the civilian had sunk away. He thought, exalted as +though by a wonderful discovery: + +"_There is something in this Army business_!" + +He ardently desired to pursue it further. He ardently desired sleep and +renewal so that he might rise afresh and pursue it further. What he had +done and been through was naught, less than naught. To worry about +physical discomforts was babyish. Inviting vistas of knowledge, +technical attainment, experience, and endurance stretched before him, +illuminating the night. His mind dwelt on France, on Mons, on the idea +of terror and cataclysm. And it had room too for his wife and children. +He had had no news of them for over twenty-four hours; and he had broken +his resolve to write to Lois every day; he had been compelled to break +it. But in the morning, somehow, he would send a telegram and he would +get one. + +"If it's true the French Government has left Paris--" + +The nocturnal young ducks were passing the shelter. + +"And who says it's true? Who told you, I should like to know?" + +"The Major has heard it." + +"Rats! I lay you a fiver the Allies are in Berlin before Christmas." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Roll-Call, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROLL-CALL *** + +***** This file should be named 12654.txt or 12654.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/5/12654/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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