discover,
make
,
or
be
;
they
wanted
to
seem
and
succeed
.
Talking
perhaps
was
part
of
their
pose
of
great
intellectual
activity
,
and
Blenkins
was
fortunate
to
have
an
easy
,
unforced
running
of
mind
...
.
Over
his
cigar
Trafford
became
profoundly
philosophical
about
Talk
.
And
after
the
manner
of
those
who
become
profoundly
philosophical
he
spread
out
the
word
beyond
its
original
and
proper
intentions
to
all
sorts
of
kindred
and
parallel
things
.
Blenkins
and
his
miscellany
of
friends
in
their
circle
of
chairs
were
,
after
all
,
only
a
crude
rendering
of
very
much
of
intellectual
activity
of
mankind
.
Men
talked
so
often
as
dogs
bark
.
Those
Talkers
never
came
to
grips
,
fell
away
from
topic
to
topic
,
pretended
depth
and
evaded
the
devastating
horrors
of
sincerity
.
Listening
was
a
politeness
amongst
them
that
was
presently
rewarded
with
utterance
.
Tremendously
like
dogs
they
were
,
in
a
dog-fancying
neighborhood
on
a
summer
week-day
afternoon
.
Fluidity
,
excessive
abundance
,
inconsecutiveness
;
these
were
the
things
that
made
Talk
hateful
to
Trafford
.
Was
n't
most
literature
in
the
same
class
?
Was
n't
nearly
all
present
philosophical
and
sociological
discussion
in
the
world
merely
a
Blenkins
circle
on
a
colossal
scale
,
with
every
one
looming
forward
to
get
in
a
deeply
thoughtful
word
edgeways
at
the
first
opportunity
?
Imagine
any
one
in
distress
about
his
soul
or
about
mankind
,
going
to
a
professor
of
economics
or
sociology
or
philosophy
!
He
thought
of
the
endless
,
big
,
expensive
,
fruitless
books
,
the
windy
expansions
of
industrious
pedantry
that
mocked
the
spirit
of
inquiry
.
The
fields
of
physical
and
biological
science
alone
had
been
partially
rescued
from
the
floods
of
human
inconsecutiveness
.
There
at
least
a
man
must
,
on
the
whole
,
join
on
to
the
work
of
other
men
,
stand
a
searching
criticism
,
justify
himself
.
Philosophically
this
was
an
age
of
relaxed
schoolmen
.
He
thought
of
Doctor
Codger
at
Cambridge
,
bubbling
away
with
his
iridescent
Hegelianism
like
a
salted
snail
;
of
Doctor
Quiller
at
Oxford
,
ignoring
Bergson
and
fulminating
a
preposterous
insular
Pragmatism
.
Each
contradicted
the
other
fundamentally
upon
matters
of
universal
concern
;
neither
ever
joined
issue
with
the
other
.
Why
in
the
name
of
humanity
did
n't
some
one
take
hold
of
those
two
excellent
gentlemen
,
and
bang
their
busy
heads
together
hard
and
frequently
until
they
either
compromised
or
cracked
?
He
forgot
these
rambling
speculations
as
he
came
out
into
the
spring
sunshine
of
Pall
Mall
,
and
halting
for
a
moment
on
the
topmost
step
,
regarded
the
tidy
pavements
,
the
rare
dignified
shops
,
the
waiting
taxicabs
,
the
pleasant
,
prosperous
passers-by
.
His
mind
lapsed
back
to
the
thought
that
he
meant
to
leave
all
this
and
go
to
Labrador
.
His
mind
went
a
step
further
,
and
reflected
that
he
would
not
only
go
to
Labrador
,
but
—
it
was
highly
probable
—
come
back
again
.
And
then
?
Why
,
after
all
,
should
he
go
to
Labrador
at
all
?
Why
should
n't
he
make
a
supreme
effort
here
?
Something
entirely
irrational
within
him
told
him
with
conclusive
emphasis
that
he
had
to
go
to
Labrador
...
.
He
remembered
there
was
this
confounded
business
of
the
proposed
house
in
Mayfair
to
consider
...
.
It
occurred
to
him
that
he
would
go
a
little
out
of
his
way
,
and
look
at
the
new
great
laboratories
at
the
Romeike
College
,
of
which
his
old
bottle-washer
Durgan
was
,
he
knew
,
extravagantly
proud
.
Romeike
's
widow
was
dead
now
and
her
will
executed
,
and
her
substance
half
turned
already
to
bricks
and
stone
and
glazed
tiles
and
all
those
excesses
of
space
and
appliance
which
the
rich
and
authoritative
imagine
must
needs
give
us
Science
,
however
ill-selected
and
underpaid
and
slighted
the
users
of
those
opportunities
may
be
.
The
architects
had
had
great
fun
with
the
bequest
;
a
quarter
of
the
site
was
devoted
to
a
huge
square
surrounded
by
dignified
,
if
functionless
,
colonnades
,
and
adorned
with
those
stone
seats
of
honour
which
are
always
so
chill
and
unsatisfactory
as
resting
places
in
our
island
climate
.
The
Laboratories
,
except
that
they
were
a
little
shaded
by
the
colonnades
,
were
everything
a
laboratory
should
be
;
the
benches
were
miracles
of
convenience
,
there
was
n't
anything
the
industrious
investigator
might
want
,
steam
,
high
pressures
,
electric
power
,
that
he
could
n't
get
by
pressing
a
button
or
turning
a
switch
,
unless
perhaps
it
was
inspiring
ideas
.
And
the
new
library
at
the
end
,
with
its
greys
and
greens
,
its
logarithmic
computators
at
every
table
,
was
a
miracle
of
mental
convenience
.
Durgan
showed
his
old
professor
the
marvels
.
"
If
he
chooses
to
do
something
here
,
"
said
Durgan
not
too
hopefully
,
"
a
man
can
...
.
"
"
What
's
become
of
the
little
old
room
where
we
two
used
to
work
?
"
asked
Trafford
.
"
They
'll
turn
'
em
all
out
presently
,
"
said
Durgan
,
"
when
this
part
is
ready
,
but
just
at
present
it
's
very
much
as
you
left
it
.
There
's
been
precious
little
research
done
there
since
you
went
away
—
not
what
I
call
research
.
Females
chiefly
—
and
boys
.
Playing
at
it
.
Making
themselves
into
D.Sc.
's
by
a
baby
research
instead
of
a
man
's
examination
.
It
's
like
broaching
a
thirty-two
gallon
cask
full
of
Pap
to
think
of
it
.
Lord
,
sir
,
the
swill
!
Research
!
Counting
and
weighing
things
!
Professor
Lake
's
all
right
,
I
suppose
,
but
his
work
was
mostly
mathematical
;
he
did
n't
do
much
of
it
here
.
No
,
the
old
days
ended
,
sir
,
when
you
...
.
"
He
arrested
himself
,
and
obviously
changed
his
words
.
"
Got
busy
with
other
things
.
"
Trafford
surveyed
the
place
;
it
seemed
to
him
to
have
shrunken
a
little
in
the
course
of
the
three
years
that
had
intervened
since
he
resigned
his
position
.
On
the
wall
at
the
back
there
still
hung
,
fly-blown
and
a
little
crumpled
,
an
old
table
of
constants
he
had
made
for
his
elasticity
researches
.
Lake
had
kept
it
there
,
for
Lake
was
a
man
of
generous
appreciations
,
and
rather
proud
to
follow
in
the
footsteps
of
an
investigator
of
Trafford
's
subtlety
and
vigor
.
The
old
sink
in
the
corner
where
Trafford
had
once
swilled
his
watch
glasses
and
filled
his
beakers
had
been
replaced
by
one
of
a
more
modern
construction
,
and
the
combustion
cupboard
was
unfamiliar
,
until
Durgan
pointed
out
that
it
had
been
enlarged
.
The
ground-glass
window
at
the
east
end
showed
still
the
marks
of
an
explosion
that
had
banished
a
clumsy
student
from
this
sanctuary
at
the
very
beginning
of
Trafford
's
career
.
"
By
Jove
!
"
he
said
after
a
silence
,
"
but
I
did
some
good
work
here
.
"
"
You
did
,
sir
,
"
said
Durgan
.
"
I
wonder
—
I
may
take
it
up
again
presently
.
"
"
I
doubt
it
,
sir
,
"
said
Durgan
.
"
Oh
!
But
suppose
I
come
back
?
"
"
I
do
n't
think
you
would
find
yourself
coming
back
,
sir
,
"
said
Durgan
after
judicious
consideration
.
He
adduced
no
shadow
of
a
reason
for
his
doubt
,
but
some
mysterious
quality
in
his
words
carried
conviction
to
Trafford
's
mind
.
He
knew
that
he
would
never
do
anything
worth
doing
in
molecular
physics
again
.
He
knew
it
now
conclusively
for
the
first
time
.
He
found
himself
presently
in
Bond
Street
.
The
bright
May
day
had
brought
out
great
quantities
of
people
,
so
that
he
had
to
come
down
from
altitudes
of
abstraction
to
pick
his
way
among
them
.
He
was
struck
by
the
prevailing
interest
and
contentment
in
the
faces
he
passed
.
There
was
no
sense
of
insecurity
betrayed
,
no
sense
of
the
deeps
and
mysteries
upon
which
our
being
floats
like
a
film
.
They
looked
solid
,
they
looked
satisfied
;
surely
never
before
in
the
history
of
the
world
has
there
been
so
great
a
multitude
of
secure-feeling
,
satisfied-looking
,
uninquiring
people
as
there
is
to-day
.
All
the
tragic
great
things
of
life
seem
stupendously
remote
from
them
;
pain
is
rare
,
death
is
out
of
sight
,
religion
has
shrunken
to
an
inconsiderable
,
comfortable
,
reassuring
appendage
of
the
daily
life
.
And
with
the
bright
small
things
of
immediacy
they
are
so
active
and
alert
.
Never
before
has
the
world
seen
such
multitudes
,
and
a
day
must
come
when
it
will
cease
to
see
them
for
evermore
.
As
he
shouldered
his
way
through
the
throng
before
the
Oxford
Street
shop
windows
he
appreciated
a
queer
effect
,
almost
as
it
were
of
insanity
,
about
all
this
rich
and
abundant
and
ultimately
aimless
life
,
this
tremendous
spawning
and
proliferation
of
uneventful
humanity
.
These
individual
lives
signified
no
doubt
enormously
to
the
individuals
,
but
did
all
the
shining
,
reflecting
,
changing
existence
that
went
by
like
bubbles
in
a
stream
,
signify
collectively
anything
more
than
the
leaping
,
glittering
confusion
of
shoaling
mackerel
on
a
sunlit
afternoon
?
The
pretty
girl
looking
into
the
window
schemed
picturesque
achievements
with
lace
and
ribbon
,
the
beggar
at
the
curb
was
alert
for
any
sympathetic
eye
,
the
chauffeur
on
the
waiting
taxi-cab
watched
the
twopences
ticking
on
with
a
quiet
satisfaction
;
each
followed
a
keenly
sought
immediate
end
,
but
altogether
?
Where
were
they
going
altogether
?
Until
he
knew
that
,
where
was
the
sanity
of
statecraft
,
the
excuse
of
any
impersonal
effort
,
the
significance
of
anything
beyond
a
life
of
appetites
and
self-seeking
instincts
?
He
found
that
perplexing
suspicion
of
priggishness
affecting
him
again
.
Why
could
n't
he
take
the
gift
of
life
as
it
seemed
these
people
took
it
?
Why
was
he
continually
lapsing
into
these
sombre
,
dimly
religious
questionings
and
doubts
?
Why
after
all
should
he
concern
himself
with
these
riddles
of
some
collective
and
ultimate
meaning
in
things
?
Was
he
for
all
his
ability
and
security
so
afraid
of
the
accidents
of
life
that
on
that
account
he
clung
to
this
conception
of
a
larger
impersonal
issue
which
the
world
in
general
seemed
to
have
abandoned
so
cheerfully
?
At
any
rate
he
did
cling
to
it
—
and
his
sense
of
it
made
the
abounding
active
life
of
this
stirring
,
bristling
thoroughfare
an
almost
unendurable
perplexity
...
.
By
the
Marble
Arch
a
little
crowd
had
gathered
at
the
pavement
edge
.
He
remarked
other
little
knots
towards
Paddington
,
and
then
still
others
,
and
inquiring
,
found
the
King
was
presently
to
pass
.
They
promised
themselves
the
gratification
of
seeing
the
King
go
by
.
They
would
see
a
carriage
,
they
would
see
horses
and
coachmen
,
perhaps
even
they
might
catch
sight
of
a
raised
hat
and
a
bowing
figure
.
And
this
would
be
a
gratification
to
them
,
it
would
irradiate
the
day
with
a
sense
of
experiences
,
exceptional
and
precious
.
For
that
some
of
them
had
already
been
standing
about
for
two
or
three
hours
.
He
thought
of
these
waiting
people
for
a
time
,
and
then
he
fell
into
a
speculation
about
the
King
.
He
wondered
if
the
King
ever
lay
awake
at
three
o'clock
in
the
morning
and
faced
the
riddle
of
the
eternities
or
whether
he
did
really
take
himself
seriously
and
contentedly
as
being
in
himself
the
vital
function
of
the
State
,
performed
his
ceremonies
,
went
hither
and
thither
through
a
wilderness
of
gaping
watchers
,
slept
well
on
it
.
Was
the
man
satisfied
?
Was
he
satisfied
with
his
empire
as
it
was
and
himself
as
he
was
,
or
did
some
vision
,
some
high
,
ironical
intimation
of
the
latent
and
lost
possibilities
of
his
empire
and
of
the
world
of
Things
Conceivable
that
lies
beyond
the
poor
tawdry
splendours
of
our
present
loyalties
,
ever
dawn
upon
him
?
Trafford
's
imagination
conjured
up
a
sleepless
King
Emperor
agonizing
for
humanity
...
.
He
turned
to
his
right
out
of
Lancaster
Gate
into
Sussex
Square
,
and
came
to
a
stop
at
the
pavement
edge
.
From
across
the
road
he
surveyed
the
wide
white
front
and
portals
of
the
house
that
was
n't
big
enough
for
Marjorie
.
He
let
himself
in
with
his
latchkey
.
Malcolm
,
his
man
,
hovered
at
the
foot
of
the
staircase
,
and
came
forward
for
his
hat
and
gloves
and
stick
.
"
Mrs.
Trafford
in
?
"
asked
Trafford
.
"
She
said
she
would
be
in
by
four
,
sir
.
"
Trafford
glanced
at
his
watch
and
went
slowly
upstairs
.
On
the
landing
there
had
been
a
rearrangement
of
the
furniture
,
and
he
paused
to
survey
it
.
The
alterations
had
been
made
to
accommodate
a
big
cloisonné
jar
,
that
now
glowed
a
wonder
of
white
and
tinted
whites
and
luminous
blues
upon
a
dark
,
deep-shining
stand
.
He
noted
now
the
curtain
of
the
window
had
been
changed
from
something
—
surely
it
had
been
a
reddish
curtain
!
—
to
a
sharp
clear
blue
with
a
black
border
,
that
reflected
upon
and
sustained
and
encouraged
the
jar
tremendously
.
And
the
wall
behind
—
?
Yes
.
Its
deep
brown
was
darkened
to
an
absolute
black
behind
the
jar
,
and
shaded
up
between
the
lacquer
cabinets
on
either
hand
by
insensible
degrees
to
the
general
hue
.
It
was
wonderful
,
perfectly
harmonious
,
and
so
subtly
planned
that
it
seemed
it
all
might
have
grown
,
as
flowers
grow
...
.
He
entered
the
drawing-room
and
surveyed
its
long
and
handsome
spaces
.
Post-impressionism
was
over
and
gone
;
three
long
pictures
by
young
Rogerson
and
one
of
Redwood
's
gallant
bronzes
faced
the
tall
windows
between
the
white
marble
fireplaces
at
either
end
.
There
were
two
lean
jars
from
India
,
a
young
boy
's
head
from
Florence
,
and
in
a
great
bowl
in
the
remotest
corner
a
radiant
mass
of
azaleas
...
.
His
mood
of
wondering
at
familiar
things
was
still
upon
him
.
It
came
to
him
as
a
thing
absurd
and
incongruous
that
this
should
be
his
home
.
It
was
all
wonderfully
arranged
into
one
dignified
harmony
,
but
he
felt
now
that
at
a
touch
of
social
earthquake
,
with
a
mere
momentary
lapse
towards
disorder
,
it
would
degenerate
altogether
into
litter
,
lie
heaped
together
confessed
the
loot
it
was
.
He
came
to
a
stop
opposite
one
of
the
Rogersons
,
a
stiffly
self-conscious
shop
girl
in
her
Sunday
clothes
,
a
not
unsuccessful
emulation
of
Nicholson
's
wonderful
Mrs.
Stafford
of
Paradise
Row
.
Regarded
as
so
much
brown
and
grey
and
amber-gold
,
it
was
coherent
in
Marjorie
's
design
,
but
regarded
as
a
work
of
art
,
as
a
piece
of
expression
,
how
madly
irrelevant
was
its
humour
and
implications
to
that
room
and
the
purposes
of
that
room
!
Rogerson
was
n't
perhaps
trying
to
say
much
,
but
at
any
rate
he
was
trying
to
say
something
,
and
Redwood
too
was
asserting
freedom
and
adventure
,
and
the
thought
of
that
Florentine
of
the
bust
,
and
the
patient
,
careful
Indian
potter
,
and
every
maker
of
all
the
little
casual
articles
about
him
,
produced
an
effect
of
muffled
,
stifled
assertions
.
Against
this
subdued
and
disciplined
background
of
muted
,
inarticulate
cries
,
—
cries
for
beauty
,
for
delight
,
for
freedom
,
Marjorie
and
her
world
moved
and
rustled
and
chattered
and
competed
—
wearing
the
skins
of
beasts
,
the
love-plumage
of
birds
,
the
woven
cocoon
cases
of
little
silkworms
...
.
"
Preposterous
,
"
he
whispered
.
He
went
to
the
window
and
stared
out
;
turned
about
and
regarded
the
gracious
variety
of
that
long
,
well-lit
room
again
,
then
strolled
thoughtfully
upstairs
.
He
reached
the
door
of
his
study
,
and
a
sound
of
voices
from
the
schoolroom
—
it
had
recently
been
promoted
from
the
rank
of
day
nursery
to
this
level
—
caught
his
mood
.
He
changed
his
mind
,
crossed
the
landing
,
and
was
welcomed
with
shouts
.
The
rogues
had
been
dressing
up
.
Margharita
,
that
child
of
the
dreadful
dawn
,
was
now
a
sturdy
and
domineering
girl
of
eight
,
and
she
was
attired
in
a
gilt
paper
mitre
and
her
governess
's
white
muslin
blouse
so
tied
at
the
wrists
as
to
suggest
long
sleeves
,
a
broad
crimson
band
doing
duty
as
a
stole
.
She
was
Becket
prepared
for
martyrdom
at
the
foot
of
the
altar
.
Godwin
,
his
eldest
son
,
was
a
hot-tempered
,
pretty-featured
pleasantly
self-conscious
boy
of
nearly
seven
and
very
happy
now
in
a
white
dragoon
's
helmet
and
rude
but
effective
brown
paper
breastplate
and
greaves
,
as
the
party
of
assassin
knights
.
A
small
acolyte
in
what
was
in
all
human
probably
one
of
the
governess
's
more
intimate
linen
garments
assisted
Becket
,
while
the
general
congregation
of
Canterbury
was
represented
by
Edward
,
aged
two
,
and
the
governess
,
disguised
with
a
Union
Jack
tied
over
her
head
after
the
well-known
fashion
of
the
middle
ages
.
After
the
children
had
welcomed
their
father
and
explained
the
bloody
work
in
hand
,
they
returned
to
it
with
solemn
earnestness
,
while
Trafford
surveyed
the
tragedy
.
Godwin
slew
with
admirable
gusto
,
and
I
doubt
if
the
actual
Thomas
of
Canterbury
showed
half
the
stately
dignity
of
Margharita
.
The
scene
finished
,
they
went
on
to
the
penance
of
Henry
the
Second
;
and
there
was
a
tremendous
readjustment
of
costumes
,
with
much
consultation
and
secrecy
.
Trafford
's
eyes
went
from
his
offspring
to
the
long
,
white-painted
room
,
with
its
gay
frieze
of
ships
and
gulls
and
its
rug-variegated
cork
carpet
of
plain
brick
red
.
Everywhere
it
showed
his
wife
's
quick
cleverness
,
the
clean
serviceable
decorativeness
of
it
all
,
the
pretty
patterned
window
curtains
,
the
writing
desks
,
the
little
library
of
books
,
the
flowers
and
bulbs
in
glasses
,
the
counting
blocks
and
bricks
and
jolly
toys
,
the
blackboard
on
which
the
children
learnt
to
draw
in
bold
wide
strokes
,
the
big
,
well-chosen
German
colour
prints
upon
the
walls
.
And
the
children
did
credit
to
their
casket
;
they
were
not
only
full
of
vitality
but
full
of
ideas
,
even
Edward
was
already
a
person
of
conversation
.
They
were
good
stuff
anyhow
...
.
It
was
fine
in
a
sense
,
Trafford
thought
,
to
have
given
up
his
own
motives
and
curiosities
to
afford
this
airy
pleasantness
of
upbringing
for
them
,
and
then
came
a
qualifying
thought
.
Would
they
in
their
turn
for
the
sake
of
another
generation
have
to
give
up
fine
occupations
for
mean
occupations
,
deep
thoughts
for
shallow
?
Would
the
world
get
them
in
turn
?
Would
the
girls
be
hustled
and
flattered
into
advantageous
marriages
,
that
dinners
and
drawing-rooms
might
still
prevail
?
Would
the
boys
,
after
this
gracious
beginning
,
presently
have
to
swim
submerged
in
another
generation
of
Blenkinses
and
their
Talk
,
toil
in
arduous
self-seeking
,
observe
,
respect
and
manipulate
shams
,
succeed
or
fail
,
and
succeeding
,
beget
amidst
hope
and
beautiful
emotions
yet
another
generation
doomed
to
insincerities
and
accommodations
,
and
so
die
at
last
—
as
he
must
die
?
...
He
heard
his
wife
's
clear
voice
in
the
hall
below
,
and
went
down
to
meet
her
.
She
had
gone
into
the
drawing-room
,
and
he
followed
her
in
and
through
the
folding
doors
to
the
hinder
part
of
the
room
,
where
she
stood
ready
to
open
a
small
bureau
.
She
turned
at
his
approach
,
and
smiled
a
pleasant
,
habitual
smile
...
.
She
was
no
longer
the
slim
,
quick-moving
girl
who
had
come
out
of
the
world
to
him
when
he
crawled
from
beneath
the
wreckage
of
Solomonson
's
plane
,
no
longer
the
half-barbaric
young
beauty
who
had
been
revealed
to
him
on
the
staircase
of
the
Vevey
villa
.
She
was
now
a
dignified
,
self-possessed
woman
,
controlling
her
house
and
her
life
with
a
skilful
,
subtle
appreciation
of
her
every
point
and
possibility
.
She
was
wearing
now
a
simple
walking
dress
of
brownish
fawn
colour
,
and
her
hat
was
touched
with
a
steely
blue
that
made
her
blue
eyes
seem
handsome
and
hard
,
and
toned
her
hair
to
a
merely
warm
brown
.
She
had
,
as
it
were
,
subdued
her
fine
colours
into
a
sheath
in
order
that
she
might
presently
draw
them
again
with
more
effect
.
"
Hullo
,
old
man
!
"
she
said
,
"
you
home
?
"
He
nodded
.
"
The
club
bored
me
—
and
I
could
n't
work
.
"
Her
voice
had
something
of
a
challenge
and
defiance
in
it
.
"
I
've
been
looking
at
a
house
,
"
she
said
.
"
Alice
Carmel
told
me
of
it
.
It
is
n't
in
Berkeley
Square
,
but
it
's
near
it
.
It
's
rather
good
.
"
He
met
her
eye
.
"
That
's
—
premature
,
"
he
said
.
"
We
ca
n't
go
on
living
in
this
one
.
"
"
I
wo
n't
go
to
another
.
"
"
But
why
?
"
"
I
just
wo
n't
.
"
"
It
is
n't
the
money
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
Trafford
,
with
sudden
fierce
resentment
.
"
I
've
overtaken
you
and
beaten
you
there
,
Marjorie
.
"
She
stared
at
the
harsh
bitterness
of
his
voice
.
She
was
about
to
speak
when
the
door
opened
,
and
Malcom
ushered
in
Aunt
Plessington
and
Uncle
Hubert
.
Husband
and
wife
hung
for
a
moment
,
and
then
realized
their
talk
was
at
an
end
...
.
Marjorie
went
forward
to
greet
her
aunt
,
careless
now
of
all
that
once
stupendous
Influence
might
think
of
her
.
She
had
long
ceased
to
feel
even
the
triumph
of
victory
in
her
big
house
,
her
costly
,
dignified
clothes
,
her
assured
and
growing
social
importance
.
For
five
years
Aunt
Plessington
had
not
even
ventured
to
advise
;
had
once
or
twice
admired
.
All
that
business
of
Magnet
was
—
even
elaborately
—
forgotten
...
.
Seven
years
of
feverish
self-assertion
had
left
their
mark
upon
both
the
Plessingtons
.
She
was
leaner
,
more
gauntly
untidy
,
more
aggressively
ill-dressed
.
She
no
longer
dressed
carelessly
,
she
defied
the
world
with
her
clothes
,
waved
her
tattered
and
dingy
banners
in
its
face
.
Uncle
Hubert
was
no
fatter
,
but
in
some
queer
way
he
had
ceased
to
be
thin
.
Like
so
many
people
whose
peripheries
defy
the
manifest
quaint
purpose
of
Providence
,
he
was
in
a
state
of
thwarted
adiposity
,
and
with
all
the
disconnectedness
and
weak
irritability
characteristic
of
his
condition
.
He
had
developed
a
number
of
nervous
movements
,
chin-strokings
,
cheek-scratchings
,
and
incredulous
pawings
at
his
more
salient
features
.
"
Is
n't
it
a
lark
?
"
began
Aunt
Plessington
,
with
something
like
a
note
of
apprehension
in
her
highpitched
voice
,
and
speaking
almost
from
the
doorway
,
"
we
're
making
a
call
together
.
I
and
Hubert
!
It
's
an
attack
in
force
.
"
Uncle
Hubert
goggled
in
the
rear
and
stroked
his
chin
,
and
tried
to
get
together
a
sort
of
facial
expression
.
The
Traffords
made
welcoming
noises
,
and
Marjorie
advanced
to
meet
her
aunt
.
"
We
want
you
to
do
something
for
us
,
"
said
Aunt
Plessington
,
taking
two
hands
with
two
hands
...
.
In
the
intervening
years
the
Movement
had
had
ups
and
downs
;
it
had
had
a
boom
,
which
had
ended
abruptly
in
a
complete
loss
of
voice
for
Aunt
Plessington
—
she
had
tried
to
run
it
on
a
patent
non-stimulating
food
,
and
then
it
had
entangled
itself
with
a
new
cult
of
philanthropic
theosophy
from
which
it
had
been
extracted
with
difficulty
and
in
a
damaged
condition
.
It
had
never
completely
recovered
from
that
unhappy
association
.
Latterly
Aunt
Plessington
had
lost
her
nerve
,
and
she
had
taken
to
making
calls
upon
people
with
considerable
and
sometimes
embarrassing
demand
for
support
,
urging
them
to
join
committees
,
take
chairs
,
stake
reputations
,
speak
and
act
as
foils
for
her
.
If
they
refused
she
lost
her
temper
very
openly
and
frankly
,
and
became
industriously
vindictive
.
She
circulated
scandals
or
created
them
.
Her
old
assurance
had
deserted
her
;
the
strangulated
contralto
was
losing
its
magic
power
,
she
felt
,
in
this
degenerating
England
it
had
ruled
so
long
.
In
the
last
year
or
so
she
had
become
extremely
snappy
with
Uncle
Hubert
.
She
ascribed
much
of
the
Movement
's
futility
to
the
decline
of
his
administrative
powers
and
the
increasing
awkwardness
of
his
gestures
,
and
she
did
her
utmost
to
keep
him
up
to
the
mark
.
Her
only
method
of
keeping
him
up
to
the
mark
was
to
jerk
the
bit
.
She
had
now
come
to
compel
Marjorie
to
address
a
meeting
that
was
to
inaugurate
a
new
phase
in
the
Movement
's
history
,
and
she
wanted
Marjorie
because
she
particularly
wanted
a
daring
,
liberal
,
and
spiritually
amorous
bishop
,
who
had
once
told
her
with
a
note
of
profound
conviction
that
Marjorie
was
a
very
beautiful
woman
.
She
was
so
intent
upon
her
purpose
that
she
scarcely
noticed
Trafford
.
He
slipped
from
the
room
unobserved
under
cover
of
her
playful
preliminaries
,
and
went
to
the
untidy
little
apartment
overhead
which
served
in
that
house
as
his
study
.
He
sat
down
at
the
big
desk
,
pushed
his
methodically
arranged
papers
back
,
and
drummed
on
the
edge
with
his
fingers
.
"
I
'm
damned
if
we
have
that
bigger
house
,
"
said
Trafford
.
He
felt
he
wanted
to
confirm
and
establish
this
new
resolution
,
to
go
right
away
to
Labrador
for
a
year
.
He
wanted
to
tell
someone
the
thing
definitely
.
He
would
have
gone
downstairs
again
to
Marjorie
,
but
she
was
submerged
and
swimming
desperately
against
the
voluble
rapids
of
Aunt
Plessington
's
purpose
.
It
might
be
an
hour
before
that
attack
withdrew
.
Presently
there
would
be
other
callers
.
He
decided
to
have
tea
with
his
mother
and
talk
to
her
about
this
new
break
in
the
course
of
his
life
.
Except
that
her
hair
was
now
grey
and
her
brown
eyes
by
so
much
contrast
brighter
,
Mrs.
Trafford
's
appearance
had
altered
very
little
in
the
ten
years
of
her
only
son
's
marriage
.
Whatever
fresh
realizations
of
the
inevitably
widening
separation
between
parent
and
child
these
years
had
brought
her
,
she
had
kept
to
herself
.
She
had
watched
her
daughter-in-law
sometimes
with
sympathy
,
sometimes
with
perplexity
,
always
with
a
jealous
resolve
to
let
no
shadow
of
jealousy
fall
between
them
.
Marjorie
had
been
sweet
and
friendly
to
her
,
but
after
the
first
outburst
of
enthusiastic
affection
,
she
had
neither
offered
nor
invited
confidences
.
Old
Mrs.
Trafford
had
talked
of
Marjorie
to
her
son
guardedly
,
and
had
marked
and
respected
a
growing
indisposition
on
his
part
to
discuss
his
wife
.
For
a
year
or
so
after
his
marriage
she
had
ached
at
times
with
a
sense
of
nearly
intolerable
loneliness
,
and
then
the
new
interests
she
had
found
for
herself
had
won
their
way
against
this
depression
.
The
new
insurrectionary
movement
of
women
that
had
distinguished
those
years
had
attacked
her
by
its
emotion
and
repelled
her
by
its
crudity
,
and
she
had
resolved
,
quite
in
the
spirit
of
the
man
who
had
shaped
her
life
,
to
make
a
systematic
study
of
all
the
contributory
strands
that
met
in
this
difficult
tangle
.
She
tried
to
write
,
but
she
found
that
the
poetic
gift
,
the
gift
of
the
creative
and
illuminating
phrase
which
alone
justifies
writing
,
was
denied
to
her
,
and
so
she
sought
to
make
herself
wise
,
to
read
and
hear
,
and
discuss
and
think
over
these
things
,
and
perhaps
at
last
inspire
and
encourage
writing
in
others
.
Her
circle
of
intimates
grew
,
and
she
presently
remarked
with
a
curious
interest
that
while
she
had
lost
the
confidences
of
her
own
son
and
his
wife
,
she
was
becoming
the
confidant
of
an
increasing
number
of
other
people
.
They
came
to
her
,
she
perceived
,
because
she
was
receptive
and
sympathetic
and
without
a
claim
upon
them
or
any
interest
to
complicate
the
freedoms
of
their
speech
with
her
.
They
came
to
her
,
because
she
did
not
belong
to
them
nor
they
to
her
.
It
is
,
indeed
,
the
defect
of
all
formal
and
established
relationship
,
that
it
embarrasses
speech
,
and
taints
each
phase
in
intercourse
with
the
flavour
of
diplomacy
.
One
can
be
far
more
easily
outspoken
to
a
casual
stranger
one
may
never
see
again
than
to
that
inseparable
other
,
who
may
misinterpret
,
who
may
disapprove
or
misunderstand
,
and
who
will
certainly
in
the
measure
of
that
discord
remember
...
.
It
became
at
last
a
matter
of
rejoicing
to
Mrs.
Trafford
that
the
ties
of
the
old
instinctive
tenderness
between
herself
and
her
son
,
the
memories
of
pain
and
tears
and
the
passionate
conflict
of
childhood
,
were
growing
so
thin
and
lax
and
inconsiderable
,
that
she
could
even
hope
some
day
to
talk
to
him
again
—
almost
as
she
talked
to
the
young
men
and
young
women
who
drifted
out
of
the
unknown
to
her
and
sat
in
her
little
room
and
sought
to
express
their
perplexities
and
listened
to
her
advice
...
.
It
seemed
to
her
that
afternoon
the
wished-for
day
had
come
.
Trafford
found
her
just
returned
from
a
walk
in
Kensington
Gardens
and
writing
a
note
at
her
desk
under
the
narrow
sunlit
window
that
looked
upon
the
High
Street
.
"
Finish
your
letter
,
little
mother
,
"
he
said
,
and
took
possession
of
the
hearthrug
.
When
she
had
sealed
and
addressed
her
letter
,
she
turned
her
head
and
found
him
looking
at
his
father
's
portrait
.
"
Done
?
"
he
asked
,
becoming
aware
of
her
eyes
.
She
took
her
letter
into
the
hall
and
returned
to
him
,
closing
the
door
behind
her
.
"
I
'm
going
away
,
little
mother
,
"
he
said
with
an
unconvincing
off-handedness
.
"
I
'm
going
to
take
a
holiday
.
"
"
Alone
?
"
"
Yes
.
I
want
a
change
.
I
'm
going
off
somewhere
—
untrodden
ground
as
near
as
one
can
get
it
nowadays
—
Labrador
.
"
Their
eyes
met
for
a
moment
.
"
Is
it
for
long
?
"
"
The
best
part
of
a
year
.
"
"
I
thought
you
were
going
on
with
your
research
work
again
.
"
"
No.
"
He
paused
.
"
I
'm
going
to
Labrador
.
"
"
Why
?
"
she
asked
.
"
I
'm
going
to
think
.
"
She
found
nothing
to
say
for
a
moment
.
"
It
's
good
,
"
she
remarked
,
"
to
think
.
"
Then
,
lest
she
herself
should
seem
to
be
thinking
too
enormously
,
she
rang
the
bell
to
order
the
tea
that
was
already
on
its
way
.
"
It
surprises
a
mother
,
"
she
said
,
when
the
maid
had
come
and
gone
,
"
when
her
son
surprises
her
.
"
"
You
see
,
"
he
repeated
,
as
though
it
explained
everything
,
"
I
want
to
think
.
"
Then
after
a
pause
she
asked
some
questions
about
Labrador
;
was
n't
it
very
cold
,
very
desert
,
very
dangerous
and
bitter
,
and
he
answered
informingly
.
How
was
he
going
to
stay
there
?
He
would
go
up
the
country
with
an
expedition
,
build
a
hut
and
remain
behind
.
Alone
?
Yes
—
thinking
.
Her
eyes
rested
on
his
face
for
a
time
.
"
It
will
be
—
lonely
,
"
she
said
after
a
pause
.
She
saw
him
as
a
little
still
speck
against
immense
backgrounds
of
snowy
wilderness
.
The
tea-things
came
before
mother
and
son
were
back
at
essentials
again
.
Then
she
asked
abruptly
:
"
Why
are
you
going
away
like
this
?
"
"
I
'm
tired
of
all
this
business
and
finance
,
"
he
said
after
a
pause
.
"
I
thought
you
would
be
,
"
she
answered
as
deliberately
.
"
Yes
.
I
've
had
enough
of
things
.
I
want
to
get
clear
.
And
begin
again
somehow
.
"
She
felt
they
both
hung
away
from
the
essential
aspect
.
Either
he
or
she
must
approach
it
.
She
decided
that
she
would
,
that
it
was
a
less
difficult
thing
for
her
than
for
him
.
"
And
Marjorie
?
"
she
asked
.
He
looked
into
his
mother
's
eyes
very
quietly
.
"
You
see
,
"
he
went
on
deliberately
disregarding
her
question
,
"
I
'm
beached
.
I
'm
aground
.
I
'm
spoilt
now
for
the
old
researches
—
spoilt
altogether
.
And
I
do
n't
like
this
life
I
'm
leading
.
I
detest
it
.
While
I
was
struggling
it
had
a
kind
of
interest
.
There
was
an
excitement
in
piling
up
the
first
twenty
thousand
.
But
now
—
!
It
's
empty
,
it
's
aimless
,
it
's
incessant
...
.
"
He
paused
.
She
turned
to
the
tea-things
,
and
lit
the
spirit
lamp
under
the
kettle
.
It
seemed
a
little
difficult
to
do
,
and
her
hand
trembled
.
When
she
turned
on
him
again
it
was
with
an
effort
.
"
Does
Marjorie
like
the
life
you
are
leading
?
"
she
asked
,
and
pressed
her
lips
together
tightly
.
He
spoke
with
a
bitterness
in
his
voice
that
astonished
her
.
"
Oh
,
she
likes
it
.
"
"
Are
you
sure
?
"
He
nodded
.
"
She
wo
n't
like
it
without
you
.
"
"
Oh
,
that
's
too
much
!
It
's
her
world
.
It
's
what
she
's
done
—
what
she
's
made
.
She
can
have
it
;
she
can
keep
it
.
I
've
played
my
part
and
got
it
for
her
.
But
now
—
now
I
'm
free
to
go
.
I
will
go
.
She
's
got
everything
else
.
I
've
done
my
half
of
the
bargain
.
But
my
soul
's
my
own
.
If
I
want
to
go
away
and
think
,
I
will
.
Not
even
Marjorie
shall
stand
in
the
way
of
that
.
"
She
made
no
answer
to
this
outburst
for
a
couple
of
seconds
.
Then
she
threw
out
,
"
Why
should
n't
Marjorie
think
,
too
?
"
He
considered
that
for
some
moments
.
"
She
does
n't
,
"
he
said
,
as
though
the
words
came
from
the
roots
of
his
being
.
"
But
you
two
—
—
"
"
We
do
n't
talk
.
It
's
astonishing
—
how
we
do
n't
.
We
do
n't
.
We
ca
n't
.
We
try
to
,
and
we
ca
n't
.
And
she
goes
her
way
,
and
now
—
I
will
go
mine
.
"
"
And
leave
her
?
"
He
nodded
.
"
In
London
?
"
"
With
all
the
things
she
cares
for
.
"
"
Except
yourself
.
"
"
I
'm
only
a
means
—
—
"
She
turned
her
quiet
face
to
him
.
"
You
know
,
"
she
said
,
"
that
is
n't
true
.
"
...
"
No
,
"
she
repeated
,
to
his
silent
contradiction
.
"
I
've
watched
her
,
"
she
went
on
.
"
You
're
not
a
means
.
I
'd
have
spoken
long
ago
if
I
had
thought
that
.
Have
n't
I
watched
?
Have
n't
I
lain
awake
through
long
nights
thinking
about
her
and
you
,
thinking
over
every
casual
mood
,
every
little
sign
—
longing
to
help
—
helpless
.
"
...
She
struggled
with
herself
,
for
she
was
weeping
.
"
It
has
come
to
this
,
"
she
said
in
a
whisper
,
and
choked
back
a
flood
of
tears
.
Trafford
stood
motionless
,
watching
her
.
She
became
active
.
She
moved
round
the
table
.
She
looked
at
the
kettle
,
moved
the
cups
needlessly
,
made
tea
,
and
stood
waiting
for
a
moment
before
she
poured
it
out
.
"
It
's
so
hard
to
talk
to
you
,
"
she
said
,
"
and
about
all
this
...
.
I
care
so
much
.
For
her
.
And
for
you
...
.
Words
do
n't
come
,
dear
...
.
One
says
stupid
things
.
"
She
poured
out
the
tea
,
and
left
the
cups
steaming
,
and
came
and
stood
before
him
.
"
You
see
,
"
she
said
,
"
you
're
ill.
You
are
n't
just
.
You
've
come
to
an
end
.
You
do
n't
know
where
you
are
and
what
you
want
to
do
.
Neither
does
she
,
my
dear
.
She
's
as
aimless
as
you
—
and
less
able
to
help
it
.
Ever
so
much
less
able
.
"
"
But
she
does
n't
show
it
.
She
goes
on
.
She
wants
things
and
wants
things
—
—
"
"
And
you
want
to
go
away
.
It
's
the
same
thing
.
It
's
exactly
the
same
thing
.
It
's
dissatisfaction
.
Life
leaves
you
empty
and
craving
—
leaves
you
with
nothing
to
do
but
little
immediate
things
that
turn
to
dust
as
you
do
them
.
It
's
her
trouble
,
just
as
it
's
your
trouble
.
"
"
But
she
does
n't
show
it
.
"
"
Women
do
n't
.
Not
so
much
.
Perhaps
even
she
does
n't
know
it
.
Half
the
women
in
our
world
do
n't
know
—
and
for
a
woman
it
's
so
much
easier
to
go
on
—
so
many
little
things
.
"
...
Trafford
tried
to
grasp
the
intention
of
this
.
"
Mother
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
mean
to
go
away
.
"
"
But
think
of
her
!
"
"
I
've
thought
.
Now
I
've
got
to
think
of
myself
.
"
"
You
ca
n't
—
without
her
.
"
"
I
will
.
It
's
what
I
'm
resolved
to
do
.
"
"
Go
right
away
?
"
"
Right
away
.
"
"
And
think
?
"
He
nodded
.
"
Find
out
—
what
it
all
means
,
my
boy
?
"
"
Yes
.
So
far
as
I
'm
concerned
.
"
"
And
then
—
—
?
"
"
Come
back
,
I
suppose
.
I
have
n't
thought
.
"
"
To
her
?
"
He
did
n't
answer
.
She
went
and
stood
beside
him
,
leaning
upon
the
mantel
.
"
Godwin
,
"
she
said
,
"
she
'd
only
be
further
behind
...
.
You
've
got
to
take
her
with
you
.
"
He
stood
still
and
silent
.
"
You
've
got
to
think
things
out
with
her
.
If
you
do
n't
—
—
"
"
I
ca
n't
.
"
"
Then
you
ought
to
go
away
with
her
—
—
"
She
stopped
.
"
For
good
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Yes
.
"
They
were
both
silent
for
a
space
.
Then
Mrs.
Trafford
gave
her
mind
to
the
tea
that
was
cooling
in
the
cups
,
and
added
milk
and
sugar
.
She
spoke
again
with
the
table
between
them
.
"
I
've
thought
so
much
of
these
things
,
"
she
said
with
the
milk-jug
in
her
hand
.
"
It
's
not
only
you
two
,
but
others
.
And
all
the
movement
about
us
...
.
Marriage
is
n't
what
it
was
.
It
's
become
a
different
thing
because
women
have
become
human
beings
.
Only
—
—
You
know
,
Godwin
,
all
these
things
are
so
difficult
to
express
.
Woman
's
come
out
of
being
a
slave
,
and
yet
she
is
n't
an
equal
...
.
We
've
had
a
sort
of
sham
emancipation
,
and
we
have
n't
yet
come
to
the
real
one
.
"
She
put
down
the
milk-jug
on
the
tray
with
an
air
of
grave
deliberation
.
"
If
you
go
away
from
her
and
make
the
most
wonderful
discoveries
about
life
and
yourself
,
it
's
no
good
—
unless
she
makes
them
too
.
It
's
no
good
at
all
...
.
You
ca
n't
live
without
her
in
the
end
,
any
more
than
she
can
live
without
you
.
You
may
think
you
can
,
but
I
've
watched
you
.
You
do
n't
want
to
go
away
from
her
,
you
want
to
go
away
from
the
world
that
's
got
hold
of
her
,
from
the
dresses
and
parties
and
the
competition
and
all
this
complicated
flatness
we
have
to
live
in
...
.
It
would
n't
worry
you
a
bit
,
if
it
had
n't
got
hold
of
her
.
You
do
n't
want
to
get
out
of
it
for
your
own
sake
.
You
are
out
of
it
.
You
are
as
much
out
of
it
as
any
one
can
be
.
Only
she
holds
you
in
it
,
because
she
is
n't
out
of
it
.
Your
going
away
will
do
nothing
.
She
'll
still
be
in
it
—
and
still
have
her
hold
on
you
...
.
You
've
got
to
take
her
away
.
Or
else
—
if
you
go
away
—
in
the
end
it
will
be
just
like
a
ship
,
Godwin
,
coming
back
to
its
moorings
.
"
She
watched
his
thoughtful
face
for
some
moments
,
then
arrested
herself
just
in
time
in
the
act
of
putting
a
second
portion
of
sugar
into
each
of
the
cups
.
She
handed
her
son
his
tea
,
and
he
took
it
mechanically
.
"
You
're
a
wise
little
mother
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
did
n't
see
things
in
that
light
...
.
I
wonder
if
you
're
right
.
"
"
I
know
I
am
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
've
thought
more
and
more
,
—
it
was
Marjorie
.
"
"
It
's
the
world
.
"
"
Women
made
the
world
.
All
the
dress
and
display
and
competition
.
"
Mrs.
Trafford
thought
.
"
Sex
made
the
world
.
Neither
men
nor
women
.
But
the
world
has
got
hold
of
the
women
tighter
than
it
has
the
men
.
They
're
deeper
in
.
"
She
looked
up
into
his
face
.
"
Take
her
with
you
,
"
she
said
,
simply
.
"
She
wo
n't
come
,
"
said
Trafford
,
after
considering
it
.
Mrs.
Trafford
reflected
.
"
She
'll
come
—
if
you
make
her
,
"
she
said
.
"
She
'll
want
to
bring
two
housemaids
.
"
"
I
do
n't
think
you
know
Marjorie
as
well
as
I
do
.
"
"
But
she
ca
n't
—
—
"
"
She
can
.
It
's
you
—
you
'll
want
to
take
two
housemaids
for
her
.
Even
you
...
.
Men
are
not
fair
to
women
.
"
Trafford
put
his
untasted
tea
upon
the
mantelshelf
,
and
confronted
his
mother
with
a
question
point
blank
.
"
Does
Marjorie
care
for
me
?
"
he
asked
.
"
You
're
the
sun
of
her
world
.
"
"
But
she
goes
her
way
.
"
"
She
's
clever
,
she
's
full
of
life
,
full
of
activities
,
eager
to
make
and
arrange
and
order
;
but
there
's
nothing
she
is
,
nothing
she
makes
,
that
does
n't
centre
on
you
.
"
"
But
if
she
cared
,
she
'd
understand
!
"
"
My
dear
,
do
you
understand
?
"
He
stood
musing
.
"
I
had
everything
clear
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
saw
my
way
to
Labrador
...
.
"
Her
little
clock
pinged
the
hour
.
"
Good
God
!
"
he
said
,
"
I
'm
to
be
at
dinner
somewhere
at
seven
.
We
're
going
to
a
first
night
.
With
the
Bernards
,
I
think
.
Then
I
suppose
we
'll
have
a
supper
.
Always
life
is
being
slashed
to
tatters
by
these
things
.
Always
.
One
thinks
in
snatches
of
fifty
minutes
.
It
's
dementia
...
.
"
They
dined
at
the
Loretto
Restaurant
with
the
Bernards
and
Richard
Hampden
and
Mrs.
Godwin
Capes
,
the
dark-eyed
,
quiet-mannered
wife
of
the
dramatist
,
a
woman
of
impulsive
speech
and
long
silences
,
who
had
subsided
from
an
early
romance
(
Capes
had
been
divorced
for
her
while
she
was
still
a
mere
girl
)
into
a
markedly
correct
and
exclusive
mother
of
daughters
.
Through
the
dinner
Marjorie
was
watching
Trafford
and
noting
the
deep
preoccupation
of
his
manner
.
He
talked
a
little
to
Mrs.
Bernard
until
it
was
time
for
Hampden
to
entertain
her
,
then
finding
Mrs.
Capes
was
interested
in
Bernard
,
he
lapsed
into
thought
.
Presently
Marjorie
discovered
his
eyes
scrutinizing
herself
.
She
hoped
the
play
would
catch
his
mind
,
but
the
play
seemed
devised
to
intensify
his
sense
of
the
tawdry
unreality
of
contemporary
life
.
Bernard
filled
the
intervals
with
a
conventional
enthusiasm
.
Capes
did
n't
appear
.
"
He
does
n't
seem
to
care
to
see
his
things
,
"
his
wife
explained
.
"
It
's
so
brilliant
,
"
said
Bernard
.
"
He
has
to
do
it
,
"
said
Mrs.
Capes
slowly
,
her
sombre
eyes
estimating
the
crowded
stalls
below
.
"
It
is
n't
what
he
cares
to
do
.
"
The
play
was
in
fact
an
admirable
piece
of
English
stagecraft
,
and
it
dealt
exclusively
with
that
unreal
other
world
of
beings
the
English
theatre
has
for
its
own
purposes
developed
.
Just
as
Greece
through
the
ages
evolved
and
polished
and
perfected
the
idealized
life
of
its
Homeric
poems
,
so
the
British
mind
has
evolved
their
Stage
Land
to
embody
its
more
honourable
dreams
,
full
of
heroic
virtues
,
incredible
honour
,
genial
worldliness
,
childish
villainies
,
profound
but
amiable
waiters
and
domestics
,
pathetic
shepherds
and
preposterous
crimes
.
Capes
,
needing
an
income
,
had
mastered
the
habits
and
customs
of
this
imagined
world
as
one
learns
a
language
;
success
endorsed
his
mastery
;
he
knew
exactly
how
deeply
to
underline
an
irony
and
just
when
it
is
fit
and
proper
for
a
good
man
to
call
upon
"
God
!
"
or
cry
out
"
Damn
!
"
In
this
play
he
had
invented
a
situation
in
which
a
charming
and
sympathetic
lady
had
killed
a
gross
and
drunken
husband
in
self-defence
,
almost
but
not
quite
accidentally
,
and
had
then
appealed
to
the
prodigious
hero
for
assistance
in
the
resulting
complications
.
At
a
great
cost
of
mental
suffering
to
himself
he
had
told
his
First
and
Only
Lie
to
shield
her
.
Then
years
after
he
had
returned
to
England
—
the
first
act
happened
,
of
course
in
India
—
to
find
her
on
the
eve
of
marrying
,
without
any
of
the
preliminary
confidences
common
among
human
beings
,
an
old
school
friend
of
his
.
(
In
plays
all
Gentlemen
have
been
at
school
together
,
and
one
has
been
the
other
's
fag
.
)
The
audience
had
to
be
interested
in
the
problem
of
what
the
prodigious
hero
was
to
do
in
this
prodigious
situation
.
Should
he
maintain
a
colossal
silence
,
continue
his
shielding
,
and
let
his
friend
marry
the
murderess
saved
by
his
perjury
,
or
—
—
?
...
The
dreadful
quandary
!
Indeed
,
the
absolute
—
inconvenience
!
Marjorie
watched
Trafford
in
the
corner
of
the
box
,
as
he
listened
rather
contemptuously
to
the
statement
of
the
evening
's
Problem
and
then
lapsed
again
into
a
brooding
quiet
.
She
wished
she
understood
his
moods
better
.
She
felt
there
was
more
in
this
than
a
mere
resentment
at
her
persistence
about
the
new
house
...
.
Why
did
n't
he
go
on
with
things
?
...
This
darkling
mood
of
his
had
only
become
manifest
to
her
during
the
last
three
or
four
years
of
their
life
.
Previously
,
of
course
,
he
had
been
irritable
at
times
.
Were
they
less
happy
now
than
they
had
been
in
the
little
house
in
Chelsea
?
It
had
really
been
a
horrible
little
house
.
And
yet
there
had
been
a
brightness
then
—
a
nearness
...
.
She
found
her
mind
wandering
away
upon
a
sort
of
stock-taking
expedition
.
How
much
of
real
happiness
had
she
and
Trafford
had
together
?
They
ought
by
every
standard
to
be
so
happy
...
.
She
declined
the
Bernard
's
invitation
to
a
chafing-dish
supper
,
and
began
to
talk
so
soon
as
she
and
Trafford
had
settled
into
the
car
.
"
Rag
,
"
she
said
,
"
something
's
the
matter
?
"
"
Well
—
yes
.
"
"
The
house
?
"
"
Yes
—
the
house
.
"
Marjorie
considered
through
a
little
interval
.
"
Old
man
,
why
are
you
so
prejudiced
against
a
bigger
house
?
"
"
Oh
,
because
the
one
we
have
bores
me
,
and
the
next
one
will
bore
me
more
.
"
"
But
try
it
.
"
"
I
do
n't
want
to
.
"
"
Well
,
"
she
said
and
lapsed
into
silence
.
"
And
then
,
"
he
asked
,
"
what
are
we
going
to
do
?
"
"
Going
to
do
—
when
?
"
"
After
the
new
house
—
—
"
"
I
'm
going
to
open
out
,
"
she
said
.
He
made
no
answer
.
"
I
want
to
open
out
.
I
want
you
to
take
your
place
in
the
world
,
the
place
you
deserve
.
"
"
A
four-footman
place
?
"
"
Oh
!
the
house
is
only
a
means
.
"
He
thought
upon
that
.
"
A
means
,
"
he
asked
,
"
to
what
?
Look
here
,
Marjorie
,
what
do
you
think
you
are
up
to
with
me
and
yourself
?
What
do
you
see
me
doing
—
in
the
years
ahead
?
"
She
gave
him
a
silent
and
thoughtful
profile
for
a
second
or
so
.
"
At
first
I
suppose
you
are
going
on
with
your
researches
.
"
"
Well
?
"
"
Then
—
—
I
must
tell
you
what
I
think
of
you
,
Rag
.
Politics
—
—
"
"
Good
Lord
!
"
"
You
've
a
sort
of
power
.
You
could
make
things
noble
.
"
"
And
then
?
Office
?
"
"
Why
not
?
Look
at
the
little
men
they
are
.
"
"
And
then
perhaps
a
still
bigger
house
?
"
"
You
're
not
fair
to
me
.
"
He
pulled
up
the
bearskin
over
his
knees
.
"
Marjorie
!
"
he
said
.
"
You
see
—
—
We
are
n't
going
to
do
any
of
those
things
at
all
...
.
No
!
...
"
"
I
ca
n't
go
on
with
my
researches
,
"
he
explained
.
"
That
's
what
you
do
n't
understand
.
I
'm
not
able
to
get
back
to
work
.
I
shall
never
do
any
good
research
again
.
That
's
the
real
trouble
,
Marjorie
,
and
it
makes
all
the
difference
.
As
for
politics
—
—
I
ca
n't
touch
politics
.
I
despise
politics
.
I
think
this
empire
and
the
monarchy
and
Lords
and
Commons
and
patriotism
and
social
reform
and
all
the
rest
of
it
,
silly
,
silly
beyond
words
;
temporary
,
accidental
,
foolish
,
a
mere
stop-gap
—
like
a
gipsey
's
roundabout
in
a
place
where
one
will
presently
build
a
house
...
.
You
do
n't
help
make
the
house
by
riding
on
the
roundabout
...
.
There
's
no
clear
knowledge
—
no
clear
purpose
...
.
Only
research
matters
—
and
expression
perhaps
—
I
suppose
expression
is
a
sort
of
research
—
until
we
get
that
—
that
sufficient
knowledge
.
And
you
see
,
I
ca
n't
take
up
my
work
again
.
I
've
lost
something
...
.
"
She
waited
.
"
I
've
got
into
this
stupid
struggle
for
winning
money
,
"
he
went
on
,
"
and
I
feel
like
a
woman
must
feel
who
's
made
a
success
of
prostitution
.
I
've
been
prostituted
.
I
feel
like
some
one
fallen
and
diseased
...
.
Business
and
prostitution
;
they
're
the
same
thing
.
All
business
is
a
sort
of
prostitution
,
all
prostitution
is
a
sort
of
business
.
Why
should
one
sell
one
's
brains
any
more
than
one
sells
one
's
body
?
...
It
's
so
easy
to
succeed
if
one
has
good
brains
and
cares
to
do
it
,
and
does
n't
let
one
's
attention
or
imagination
wander
—
and
it
's
so
degrading
.
Hopelessly
degrading
...
.
I
'm
sick
of
this
life
,
Marjorie
.
I
do
n't
want
to
buy
things
.
I
'm
sick
of
buying
.
I
'm
at
an
end
.
I
'm
clean
at
an
end
.
It
's
exactly
as
though
suddenly
in
walking
through
a
great
house
one
came
on
a
passage
that
ended
abruptly
in
a
door
,
which
opened
—
on
nothing
!
Nothing
!
"
"
This
is
a
mood
,
"
she
whispered
to
his
pause
.
"
It
is
n't
a
mood
,
it
's
a
fact
...
.
I
've
got
nothing
ahead
,
and
I
do
n't
know
how
to
get
back
.
My
life
's
no
good
to
me
any
more
.
I
've
spent
myself
.
"
She
looked
at
him
with
dismayed
eyes
.
"
But
,
"
she
said
,
"
this
is
a
mood
.
"
"
No
,
"
he
said
,
"
no
mood
,
but
conviction
.
I
know
...
.
"
He
started
.
The
car
had
stopped
at
their
house
,
and
Malcolm
was
opening
the
door
of
the
car
.
They
descended
silently
,
and
went
upstairs
in
silence
.
He
came
into
her
room
presently
and
sat
down
by
her
fireside
.
She
had
gone
to
her
dressing-table
and
unfastened
a
necklace
;
now
with
this
winking
and
glittering
in
her
hand
she
came
and
stood
beside
him
.
"
Rag
,
"
she
said
,
"
I
do
n't
know
what
to
say
.
This
is
n't
so
much
of
a
surprise
...
.
I
felt
that
somehow
life
was
disappointing
you
,
that
I
was
disappointing
you
.
I
've
felt
it
endless
times
,
but
more
so
lately
.
I
have
n't
perhaps
dared
to
let
myself
know
just
how
much
...
.
But
is
n't
it
what
life
is
?
Does
n't
every
wife
disappoint
her
husband
?
We
're
none
of
us
inexhaustible
.
After
all
,
we
've
had
a
good
time
;
is
n't
it
a
little
ungrateful
to
forget
?
...
"
"
Look
here
,
Rag
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
do
n't
know
what
to
do
.
If
I
did
know
,
I
would
do
it
...
.
What
are
we
to
do
?
"
"
Think
,
"
he
suggested
.
"
We
've
got
to
live
as
well
as
think
.
"
"
It
's
the
immense
troublesome
futility
of
—
everything
,
"
he
said
.
"
Well
—
let
us
cease
to
be
futile
.
Let
us
do
.
You
say
there
is
no
grip
for
you
in
research
,
that
you
despise
politics
...
.
There
's
no
end
of
trouble
and
suffering
.
Cannot
we
do
social
work
,
social
reform
,
change
the
lives
of
others
less
fortunate
than
ourselves
...
.
"
"
Who
are
we
that
we
should
tamper
with
the
lives
of
others
?
"
"
But
one
must
do
something
.
"
He
thought
that
over
.
"
No
,
"
he
said
"
that
's
the
universal
blunder
nowadays
.
One
must
do
the
right
thing
.
And
we
do
n't
know
the
right
thing
,
Marjorie
.
That
's
the
very
heart
of
the
trouble
...
.
Does
this
life
satisfy
you
?
If
it
did
would
you
always
be
so
restless
?
...
"
"
But
,
"
she
said
,
"
think
of
the
good
things
in
life
?
"
"
It
's
just
the
good
,
the
exquisite
things
in
life
,
that
make
me
rebel
against
this
life
we
are
leading
.
It
's
because
I
've
seen
the
streaks
of
gold
that
I
know
the
rest
for
dirt
.
When
I
go
cheating
and
scheming
to
my
office
,
and
come
back
to
find
you
squandering
yourself
upon
a
horde
of
chattering
,
overdressed
women
,
when
I
think
that
that
is
our
substance
and
everyday
and
what
we
are
,
then
it
is
I
remember
