Dopersonal
relations
lead
to
sloppiness
in
the
end
?
"
"
Oh
,
Meg
,
that
's
what
I
felt
,
only
not
so
clearly
,
when
the
Wilcoxes
were
so
competent
,
and
seemed
to
have
their
hands
on
all
the
ropes
.
"
"
Do
n't
you
feel
it
now
?
"
"
I
remember
Paul
at
breakfast
,
"
said
Helen
quietly
.
"
I
shall
never
forget
him
.
He
had
nothing
to
fall
back
upon
.
I
know
that
personal
relations
are
the
real
life
,
for
ever
and
ever
.
"
Amen
!
"
So
the
Wilcox
episode
fell
into
the
background
,
leaving
behind
it
memories
of
sweetness
and
horror
that
mingled
,
and
the
sisters
pursued
the
life
that
Helen
had
commended
.
They
talked
to
each
other
and
to
other
people
,
they
filled
the
tall
thin
house
at
Wickham
Place
with
those
whom
they
liked
or
could
befriend
.
They
even
attended
public
meetings
.
In
their
own
fashion
they
cared
deeply
about
politics
,
though
not
as
politicians
would
have
us
care
;
they
desired
that
public
life
should
mirror
whatever
is
good
in
the
life
within
.
Temperance
,
tolerance
,
and
sexual
equality
were
intelligible
cries
to
them
;
whereas
they
did
not
follow
our
Forward
Policy
in
Thibet
with
the
keen
attention
that
it
merits
,
and
would
at
times
dismiss
the
whole
British
Empire
with
a
puzzled
,
if
reverent
,
sigh
.
Not
out
of
them
are
the
shows
of
history
erected
:
the
world
would
be
a
grey
,
bloodless
place
were
it
entirely
composed
of
Miss
Schlegels
.
But
the
world
being
what
it
is
,
perhaps
they
shine
out
in
it
like
stars
.
A
word
on
their
origin
.
They
were
not
"
English
to
the
backbone
,
"
as
their
aunt
had
piously
asserted
.
But
,
on
the
other
band
,
they
were
not
"
Germans
of
the
dreadful
sort
.
"
Their
father
had
belonged
to
a
type
that
was
more
prominent
in
Germany
fifty
years
ago
than
now
.
He
was
not
the
aggressive
German
,
so
dear
to
the
English
journalist
,
nor
the
domestic
German
,
so
dear
to
the
English
wit
.
If
one
classed
him
at
all
it
would
be
as
the
countryman
of
Hegel
and
Kant
,
as
the
idealist
,
inclined
to
be
dreamy
,
whose
Imperialism
was
the
Imperialism
of
the
air
.
Not
that
his
life
had
been
inactive
.
He
had
fought
like
blazes
against
Denmark
,
Austria
,
France
.
But
he
had
fought
without
visualizing
the
results
of
victory
.
A
hint
of
the
truth
broke
on
him
after
Sedan
,
when
he
saw
the
dyed
moustaches
of
Napoleon
going
grey
;
another
when
he
entered
Paris
,
and
saw
the
smashed
windows
of
the
Tuileries
.
Peace
came
—
it
was
all
very
immense
,
one
had
turned
into
an
Empire
—
but
he
knew
that
some
quality
had
vanished
for
which
not
all
Alsace-Lorraine
could
compensate
him
.
Germany
a
commercial
Power
,
Germany
a
naval
Power
,
Germany
with
colonies
here
and
a
Forward
Policy
there
,
and
legitimate
aspirations
in
the
other
place
,
might
appeal
to
others
,
and
be
fitly
served
by
them
;
for
his
own
part
,
he
abstained
from
the
fruits
of
victory
,
and
naturalized
himself
in
England
.
The
more
earnest
members
of
his
family
never
forgave
him
,
and
knew
that
his
children
,
though
scarcely
English
of
the
dreadful
sort
,
would
never
be
German
to
the
backbone
.
He
had
obtained
work
in
one
of
our
provincial
Universities
,
and
there
married
Poor
Emily
(
or
Die
Engländerin
as
the
case
may
be
)
,
and
as
she
had
money
,
they
proceeded
to
London
,
and
came
to
know
a
good
many
people
.
But
his
gaze
was
always
fixed
beyond
the
sea
.
It
was
his
hope
that
the
clouds
of
materialism
obscuring
the
Fatherland
would
part
in
time
,
and
the
mild
intellectual
light
re-emerge
.
"
Do
you
imply
that
we
Germans
are
stupid
,
Uncle
Ernst
?
"
exclaimed
a
haughty
and
magnificent
nephew
.
Uncle
Ernst
replied
,
"
To
my
mind
.
You
use
the
intellect
,
but
you
no
longer
care
about
it
.
That
I
call
stupidity
.
"
As
the
haughty
nephew
did
not
follow
,
he
continued
,
"
You
only
care
about
the
'
things
that
you
can
use
,
and
therefore
arrange
them
in
the
following
order
:
Money
,
supremely
useful
;
intellect
,
rather
useful
;
imagination
,
of
no
use
at
all
.
No
"
—
for
the
other
had
protested
—
"
your
Pan-Germanism
is
no
more
imaginative
than
is
our
Imperialism
over
here
.
It
is
the
vice
of
a
vulgar
mind
to
be
thrilled
by
bigness
,
to
think
that
a
thousand
square
miles
are
a
thousand
times
more
wonderful
than
one
square
mile
,
and
that
a
million
square
miles
are
almost
the
same
as
heaven
.
That
is
not
imagination
.
No
,
it
kills
it
.
When
their
poets
over
here
try
to
celebrate
bigness
they
are
dead
at
once
,
and
naturally
.
Your
poets
too
are
dying
,
your
philosophers
,
your
musicians
,
to
whom
Europe
has
listened
for
two
hundred
years
.
Gone
.
Gone
with
the
little
courts
that
nurtured
them
—
gone
with
Esterhaz
and
Weimar
.
What
?
What
's
that
?
Your
Universities
?
Oh
,
yes
,
you
have
learned
men
,
who
collect
more
facts
than
do
the
learned
men
of
England
.
They
collect
facts
,
and
facts
,
and
empires
of
facts
.
But
which
of
them
will
rekindle
the
light
within
?
"
To
all
this
Margaret
listened
,
sitting
on
the
haughty
nephew
's
knee
.
It
was
a
unique
education
for
the
little
girls
.
The
haughty
nephew
would
be
at
Wickham
Place
one
day
,
bringing
with
him
an
even
haughtier
wife
,
both
convinced
that
Germany
was
appointed
by
God
to
govern
the
world
.
Aunt
Juley
would
come
the
next
day
,
convinced
that
Great
Britain
had
been
appointed
to
the
same
post
by
the
same
authority
.
Were
both
these
loud-voiced
parties
right
?
On
one
occasion
they
had
met
,
and
Margaret
with
clasped
hands
had
implored
them
to
argue
the
subject
out
in
her
presence
.
Whereat
they
blushed
,
and
began
to
talk
about
the
weather
.
"
Papa
"
she
cried
—
she
was
a
most
offensive
child
—
"
why
will
they
not
discuss
this
most
clear
question
?
"
Her
father
,
surveying
the
parties
grimly
,
replied
that
he
did
not
know
.
Putting
her
head
on
one
side
,
Margaret
then
remarked
,
"
To
me
one
of
two
things
is
very
clear
;
either
God
does
not
know
his
own
mind
about
England
and
Germany
,
or
else
these
do
not
know
the
mind
of
God
.
"
A
hateful
little
girl
,
but
at
thirteen
she
had
grasped
a
dilemma
that
most
people
travel
through
life
without
perceiving
.
Her
brain
darted
up
and
down
;
it
grew
pliant
and
strong
.
Her
conclusion
was
,
that
any
human
being
lies
nearer
to
the
unseen
than
any
organization
,
and
from
this
she
never
varied
.
Helen
advanced
along
the
same
lines
,
though
with
a
more
irresponsible
tread
.
In
character
she
resembled
her
sister
,
but
she
was
pretty
,
and
so
apt
to
have
a
more
amusing
time
.
People
gathered
round
her
more
readily
,
especially
when
they
were
new
acquaintances
,
and
she
did
enjoy
a
little
homage
very
much
.
When
their
father
died
and
they
ruled
alone
at
Wickham
Place
,
she
often
absorbed
the
whole
of
the
company
,
while
Margaret
—
both
were
tremendous
talkers
—
fell
flat
.
Neither
sister
bothered
about
this
.
Helen
never
apologized
afterwards
,
Margaret
did
not
feel
the
slightest
rancour
.
But
looks
have
their
influence
upon
character
.
The
sisters
were
alike
as
little
girls
,
but
at
the
time
of
the
Wilcox
episode
their
methods
were
beginning
to
diverge
;
the
younger
was
rather
apt
to
entice
people
,
and
,
in
enticing
them
,
to
be
herself
enticed
;
the
elder
went
straight
ahead
,
and
accepted
an
occasional
failure
as
part
of
the
game
.
Little
need
be
premised
about
Tibby
.
He
was
now
an
intelligent
man
of
sixteen
,
but
dyspeptic
and
difficile
.
Chapter
5
It
will
be
generally
admitted
that
Beethoven
's
Fifth
Symphony
is
the
most
sublime
noise
that
has
ever
penetrated
into
the
ear
of
man
.
All
sorts
and
conditions
are
satisfied
by
it
.
Whether
you
are
like
Mrs.
Munt
,
and
tap
surreptitiously
when
the
tunes
come
—
of
course
,
not
so
as
to
disturb
the
others
—
;
or
like
Helen
,
who
can
see
heroes
and
shipwrecks
in
the
music
's
flood
;
or
like
Margaret
,
who
can
only
see
the
music
;
or
like
Tibby
,
who
is
profoundly
versed
in
counterpoint
,
and
holds
the
full
score
open
on
his
knee
;
or
like
their
cousin
,
Fräulein
Mosebach
,
who
remembers
all
the
time
that
Beethoven
is
"
echt
Deutsch
"
;
or
like
Fräulein
Mosebach
's
young
man
,
who
can
remember
nothing
but
Fräulein
Mosebach
:
in
any
case
,
the
passion
of
your
life
becomes
more
vivid
,
and
you
are
bound
to
admit
that
such
a
noise
is
cheap
at
two
shillings
.
It
is
cheap
,
even
if
you
hear
it
in
the
Queen
's
Hall
,
dreariest
music-room
in
London
,
though
not
as
dreary
as
the
Free
Trade
Hall
,
Manchester
;
and
even
if
you
sit
on
the
extreme
left
of
that
hall
,
so
that
the
brass
bumps
at
you
before
the
rest
of
the
orchestra
arrives
,
it
is
still
cheap
.
"
Who
is
Margaret
talking
to
?
"
said
Mrs.
Munt
,
at
the
conclusion
of
the
first
movement
.
She
was
again
in
London
on
a
visit
to
Wickham
Place
.
Helen
looked
down
the
long
line
of
their
party
,
and
said
that
she
did
not
know
.
"
Would
it
be
some
young
man
or
other
whom
she
takes
an
interest
in
?
"
"
I
expect
so
,
"
Helen
replied
.
Music
enwrapped
her
,
and
she
could
not
enter
into
the
distinction
that
divides
young
men
whom
one
takes
an
interest
in
from
young
men
whom
one
knows
.
"
You
girls
are
so
wonderful
in
always
having
—
Oh
dear
!
one
must
n't
talk
.
"
For
the
Andante
had
begun
—
very
beautiful
,
but
bearing
a
family
likeness
to
all
the
other
beautiful
Andantes
that
Beethoven
had
written
,
and
,
to
Helen
's
mind
,
rather
disconnecting
the
heroes
and
shipwrecks
of
the
first
movement
from
the
heroes
and
goblins
of
the
third
.
She
heard
the
tune
through
once
,
and
then
her
attention
wandered
,
and
she
gazed
at
the
audience
,
or
the
organ
,
or
the
architecture
.
Much
did
she
censure
the
attenuated
Cupids
who
encircle
the
ceiling
of
the
Queen
's
Hall
,
inclining
each
to
each
with
vapid
gesture
,
and
clad
in
sallow
pantaloons
,
on
which
the
October
sunlight
struck
.
"
How
awful
to
marry
a
man
like
those
Cupids
!
"
thought
Helen
.
Here
Beethoven
started
decorating
his
tune
,
so
she
heard
him
through
once
more
,
and
then
she
smiled
at
her
cousin
Frieda
.
But
Frieda
,
listening
to
Classical
Music
,
could
not
respond
.
Herr
Liesecke
,
too
,
looked
as
if
wild
horses
could
not
make
him
inattentive
;
there
were
lines
across
his
forehead
,
his
lips
were
parted
,
his
pince-nez
at
right
angles
to
his
nose
,
and
he
had
laid
a
thick
,
white
hand
on
either
knee
.
And
next
to
her
was
Aunt
Juley
,
so
British
,
and
wanting
to
tap
.
How
interesting
that
row
of
people
was
!
What
diverse
influences
had
gone
to
the
making
!
Here
Beethoven
,
after
humming
and
hawing
with
great
sweetness
,
said
"
Heigho
,
"
and
the
Andante
came
to
an
end
.
Applause
,
and
a
round
of
"
wunderschöning
"
and
"
prachtvolleying
"
from
the
German
contingent
.
Margaret
started
talking
to
her
new
young
man
;
Helen
said
to
her
aunt
:
"
Now
comes
the
wonderful
movement
:
first
of
all
the
goblins
,
and
then
a
trio
of
elephants
dancing
;
"
and
Tibby
implored
the
company
generally
to
look
out
for
the
transitional
passage
on
the
drum
.
"
On
the
what
,
dear
?
"
"
On
the
drum
,
Aunt
Juley
.
"
"
No
;
look
out
for
the
part
where
you
think
you
have
done
with
the
goblins
and
they
come
back
,
"
breathed
Helen
,
as
the
music
started
with
a
goblin
walking
quietly
over
the
universe
,
from
end
to
end
.
Others
followed
him
.
They
were
not
aggressive
creatures
;
it
was
that
that
made
them
so
terrible
to
Helen
.
They
merely
observed
in
passing
that
there
was
no
such
thing
as
splendour
or
heroism
in
the
world
.
After
the
interlude
of
elephants
dancing
,
they
returned
and
made
the
observation
for
the
second
time
.
Helen
could
not
contradict
them
,
for
,
once
at
all
events
,
she
had
felt
the
same
,
and
had
seen
the
reliable
walls
of
youth
collapse
.
Panic
and
emptiness
!
Panic
and
emptiness
!
The
goblins
were
right
.
Her
brother
raised
his
finger
:
it
was
the
transitional
passage
on
the
drum
.
For
,
as
if
things
were
going
too
far
,
Beethoven
took
hold
of
the
goblins
and
made
them
do
what
he
wanted
.
He
appeared
in
person
.
He
gave
them
a
little
push
,
and
they
began
to
walk
in
major
key
instead
of
in
a
minor
,
and
then
—
he
blew
with
his
mouth
and
they
were
scattered
!
Gusts
of
splendour
,
gods
and
demigods
contending
with
vast
swords
,
colour
and
fragrance
broadcast
on
the
field
of
battle
,
magnificent
victory
,
magnificent
death
!
Oh
,
it
all
burst
before
the
girl
,
and
she
even
stretched
out
her
gloved
hands
as
if
it
was
tangible
.
Any
fate
was
titanic
;
any
contest
desirable
;
conqueror
and
conquered
would
alike
be
applauded
by
the
angels
of
the
utmost
stars
.
And
the
goblins
—
they
had
not
really
been
there
at
all
?
They
were
only
the
phantoms
of
cowardice
and
unbelief
?
One
healthy
human
impulse
would
dispel
them
?
Men
like
the
Wilcoxes
,
or
President
Roosevelt
,
would
say
yes
.
Beethoven
knew
better
.
The
goblins
really
had
been
there
.
They
might
return
—
and
they
did
.
It
was
as
if
the
splendour
of
life
might
boil
over
—
and
waste
to
steam
and
froth
.
In
its
dissolution
one
heard
the
terrible
,
ominous
note
,
and
a
goblin
,
with
increased
malignity
,
walked
quietly
over
the
universe
from
end
to
end
.
Panic
and
emptiness
!
Panic
and
emptiness
!
Even
the
flaming
ramparts
of
the
world
might
fall
.
Beethoven
chose
to
make
all
right
in
the
end
.
He
built
the
ramparts
up
.
He
blew
with
his
mouth
for
the
second
time
,
and
again
the
goblins
were
scattered
.
He
brought
back
the
gusts
of
splendour
,
the
heroism
,
the
youth
,
the
magnificence
of
life
and
of
death
,
and
,
amid
vast
roarings
of
a
superhuman
joy
,
he
led
his
Fifth
Symphony
to
its
conclusion
.
But
the
goblins
were
there
.
They
could
return
.
He
had
said
so
bravely
,
and
that
is
why
one
can
trust
Beethoven
when
he
says
other
things
.
Helen
pushed
her
way
out
during
the
applause
.
She
desired
to
be
alone
.
The
music
summed
up
to
her
all
that
had
happened
or
could
happen
in
her
career
.
She
read
it
as
a
tangible
statement
,
which
could
never
be
superseded
.
The
notes
meant
this
and
that
to
her
,
and
they
could
have
no
other
meaning
,
and
life
could
have
no
other
meaning
.
She
pushed
right
out
of
the
building
,
and
walked
slowly
down
the
outside
staircase
,
breathing
the
autumnal
air
,
and
then
she
strolled
home
.
"
Margaret
,
"
called
Mrs.
Munt
,
"
is
Helen
all
right
?
"
"
Oh
yes
.
"
"
She
is
always
going
away
in
the
middle
of
a
programme
,
"
said
Tibby
.
"
The
music
has
evidently
moved
her
deeply
,
"
said
Fräulein
Mosebach
.
"
Excuse
me
,
"
said
Margaret
's
young
man
,
who
had
for
some
time
been
preparing
a
sentence
,
"
but
that
lady
has
,
quite
inadvertently
,
taken
my
umbrella
.
"
"
Oh
,
good
gracious
me
!
—
I
am
so
sorry
.
Tibby
,
run
after
Helen
.
"
"
I
shall
miss
the
Four
Serious
Songs
if
I
do
.
"
"
Tibby
love
,
you
must
go
.
"
"
It
is
n't
of
any
consequence
,
"
said
the
young
man
,
in
truth
a
little
uneasy
about
his
umbrella
.
"
But
of
course
it
is
.
Tibby
!
Tibby
!
"
Tibby
rose
to
his
feet
,
and
wilfully
caught
his
person
on
the
backs
of
the
chairs
.
By
the
time
he
had
tipped
up
the
seat
and
had
found
his
hat
,
and
had
deposited
his
full
score
in
safety
,
it
was
"
too
late
"
to
go
after
Helen
.
The
Four
Serious
Songs
had
begun
,
and
one
could
not
move
during
their
performance
.
"
My
sister
is
so
careless
,
"
whispered
Margaret
.
"
Not
at
all
,
"
replied
the
young
man
;
but
his
voice
was
dead
and
cold
.
"
If
you
would
give
me
your
address
—
"
"
Oh
,
not
at
all
,
not
at
all
;
"
and
he
wrapped
his
greatcoat
over
his
knees
.
Then
the
Four
Serious
Songs
rang
shallow
in
Margaret
's
ears
.
Brahms
,
for
all
his
grumbling
and
grizzling
,
had
never
guessed
what
it
felt
like
to
be
suspected
of
stealing
an
umbrella
.
For
this
fool
of
a
young
man
thought
that
she
and
Helen
and
Tibby
had
been
playing
the
confidence
trick
on
him
,
and
that
if
he
gave
his
address
they
would
break
into
his
rooms
some
midnight
or
other
and
steal
his
walkingstick
too
.
Most
ladies
would
have
laughed
,
but
Margaret
really
minded
,
for
it
gave
her
a
glimpse
into
squalor
.
To
trust
people
is
a
luxury
in
which
only
the
wealthy
can
indulge
;
the
poor
cannot
afford
it
.
As
soon
as
Brahms
had
grunted
himself
out
,
she
gave
him
her
card
and
said
,
"
That
is
where
we
live
;
if
you
preferred
,
you
could
call
for
the
umbrella
after
the
concert
,
but
I
did
n't
like
to
trouble
you
when
it
has
all
been
our
fault
.
"
His
face
brightened
a
little
when
he
saw
that
Wickham
Place
was
W
.
It
was
sad
to
see
him
corroded
with
suspicion
,
and
yet
not
daring
to
be
impolite
,
in
case
these
well-dressed
people
were
honest
after
all
.
She
took
it
as
a
good
sign
that
he
said
to
her
,
"
It
's
a
fine
programme
this
afternoon
,
is
it
not
?
"
for
this
was
the
remark
with
which
he
had
originally
opened
,
before
the
umbrella
intervened
.
"
The
Beethoven
's
fine
,
"
said
Margaret
,
who
was
not
a
female
of
the
encouraging
type
.
"
I
do
n't
like
the
Brahms
,
though
,
nor
the
Mendelssohn
that
came
first
—
and
ugh
!
I
do
n't
like
this
Elgar
that
's
coming
.
"
"
What
,
what
?
"
called
Herr
Liesecke
,
overhearing
.
"
The
Pomp
and
Circumstance
will
not
be
fine
?
"
"
Oh
,
Margaret
,
you
tiresome
girl
!
"
cried
her
aunt
.
"
Here
have
I
been
persuading
Herr
Liesecke
to
stop
for
Pomp
and
Circumstance
,
and
you
are
undoing
all
my
work
.
I
am
so
anxious
for
him
to
hear
what
we
are
doing
in
music
.
Oh
,
you
must
n't
run
down
our
English
composers
,
Margaret
.
"
"
For
my
part
,
I
have
heard
the
composition
at
Stettin
,
"
said
Fräulein
Mosebach
.
"
On
two
occasions
.
It
is
dramatic
,
a
little
.
"
"
Frieda
,
you
despise
English
music
.
You
know
you
do
.
And
English
art
.
And
English
Literature
,
except
Shakespeare
and
he
's
a
German
.
Very
well
,
Frieda
,
you
may
go
.
"
The
lovers
laughed
and
glanced
at
each
other
.
Moved
by
a
common
impulse
,
they
rose
to
their
feet
and
fled
from
Pomp
and
Circumstance
.
"
We
have
this
call
to
play
in
Finsbury
Circus
,
it
is
true
,
"
said
Herr
Liesecke
,
as
he
edged
past
her
and
reached
the
gangway
just
as
the
music
started
.
"
Margaret
—
"
loudly
whispered
by
Aunt
Juley
.
"
Margaret
,
Margaret
!
Fräulein
Mosebach
has
left
her
beautiful
little
bag
behind
her
on
the
seat
.
"
Sure
enough
,
there
was
Frieda
's
reticule
,
containing
her
address
book
,
her
pocket
dictionary
,
her
map
of
London
,
and
her
money
.
"
Oh
,
what
a
bother
—
what
a
family
we
are
!
Fr-Frieda
!
"
"
Hush
!
"
said
all
those
who
thought
the
music
fine
.
"
But
it
's
the
number
they
want
in
Finsbury
Circus
—
"
"
Might
I
—
could
n't
I
—
"
said
the
suspicious
young
man
,
and
got
very
red
.
"
Oh
,
I
would
be
so
grateful
.
"
He
took
the
bag
—
money
clinking
inside
it
—
and
slipped
up
the
gangway
with
it
.
He
was
just
in
time
to
catch
them
at
the
swing-door
,
and
he
received
a
pretty
smile
from
the
German
girl
and
a
fine
bow
from
her
cavalier
.
He
returned
to
his
seat
up-sides
with
the
world
.
The
trust
that
they
had
reposed
in
him
was
trivial
,
but
he
felt
that
it
cancelled
his
mistrust
for
them
,
and
that
probably
he
would
not
be
"
had
"
over
his
umbrella
.
This
young
man
had
been
"
had
"
in
the
past
—
badly
,
perhaps
overwhelmingly
—
and
now
most
of
his
energies
went
in
defending
himself
against
the
unknown
.
But
this
afternoon
—
perhaps
on
account
of
music
—
he
perceived
that
one
must
slack
off
occasionally
,
or
what
is
the
good
of
being
alive
?
Wickham
Place
,
W
.
,
though
a
risk
,
was
as
safe
as
most
things
,
and
he
would
risk
it
.
So
when
the
concert
was
over
and
Margaret
said
,
"
We
live
quite
near
;
I
am
going
there
now
.
Could
you
walk
around
with
me
,
and
we
'll
find
your
umbrella
?
"
he
said
,
"
Thank
you
,
"
peaceably
,
and
followed
her
out
of
the
Queen
's
Hall
.
She
wished
that
he
was
not
so
anxious
to
hand
a
lady
downstairs
,
or
to
carry
a
lady
's
programme
for
her
—
his
class
was
near
enough
her
own
for
its
manners
to
vex
her
.
But
she
found
him
interesting
on
the
whole
—
every
one
interested
the
Schlegels
on
the
whole
at
that
time
—
and
while
her
lips
talked
culture
,
her
heart
was
planning
to
invite
him
to
tea
.
"
How
tired
one
gets
after
music
!
"
she
began
.
"
Do
you
find
the
atmosphere
of
Queen
's
Hall
oppressive
?
"
"
Yes
,
horribly
.
"
"
But
surely
the
atmosphere
of
Covent
Garden
is
even
more
oppressive
.
"
"
Do
you
go
there
much
?
"
"
When
my
work
permits
,
I
attend
the
gallery
for
,
the
Royal
Opera
.
"
Helen
would
have
exclaimed
,
"
So
do
I
.
I
love
the
gallery
,
"
and
thus
have
endeared
herself
to
the
young
man
.
Helen
could
do
these
things
.
But
Margaret
had
an
almost
morbid
horror
of
"
drawing
people
out
,
"
of
"
making
things
go
.
"
She
had
been
to
the
gallery
at
Covent
Garden
,
but
she
did
not
"
attend
"
it
,
preferring
the
more
expensive
seats
;
still
less
did
she
love
it
.
So
she
made
no
reply
.
"
This
year
I
have
been
three
times
—
to
Faust
,
Tosca
,
and
—
"
Was
it
"
Tannhouser
"
or
"
Tannhoyser
"
?
Better
not
risk
the
word
.
Margaret
disliked
Tosca
and
Faust
.
And
so
,
for
one
reason
and
another
,
they
walked
on
in
silence
,
chaperoned
by
the
voice
of
Mrs.
Munt
,
who
was
getting
into
difficulties
with
her
nephew
.
"
I
do
in
a
way
remember
the
passage
,
Tibby
,
but
when
every
instrument
is
so
beautiful
,
it
is
difficult
to
pick
out
one
thing
rather
than
another
.
I
am
sure
that
you
and
Helen
take
me
to
the
very
nicest
concerts
.
Not
a
dull
note
from
beginning
to
end
.
I
only
wish
that
our
German
friends
would
have
stayed
till
it
finished
.
"
"
But
surely
you
have
n't
forgotten
the
drum
steadily
beating
on
the
low
C
,
Aunt
Juley
?
"
came
Tibby
's
voice
.
"
No
one
could
.
It
's
unmistakable
.
"
"
A
specially
loud
part
?
"
hazarded
Mrs.
Munt
.
"
Of
course
I
do
not
go
in
for
being
musical
,
"
she
added
,
the
shot
failing
.
"
I
only
care
for
music
—
a
very
different
thing
.
But
still
I
will
say
this
for
myself
—
I
do
know
when
I
like
a
thing
and
when
I
do
n't
.
Some
people
are
the
same
about
pictures
.
They
can
go
into
a
picture
gallery
—
Miss
Conder
can
—
and
say
straight
off
what
they
feel
,
all
round
the
wall
.
I
never
could
do
that
.
But
music
is
so
different
to
pictures
,
to
my
mind
.
When
it
comes
to
music
I
am
as
safe
as
houses
,
and
I
assure
you
,
Tibby
,
I
am
by
no
means
pleased
by
everything
.
There
was
a
thing
—
something
about
a
faun
in
French
—
which
Helen
went
into
ecstasies
over
,
but
I
thought
it
most
tinkling
and
superficial
,
and
said
so
,
and
I
held
to
my
opinion
too
.
"
"
Do
you
agree
?
"
asked
Margaret
.
"
Do
you
think
music
is
so
different
to
pictures
?
"
"
I
—
I
should
have
thought
so
,
kind
of
,
"
he
said
.
"
So
should
I
.
Now
,
my
sister
declares
they
're
just
the
same
.
We
have
great
arguments
over
it
.
She
says
I
'm
dense
;
I
say
she
's
sloppy
.
"
Getting
under
way
,
she
cried
:
"
Now
,
does
n't
it
seem
absurd
to
you
?
What
is
the
good
of
the
Arts
if
they
are
interchangeable
?
What
is
the
good
of
the
ear
if
it
tells
you
the
same
as
the
eye
?
Helen
's
one
aim
is
to
translate
tunes
into
the
language
of
painting
,
and
pictures
into
the
language
of
music
.
It
's
very
ingenious
,
and
she
says
several
pretty
things
in
the
process
,
but
what
's
gained
,
I
'd
like
to
know
?
Oh
,
it
's
all
rubbish
,
radically
false
.
If
Monet
's
really
Debussy
,
and
Debussy
's
really
Monet
,
neither
gentleman
is
worth
his
salt
—
that
's
my
opinion
.
Evidently
these
sisters
quarrelled
.
"
Now
,
this
very
symphony
that
we
've
just
been
having
—
she
wo
n't
let
it
alone
.
She
labels
it
with
meanings
from
start
to
finish
;
turns
it
into
literature
.
I
wonder
if
the
day
will
ever
return
when
music
will
be
treated
as
music
.
Yet
I
do
n't
know
.
There
's
my
brother
—
behind
us
.
He
treats
music
as
music
,
and
oh
,
my
goodness
!
He
makes
me
angrier
than
anyone
,
simply
furious
.
With
him
I
dare
n't
even
argue
.
"
An
unhappy
family
,
if
talented
.
"
But
,
of
course
,
the
real
villain
is
Wagner
.
He
has
done
more
than
any
man
in
the
nineteenth
century
towards
the
muddling
of
arts
.
I
do
feel
that
music
is
in
a
very
serious
state
just
now
,
though
extraordinarily
interesting
.
Every
now
and
then
in
history
there
do
come
these
terrible
geniuses
,
like
Wagner
,
who
stir
up
all
the
wells
of
thought
at
once
.
For
a
moment
it
's
splendid
.
Such
a
splash
as
never
was
.
But
afterwards
—
such
a
lot
of
mud
;
and
the
wells
—
as
it
were
,
they
communicate
with
each
other
too
easily
now
,
and
not
one
of
them
will
run
quite
clear
.
That
's
what
Wagner
's
done
.
"
Her
speeches
fluttered
away
from
the
young
man
like
birds
.
If
only
he
could
talk
like
this
,
he
would
have
caught
the
world
.
Oh
to
acquire
culture
!
Oh
,
to
pronounce
foreign
names
correctly
!
Oh
,
to
be
well
informed
,
discoursing
at
ease
on
every
subject
that
a
lady
started
!
But
it
would
take
one
years
.
With
an
hour
at
lunch
and
a
few
shattered
hours
in
the
evening
,
how
was
it
possible
to
catch
up
with
leisured
women
,
who
had
been
reading
steadily
from
childhood
?
His
brain
might
be
full
of
names
,
he
might
have
even
heard
of
Monet
and
Debussy
;
the
trouble
was
that
he
could
not
string
them
together
into
a
sentence
,
he
could
not
make
them
"
tell
,
"
he
could
not
quite
forget
about
his
stolen
umbrella
.
Yes
,
the
umbrella
was
the
real
trouble
.
Behind
Monet
and
Debussy
the
umbrella
persisted
,
with
the
steady
beat
of
a
drum
.
"
I
suppose
my
umbrella
will
be
all
right
,
"
he
was
thinking
.
"
I
do
n't
really
mind
about
it
.
I
will
think
about
music
instead
.
I
suppose
my
umbrella
will
be
all
right
.
"
Earlier
in
the
afternoon
he
had
worried
about
seats
.
Ought
he
to
have
paid
as
much
as
two
shillings
?
Earlier
still
he
had
wondered
,
"
Shall
I
try
to
do
without
a
programme
?
"
There
had
always
been
something
to
worry
him
ever
since
he
could
remember
,
always
something
that
distracted
him
in
the
pursuit
of
beauty
.
For
he
did
pursue
beauty
,
and
therefore
,
Margaret
's
speeches
did
flutter
away
from
him
like
birds
.
Margaret
talked
ahead
,
occasionally
saying
,
"
Do
n't
you
think
so
?
do
n't
you
feel
the
same
?
"
And
once
she
stopped
,
and
said
"
Oh
,
do
interrupt
me
!
"
which
terrified
him
.
She
did
not
attract
him
,
though
she
filled
him
with
awe
.
Her
figure
was
meagre
,
her
face
seemed
all
teeth
and
eyes
,
her
references
to
her
sister
and
brother
were
uncharitable
.
For
all
her
cleverness
and
culture
,
she
was
probably
one
of
those
soulless
,
atheistical
women
who
have
been
so
shown
up
by
Miss
Corelli
.
It
was
surprising
(
and
alarming
)
that
she
should
suddenly
say
,
"
I
do
hope
that
you
'll
come
in
and
have
some
tea
.
"
"
I
do
hope
that
you
'll
come
in
and
have
some
tea
.
We
should
be
so
glad
.
I
have
dragged
you
so
far
out
of
your
way
.
"
They
had
arrived
at
Wickham
Place
.
The
sun
had
set
,
and
the
backwater
,
in
deep
shadow
,
was
filling
with
a
gentle
haze
.
To
the
right
of
the
fantastic
skyline
of
the
flats
towered
black
against
the
hues
of
evening
;
to
the
left
the
older
houses
raised
a
square-cut
,
irregular
parapet
against
the
grey
.
Margaret
fumbled
for
her
latchkey
.
Of
course
she
had
forgotten
it
.
So
,
grasping
her
umbrella
by
its
ferrule
,
she
leant
over
the
area
and
tapped
at
the
dining-room
window
.
"
Helen
!
Let
us
in
!
"
"
All
right
,
"
said
a
voice
.
"
You
've
been
taking
this
gentleman
's
umbrella
.
"
"
Taken
a
what
?
"
said
Helen
,
opening
the
door
.
"
Oh
,
what
's
that
?
Do
come
in
!
How
do
you
do
?
"
"
Helen
,
you
must
not
be
so
ramshackly
.
You
took
this
gentleman
's
umbrella
away
from
Queen
's
Hall
,
and
he
has
had
the
trouble
of
coming
for
it
.
"
"
Oh
,
I
am
so
sorry
!
"
cried
Helen
,
all
her
hair
flying
.
She
had
pulled
off
her
hat
as
soon
as
she
returned
,
and
had
flung
herself
into
the
big
dining-room
chair
.
"
I
do
nothing
but
steal
umbrellas
.
I
am
so
very
sorry
!
Do
come
in
and
choose
one
.
Is
yours
a
hooky
or
a
nobbly
?
Mine
's
a
nobbly
—
at
least
,
I
think
it
is
.
"
The
light
was
turned
on
,
and
they
began
to
search
the
hall
,
Helen
,
who
had
abruptly
parted
with
the
Fifth
Symphony
,
commenting
with
shrill
little
cries
.
"
Do
n't
you
talk
,
Meg
!
You
stole
an
old
gentleman
's
silk
top-hat
.
Yes
,
she
did
,
Aunt
Juley
.
It
is
a
positive
fact
.
She
thought
it
was
a
muff
.
Oh
,
heavens
!
I
've
knocked
the
In
and
Out
card
down
.
Where
's
Frieda
?
Tibby
,
why
do
n't
you
ever
—
No
,
I
ca
n't
remember
what
I
was
going
to
say
.
That
was
n't
it
,
but
do
tell
the
maids
to
hurry
tea
up
.
What
about
this
umbrella
?
"
She
opened
it
.
"
No
,
it
's
all
gone
along
the
seams
.
It
's
an
appalling
umbrella
.
It
must
be
mine
.
"
But
it
was
not
.
He
took
it
from
her
,
murmured
a
few
words
of
thanks
,
and
then
fled
,
with
the
lilting
step
of
the
clerk
.
"
But
if
you
will
stop
—
"
cried
Margaret
.
"
Now
,
Helen
,
how
stupid
you
've
been
!
"
"
Whatever
have
I
done
?
"
"
Do
n't
you
see
that
you
've
frightened
him
away
?
I
meant
him
to
stop
to
tea
.
You
ought
n't
to
talk
about
stealing
or
holes
in
an
umbrella
.
I
saw
his
nice
eyes
getting
so
miserable
.
No
,
it
's
not
a
bit
of
good
now
.
"
For
Helen
had
darted
out
into
the
street
,
shouting
,
"
Oh
,
do
stop
!
"
"
I
dare
say
it
is
all
for
the
best
,
"
opined
Mrs.
Munt
.
"
We
know
nothing
about
the
young
man
,
Margaret
,
and
your
drawing-room
is
full
of
very
tempting
little
things
.
"
But
Helen
cried
:
"
Aunt
Juley
,
how
can
you
!
You
make
me
more
and
more
ashamed
.
I
'd
rather
he
had
been
a
thief
and
taken
all
the
apostle
spoons
than
that
I
—
Well
,
I
must
shut
the
front-door
,
I
suppose
.
One
more
failure
for
Helen
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
think
the
apostle
spoons
could
have
gone
as
rent
,
"
said
Margaret
.
Seeing
that
her
aunt
did
not
understand
,
she
added
:
"
You
remember
'
rent
.
'
It
was
one
of
father
's
words
—
Rent
to
the
ideal
,
to
his
own
faith
in
human
nature
.
You
remember
how
he
would
trust
strangers
,
and
if
they
fooled
him
he
would
say
,
'
It
's
better
to
be
fooled
than
to
be
suspicious
'
—
that
the
confidence
trick
is
the
work
of
man
,
but
the
want-of-confidence-trick
is
the
work
of
the
devil
.
"
"
I
remember
something
of
the
sort
now
,
"
said
Mrs.
Munt
,
rather
tartly
,
for
she
longed
to
add
,
"
It
was
lucky
that
your
father
married
a
wife
with
money
.
"
But
this
was
unkind
,
and
she
contented
herself
with
,
"
Why
,
he
might
have
stolen
the
little
Ricketts
picture
as
well
.
"
"
Better
that
he
had
,
"
said
Helen
stoutly
.
"
No
,
I
agree
with
Aunt
Juley
,
"
said
Margaret
.
"
I
'd
rather
mistrust
people
than
lose
my
little
Ricketts
.
There
are
limits
.
"
Their
brother
,
finding
the
incident
commonplace
,
had
stolen
upstairs
to
see
whether
there
were
scones
for
tea
.
He
warmed
the
teapot
—
almost
too
deftly
—
rejected
the
Orange
Pekoe
that
the
parlour-maid
had
provided
,
poured
in
five
spoonfuls
of
a
superior
blend
,
filled
up
with
really
boiling
water
,
and
now
called
to
the
ladies
to
be
quick
or
they
would
lose
the
aroma
.
"
All
right
,
Auntie
Tibby
,
"
called
Helen
,
while
Margaret
,
thoughtful
again
,
said
:
"
In
a
way
,
I
wish
we
had
a
real
boy
in
the
house
—
the
kind
of
boy
who
cares
for
men
.
It
would
make
entertaining
so
much
easier
.
"
"
So
do
I
,
"
said
her
sister
.
"
Tibby
only
cares
for
cultured
females
singing
Brahms
.
"
And
when
they
joined
him
she
said
rather
sharply
:
"
Why
did
n't
you
make
that
young
man
welcome
,
Tibby
?
You
must
do
the
host
a
little
,
you
know
.
You
ought
to
have
taken
his
hat
and
coaxed
him
into
stopping
,
instead
of
letting
him
be
swamped
by
screaming
women
.
"
Tibby
sighed
,
and
drew
a
long
strand
of
hair
over
his
forehead
.
"
Oh
,
it
's
no
good
looking
superior
.
I
mean
what
I
say
.
"
"
Leave
Tibby
alone
!
"
said
Margaret
,
who
could
not
bear
her
brother
to
be
scolded
.
"
Here
's
the
house
a
regular
hen-coop
!
"
grumbled
Helen
.
"
Oh
,
my
dear
!
"
protested
Mrs.
Munt
.
"
How
can
you
say
such
dreadful
things
!
The
number
of
men
you
get
here
has
always
astonished
me
.
If
there
is
any
danger
it
's
the
other
way
round
.
"
"
Yes
,
but
it
's
the
wrong
sort
of
men
,
Helen
means
.
"
"
No
,
I
do
n't
,
"
corrected
Helen
.
"
We
get
the
right
sort
of
man
,
but
the
wrong
side
of
him
,
and
I
say
that
's
Tibby
's
fault
.
There
ought
to
be
a
something
about
the
house
—
an
—
I
do
n't
know
what
.
"
"
A
touch
of
the
W.
's
,
perhaps
?
"
Helen
put
out
her
tongue
.
"
Who
are
the
W.
's
?
"
asked
Tibby
.
"
The
W.
's
are
things
I
and
Meg
and
Aunt
Juley
know
about
and
you
do
n't
,
so
there
!
"
"
I
suppose
that
ours
is
a
female
house
,
"
said
Margaret
,
"
and
one
must
just
accept
it
.
No
,
Aunt
Juley
,
I
do
n't
mean
that
this
house
is
full
of
women
.
I
am
trying
to
say
something
much
more
clever
.
I
mean
that
it
was
irrevocably
feminine
,
even
in
father
's
time
.
Now
I
'm
sure
you
understand
!
Well
,
I
'll
give
you
another
example
.
It
'll
shock
you
,
but
I
do
n't
care
.
Suppose
Queen
Victoria
gave
a
dinner-party
,
and
that
the
guests
had
been
Leighton
,
Millais
,
Swinburne
,
Rossetti
,
Meredith
,
Fitzgerald
,
etc.
Do
you
suppose
that
the
atmosphere
of
that
dinner
would
have
been
artistic
?
Heavens
no
!
The
very
chairs
on
which
they
sat
would
have
seen
to
that
.
So
with
our
house
—
it
must
be
feminine
,
and
all
we
can
do
is
to
see
that
it
is
n't
effeminate
.
Just
as
another
house
that
I
can
mention
,
but
I
wo
n't
,
sounded
irrevocably
masculine
,
and
all
its
inmates
can
do
is
to
see
that
it
is
n't
brutal
.
"
"
That
house
being
the
W.
's
house
,
I
presume
,
"
said
Tibby
.
"
You
're
not
going
to
be
told
about
the
W.
's
,
my
child
,
"
Helen
cried
,
"
so
do
n't
you
think
it
.
And
on
the
other
hand
,
I
do
n't
the
least
mind
if
you
find
out
,
so
do
n't
you
think
you
've
done
anything
clever
,
in
either
case
.
Give
me
a
cigarette
.
"
"
You
do
what
you
can
for
the
house
,
"
said
Margaret
.
"
The
drawing-room
reeks
of
smoke
.
"
"
If
you
smoked
too
,
the
house
might
suddenly
turn
masculine
.
Atmosphere
is
probably
a
question
of
touch
and
go
.
Even
at
Queen
Victoria
's
dinner-party
—
if
something
had
been
just
a
little
different
—
perhaps
if
she
'd
worn
a
clinging
Liberty
tea-gown
instead
of
a
magenta
satin
—
"
"
With
an
Indian
shawl
over
her
shoulders
—
"
"
Fastened
at
the
bosom
with
a
Cairngorm-pin
—
"
Bursts
of
disloyal
laughter
—
you
must
remember
that
they
are
half
German
—
greeted
these
suggestions
,
and
Margaret
said
pensively
,
"
How
inconceivable
it
would
be
if
the
Royal
Family
cared
about
Art
.
"
And
the
conversation
drifted
away
and
away
,
and
Helen
's
cigarette
turned
to
a
spot
in
the
darkness
,
and
the
great
flats
opposite
were
sown
with
lighted
windows
,
which
vanished
and
were
relit
again
,
and
vanished
incessantly
.
Beyond
them
the
thoroughfare
roared
gently
—
a
tide
that
could
never
be
quiet
,
while
in
the
east
,
invisible
behind
the
smokes
of
Wapping
,
the
moon
was
rising
.
"
That
reminds
me
,
Margaret
.
We
might
have
taken
that
young
man
into
the
dining-room
,
at
all
events
.
Only
the
majolica
plate
—
and
that
is
so
firmly
set
in
the
wall
.
I
am
really
distressed
that
he
had
no
tea
.
"
For
that
little
incident
had
impressed
the
three
women
more
than
might
be
supposed
.
It
remained
as
a
goblin
football
,
as
a
hint
that
all
is
not
for
the
best
in
the
best
of
all
possible
worlds
,
and
that
beneath
these
superstructures
of
wealth
and
art
there
wanders
an
ill-fed
boy
,
who
has
recovered
his
umbrella
indeed
,
but
who
has
left
no
address
behind
him
,
and
no
name
.
Chapter
6
We
are
not
concerned
with
the
very
poor
.
They
are
unthinkable
,
and
only
to
be
approached
by
the
statistician
or
the
poet
.
This
story
deals
with
gentlefolk
,
or
with
those
who
are
obliged
to
pretend
that
they
are
gentlefolk
.
The
boy
,
Leonard
Bast
,
stood
at
the
extreme
verge
of
gentility
.
He
was
not
in
the
abyss
,
but
he
could
see
it
,
and
at
times
people
whom
he
knew
had
dropped
in
,
and
counted
no
more
.
He
knew
that
he
was
poor
,
and
would
admit
it
:
he
would
have
died
sooner
than
confess
any
inferiority
to
the
rich
.
This
may
be
splendid
of
him
.
But
he
was
inferior
to
most
rich
people
,
there
is
not
the
least
doubt
of
it
.
He
was
not
as
courteous
as
the
average
rich
man
,
nor
as
intelligent
,
nor
as
healthy
,
nor
as
lovable
.
His
mind
and
his
body
had
been
alike
underfed
,
because
he
was
poor
,
and
because
he
was
modern
they
were
always
craving
better
food
.
Had
he
lived
some
centuries
ago
,
in
the
brightly
coloured
civilizations
of
the
past
,
he
would
have
had
a
definite
status
,
his
rank
and
his
income
would
have
corresponded
.
But
in
his
day
the
angel
of
Democracy
had
arisen
,
enshadowing
the
classes
with
leathern
wings
,
and
proclaiming
,
"
All
men
are
equal
—
all
men
,
that
is
to
say
,
who
possess
umbrellas
,
"
and
so
he
was
obliged
to
assert
gentility
,
lest
he
slipped
into
the
abyss
where
nothing
counts
,
and
the
statements
of
Democracy
are
inaudible
.
As
he
walked
away
from
Wickham
Place
,
his
first
care
was
to
prove
that
he
was
as
good
as
the
Miss
Schlegels
.
Obscurely
wounded
in
his
pride
,
he
tried
to
wound
them
in
return
.
They
were
probably
not
ladies
.
Would
real
ladies
have
asked
him
to
tea
?
They
were
certainly
ill-natured
and
cold
.
At
each
step
his
feeling
of
superiority
increased
.
Would
a
real
lady
have
talked
about
stealing
an
umbrella
?
Perhaps
they
were
thieves
after
all
,
and
if
he
had
gone
into
the
house
they
could
have
clapped
a
chloroformed
handkerchief
over
his
face
.
He
walked
on
complacently
as
far
as
the
Houses
of
Parliament
.
There
an
empty
stomach
asserted
itself
,
and
told
him
he
was
a
fool
.
"
Evening
,
Mr.
Bast
.
"
"
Evening
,
Mr.
Dealtry
.
"
"
Nice
evening
.
"
"
Evening
.
"
Mr.
Dealtry
,
a
fellow
clerk
,
passed
on
,
and
Leonard
stood
wondering
whether
he
would
take
the
tram
as
far
as
a
penny
would
take
him
,
or
whether
he
would
walk
.
He
decided
to
walk
—
it
is
no
good
giving
in
,
and
he
had
spent
money
enough
at
Queen
's
Hall
—
and
he
walked
over
Westminster
Bridge
,
in
front
of
St.
Thomas
's
Hospital
,
and
through
the
immense
tunnel
that
passes
under
the
South-Western
main
line
at
Vauxhall
.
In
the
tunnel
he
paused
and
listened
to
the
roar
of
the
trains
.
A
sharp
pain
darted
through
his
head
,
and
he
was
conscious
of
the
exact
form
of
his
eye
sockets
.
He
pushed
on
for
another
mile
,
and
did
not
slacken
speed
until
he
stood
at
the
entrance
of
a
road
called
Camelia
Road
,
which
was
at
present
his
home
.
Here
he
stopped
again
,
and
glanced
suspiciously
to
right
and
left
,
like
a
rabbit
that
is
going
to
bolt
into
its
hole
.
A
block
of
flats
,
constructed
with
extreme
cheapness
,
towered
on
either
hand
.
Farther
down
the
road
two
more
blocks
were
being
built
,
and
beyond
these
an
old
house
was
being
demolished
to
accommodate
another
pair
.
It
was
the
kind
of
scene
that
may
be
observed
all
over
London
,
whatever
the
locality
—
bricks
and
mortar
rising
and
falling
with
the
restlessness
of
the
water
in
a
fountain
,
as
the
city
receives
more
and
more
men
upon
her
soil
.
Camelia
Road
would
soon
stand
out
like
a
fortress
,
and
command
,
for
a
little
,
an
extensive
view
.
Only
for
a
little
.
Plans
were
out
for
the
erection
of
flats
in
Magnolia
Road
also
.
And
again
a
few
years
,
and
all
the
flats
in
either
road
might
be
pulled
down
,
and
new
buildings
,
of
a
vastness
at
present
unimaginable
,
might
arise
where
they
had
fallen
.
"
Evening
,
Mr.
Bast
.
"
"
Evening
,
Mr.
Cunningham
.
"
"
Very
serious
thing
this
decline
of
the
birth-rate
in
Manchester
.
"
"
I
beg
your
pardon
?
"
"
Very
serious
thing
this
decline
of
the
birth-rate
in
Manchester
,
"
repeated
Mr.
Cunningham
,
tapping
the
Sunday
paper
,
in
which
the
calamity
in
question
had
just
been
announced
to
him
.
"
Ah
,
yes
,
"
said
Leonard
,
who
was
not
going
to
let
on
that
he
had
not
bought
a
Sunday
paper
.
"
If
this
kind
of
thing
goes
on
the
population
of
England
will
be
stationary
in
1960.
"
"
You
do
n't
say
so
.
"
"
I
call
it
a
very
serious
thing
,
eh
?
"
"
Good-evening
,
Mr.
Cunningham
.
"
"
Good-evening
,
Mr.
Bast
.
"
Then
Leonard
entered
Block
B
of
the
flats
,
and
turned
,
not
upstairs
,
but
down
,
into
what
is
known
to
house
agents
as
a
semi-basement
,
and
to
other
men
as
a
cellar
.
He
opened
the
door
,
and
cried
"
Hullo
!
"
with
the
pseudo-geniality
of
the
Cockney
.
There
was
no
reply
.
"
Hullo
!
"
he
repeated
.
The
sitting-room
was
empty
,
though
the
electric
light
had
been
left
burning
.
A
look
of
relief
came
over
his
face
,
and
he
flung
himself
into
the
armchair
.
The
sitting-room
contained
,
besides
the
armchair
,
two
other
chairs
,
a
piano
,
a
three-legged
table
,
and
a
cosy
corner
.
Of
the
walls
,
one
was
occupied
by
the
window
,
the
other
by
a
draped
mantelshelf
bristling
with
Cupids
.
Opposite
the
window
was
the
door
,
and
beside
the
door
a
bookcase
,
while
over
the
piano
there
extended
one
of
the
masterpieces
of
Maud
Goodman
.
It
was
an
amorous
and
not
unpleasant
little
hole
when
the
curtains
were
drawn
,
and
the
lights
turned
on
,
and
the
gas-stove
unlit
.
But
it
struck
that
shallow
makeshift
note
that
is
so
often
heard
in
the
modem
dwelling-place
.
It
had
been
too
easily
gained
,
and
could
be
relinquished
too
easily
.
As
Leonard
was
kicking
off
his
boots
he
jarred
the
three-legged
table
,
and
a
photograph
frame
,
honourably
poised
upon
it
,
slid
sideways
,
fell
off
into
the
fireplace
,
and
smashed
.
He
swore
in
a
colourless
sort
of
way
,
and
picked
the
photograph
up
.
It
represented
a
young
lady
called
Jacky
,
and
had
been
taken
at
the
time
when
young
ladies
called
Jacky
were
often
photographed
with
their
mouths
open
.
Teeth
of
dazzling
whiteness
extended
along
either
of
Jacky
's
jaws
,
and
positively
weighted
her
head
sideways
,
so
large
were
they
and
so
numerous
.
Take
my
word
for
it
,
that
smile
was
simply
stunning
,
and
it
is
only
you
and
I
who
will
be
fastidious
,
and
complain
that
true
joy
begins
in
the
eyes
,
and
that
the
eyes
of
Jacky
did
not
accord
with
her
smile
,
but
were
anxious
and
hungry
.
Leonard
tried
to
pull
out
the
fragments
of
glass
,
and
cut
his
fingers
and
swore
again
.
A
drop
of
blood
fell
on
the
frame
,
another
followed
,
spilling
over
on
to
the
exposed
photograph
.
He
swore
more
vigorously
,
and
dashed
to
the
kitchen
,
where
he
bathed
his
hands
.
The
kitchen
was
the
same
size
as
the
sitting
room
;
through
it
was
a
bedroom
.
This
completed
his
home
.
He
was
renting
the
flat
furnished
:
of
all
the
objects
that
encumbered
it
none
were
his
own
except
the
photograph
frame
,
the
Cupids
,
and
the
books
.
"
Damn
,
damn
,
damnation
!
"
he
murmured
,
together
with
such
other
words
as
he
had
learnt
from
older
men
.
Then
he
raised
his
hand
to
his
forehead
and
said
,
"
Oh
,
damn
it
all
—
"
which
meant
something
different
.
He
pulled
himself
together
.
He
drank
a
little
tea
,
black
and
silent
,
that
still
survived
upon
an
upper
shelf
.
He
swallowed
some
dusty
crumbs
of
cake
.
Then
he
went
back
to
the
sitting-room
,
settled
himself
anew
,
and
began
to
read
a
volume
of
Ruskin
.
"
Seven
miles
to
the
north
of
Venice
—
"
How
perfectly
the
famous
chapter
opens
!
How
supreme
its
command
of
admonition
and
of
poetry
!
The
rich
man
is
speaking
to
us
from
his
gondola
.
"
Seven
miles
to
the
north
of
Venice
the
banks
of
sand
which
nearer
the
city
rise
little
above
low-water
mark
attain
by
degrees
a
higher
level
,
and
knit
themselves
at
last
into
fields
of
salt
morass
,
raised
here
and
there
into
shapeless
mounds
,
and
intercepted
by
narrow
creeks
of
sea
.
"
Leonard
was
trying
to
form
his
style
on
Ruskin
:
he
understood
him
to
be
the
greatest
master
of
English
Prose
.
He
read
forward
steadily
,
occasionally
making
a
few
notes
.
"
Let
us
consider
a
little
each
of
these
characters
in
succession
,
and
first
(
for
of
the
shafts
enough
has
been
said
already
)
,
what
is
very
peculiar
to
this
church
—
its
luminousness
.
"
Was
there
anything
to
be
learnt
from
this
fine
sentence
?
Could
he
adapt
it
to
the
needs
of
daily
life
?
Could
he
introduce
it
,
with
modifications
,
when
he
next
wrote
a
letter
to
his
brother
,
the
lay-reader
?
For
example
—
"
Let
us
consider
a
little
each
of
these
characters
in
succession
,
and
first
(
for
of
the
absence
of
ventilation
enough
has
been
said
already
)
,
what
is
very
peculiar
to
this
flat
—
its
obscurity
.
"
Something
told
him
that
the
modifications
would
not
do
;
and
that
something
,
had
he
known
it
,
was
the
spirit
of
English
Prose
.
"
My
flat
is
dark
as
well
as
stuffy
.
"
Those
were
the
words
for
him
.
And
the
voice
in
the
gondola
rolled
on
,
piping
melodiously
of
Effort
and
Self-Sacrifice
,
full
of
high
purpose
,
full
of
beauty
,
full
even
of
sympathy
and
the
love
of
men
,
yet
somehow
eluding
all
that
was
actual
and
insistent
in
Leonard
's
life
.
For
it
was
the
voice
of
one
who
had
never
been
dirty
or
hungry
,
and
had
not
guessed
successfully
what
dirt
and
hunger
are
.
Leonard
listened
to
it
with
reverence
.
He
felt
that
he
was
being
done
good
to
,
and
that
if
he
kept
on
with
Ruskin
,
and
the
Queen
's
Hall
Concerts
,
and
some
pictures
by
Watts
,
he
would
one
day
push
his
head
out
of
the
grey
waters
and
see
the
universe
.
He
believed
in
sudden
conversion
,
a
belief
which
may
be
right
,
but
which
is
peculiarly
attractive
to
a
half-baked
mind
.
It
is
the
bias
of
much
popular
religion
:
in
the
domain
of
business
it
dominates
the
Stock
Exchange
,
and
becomes
that
"
bit
of
luck
"
by
which
all
successes
and
failures
are
explained
.
"
If
only
I
had
a
bit
of
luck
,
the
whole
thing
would
come
straight
.
.
.
.
He
's
got
a
most
magnificent
place
down
at
Streatham
and
a
20
h.-p
.
Fiat
,
but
then
,
mind
you
,
he
's
had
luck
.
.
.
.
I
'm
sorry
the
wife
's
so
late
,
but
she
never
has
any
luck
over
catching
trains
.
"
Leonard
was
superior
to
these
people
;
he
did
believe
in
effort
and
in
a
steady
preparation
for
the
change
that
he
desired
.
But
of
a
heritage
that
may
expand
gradually
,
he
had
no
conception
:
he
hoped
to
come
to
Culture
suddenly
,
much
as
the
Revivalist
hopes
to
come
to
Jesus
.
Those
Miss
Schlegels
had
come
to
it
;
they
had
done
the
trick
;
their
hands
were
upon
the
ropes
,
once
and
for
all
.
And
meanwhile
,
his
flat
was
dark
,
as
well
as
stuffy
.
Presently
there
was
a
noise
on
the
staircase
.
He
shut
up
Margaret
's
card
in
the
pages
of
Ruskin
,
and
opened
the
door
.
A
woman
entered
,
of
whom
it
is
simplest
to
say
that
she
was
not
respectable
.
Her
appearance
was
awesome
.
She
seemed
all
strings
and
bell-pulls
—
ribbons
,
chains
,
bead
necklaces
that
clinked
and
caught
—
and
a
boa
of
azure
feathers
hung
round
her
neck
,
with
the
ends
uneven
.
Her
throat
was
bare
,
wound
with
a
double
row
of
pearls
,
her
arms
were
bare
to
the
elbows
,
and
might
again
be
detected
at
the
shoulder
,
through
cheap
lace
.
Her
hat
,
which
was
flowery
,
resembled
those
punnets
,
covered
with
flannel
,
which
we
sowed
with
mustard
and
cress
in
our
childhood
,
and
which
germinated
here
yes
,
and
there
no.
She
wore
it
on
the
back
of
her
head
.
As
for
her
hair
,
or
rather
hairs
,
they
are
too
complicated
to
describe
,
but
one
system
went
down
her
back
,
lying
in
a
thick
pad
there
,
while
another
,
created
for
a
lighter
destiny
,
rippled
around
her
forehead
.
The
face
—
the
face
does
not
signify
.
It
was
the
face
of
the
photograph
,
but
older
,
and
the
teeth
were
not
so
numerous
as
the
photographer
had
suggested
,
and
certainly
not
so
white
.
Yes
,
Jacky
was
past
her
prime
,
whatever
that
prime
may
have
been
.
She
was
descending
quicker
than
most
women
into
the
colourless
years
,
and
the
look
in
her
eyes
confessed
it
.
"
What
ho
!
"
said
Leonard
,
greeting
that
apparition
with
much
spirit
,
and
helping
it
off
with
its
boa
.
Jacky
,
in
husky
tones
,
replied
,
"
What
ho
!
"
"
Been
out
?
"
he
asked
.
The
question
sounds
superfluous
,
but
it
cannot
have
been
really
,
for
the
lady
answered
,
"
No
,
"
adding
,
"
Oh
,
I
am
so
tired
.
"
"
You
tired
?
"
"
Eh
?
"
"
I
'm
tired
,
"
said
he
,
hanging
the
boa
up
.
"
Oh
,
Len
,
I
am
so
tired
.
"
"
I
've
been
to
that
classical
concert
I
told
you
about
,
"
said
Leonard
.
"
