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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 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 THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12654 *** |