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Title:Themakingofabigot

Author:RoseMacaulay

ReleaseDate:January17,2016[EBook#50953]

Language:English

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THEMAKINGOFABIGOT

THEMAKINGOFABIGOT

BYROSEMACAULAY

Authorof“TheLeeShore,”“ViewsandVagabonds,”etc.

HODDERANDSTOUGHTONLONDONNEWYORKTORONTO

TOD.F.C.

“Howvariousisman!Howmultipliedhisexperience,hisoutlook,hisconclusions!”—H.BELLOC.“Andeverysingleoneofthemisright.”—R.KIPLING.“The rational human faith must armour itself with prejudice in an age of prejudices.”—G. K.

CHESTERTON.

CONTENTS

PAGE

CHAPTERI.

CAMBRIDGE 9

CHAPTERII.

ST.GREGORY’S 21

CHAPTERIII.

PLEASANCECOURT 38

CHAPTERIV.

HEATHERMERE 52

CHAPTERV.

DATCHERDANDTHEVICAR 62

CHAPTERVI.

THEDEANERYANDTHEHALL 80

CHAPTERVII.

VISITORSATTHEDEANERY 102

CHAPTERVIII.

THEVISITORSGO 127

CHAPTERIX.

THECLUB 142

CHAPTERX.

DATCHERD’SRETURN 167

CHAPTERXI.

THECOUNTRY 189

CHAPTERXII.

HYDEPARKTERRACE 209

CHAPTERXIII.

MOLLY 230

CHAPTERXIV.

UNITY 254

CHAPTERXV.

ARNOLD 270

CHAPTERXVI.

EILEEN 276

CHAPTERXVII.

CONVERSION 286

CHAPTERI.

CAMBRIDGE.

ITwasTrinitySunday,fullofbuttercupsandcuckoosandthesun.InCambridgeitwasaScarletDay.Incolleges,peoplestrugglingthroughadesertofTripospapersorMaysrestedtheirsoulsforabriefspacein a green oasis, and took their lunch up the river. In Sunday schools, teachers were telling of theshamrock, that ill-considered and peculiarly inappropriate image conceived by a hard-pressed saint.Everywherepeoplewerebeingordained.

MissJamisonmetEddyOliverinPettyCury,whileshewasdoingsomehouse-to-housevisitingwitha bundle of leaflets that looked like tracts. She looked at himvaguely, then suddenly began to take aninterestinhim.

“Ofcourse,”shesaid,withdecision,“you’vegottojoin,too.”“Rather,”hesaid.“Tellmewhatitis.I’msureit’sfulloftruth.”“It’stheNationalServiceLeague.I’maworkingassociate,andI’mpersuadingpeopletojoin.It’sa

goodthing,really.Wereyouatthemeetingyesterday?”“No,Imissedthat.Iwasatanothermeeting,inpointoffact.Ioftenam,youknow.”Hesaiditwitha

touchofmildperplexity.Itwassotrue.Shewasturningoverthesheafoftracts.“Letmesee:whichwillmeetyourcase?LeafletM,theModernSisyphus—that’sapictureone,and

morefor thepoor;sosimpleandgraphic.P isbetter foryou.HAVEYOUEVERTHOUGHTwhatwar is,andwhatitwouldbeliketohaveitragingroundyourownhome?HAVEYOUEVERTHOUGHTwhatyourfeelingswouldbeifyouheardthatanenemyhadlandedontheseshores,andyouknewthatyouwereignorantofthemeansbywhichyoucouldhelptodefendyourcountryandyourhome?YOUPROBABLYTHINKthatifyouareamemberofarifleclub,andknowhowtoshoot,youhavedoneallthatisneeded.But—well,youhaven’t, and so on, you know.You’d better take P.AndQ.Q says ‘Are you aLiberal?Then join theLeague,because,etc.AreyouaDemocrat?AreyouaSocialist?AreyouaConservative?Areyou——’”

“Yes,”saidEddy,“I’meverythingofthatsort.Itwon’tbeabletothinkofanythingI’mnot.”Shethoughthewasbeingfunny,thoughhewasn’t;hewasspeakingthesimpletruth.“Anyhow,” she said, “you’ll find good reasons therewhy you should join,whatever you are. Just

think, you know, suppose theGermans landed.” She supposed that for a little, then got on to physicaltrainingandmilitarydiscipline,howimportanttheyare.

Eddy said when she paused, “Quite. I think you are utterly right.” He always did, when anyoneexplainedanythingtohim;hewaslikethat;hehadareceptivemind.

“Youcanbecome,”saidMissJamison,gettingtothegistofthematter,“aguineamember,orapennyadherent,orashillingassociate,oramoreclassysortofassociate,thatpaysfiveshillingsandgetsallkindsofliterature.”

“I’llbethat,”saidEddyOliver,wholikednearlyallkindsofliterature.SoMissJamisongotoutherbookofvouchersonthespot,andenrolledhim,receivingfiveshillings

andpresentingabluebuttononwhichwasinscribedtheremark,“ThePathofDutyisthePathofSafety.”“Sotrue,”saidEddy.“Ajollygoodmotto.AjollygoodLeague.I’lltelleveryoneImeettojoin.”“There’llbeanothermeeting,”saidMissJamison,“nextThursday.Ofcourseyou’llcome.Wewanta

goodaudiencethistime,ifpossible.Weneverhaveone,youknow.There’llbelanternslides,illustrating

invasionasitwouldbenow,andinvasionasitwouldbeweretheNationalServiceLeagueBillpassed.Tremendouslyexciting.”

Eddy made a note of it in his Cambridge Pocket Diary, a small and profusely inscribed volumewithoutwhichhenevermoved,ashisengagementswerenumerous,andhisheadnotstrong.

He wrote below June 8th, “N.S.L., 8 p.m., Guildhall, small room.” For the same date he hadpreviously inscribed, “Fabians, 7.15,VictoriaAssemblyRooms,” “E.C.U. ProtestMeeting,Guildhall,largeroom,2.15,”and“PrimroseLeagueFête,GreatShelfordManor,3p.m.”Hebelongedtoallthesesocieties(theyareallsoutterlyright)andmanyothersmoreesoteric,andledacomplexandvariedlife,fulloffaithandhope.Withsomanyrightpointsofviewin theworld,somanyadmirable, ifdiffering,faiths,whither,hedemanded,mightnothumanityrise?Himself,hejoinedeverythingthatcamehisway,fromVegetarian Societies toHeretic Clubs andRitualist Guilds; all, for him,were full of truth. Thisattitude of omni-acceptance sometimes puzzled and worried less receptive and more single-mindedpersons;theywereknownattimeseventoaccusehim,withtragicinjustice,ofinsincerity.Whentheydidso,hesawhowrighttheywere;heentirelysympathisedwiththeirpointofview.

Atthistimehewasnearlytwenty-three,andnearlyattheendofhisCambridgecareer.Inpersonhewasaslightyouth,withintelligenthazeleyesundersympatheticbrows,andeasilyruffledbrownhair,andageneralairof receptive impressionability.Cladnotunsuitably ingreyflannelsand thesofthatof theyear(softhatsvaryimportantlyfromagetoage),hestrolleddownKing’sParade.Therehemetamanofhisowncollege; thiswas liable tooccur inKing’sParade.Themansaidhewasgoing to teawithhispeople, and Eddy was to come too. Eddy did so. He liked the Denisons; they were full of generousenthusiasm for certain things—(not, likeEddyhimself, for everything).TheywantedVotes forWomen,andLibertyforDistressedRussians,andspinning-loomsforeveryone.TheyhadinspiredEddytowantthesethings,too;hebelonged,indeed,tosocietiesforpromotingeachofthem.Ontheotherhand,theydidnot want Tariff Reform, or Conscription, or Prayer Book Revision (for they seldom read the PrayerBook), and if they had known that Eddy belonged also to societies for promoting these objects, theywouldhaveremonstratedwithhim.

ProfessorDenisonwasaquietperson,whosaidlittle,butlistenedtohiswifeandchildren.Hehadmuchsenseofhumour,andsomeimagination.Hewasfifty-five.Mrs.Denisonwasasmallandengaginglady,atremendousworkeringoodcauses;shehadlittlesenseofhumour,andavivid,ifoftenmisapplied,imagination. Shewas forty-six.Her sonArnoldwas tall, lean, cynical, intelligent, edited a universitymagazine(themostinterestingofthem),waspresidentofaConversationSociety,andwasjustgoingintohisuncle’spublishinghouse.Hehadplentyofsenseofhumour(ifhehadhadless,hewouldhaveboredhimself todeath),andanimaginationkeptwithinduebounds.Hewastwenty-three.HissisterMargerywasalsointelligent,but,notwithstandingthis,hadrecentlypublishedabookofverse;someofitwasnotsobadasagreatmanypeople’sverse.Shealsodesignedwall-papers,whichonthewholeshedidbetter.Shehadanunequalsenseofhumour,keen incertaindirections,blunt inothers, likemostpeople’s; thesamedescriptionappliestoherimagination.Shewastwenty-two.

EddyandArnoldfoundthemhavingtea in thegarden,with twobrownundergraduatesandawhiteone. The Denisons belonged to the East andWest Society, which tries to effect a union between thenativesofthesetwoquartersoftheglobe.Ithasconversazioni,atwhichthebrownmencongregateatoneend of the room and thewhitemen at the other, and both, one hopes, are happy. This afternoonMrs.Denisonandherdaughterwereeachtalkingtoabrownyoungman(DowningandChrist’s),andthewhiteyoungman(TrinityHall)wasbeingsilentwithProfessorDenison,becauseEastisEastandWestisWest,andneverthetwainshallmeet,andreally,youcan’t talktoblacks.ArnoldjoinedtheWest;Eddy,whobelongedtotheabove-mentionedsociety,helpedMissDenisontotalktoherblack.

RathersoontheEastwent,andtheWestbecamehappier.

MissDenison said, “Dorothy Jamison came round this afternoon, wanting us to join the NationalServiceLeagueorsomething.”

Mrs.Denisonsaid,snippily,“Dorothyoughttoknowbetter,”atthesamemomentthatEddysaid,“It’sajollylittleLeague,apparently.Quitefulloftruth.”

TheHallmansaidthathisgovernorwasasecretaryorsomethingathome,andkepthavingpeopledown to speak atmeetings. So he and theDenisons argued about it, tillMargery said, “Oh, well, ofcourse,you’rehopeless.ButIdon’tknowwhatEddymeansbyit.Youdon’twanttoencouragemilitarism,surely,Eddy.”

Eddy said surely yes, shouldn’t one encourage everything? But really, and no ragging, Margerypersisted,hedidn’tbelongtoathinglikethat?

Eddyshowedhisbluebutton.“Rather,Ido.HAVEYOUEVERTHOUGHTwhatwaris,andwhatitwouldbeliketohaveitraginground

yourownhome?Areyouademocrat?ThenjointheLeague.”“Idiot,”saidMargery,whoknewhimwellenoughtocallhimso.“Hebelievesineverything.Ibelieveinnothing,”Arnoldexplained.“Heaccepts;Irefuse.Helikes

threelumpsofsugarinhistea;Ilikenone.Hehadbetterbeajournalist,andwritefortheDailyMail,theClarion,andtheSpectator.”

“Whatareyougoingtodowhenyougodown?”MargeryaskedEddy,suspiciously.Eddyblushed,becausehewasgoingforatimetoworkinaChurchsettlement.Amanheknewwasa

clergymanthere,andhadconvincedhimthatitwashisdutyandhemust.TheDenisonsdidnotcareaboutChurchsettlements,onlysecularones;that,andbecausehehadaclear,paleskinthatshowedeverything,waswhyheblushed.

“I’mgoingtoworkwithsomemeninSouthwark,”hesaid,embarrassed.“Anyhow,foratime.Helpwithboys’clubs,youknow,andsoon.”

“Parsons?”inquiredArnold,andEddyadmittedit,whereuponArnoldchangedthesubject;hehadnoconcernwithParsons.

TheDenisonsweresoshockedatEddy,thattheylettheHallmantalkabouttheSouthAfricanmatchforquitetwominutes.Theywereprobablyafraidthatiftheydidn’tEddymighttalkabouttheC.I.C.C.U.,which would be infinitely worse. Eddy was perhaps the only man at the moment in Cambridge whobelongedsimultaneouslytotheC.I.C.C.U.,theChurchSociety,andtheHeretics.(ItmaybeexplainedforthebenefitoftheuninitiatedthattheC.I.C.C.U.isLowChurch,andtheChurchSocietyisHighChurch,andtheHereticsisnochurchatall.Theyarealladmirablesocieties).

Arnoldsaidpresently, interrupting thematch,“If Ikeepasecond-handbookshopinSoho,willyouhelpme,Eddy?”

Eddysaidhewouldliketo.“Itwillbeawfullygoodtrainingforbothofus,”saidArnold.“You’llseemuchmorelifethatway,

youknow,thanatyourjobinSouthwark.”ArnoldhadmanfullyovercomehisdistasteforalludingtoEddy’sjobinSouthwark,inordertomake

alastattempttosnatchabrandfromtheburning.ButEddy,thinkinghemightaswellbehangedforasheepasalamb,said,“Yousee,mypeopleratherwantmetotakeOrders,andtheSouthwarkjobisbywayoffindingoutif

Iwanttoornot.I’mnearlysureIdon’t,youknow,”headded,apologetically,becausetheDenisonswerelookingsobadlydisappointedinhim.

Mrs.Denisonsaidkindly,“IthinkIshouldtellyourpeoplestraightoutthatyoucan’t.It’satiresome

littlejar,Iknow,buthonestly,Idon’tbelieveit’sabitofusemembersofafamilypretendingthattheyseelifefromthesameanglewhentheydon’t.”

Eddysaid,“Oh,butIthinkwedo,inaway.Only——”Itwasreallyratherdifficulttoexplain.Hedidindeedseelifefromthesameangleastherestofhis

family, but frommanyother angles aswell,whichwas confusing.Thequestionwas, could one selectsomeonethingtobe,clergymanoranythingelse,unlessonewasverysurethatitimpliednonegations,noexclusionsoftheotherangles?Thatwas,perhaps,whathislifeinSouthwarkwouldteachhim.Mostoftheclergyroundhisownhome—and,hisfatherbeingaDean,heknewmany—hadn’t,itseemedtohim,learnttheartofacceptance;theykeptdrawinglines,makingsheepandgoatdivisions,liketheDenisons.

TheHallman,feelingalittleembarrassedbecausetheyweregettingratherintimateandpersonal,andprobablywouldliketogetmoresoifhewerenotthere,wentaway.HehadhadtocallontheDenisons,buttheyweren’thissort,heknew.MissDenisonandherparentsfrightenedhim,andhedidn’tgetonwithgirlswhodressed artistically, orwrotepoetry, andArnoldDenisonwas a conceited crank, of course.Oliverwasagoodsort,onlyverythickwithDenisonforsomereason.IfhewasOliver,andwantedtodoanythingsodullasslummingwithparsonsinSouthwark,hewouldn’tbeputoffbyanythingtheDenisonssaid.

“Whydon’tyougetyourtietomatchyoursocks,Eddy?”Arnoldasked,withayawn,whenEgertonhadgone.

Hismother,ahospitablelady,andkindtoEgertonsandallotherswhocametoherhouse,toldhimnotto be disagreeable. Eddy said, truly, that hewished he did, and that itwas a capital idea and lookedcharming.

“Egertonsdolookrathercharming,quiteoften,”Margeryconceded.“Isupposethat’ssomethingafterall.”

Mrs.Denisonadded,(exquisiteherself,shehadatasteforneatness):“Theirhairandtheirclothesarealwaysbeautifullybrushed;whichismorethanyoursare,Arnold.”

Arnoldlaybackwithhiseyesshut,andgroanedgently.Egertonhadfatiguedhimverymuch.Eddythought itwasratherniceofMrs.DenisonandMargery tobekindaboutEgertonbecausehe

hadbeentotea.Herealisedthathehimselfwastheonlypersontherewhowasneitherkindnorunkindabout Egerton, because he really liked him. This the Denisons would have hopelessly failed tounderstand,or,probably,tobelieve;ifhehadmentionedit theywouldhavethoughthewasbeingkind,too.EddylikedanumberofpeoplewhowererankedbytheDenisonsamongthegoats;eventherowingmenofhisowncollege,whichhappenedtobeacollegewhereonedidn’trow.

Mrs.DenisonaskedEddyifhewouldcometolunchonThursdaytomeetsomeoftheIrishplayers,whomtheywereputtingupfortheweek.TheDenisons,beingintenselyEnglishandstrongHomeRulers,felt,besidestheartisticadmirationfortheAbbeyTheatreplayerscommontoall,apoliticalenthusiasmforthemasNationalists,soputtingthreeofthemupwasadelightfulhospitality.Eddy,whosharedboththeartisticandthepoliticalenthusiasm,wasdelightedtocometolunch.UnfortunatelyhewouldhavetohurryawayafterwardstothePrimroseLeagueFêteatGreatShelford,buthedidnotmentionthis.

Consultinghiswatch,hefoundhewasevennowdueatameetingofaSundayGamesClubtowhichhebelonged,sohesaidgoodbyetotheDenisonsandwent.

“Madasahatter,”wasArnold’slanguidcommentonhimwhenhehadgone;“butwell-intentioned.”“But,”saidMargery,“Ican’tgatherthatheintendsanythingatall.He’ssoabsurdlyindiscriminate.”“Heintendseverything,”herfatherinterpreted.“Youall, inthisintensegeneration,intendmuchtoo

much;Olivercarriesitalittlefurtherthanmostofyou,that’sall.Hisroadtohisultimatedestinationis

mostremarkablywell-paved.”“Oh,poorboy,”saidMrs.Denison,remonstrating.Shewent intofinishmakingarrangementsfora

Suffragemeeting.MargerywenttoherstudiotohammerjewelleryfortheArtsandCraftsExhibition.ProfessorDenisonwenttohisstudytolookoverTripospapers.Arnoldlayinthegardenandsmoked.Hewastheleastenergeticofhisfamily,andnotindustrious.

CHAPTERII.

ST.GREGORY’S.

PROBABLY, Eddy decided, after working for a week in Southwark, the thing to be was a clergyman.Clergymen get their teeth into something; they make things move; you can see results, which is sosatisfactory.Theycanpoint to aman,or a society, and say, “Hereyouare; Imade this. I foundhimawormandnoman,andlefthimahumanbeing,”or,“I foundthemscatteredandunmoralunits,andleftthemaBandofHope,oraMothers’Union.” It isagreatwork.Eddycaught thespiritof it,and threwhimselfvigorouslyintomen’sclubsandlads’brigades,andboyscouts,andalltheotherorganisationsthatflourishedintheparishofSt.Gregory,undertheReverendAnthonyFinchandhisassistantclergy.FatherFinch,ashewascalledintheparish,wasastout,brightman,shrewd,andmerry,andgenial,andfullofanimmenseenergyandpowerofanimatingtheinanimate.Hehadsetallkindsofpeopleandinstitutionsontheirfeet,andgiventhemapushtostartthemandkeeptheminmotion.Sohisparishwasaliveparish,in a state of healthy circulation. Father Finch was emphatically a worker. Dogma and ritual, thoughcertainlyessentialtohisviewoflife,didnotoccupytheprominentplacegiventothemby,forinstance,hisseniorcurate,Hillier.Hillierwasthesupremeauthorityonecclesiasticalceremonial.Itwashewhoknew,withoutreferringtoabook,allthecoloursofallthefestivalsandvigils;andwhatcere-clothsandmanipleswere;itwashewhodecidedhowmanycandlesweredemandedatthefestalevensongofeachsaint,andwhatvestmentsweresuitabletobeworninprocession,andalltheotherthingsthatlaypeopleareapttothinkgetdoneforthemselves,butwhichreallygiveagreatdealoftroubleandthoughttosomepainstakingorganiser.

Hillierhadgenialandsympatheticmannerswiththepoor,wasverypopularintheparish,belongedtoeight religious guilds,wore the badges of all of themon hiswatch-chain, and had been educated at acountyschoolandatheologicalcollege.Thejuniorcurate,JamesPeters,wasajollyyoungcricketeroftwenty-four,andhadbeenatMarlboroughandCambridgewithEddy;hewas,infact, themanwhohadpersuadedEddytocomeandhelpinSt.Gregory’s.

Therewereseveralyounglaymenworkingintheparish.St.Gregory’sHouse,whichwassomethingbetweenaclergyhouseandasettlement,spreadwidenetstocatchworkers.Hitherdriftedbankclerksintheirleisurehours,eagertohelpwithclubsintheeveningsandSundayschoolclassesonSundays.Herealsocameundergraduatesinthevacations,keentoplungeintothemêlée,andtrytheirhandsatsocialandphilanthropic enterprises; some of them were going to take Orders later, some were not; some werestiflingwithardentworktroublesomedoubtsastotheobjectoftheuniverse,otherswerenot;allwerefullofthegenerousidealismofthefirsttwenties.WhenEddywentthere,therewerenoundergraduates,butseveralvisitinglayworkers.

Betweentheseniorandjuniorcuratescamethesecondcurate,BobTraherne,anardentpersonwhobelonged to the Church Socialist League. Eddy joined this League at once. It is an interesting one tobelongto,andhasanexciting,thoughsomethinkold-fashioned,programme.Seeinghiminclinedtojointhings, Hillier set before him, diplomatically, the merits of the various Leagues and Guilds andFraternitieswhosebadgeshewore,andforwhichnewrecruitsaresoimportant.

“AnyonewhocaresfortheprinciplesoftheChurch,”hesaid,shylyeager,havingaskedEddyintohisroomtosmokeoneSundayeveningaftersupper,“mustsupporttheobjectsoftheG.S.C.”Heexplainedwhat theywere,andwhy.“Yousee,worshipcan’tbecompletewithout it—notsomuchbecause it’sabeautiful thing in itself,andcertainlynot fromtheæstheticorsensuouspointofview, thoughofcoursethere’sthatappealtoo,andparticularlytothepoor—butbecauseit’susedintheotherbranches,andwe

mustjoinupandcomeintolineasfarasweconscientiouslycan.”“Quite,”saidEddy,seeingit.“Ofcoursewemust.”“You’lljointheGuild,then?”saidHillier,andEddysaid,“Oh,yes,I’lljoin,”anddidso.SoHillier

hadgreathopesforhim,andtoldhimabouttheF.I.S.,andtheL.M.G.ButTrahernesaidafterwardstoEddy,“Don’tyougojoiningHillier’slittleFraternitiesandIncense

Guilds.Theywon’tdoyouanygood.LeavethemtopeoplelikeRobinsonandWilkes.”(RobinsonandWilkesweretwoyoungclerkswhocametoworkintheparishandadoredHillier.)“Theyseemtofindsuchthingsnecessarytotheirsouls;infact,theytellmetheyarestarvedwithoutthem;soIsupposetheymustbeallowedtohavethem.Butyousimplyhaven’tthetimetospend.”

“Oh,I thinkit’sright,youknow,”saidEddy,whoneverrejectedanythingorfell inwithnegations.Thatwaswherehedrewhisline—hewentalongwithallpointsofviewsolongastheywerepositive:assoonascondemnationorrejectioncamein,hebrokeoff.

Trahernepuffedathispiperatherscornfully.“It’s not right,” he grunted, “and it’s not wrong. It’s neuter. Oh, have it as you like. It’s all very

attractive,ofcourse;I’mentirelyinsympathywiththeobjectsofalltheseguilds,asyouknow.It’sonlytheguilds themselvesIobject to—alotofable-bodiedpeoplewasting their forcesbanding themselvestogether to bring about relatively trivial andunimportant things,when there’s all theworkof the shopwaitingtobedone.Oh,Idon’tmeanHillierdoesn’twork—ofcoursehe’sfirst-class—butthemoreofhismindhegivestoincenseandstoles,thelesshe’llhavetogivetotheworkthatmatters—andit’snotasifhehadsuchanimmensedealofitaltogether—mind,Imean.”

“Butafterall,”Eddydemurred,“ifthatsortofthingappealstoanybody....”“Oh, let ’emhave it, let ’emhave it,”saidTrahernewearily.“Let ’emallhavewhat they like;but

don’tyou bedragged into anet ofmillinery and fuss.Evenyouwill surely admit that thingsdon’t allmatterequally—thatit’smoreimportant,forinstance,thatpeopleshouldlearnalittleaboutprofit-sharingthanagreatdealaboutchurchornaments;moreimportantthattheyshoulduseleadlessglazethanthattheyshould use incense.Well, then, there you are; go for the essentials, and let the incidentals look afterthemselves.”

“Oh,let’sgoforeverything,”saidEddywithenthusiasm.“It’sallworthhaving.”Thesecondcurateregardedhimwithacynicalsmile,andgavehimupasabadjob.Butanyhow,he

had joined the Church Socialist League, whose members according to themselves, do go for theessentials, and, according to some other people, go to the devil; anyhow go, or endeavour to go,somewhere,andhavenosuperfluousenergytospendontoysbytheroadside.OnlyEddyOliverseemedtohaveenergytospareforeverygamethatturnedup.Hemadehimselfratheruseful,andtaughttheboys’clubssingle-stickandboxing,andplayedbilliardsandfootballwiththem.

TheonlythingthatyoungJamesPeterswantedhimtojoinwasaRugbyfootballclub.TeachthemenandboysoftheparishtoplayRuggerlikesportsmenandnotlikecads,andyou’vetaughtthemmostofwhataboyormanneedlearn,JamesPetersheld.Whiletheseniorcuratesaid,givethemtheritualoftheCatholicChurch,andthesecondcuratesaid,givethemaminimumwage,andthevicarsaid,putintothem,bysomemeansoranother,thefearofGod,thejuniorcurateledthemtotheplaying-fieldhiredatgreatexpense, and tried tomake sportsmen of them; and grew at times, but very seldom, passionate like athwartedchild,because itwas themostdifficult thinghehadever tried todo,andbecause theywouldlosetheirtempersandkickoneanotherontheshins,andwalkoffthefield,andsendintheirresignations,togetherwithanintimationthatSt.Gregory’sChurchwouldseethemnomore,becausetherefereewasaliaranddidn’tcomeitfair.ThenJamesPeterswouldthrowbacktheirresignationsandtheirintimationsin their faces, and call them silly asses and generallymanage to smooth things down in his cheerful,

youthful,vigorousway.EddyOliverhelpedhiminthis.HeandPetersweregreatfriends, thoughmoreunlike even than most people are. Peters had a very single eye, and herded people very easily andcompletelyintosheepandgoats;hisparticularnomenclatureforthemwas“sportsmen”and“rotters.”HetooktheCatholicChurch,sotospeak,inhisswing,andwasoneofhermostloyalandenergeticsons.

Tohim,ArnoldDenison,whomhehadknownslightlyatCambridge,wasdecidedlyagoat.ArnoldDenisoncame,atEddy’sinvitation,tosupperatSt.Gregory’sHouseoneSundaynight.Thevisitwasnotasuccess.Hillier,usuallythelifeofanypartyheadorned,wassilent,andonhisguard.Arnold,attimesatremendous talker, said hardly a word through the meal. Eddy knew of old that he was capable, inuncongenialsociety,ofanunmannerlysilence,whichlookedscornfulpartlybecauseitwasscornful,andpartlybecauseofArnold’srathercynicalphysiognomy,whichsometimesunjustlysuggestedmockery.OnthisSundayeveninghewasreallylessscornfulthansimplyaloof;hehadnoconcernwiththesepeople,northeywithhim;theymadeeachothermutuallyuncomfortable.Neithercouldhaveanythingtosaytotheother’spointofview.Eddy,theconnectinglink,feltunhappyaboutit.Whatwasthematterwiththeidiots,that theywouldn’t understand eachother? It seemed tohimextraordinarily stupid.Butundoubtedly thesocialfaultlaywithArnold,whowasbeingrude.Theothers,ashosts,triedtomakethemselvespleasant—evenHillier,whoquitedefinitelydidn’tlikeArnold,andwhowasoneofthosewhoasarulethinkitright and true to their colours to showdisapprovalwhen they feel it.Theothersweren’t like that (thedifferenceperhapswaspartlybetween the schoolswhichhad respectively reared them), so theywereagreeablewithlesseffort.

Butthemealwasnotasuccess.Itbeganwithgrace,which,inspiteofitsrapidityanditsdecentcloakofLatin, quite obviously shocked and embarrassedArnold. (“Stupid of him,” thoughtEddy; “hemighthaveknownwe’dsayithere.”)ItwentonwithPeterstalkingabouthisRuggerclub,whichboredArnold.Thisbeingapparent,theVicartalkedaboutsomeCambridgementheybothknew.AsthemenhadworkedforatimeinSt.Gregory’sparish,Arnoldhadalreadygiventhemupasbadjobs,sohadn’tmuchtosayabout them,exceptone,whohad turnedoveranew leaf,andnowhelped toeditanewweeklypaper.Arnoldmentionedthispaperwithapprobation.

“Didyouseelastweek’s?”heaskedtheVicar.“Thereweresomeextraordinarilynicethingsinit.”AsnoonebutEddyhadseenlastweek’s,andeveryonebutEddythoughtTheHeretic in thoroughly

bad taste, if notworse, the subjectwas not a general success. Eddy referred to a play that had beenreviewed in it. That seemed a good subject; plays are a friendly, uncontroversial topic. But betweenArnoldandclergymennotopicseemedfriendly.Hillierintroducedapopularplayofthehourwhichhadareligious trend.He even askedArnold if he had seen it.Arnold said no, he hadmissed that pleasure.Hilliersaiditwasgrand,simplygrand;hehadbeenthreetimes.

“Ofcourse,”headded,“one’sonriskyground,andoneisn’tquitesurehowfaronelikestoseesuchmarvellous religiousexperiences representedon the stage.But the spirit is soutterly reverent thatonecan’t feel anything but the rightness of the whole thing. It’s a rather glorious triumph of devotionalexpression.”

And thatwasn’t a happy topic either, for no one but he andEddy liked the play at all. TheVicarthoughtitcheapandtawdry;Trahernethoughtitsentimentalandrevolting;Petersthoughtitsillyrot;andArnoldhadneverthoughtaboutitatall,buthadjustsupposedittobeabsurd,thesortofplaytowhichonewould go, if onewent at all, to laugh; like “TheSins of Society,” or “Everywoman,” only rathercoarse,too.

HilliersaidtoEddy,whohadseentheplaywithhim,“Didn’tyouthinkittremendouslyfine,Oliver?”Eddysaid,“Yes,quite.Ireallydid.ButDenisonwouldn’tlikeit,youknow.”Denison,Hilliersupposed,wasoneof thefoolswhohavesaid in theirhearts,etc. In thatcase the

playinquestionwouldprobablybeaneye-openerforhim,anditwasapityheshouldn’tseeit.Hilliertoldhimso.“Youreallyoughttoseeit,Mr.Denison.”Arnoldsaid,“Life,unfortunately,isshort.”Hillier,nettled,said,“I’dmuchrathersee‘ThePenitent’thanallyourShawsputtogether.I’mafraidI

can’tpretendtooweanyallegiancethere.”Arnold, who thought Shaw common, not to say Edwardian, looked unresponsive. Then Traherne

begantotalkaboutground-rents.WhenTrahernebegantotalkheasarulewenton.NeitherHilliernorArnold,whohadmutuallyshockedoneanother,saidmuchmore.Arnoldknewalittleaboutrents,groundandother,andifTrahernehadbeenalaymanhewouldhavebeeninterestedintalkingaboutthem.Buthecouldn’tandwouldn’ttalktoclergymen;emphatically,hedidnotlikethem.

Aftersupper,Eddytookhimtohisownroomtosmoke.Withhisunlitpipeinhishand,Arnoldlaybackandletoutadeepbreathofexhaustion.

“Youwereveryrudeanddisagreeableatsupper,”saidEddy,strikingamatch.“Itwasawkwardforme. Imust apologise to-morrow for having asked you. I shall say it’s your countrymanners, though Isupposeyouwouldlikemetosaythatyoudon’tapproveofclergymen....Really,Arnold,Iwassurprisedyoushouldbesoveryrustic,evenifyoudon’tlikethem.”

Arnoldgroanedfaintly.“Chuckit,”hemurmured.“Comeoutofitbeforeitistoolate,beforeyougetsuckedinirrevocably.

I’llhelpyou;I’lltellthevicarforyou;yes,I’llinterviewthemallinturn,evenHillier,ifitwillmakeiteasierforyou.Willit?”

“No,”saidEddy.“I’mnotgoingtoleaveatpresent.Ilikebeinghere.”“That,” said Arnold, “is largely why it’s so demoralising for you. Now for me it would be

distressing,butinnocuous.Foryouit’spoison.”“Well,now,”Eddyreasonedwithhim,“what’s thematterwithTraherne,for instance?Ofcourse,I

seethatthevicar’stoomuchthepracticalmanoftheworldforyou,andPeterstoomuchthedownrightsportsman,andHilliertoomuchthepiousass(thoughIlikehim,youknow).ButTraherne’scleverandallalive,andnotintheleastreputable.What’sthematterwithhim,then?”

Arnoldgrunted. “Don’tknow.Mustbe something,orhewouldn’tbe fillinghispresentposition inlife.Probablyhe laboursunder thedelusionthat life isreal, life isearnest.Socialistsoftendo....Lookhere,comeandseeJaneoneday,willyou?She’dbeachangeforyou.”

“What’sJanelike?”“Idon’tknow....Notlikeanyonehere,anyhow.Shedrawsinpenandink,andlivesinaroomina

littlecourtoutofBlackfriarsRoad,withalittlefatfairgirlcalledSally.SallyPeters;she’sacousinofyoungJameshere,Ibelieve.Ratherlikehim,too,onlyrounderandjollier,withbluereyesandyellowerhair.Muchmoreofaperson, I imagine;moreawake to things ingeneral, andnotabitrangée, thoughquite crude. But the same sort of cheery exuberance; personally, I couldn’t live with either; but Janemanages it quite serenely. Sally isn’t free of the good-works taint herself, though we hope she isoutgrowingit.”

“Oh,I’vemether.ShecomesandhelpsJimmywiththechildren’sclubssometimes.”“Iexpectshedoes.But,asIsay,we’reeducatingher.She’syoungyet....Janeisgoodforher.Soare

MissHogan,andthetwoLeMoines,andI.Weshouldalsobegoodforyou,ifyoucouldspareussomeofyour valuable time between two Sunday school classes. Good night. I’m going home now, because itmakesmerathersadtobehere.”

Hewenthome.

The clergy of St. Gregory’s thought him (respectively) an ill-mannered and irritating young man,probablycleverenoughtolearnbettersomeday;aninfidel,verylikelytooproudevertolearnbetteratall,thissidethegrave;adilettanteslacker,forwhomtheworldhadn’tmuchuse;andaconceitedcrank,forwhomJamesPetershadnouseatall.Buttheydidn’tliketotellEddyso.

JamesPeters,atransparentyouth,threwonlyathinveiloverhisopinions,however,whenhetalkedtoEddyabouthiscousinSally.Hewas,apparently,anxiousaboutSally.Eddyhadmetheratchildren’sclubs,andthoughtheracheeryyoungperson,andadmiredtheambergoldofherhair,andhercornflower-blueeyes,andherpowerofalwaysthinkingofafreshgameattherightmoment.

“I’msupposedtobekeepinganeyeuponher,”Jamessaid.“Shehastoearnherliving,youknow,soshebindsbooksandlivesinaroomofftheBlackfriarsRoadwithanothergirl....I’mnotsureIcareaboutthewaytheylive,tosaythetruth.Theyhavesuchqueerpeoplein,tosupperandsoon.Men,youknow,ofall sorts. I believeDenison goes.They sit on a bed that’smeant to look like a sofa and doesn’t.Andthey’re only girls—MissDawn’s older than Sally, but not very old—and they’ve no one to look afterthem;itdoesn’tseemright.Andtheydoknowthemostextraordinarypeople.MissDawn’sratheraqueergirlherself,Ithink;unlikeotherpeople,somehow.Very—verydetached,ifyouunderstand;anddoesn’tcare a rap for the conventions, I should say. That’s all very well in its way, and she’s a very quiet-mannered person—can’t think how she and Sally made friends—but it’s a dangerous plan for mostpeople.And some of their friends are ...well, rather rotters, you know.Look like artists, or Fabians,withoutcollars,andsoon....Oh,Iforgot—you’reaFabian,aren’tyou?...Well,anyhow,Ishouldguessthatsomeofthemarewithoutmoralseither;inmyexperiencethetwothingsarejollyapttogotogether.TherearetheLeMoines,now.Haveyouevercomeacrosseitherofthem?”

“I’vejustmetCecilLeMoine.He’srathercharming,isn’the?”“Thesortofperson,”saidJamesPeters,“forwhomIhavenousewhatever.No,hedoesn’tappearto

mecharming.Aneffeminateass,Icallhim.Oh,Iknowhecallshimselffrightfullycleverandallthat,andI suppose he thinks he’s good-looking ... but as selfish as sin.Anyhow, he and hiswife couldn’t livetogether, so they parted before their first year was over. Her music worried him or something, andpreventedhimconcentratinghispreciousbrainonhisliteraryefforts;andIsupposehegotonhernerves,too.Ibelievetheyagreedquitepleasantlytoseparate,andarequitepleasedtomeeteachotherabouttheplace,andarerathergoodfriends.ButIcallitprettybeastly,lookingatmarriagelikethat.Ifthey’dhatedeach other there’d have been more excuse. And she’s a great friend of Miss Dawn’s, and Sally’sdevelopedwhat Iconsideran inordinateaffection forher;andsheandMissDawnbetween themhavesimplygotholdofher—Sally,Imean—andareupsettingherandgivingherallkindsofsillynewpointsofview.Shedoesn’tcomehalfasoftentotheclubsassheused.AndshewastremendouslykeenontheChurch,and—andreallyreligious,youknow—andshe’sgettingquitedifferent.Ifeelsortofresponsible,andit’sworryingmerather.”

Hepuffeddiscontentedlyathispipe.“Pitytogetlesskeenonanything,”Eddymused.“Newpointsofviewseemtomealltothegood;it’s

losingholdoftheoldthat’samistake.Whyletanythinggo,ever?”“She’sgettingtothinkitdoesn’tmatter,”Jamescomplained;“Church,andallthat.Iknowshe’sgiven

upthingssheusedtodo.Andreally,themoreshe’ssurroundedbyinfluencessuchasMrs.LeMoine’s,themore she needs theChurch to pull her through, if only she’d see it.Mrs.LeMoine’s awonderfulmusician, I suppose,butshehasqueer ideas, rather; I shouldn’t trusther.SheandHughDatcherd—theeditorofFurther,youknow—arehandandglove.Andconsideringhehasawifeandsheahusband...well,itseemsprettyfutile,doesn’tit?”

“Doesit?”Eddywondered.“Itdependssomuchonthespecialcircumstances.Ifthehusbandandthe

wifedon’tmind——”“Rot,” said James. “And the husband ought tomind, and I don’t know that thewife doesn’t.And,

anyhow,itdoesn’taffectthequestionofrightandwrong.”ThatwastoodifficultapropositionforEddytoconsider;hegaveitup.“I’mgoingtotheBlackfriarsRoadflatwithDenisononeday,Ibelieve,”hesaid.“Ishallbeoneof

theFabiansthatsitonthebedthatdoesn’tlooklikeasofa.”Jamessighed.“Iwish,ifyougettoknowSallyatall,you’dencouragehertocomedownheremore,

andtrytoputafewsoundideasintoherhead.She’stakingtoscorningmywordsofwisdom.Ibelieveshe’stakenagainstparsons....Oh,you’regoingwithDenison.”

“Arnoldwon’tdoanyoneanyharm,”Eddyreassuredhim.“He’ssoextraordinarilyinnocent.AboutthemostinnocentpersonIknow.Weshouldshockhimfrightfullydownhereifhesawmuchofus;he’dthinkusindecentandcoarse.HillierandIdidshockhimrather,byliking“ThePenitent.”

“Iwonderifyoulikeeverything,”grumbledPeters.“Mostthings,Iexpect,”saidEddy.“Well,mostthingsarerathernice,don’tyouthink?”“Isupposeyou’llliketheLeMoinesandMissDawnifyougettoknowthem.Andalltherestofthat

crew.”Eddycertainlyexpectedtodoso.Sixo’clockstruck,andPeterswent tochurch tohearconfessions,andEddy to theInstitute toplay

billiardswith theChurchLads’Brigade,ofwhichhewasanofficer.Awonderful lifeofvariedactiveservice, thisSouthwark life seemed toEddy; full and splendid, and gloriously single-eyed.Arnold, insneeringatit,showedhimselfanarrowprig.MoreandmoreitwasbecomingcleartoEddythatnothingshouldbesneeredatandnothingcondemned,not theCatholicChurch,nor theSalvationArmy,nor theviewsofartists,Fabians,andLeMoines,withoutcollarsandwithoutmorals.

CHAPTERIII.

PLEASANCECOURT.

ONEeveningArnoldtookEddytosupperwithhiscousinJaneDawnandJamesPeters’cousinSally.Theylived in Pleasance Court, a small square with a garden. After supper they were all going to a firstperformanceofaplaybyCecilLeMoine,called“Squibs.”

“Youalwaysknowwhichtheirwindowis,”ArnoldtoldEddyastheyturnedintothesquare,“bythethingsonthesill.Theyput thefoodanddrinkthere, tokeepcool,orbeoutof theway,orsomething.”Looking up, they saw outside an upper window a blue jug and a white bowl, keeping cool in themoonlight.Astheyrangatthedoor,thewindowwaspushedup,andhandsreachedouttotakethejugandbowl in. A cheerful face looked down at the tops of their heads, and a cheerful voice said clearly,“They’vecome,Jane.They’reveryearly,aren’tthey?They’llhavetohelpbutteringtheeggs.”

Arnoldcalledup,“Ifyouwouldpreferit,wewillwalkroundthesquaretilltheeggsarebuttered.”“Oh, no, please.We’d like you to come up and help, if you don’t mind.” The voice was a little

doubtfulbecauseofEddy,theunknownquantity.Thedoorwasopenedbyanageddoor-keeper,andtheyclimbedbreathlesslysteepstairstotheroom.

Intheroomwasthesmellofeggsbutteringoveraspirit-lamp,andofcocoaboilingoverafire.Therewasalsoasupper-table,laidwithcupsandplatesandorangesandbutterandhoney,andbrown,green-wainscottedwalls,andvarioussortsofpictureshangingonthem,andvarioussortsofpotsandjugsfromvarioussortsofplaces, suchasSpain,NewBrighton,andBruges,andbronzechrysanthemums in jars,andwhiteshootsofbulbsprickingupoutofcocoa-nutfibreinbowls,andabook-casewithbooksinit,andatableinacornerlitteredwithbook-bindingplant,andtwogirlscooking.Oneofthemwassoftandroundlikeapuppy,andhadfluffygoldenhairandacornflower-bluepinaforetomatchcornflower-blueeyes.Theotherwassmall,andhadapale,pointedfaceandalargeforeheadandbrownhairwavingbackfromit,andasmileofwonderfullyappealingsweetness,andasmall,gentlevoice.Shelookedsomehowasifshehadlivedinawood,andhadintimatelyandaffectionatelyknownallthelittlelivewildthingsinit, both birds and beasts and flowers: a queer unearthliness there was about her, that suggested themorningwindsandtheeveningstars.Eddy,whoknewsomeofherdrawings,hadnotedthatchaste,elfinqualityinthem;hewasratherpleasedtofinditmeethimsoobviouslyinherfaceandbearing.Seeingthetwo girls, he was disposed to echo James Peters’ comment, “Can’t think how she and Sally madefriends,”andtosetitdowntritelytothatlawofcontrastswhichsomepeople,intheteethofexperience,appeartobelieveinasthebestbasisoffriendship.

SallyPeterswasstirringthebutteredeggvigorously, lest itshouldstandstillandburn.JaneDawnwaswatchingthecocoa,lestitshouldrunoverandburn.Arnoldwanderedroundtheroompeeringatthepictures—mostlydrawingsandetchings—withhisnear-sightedeyes, to see if therewasanythingnew.Janehadearnedalittlemoneylately,sothereweretwonewDuncanGrantsandaMuirheadBone,whichheexaminedwithcriticalapproval.

“You’ve still got this up,”he remarked, tappingBeardsley’s “AveAtqueVale”with adisparagingfinger.“TheonebanalthingBeardsleyever....Besides,anyhowBeardsley’spassé.”

JaneDawn,wholookedasifshebelongednottotimeatall,seemedpeacefullyundisturbedbythisfact.OnlySally,inheryoungingenuousness,lookedalittleconcerned.

“IlovetheAve,”Janemurmuredoverthesaucepan,andthenlookedupatEddywithhersmall,half-affectionatesmile—alikeablewayshehadwithher.

Hesaid,“Idotoo,”andArnoldsnorted.“Youdon’tknowhimyet,Jane.Heloveseverything.Heloves‘Soap-bubbles,’and‘TheMonarchof

theGlen,’andproblempicturesintheAcademy.Nottomention‘ThePenitent,’which,Jane,isaplayofwhichyouhaveneverheard,buttowhichyouandIwillonedaygo,tocompleteoureducation.Onlywewon’t takeSally; itwouldbebad for her.She isn’t old enough for it yet and itmight upset hermind;besides,itisn’tproper,Ibelieve.”

“I’msureIdon’twant togo,”saidSally,pouringout theegg intoadish.“Itmustbe idiotic.EvenJimmythinksso.”

Arnold’s eyebrows went up. “In that case I may revise my opinion of it,” he murmured. “Well,anyhowEddylovesit,likeeverythingelse.Nothingisbeyondthelimitofhistolerance.”

“Doeshelikenicethingstoo?”Sallynaïvelyasked.“Willhelike‘Squibs’?”“Oh,yes,he’lllike‘Squibs.’Histasteiscatholic;he’llprobablybetheonlypersoninLondonwho

likesboth‘Squibs’and‘ThePenitent.’...Isupposeweshan’tseeEileento-night;she’llhavebeengivenoneoftheseatsofthegreat.Sheshallcomeandtalktousbetweentheacts,though.”

“WewantedEileenandBridget tocome to supper,” saidSally. “It’squite readynow,by theway;let’shaveit.But theywerediningwithCecil,andthengoingonto the theatre.Doyou likecocoa,Mr.Oliver?Becauseifyoudon’tthere’smilk,orlemonade.”

Eddysaidhelikedthemall,butwouldhavecocoaatthemoment.Janepoureditout,withthemostexquisitely-shaped thin small hands he had ever seen, and passed it to himwith her little smile, thatseemed to takehimatonce into thecircleofheraccepted friends.A rareanddelicatepersonality sheseemedtohim,curiouslyoldandyoung,affectionateandaloof,likeaspringmorningonahill.Therewassomethingimpersonalandsexlessabouther.EddyfeltinclinedatoncetocallherJane,andwasamusedandpleasedwhensheslippedunconsciouslyonceor twice intoaddressinghimasEddy.Theordinaryconventionsinsuchmatterswouldnever,onefelt,weighwithheratall,orevencomeintoconsideration,anymorethanwithachild.

“I was to give you James’ love,” Eddy said to Sally, “and ask you when you are coming to St.Gregory’s again.The school-teachers, he tellsme to informyou, cannot run theBandofHopebasket-makingclasswithoutyou.”

Sallygotratherpink,andglancedatArnold,wholookedcynicallyinterested.“WhatistheBandofHope?”heinquired.“Temperancegirls, temperanceboys,alwayshappy,alwaysfree,”Eddyanswered, in thewordsof

theirownsong.“Oh,Isee.Fightthedrink.Anddoesmakingbasketshelpthemtofightit?”“Well,ofcourseifyouhaveaclubandithastomeetonceaweek,itmustdosomething,”saidSally,

statingaprofoundandsadtruth.“ButItoldJimmyIwasfrightfullybusy;Idon’tthinkIcango,really....Iwish Jimmywouldn’t goon askingme.Do tell himnot to,Mr.Oliver. Jimmydoesn’t understand;onecan’tdoeverything.”

“No,”saidEddydubiously,thinkingthatperhapsonecould,almost,andthatanyhowthemorethingsthemorefun.

“It’sapityonecan’t,”headded,fromhisheart.Arnold said that doing was a deadly thing, doing ends in death. “Only that, I believe, is the

Evangelicalview,andyou’reHighChurchatSt.Gregory’s.”Janelaughedathim.“ImagineArnoldknowingthedifference!Idon’tbelievehedoesintheleast.I

do,”sheadded,withanaïvetouchofvanity,“becauseImetaclergymanonce,whenIwasdrawinginthe

Abbey,andhetoldmealotaboutit.Aboutcandles,andornaments,androbesthatpriestswearinchurch.ItmustbemuchnicerthanbeingLowChurch,Ishouldthink.”ShereferredtoEddy,withherquestioningsmile.

“They’rebothrathernice,”Eddysaid.“I’mboth,Ithink.”Sallylookedathiminquiringlywithherblueeyesundertheirthickblacklashes.Washeadvanced,

this plausible, intelligent-looking young man, who was a friend of Arnold Denison’s and liked “ThePenitent,”and,indeed,everythingelse?Washefreeandprogressiveandonthesideoftherightthings,orwashemerelyanamiablestick-in-the-mud likeJimmy?Shecouldn’tgather, fromhisalert, expressivefaceandbrighthazeleyesandrathersensitivemouth:theychieflyconveyedacapacityforreception,anopennesstoallimpressions,areadinesstospreadsailstoanywind.Ifhewereapersonofparts, ifhehadabrainandamindandasoul,andifatthesametimehewereanardentserveroftheChurch—that,Sally thought unconsciously, might be a witness in the Church’s favour. Only here she rememberedJimmy’sfriendatSt.Gregory’s,BobTraherne;hewasallthatandmore,hehadbrainandmindandsoulandanardentfireofzealformanyoftherightthings(Sally,alittlebehindthetimeshere,wasaSocialistbyconviction),andyetinspiteofhimonewassurethatsomehowtheChurchwouldn’tdo,wouldn’tmeetalltherequirementsofthiscomplexlife.Sallyhadlearntthatlately,andwaslearningitmoreandmore.Shewasproudofhavinglearntit;butstill,shehadoccasionalregrets.

Shemadeaholeinanorange,andputalumpofsugarinitandsuckedit.“Thegreatadvantageofthatway,”sheexplained,“isthatallthejuicegoesinsideyou,anddoesn’t

messtheplatesoranythingelse.Yousee,Mrs.Jonesisratherold,andnotfondofwashingup.”Sotheyallmadeholesandputinsugar,andputthejuiceinsidethem.ThenJaneandSallyretiredto

exchangetheircookingpinaforesforout-doorthings,andthentheyallrodeto“Squibs”onthetopofabus.Theywere joinedat thepitdoorbyoneBillyRaymond, a friendof theirs—a tall, tranquilyoungman, by trade a poet, with an attractive smile and a sweet temper, and a gentle, kind, serenelyphilosophical view of men and things that was a little like Jane’s, only more human and virile. HeattractedEddygreatly,ashispoemshadalreadydone.

Toremoveanxietyonthesubject,itmaybestatedatoncethatthefirstnightof“Squibs”wasneitherafailurenoratriumphantsuccess.Itwasenjoyable,forthosewhoenjoyedthesortofthing—(fantasticwit,clever dialogue, much talk, little action, and less emotion)—and dull for those who didn’t. It wouldcertainlyneverbepopular,andprobablytheauthorwouldhavebeenshockedandgrievedifithadbeen.The critics approved it as clever, and said it was rather lengthy and highly improbable. Jane, Sally,Arnold, Billy Raymond, and Eddy enjoyed it extremely. So did Eileen LeMoine and her companionBridgetHogan,whowatched it from a box.Cecil LeMoinewandered in and out of the box, lookingplaintive. He told Eileen that they were doing it even worse than he had feared. He was rather anengaging-lookingperson,withaboyish,young-Napoleonicbeautyof faceandavelvet smoking-jacket,andasweet,plaintivevoice,andtheairofaninjuredchildabouthim.Achildofgenius,perhaps;anyhowagiftedchild,andalovableone,andatthesametimeasselfishasevenachildcanbe.

EileenLeMoineandMissHogancametospeaktotheirfriendsinthepitbeforetakingtheirseats.Eddywasintroducedtothem,andtheytalkedforaminuteortwo.Whentheyhadgone,Sallysaidtohim,“Isn’tEileenattractive?”

“Very,”hesaid.“AndBridget’sadear,”addedSally,childishlyboastingofherfriends.“Icanimagineshewouldbe,”saidEddy.MissHoganhadamusedhimduringtheirshortinterview.

She was older than the rest of them; she was perhaps thirty-four, and very well dressed, and with ashrewd,woman-of-the-worldairthattheothersquitelacked,anddanglingpince-nez,andironiceyes,and

a slight stutter. Eddy regretted that shewas not sitting among them; her caustic commentswould haveaddedsalttotheevening.

“Bridget’sworldly,youknow,”Sallysaid.“She’stheonlyoneofuswithmoney,andshegoesoutalot.You see how smartly she’s dressed.She’s the only person I’m really friendswithwho’s like that.She’sawfullyclever,too,thoughshedoesn’tdoanything.”

“Doesn’tshedoanything?”Eddyaskedsceptically,andArnoldansweredhim.“OurBridget?Sallyonlymeansshe’salilyofthefield.Shewritesnot,neitherdoesshepaint.She

onlymothersthosewhodo,andhaulsthemoutofscrapes.Eileenliveswithher,youknow,inaflat inKensington.ShetriestolookafterEileen.Quiteenoughofajob,besidestendingalltheotheringenuousyoungpersonsofbothsexesshehasunderherwing.”

EddywatchedherasshetalkedtoEileenLeMoine;avivid,impatient,aliveperson,fullofquipsandcranksandquidditiesandaconstantflowofwords.Hecouldsee,foreshortened,EileenLeMoine’sface—veryattractive,asSallyhadsaid;broadbrowsbelowdarkhair,roundedcheekswithdeepdimplesthatcame andwent in them, great deep blue, black-lashed eyes, awidemouth of soft, generous curves, amouththatcouldlooksulkybutalwayshadamusementlurkinginit,andaround,decisivechin.Shewasperhapsfourorfiveandtwenty;abrilliant,perverseyoungperson,fullof thefunof living,anartist,apleasure-lover, a spoilt child, who probably could be sullen, who certainly was wayward and self-willed,whohadgeniusandcharmand ideasandasublimeindependenceofotherpeople’scodes,andpossiblyanimmenseuntappedspringofgenerousself-sacrifice.ShehadprobablybeentoolikeCecilLeMoine(onlymorethanhewas,everyway)tolivewithhim;eachwouldneedsomethingmorestillandrestfulasapermanentcompanion.Theyhadnodoubtbeenwelladvisedtopart,thoughtEddy,whodidnotagreewithJamesPetersaboutthatwayofregardingmarriage.

“Isn’tMissCarruthersrippingasMyra,”whisperedSally.“Cecilwroteitforher,youknow.Hesaysthere’snooneelseonthestage.”

Janeputupahandtosilenceher,becausethecurtainhadrisen.At the end the author was called and had a good reception; on the whole “Squibs” had been a

success. Eddy looked up and saw Eileen LeMoine looking pleased and smiling as they clapped herboyish-looking husband—an amused, sisterly, half ironic smile. It struck Eddy as the smile she mustinevitablygiveCecil,anditseemedtoilluminetheirwholerelations.Shecouldn’t,certainly,betheleastinlovewithhim,andyetshemustlikehimverymuch,tosmilelikethatnowthattheywereparted.

AsJaneandSallyandEddyandBillyRaymondrodedownHolbornontheirbus(ArnoldhadwalkedtoSoho,wherehelived)Eddy,sittingnextJane,asked“Didyoulikeit?”beingcuriousaboutJane’spointofview.

Shesmiled.“Yes,ofcourse.Wouldn’tanyone?”Eddycouldhaveansweredthequestion,instancingHillier or James Peters, or his own parents or, indeed, many other critics. But Jane’s “anyone” hesurmisedtohaveanarrowmeaning;anyone,shemeant,ofourfriends;anyoneof thesortonenaturallycomes into contact with. (Jane’s outlook was through a narrow gate on to woods unviolated by thecommontourist;herexperiencewasdelicate,exquisite,andlimited).

Sheadded,“Ofcourseit’sjustababy’sthing.Heisjustababy,youknow.”“Ishouldliketogettoknowhim,”saidEddy.“He’sextraordinarilypleasing,”andshenodded.“Of course you’ll get to know him. Why not? And Eileen, too.” In Jane’s world, the admitted

dwellersallgottoknoweachother,asamatterofcourse.“AlotofusaregoingdownintothecountrynextSunday,”Janeadded.“Won’tyoucome?”“Oh,thanks;ifI’mnotneededintheparishI’dloveto.Yes,I’malmostsureIcan.”

“We allmeet atWaterloo for the nine-thirty.We shall have breakfast atHeathermere (but you canhavehadsomeearlier,too,ifyoulike),andthenwalksomewherefromthere.Bringathickcoat,becauseweshallbesittingaboutontheheath,andit’snotwarm.”

“Thanksawfully,ifyou’resureImaycome.”Janewastednomorewordsonthat;sheprobablyneveraskedpeopletocomeunlessshewassure

theymight.Shemerelywavedanappreciativehand,likeachild,atthebluenightfulloflights,seekinghissympathyinthewonderofit.ThensheandSallyhadtochangeintotheBlackfriarsBridgebus,andEddysoughtLondonBridgeand theBoroughon foot.BillyRaymond,who lived inBeaufortStreet,butwastakingawalk,camewithhim.Theytalkedonthewayabouttheplay.Billymadecriticismsandcommentsthat seemed toEddyverymuch to thepoint, though theywouldn’thaveoccurred tohim.Therewasaneasyability,asereneindependenceofoutlook,aboutthisyoungman,thatwasattractive.Likemanypoets,hewas singularly fresh and unspoilt, though in his case (unlikemany poets) itwasn’t because he hadnothingtospoilhim;heenjoyed,infact,somereputationamongcriticsandtheliterarypublic.Hefiguredinmany an anthology of verse, and thosewho gave addresses onmodern poetrywere apt to read histhingsaloud,whichhabitannoyssomepoetsandgratifiesothers.Further,hehadbeengivenareadingalltohimselfatthePoetryBookshop,whichhadratherdispleasedhim,becausehehadnotlikedthevoiceoftheladywhoreadhim.Butenoughhasbeensaidtoindicatethathewasapromisingyoungpoet.

WhenEddygotin,hefoundthevicarandHilliersmokingbythecommon-roomfire.ThevicarwasnoddingoverPickwick,andHillierperusing theChurchTimes.Thevicar,whohadbeenasleep, said,“Hullo,Oliver.Wantanythingtoeatordrink?Hadaniceevening?”

“Very,thanks.No,I’vebeenfedsufficiently.”“Playgood?”“Yes,quiteclever.... I say,would itbeawfully inconvenient if Iwas tobeoutnextSunday?Some

peoplewantmetogoout for thedaywith them.Ofcourse there’smyclass.ButperhapsWilkes....Hesaidhewouldn’tmind,sometimes.”

“No;that’llbeallright.SpeaktoWilkes,willyou....Shallyoubeawayallday?”“Iexpectso,”saidEddy,feelingthatHillierlookedathimaskance,thoughthevicardidn’t.Probably

Hillierdidn’tapproveofSundayoutings,thoughtoneshouldbeinchurch.Hesatdownandbegantotalkabout“Squibs.”Hillier said presently, “He’s surely rather amountebank, thatLeMoine?Full of cheap sneers and

clap-trap,isn’the?”“Oh, no,” said Eddy. “Certainly not clap-trap. He’s very genuine, I should say; expresses his

personalityagooddealmoresuccessfullythanmostplaywriters.”“Oh,nodoubt,”Hilliersaid.“It’shispersonality,Ishouldfancy,that’swrong.”Eddysaid,“He’sdelightful,”ratherwarmly,andthevicarsaid,“Well,now,I’mgoingtobed,”and

went,andEddywent,too,becausehedidn’twanttoarguewithHillier,adifficultfeat,andnosatisfactionwhenachieved.

CHAPTERIV.

HEATHERMERE.

SUNDAYwas the lastdaybutoneofOctober.TheyallmetatWaterloo inahorrid fog,andmissed thenine-thirtybecauseCecilLeMoinewaslate.Hesaunteredupat9.45,tranquilandatease,theMS.ofhisnewestplayunderhisarm(heobviouslythoughttoreadittotheminthecourseoftheday—“whichmustbeprevented,”Arnoldremarked).Sotheycaughtaleisuredtrainat9.53,andgotoutofitatalittlewhitestationabout10.20,andthefogwasleftbehind,andapureblueOctoberskyarchedoveragoldenandpurple earth, and the air was like iced wine, thin and cool and thrilling, and tasting of heather andpinewoods.Theywentfirsttothevillageinn,ontheedgeofthewoods,wheretheyhadorderedbreakfastforeight.TheirmainobjectatbreakfastwastoplyCecilwithfood,lestinaleisuremomentheshouldsay,“WhatifIbeginmynewplaytoyouwhileyoueat?”

“Goodtasteandmodesty,”Arnoldremarked,àproposofnothing,“aresoveryimportant.Wehaveallachievedourlittlesuccesses(ifweprefertoregardtheminthatlight,ratherthantotaketheconsensusofthe unintelligent opinion of our less enlightened critics). Jane has someverywell-spoken of drawingseven nowon view inGrafton Street, and doubtlessmanymore in PleasanceCourt.Have you broughtthem, or any of them, with you, Jane? No? I thought as much. Eileen last night played a violin to acrowdedandbreathlessaudience.Whereistheviolinto-day?Shehasleftitathome;shedoesnotwishtoforcethefactofherundoubtedmusicaltalentdownourthroats.Bridgethasearneddeservedrecognitionasanentertainerofthegreat;shehasasocialcachetthatwemayadmirewithoutemulation.Lookathernow;herdressissimplicityitself,andshedeignstoplayinawoodwiththehumblepoor.Eventhepince-nez is in abeyance.Billyhada selection fromhisworks read aloudonly lastweek to the éliteofourmetropolitanpoetry-loversbya famousexpert,whoalluded in themost flattering terms tohisyouthfulpromise.Hashehislastvolumeinhisbreast-pocket?Ithinknot.Eddyhasmadeanameinproficiencyinvigoroussportswithyouths;hehastaughtthemtoboxandplaybilliards;doeshecomearmedwithglovesandacue?IhavewrittenanessayofsomemeritthatIhaveeveryhopewillfinditselfinnextmonth’sEnglishReview.Iamsorrytodisappointyou,butIhavenotbroughtitwithme.Whenthewell-bredcomeoutforadayofwell-earnedrecreation,theyleavebehindthemtheinsigniaoftheirseveralprofessions.Forthetimebeingtheyaremerelyindividuals,withoutfameandwithoutoccupation,whoseoneobjectistoenjoywhatissetbeforethembythegods.Havesomemorebacon,Cecil.”

Cecilstarted.“Haveyoubeentalking,Arnold?I’msosorry—Imisseditall.Iexpect itwasgood,wasn’tit?”

“Nooneisdeceived,”Arnoldsaid,severely.“Youringenuousair,myyoungfriend,isoverdone.”Cecilwaslookingathimearnestly.Eileensaid,“He’swonderingwasityouthatreviewed‘Squibs’

inPoetryandDrama,Arnold.Healwayslookslikethatwhenhe’sthinkingaboutreviews.”“The same phrases,” Cecil murmured—“(meant to be witty, you know)—that Arnold used when

commentingon‘Squibs’inprivatelifetome.Eitherheusedthemagainafterwards,feelingproudofthem,to the reviewer (possiblyBilly?)or the reviewerhad justused them tohimbeforehemetme, andhecribbedthem,or....ButIwon’task.Imustn’tknow.Iprefernottoknow.Iwillpreserveourfriendshipintact.”

“What does the conceited child expect?” exclaimedMiss Hogan. “The review said hewasmorealivethanBarker,andwittierthanWilde.ThegrossestflatteryIeverread!”

“Abrightpiece,”Cecilremarked.“Hesaiditwasabrightpiece.Hedid,Itellyou.Abrightpiece.”“Well,lotsofthepapersdidn’t,”saidSally,consolinghim.“TheDailyComment said itwas long-

winded,incoherent,anddull.”“Thankyou,Sally.That iscertainlyacheeringmemory.Tobe foundbrightby theDaily Comment

wouldindeedbethelaststageofdegradation....Iwonderwhatidiocytheywillfindtosayofmynext....Iwonder——”

“Haveweallfinishedeating?”Arnoldhastilyintercepted.“Thenletuspay,andgooutforacountrystroll,togetanappetiteforlunch,whichwillveryshortlybeuponus.”

“MydearArnold,onedoesn’tstrollimmediatelyafterbreakfast;howcrudeyouare.Onesmokesacigarettefirst.”

“Well,catchusupwhenyou’vesmokedit.Wecameoutforadayinthecountry,andwemusthaveit.We’regoing towalkseveralmilesnowwithouta stop, togetwarm.”Arnoldwasoccasionally seizedwithafierceattackofenergy,andwouldwalkallthroughaday,ormoreprobablyanight,togetridofit,andreturncuredforthetimebeing.

Thesandyroadledfirstthroughawoodthatsanginafreshwind.Thecoolairwassweetwithpinesandbrackenanddampearth.Itwasagloriousmorningofodoursandjoy,andthehilarityofthelastdaysofOctober,whentheendseemsnearandthepresentpoignantlygay,andlifeabrightpiecenearlyplayedout.ArnoldandBridgetHoganwalkedontogetherahead,bothtalkingatonce,probablycompetingastowhich could get in most remarks in the shortest time. After them came Billy Raymond and Cecil LeMoine,andwiththemJaneandSallyhand-in-hand.EddyfoundhimselfwalkingintherearsidebysidewithEileenLeMoine.

Eileen, who was capable, ignoring all polite conventions, of walking a mile with a slightacquaintancewithoututteringaword,becauseshewasfeelinglazy,orthinkingofsomethinginteresting,orbecausehercompanionboredher,wasjustnowinaconversationalmood.SheratherlikedEddy;alsoshesawinhimanavenueforanideashehadinmind.Shetoldhimso.

“YouworkintheBorough,don’tyou?Iwishyou’dletmecomeandplayfolk-musictoyourclubssometimes.It’sathingI’mratherkeenon—gettingtheoldfolkmelodiesintothestreets,doyousee,thewayerrandboyswillwhistlethem.DoyouknowHughDatcherd?HehasmusicaleveningsinhisLea-sidesettlement;Igothereagooddeal.Hehasmorrisdancingtwiceaweekandfolk-musiconce.”

EddyhadheardmuchofHughDatcherd’sLea-sidesettlement.AccordingtoSt.Gregory’s,itwasrunonveryregrettablelines.Hilliersaid,“Theyteachrankatheismthere.”However,itwassomethingthattheyalsotaughtmorrisdancingandfolk-music.

“Itwouldbesplendid ifyou’dcomesometimes,”hesaid,gratefully.“Justexactlywhatweshouldmostlike.We’vehadalittlemorrisdancing,ofcourse—whohasn’t?—butnoneoftheotherthing.”

“WhicheveningwillIcome?”sheasked.Adirectyoungperson;shelikedtosettlethingsquickly.Eddy,consultinghislittlebook,said,“To-morrow,canyou?”Shesaid,“No,Ican’t;butIwill,”havingapparentlyahigh-handedmethodofdealingwithprevious

engagements.“It’stheC.L.B.clubnight,”saidEddy.“Hillier—oneofthecurates—istakingitto-morrow,andI’m

helping.I’llspeaktohim,butI’msureitwillbeallright.Itwillbeadelightfulchangefrombilliardsandboxing.Thankssomuch.”

“AndMr.Datcherdmaycomewithme,mayn’the?He’sinterestedinotherpeople’sclubs.DoyoureadFurther?Anddoyoulikehisbooks?”

“Yes,rather,”Eddycomprehensivelyansweredallthreequestions.AllthesamehewassmittenwithafaintdoubtastoMr.Datcherd’scoming.ProbablyHillier’sanswertothethreequestionswouldhavebeen“Certainlynot.”Butafterall,St.Gregory’sdidn’tbelongtoHillierbut tothevicar,andthevicar

wasamanofsense.AndanyhowanyonewhosawMrs.LeMoinemustbegladtohaveavisitfromher,andanyonewhoheardherplaymustthankthegodsforit.

“Idolikehisbooks,”Eddyamplified;“onlythey’resoawfullysad,andsoatoddswithlife.”Afaintshadowseemedtocloudherface.“Heisawfullysad,”shesaid,afteramoment.“Andheisatoddswithlife.Hefeelsithideous,and

heminds.Hespendsallhistimetryingandtryingcanhechangeitforpeople.Andthemorehetriesandfails,themoreheminds.”Shestoppedabruptly,asifshehadgonetoofarinexplainingHughDatcherdtohim.Eddyhadaknackofdrawingconfidences;probablyitwashislookofintelligentsympathyandhishabitoflistening.

Hewondered foramomentwhetherHughDatcherd’ssadnesswasallaltruistic,ordidhe findhisownlifehideoustoo?FromwhatEddyhadheardofLadyDorothy,hiswife,thatmighteasilybeso,hethought,fortheydidn’tsoundcompatible.

Instinctively, anyhow, he turned away his eyes from the queer, soft look of brooding pity thatmomentarilyshadowedHughDatcherd’sfriend.

Frominfront,snatchesof talkfloatedbackto themthroughtheclear, thinair.MissHogan’svoice,withitsslightstutter,seemedtobeconcludinganinterestinganecdote.

“Andsotheybothcommittedsuicidefromthelibrarywindow.Andhiswifewasparalysedfromthewaistup—isstill,infact.Mostunwholesome,itallwas.Andnowit’ssoonCharlesHarker’smindthathewritesnovelsaboutnothingelse,poorcreature.Verynatural,ifyouthinkwhathewentthrough.Ihearhe’sanotherjustcomingoutnow,onthesame.”

“Hesentittous,”saidArnold,“butUncleWilfredandIweren’tsureitwasproper.IamengagedintryingtobroadenUncleWilfred’smind.NotthatIwanthimtotakeHarker’sbooks,noworatanytime....Youknow,IwantEddyinourbusiness.Wewantanewreader,anditwouldbesomuchbetterforhismindandmoralnaturethanmessingaboutashe’sdoingnow.”

CecilwassayingtoBillyandJane,“HewantsmetoputLesbiabehindthewindow-curtain,andmakeher overhear it all.Behind thewindow-curtain, you know!He really does.Could you have suspectedevenourMusgraveofbeingsobanal,Billy?He’snotevenEdwardian—he’slate-Victorian....”

Arnoldsaidoverhisshoulder,“Can’tsomebodystophim?Dotry,Jane.He’sspoilingourdaywithhisegotisticbabbling.BridgetandIaretalkingexclusivelyaboutothers, theirdomestictragedies, theirliterary productions, and their unsuitable careers; never a word about ourselves. I’m sure Eileen andEddy are doing the same; and sandwiched between us, Cecil flows on fluently about his privategrievancesandhishighlyunsuitableplays.You’dthinkhemightrememberwhatdayitis,tosaytheleastofit.Iwonderhowhewasbroughtup,don’tyou,Bridget?”

“Idon’twonder;Iknow,”saidBridget.“HisparentsnotonlywrotefortheYellowBook,butgaveithimtoreadinthenursery,anditcorruptedhimforlife.Hewould,ofcourse,faintifonesuggestedthathecarriedthetaintofanythingsoantiquated,butinfantimpressionsarehardtoeradicate.Iknowofoldthattheonlywaytostophimistofeedhim,solet’shavelunch,howeverunsuitablethehourandtheplacemaybe.”

Sallysaid,“Hurrah,let’s.Inthissand-pit.”Sotheygotintothesand-pitandproducedsevenpacketsof food,which is to say that they each produced one exceptCecil,who had omitted to bring his, andundemurringlyacceptedalittlebitofeveryoneelse’s.Theythenplayedhideandseek,dumbcrambo,andother vigorous games, because as Arnold said, “A moment’s pause, and we are undone,” until forwearinessthepausecameuponthem,andthenCecilpromptlyseizedthemomentandproducedtheplay,andtheyhadtolisten.Arnoldsuccumbed,vanquished,andstretchedhimselfontheheather.

“Youhavewon;Igivein.OnlyleaveoutthepartsthatareleastsuitableforSallytohear.”

So,likeotherdaysinthecountry,thedayworethrough,andtheycaughtthe5.10backtoWaterloo.AtsupperthateveningEddytoldthevicaraboutMrs.LeMoine’sproposal.“Soshe’scomingto-morrownight,withDatcherd.”Hillierlookedupsharply.“Datcherd!Thatman!”Hecaughthimselfupfromascornfulepithet.“Whynot?”saidthevicartolerantly.“He’sverykeenonsocialwork,youknow.”PetersandHillierbothlookedcross.“Iknowpersonally,”saidHillier,“ofcaseswherehisinfluencehasbeenruinous.”Peterssaid,“Whatdoeshewantdownhere?”Eddysaid,“Hewon’thavemuchinfluenceduringoneevening.Isupposehewantstowatchhowthey

takethemusic,and,generally,toseewhatourclubsarelike.Besides,heandMrs.LeMoinearegreatfriends,andshenaturallylikestohavesomeonetocomewith.”

“Datcherd’satremendouslyinterestingperson,”saidTraherne.“I’vemethimonceortwice;Ishouldliketoseemoreofhim.”

“Averyableman,”saidthevicar,andsaidgrace.

CHAPTERV.

DATCHERDANDTHEVICAR.

DATCHERD looked ill; thatwas thepredominant impressionEddygotofhim.Anuntidy,pale, sad-eyedpersonofthirty-five,withabadtemperandanextraordinarilyardentfireofenergy,atoncedeterminedandratherhopeless.Theevilsoftheworldloomed,itseemed,evenlargerinhiseyesthantheirpossibleremedies; but both loomed large. He was a pessimist and a reformer, an untiring fighter againstoverwhelmingodds.Hewasalliedbothbybirthandmarriage(themarriagehadbeenaby-gonemistakeof theemotions, forwhichhewasdearlypaying)withaclasswhich,without intermission,andby themerefactofitsexistence,incurredhisvindictivewrath.(SeeFurther,monthbymonth.)HehadtriedandfailedtogetintoParliament;hehadnowgivenuphopesofthatfieldofenergy,andwasdevotinghimselftophilanthropicsocialschemesandliterarywork.Hewasnotanattractiveperson,exactly;helackedthelighttouch,andtheordinaryhumanamenities;buttherewasadrawing-powerintheimpetuousardourofhisconvictionsandpurposes,inhisacuteandbrilliantintelligence,inhisimmense,quixoticgenerosity,and, to somenatures, inhis unhappiness andhis ill-health.Andhis smile,which came seldom,wouldhavesoftenedanyheart.

Perhaps he did not smile at Hillier on Monday evening; anyhow Hillier’s heart remained hardtowardshim,andhistowardsHillier.Hewasoneofthegenerationwholefttheuniversitiesfifteenyearsago; they are often pronounced and thoughtful agnostics,who have thoroughly gone into the subject ofChristianityastaughtbytheChurches,anddecidedagainstit.Theyhavenotthemodernwayofrejection,which is to let it alone as an irrelevant thing, a thing known (and perhaps cared) too little about topronounce upon; or the modern way of acceptance, which is to embark upon it as an inspiring anddesirableadventure.Theyofthatoldgenerationthinkthatreligionshouldbesquaredwithscience,and,ifit can’t be, rejected finally. Anyhow Datcherd thought so; he had rejected it finally as a Cambridgeundergraduate, andhadnot changedhismind since.Hebelieved freedomof thought to beof immenseimportance, and, a dogmatic person himself,was anxious to free theworld from the fetters of dogma.Hillier (also a dogmatic person; there are so many) preached a sermon the Sunday after he had metDatcherdaboutthosewhowouldfindthemselvesfoolsattheJudgmentDay.Further,HillieragreedwithJamesPetersthattherelationsofDatcherdandMrs.LeMoinewereunfitting,consideringthateveryoneknewthatDatcherddidn’tgetonwithhiswifenorMrs.LeMoinelivewithherhusband.Peopleineitherofthoseunfortunatepositionscannotbetoocarefulofappearances.

Meanwhile,Mrs.LeMoine’s fiddlingheld theclubspell-bound.SheplayedEnglishfolk-melodiesandHungariandances,andtheboys’feetshuffledintune.Londonersaremusicalpeople,onthewhole;noonecansaythat, thoughtheylikebadmusic, theydon’t likegoodmusic, too; theyarecatholic in taste.EddyOliver,wholikedanythingheheard,fromabarrel-organtoaBeethovenSymphony,wasatypicalspecimen.Hisfoot,too,tappedintune;hisblooddancedinhimtotheliltoflaughterandpassionandgaylivingthatthequickbowtorefromthestrings.Heknewenough,technically,aboutmusic,toknowthatthiswas wonderful playing; and he remembered what he had heard before, that this brilliant, perverse,childlike-lookingperson,withhergreatbroodingeyesandhalf-sullenbrows,andthefiddletuckedawayunderherroundchin,wasagenius.HebelievedhehadheardthatshehadsomeHungarianbloodinher,besidestheIrishstrain.Certainlythepassionandthefireinher,thatwassettingeveryone’sbloodstirringso,couldhardlybemerelyEnglish.

At theendofawilddance tune,andduring riotousapplause,Eddy turned toDatcherd,whostoodclosetohim,andlaughed.

“Myword!”wasallhesaid.Datcherdsmiledalittleathim,andEddylikedhimmorethanever.“Theylikeit,don’tthey?”saidDatcherd.“Lookhowtheylikeit.Theylikethis;andthenwegoand

givethemhusks;vulgaritiesfromthecomicoperas.”“Oh,buttheylikethose,too,”saidEddy.Datcherdsaidimpatiently,“They’dstoplikingthemiftheycouldalwaysgetanythingdecent.”“Butsurely,”saidEddy,“themorethingstheylikethebetter.”Datcherd, looking round at him to see if hemeant it, said, “Good heavens!” andwas frowningly

silent.Anintolerantman,andill-temperedatthat,Eddydecided,butlikedhimverymuchallthesame.Mrs.LeMoinewasplayingagain,quitedifferently;allthepassionandthewildnessweregonenow;

shewasplaying a sixteenth century tune, curiouslynaïf and tender and engaging, andobjective, like achild’ssinging,orJaneDawn’sdrawings.Thedetachmentofit,theutterself-obliteration,pleasedEddyevenmorethanthepassionofthedance;herewasgeniusatitshighest.ItseemedtohimverywonderfulthatsheshouldbegivingofherbestsolavishlytoaroomfulofignorantBoroughlads;verywonderful,andatthesametimeverycharacteristicofherwayward,quixotic,self-pleasinggenerosity,thathefanciedwasneitherbasedonanyprinciple,norrestrainedbyanyconsiderationsofprudence.Shewouldalways,heimagined,givejustwhatshefeltinclined,andwhenshefeltinclined,whateverthegiftsshedealtin.Anyhowshehadbecomeimmenselypopularintheclub-room.Theadmirationrousedbyhermusicwasincreasedbythequeercharmshecarriedwithher.Shestoodaboutamongtheboysforalittle, talking.Shetoldthemaboutthetunes,whattheywereandwhencetheycame;shewhistledabarhereandthere,andtheytookitupfromher;shehadaskedwhichtheyhadliked,andwhy.

“InmySettlementupby theLea,”saidDatcherd toEddy,“she’sgot someof the tunesout into thestreetsalready.Youhearthembeingwhistledasthemengotowork.”

EddylookedatHillier,toseeifhehadn’tbeensoftenedbythiswonderfulevening.Hillier,ofcourse,hadlikedthemusic;anyonewould.Buthismoralsensehadafinepowerofholdingitselfseverelyalooffromconversionbyanybutmoralsuasions.Hewasgeniallychattingwiththeboys,asusual—Hillierwasdelightfulwithboysandgirls,andimmenselypopular—butEddysuspectedhimunchangedinhisattitudetowardsthevisitors.Eddy,formusiclikethat,wouldhavelovedaMrs.Pendennis(hadshebeencapableofproducingit) letaloneanyonesolikeableasEileenLeMoine.Hillier, lesssusceptible to influence,stillsatinjudgment.

Flushedandbright-eyed,EddymadehiswaytoMrs.LeMoine.“Isay,thanksmostawfully,”hesaid.“Iknewitwasgoingtobewonderful,butIdidn’tknowhow

wonderful.Ishallcometoallyourconcertsnow.”Hillieroverheard that,andhisbrowsrosea little.Hedidn’tseehowEddywasgoing tomake the

timetoattendallMrs.LeMoine’sconcerts;itwouldmeanmissingclubnights,andwholeafternoons.Inhisopinion,Eddy,foraparishworker,wenttoomuchoutoftheparishalready.

Mrs.LeMoinesaid,withherusuallackofcircumlocution,“I’llcomeagainnextMonday.ShallI?Iwouldliketogetthemusicthoroughlyintotheirheads;they’rekeenenoughtomakeitworthwhile.”

Eddysaidpromptly,“Oh,willyoureally?Howsplendid.”Hillier,cominguptothem,saidcourteously,“Thishasbeenextremelygoodofyou,Mrs.LeMoine.

Wehaveallhadagreattreat.Butyoureallymustn’twastemoreofyourvaluabletimeonouruncultivatedears.We’renotworthit,I’mafraid.”

Eileenlookedathimwithaglintofamusementinthegloomyblueshadowinessofhereyes.

“Iwon’tcome,”shesaid,“unlessyouwantmeto,ofcourse.”Hillierprotested.“It’sdelightfulforus,naturally—farmorethanwedeserve.ItwasyourtimeIwas

thinkingof.”“Thatwillbeallright.I’llcome,then,forhalfanhour,nextMonday.”SheturnedtoEddy.“Willyou

come to lunchwithus—MissHogan andme, youknow—nextSunday?ArnoldDenison’s coming, andKarlLovinski,theviolinist,andtwoorthreeotherpeople.3,CampdenHillRoad,at1.30.”

“Thanks;Ishouldliketo.”DatcherdcameupfromthebackoftheroomwherehehadbeentalkingtoTraherne,whohadcomein

lately.Theysaidgoodbye,andtheclubtooktobilliards.“IsMr.Datcherdcoming,too,nextMonday?”HillierinquiredgloomilyofEddy.“Oh,Iexpectso. Isuppose it’s lessofaboreforMrs.LeMoinenot tohave tocomeall thatway

alone.Besides,he’sawfullyinterestedinitall.”“A first-class man,” said Traherne, who was an enthusiast, and had found in Datcherd another

Socialist,thoughnotaChurchone.Eddyandthecurateswalkedbacktogetherlaterintheevening.EddyfeltvaguelyjarredbyHillierto-

night; probably becauseHillierwas, in hismind, opposing something, and thatwas the one thing thatannoyedEddy.Hillierwas,hefelt,opposingthesedelightfulpeoplewhohadprovidedtheclubwithsuchagloriousevening,andweregoing todosoagainnextMonday; thesebrilliantpeople,whospilt theirgeniussolavishlybeforethepoorandignorant;thesecharming,friendlypeople,whohadaskedEddytolunchnextSunday.

WhatHilliersaidwas,“ShallyougetWilkestotakeyourclassagainonSundayafternoon,Oliver?”“Yes,Isupposeso.Hedoesn’tmind,doeshe?IbelievehereallytakesitalotbetterthanIdo.”Hillierbelievedso, too,andmadenocomment.Trahernelaughed.“Wilkes!Oh,hemeanswell,no

doubt.ButIwouldn’tturnuponSundayafternoonifIwasgoingtobetaughtbyWilkes.Whatanassyouare,Oliver,goingtolunchpartiesonSundays.”

WithTraherne,workcamefirst,andeverythingelse,especiallyanythingsocial,animmensenumberof lengths behind.WithEddy a number of things ran neck to neck all the time.Hewouldn’t,Trahernethought,atriflecontemptuously,everaccomplishmuchinanysphereoflifeatthatrate.

Hesaidtothevicarthatnight,“Oliver’sbeingcaughtinthetoilsofSociety,Ifear.Forsuchakeenperson,he’soddlyslackaboutstickingtohisjobwhenanythingelseturnsup.”

ButHilliersaid,ataseparatetime,“Oliver’sbeingdraggedintoafrightfullyunwholesomeset,vicar.I hate those people; that manDatcherd is an aggressive unbeliever, you know; he doesmore harm, Ibelieve,thananyonequiterealises.Andonehearsthingssaid,youknow,abouthimandMrs.LeMoine—oh,noharm,Idaresay,butonehastothinkof theeffectontheweakerbrethren.AndOliver’sbringingthemintotheparish,andIwouldn’tcaretoanswerfortheeffects....Itmademealittlesick,Idon’tmindsaying toyou, toseeDatcherd talking to the lads to-night;aworddroppedhere,asneer there,and theseedissownfromwhichuntoldevilmayspring.Ofcourse,Mrs.LeMoineisawonderfulplayer,butthatmakesherinfluenceallthemoredangerous,tomymind.Theladswerefascinatedthisevening;onesawthemhangingonherwords.”

“Idon’tsuppose,”saidthevicar,“thatshe,orDatcherdeither,wouldsayanythingtohurtthem.”Hilliercaughthimupsharply.“Youapprove,then?Youwon’tdiscourageOliver’sintimacywiththem,orhisbringingthemintothe

parish?”“MostcertainlyIshall,ifitgetsbeyondacertainpoint.There’sameaninallthings....Butit’stheir

effectonOliverratherthanontheparishthatIshouldbeafraidof.He’sgottorealisethatamancan’tprofitablyhave toomanyirons in thefireatonce. Ifhe’sgoingperpetually torunaboutLondonseeingfriends,he’lldonogoodasaworker.Also,it’snotgoodforhissoultobecontinuallywithpeoplewhoareunsympatheticwiththeChurch.He’snotstrongenoughorgrown-upenoughtostandit.”

ButEddyhadadelightfullunchonSunday,andWilkestookhisclass.OtherSundaysfollowed,andotherweek-days,andmoredelightful lunches,andmanyconcertsand

theatres, and expeditions into the country, and rambles about the town, and musical evenings in St.Gregory’sparish, and, ingeneral, a jolly life.Eddy loved thewhole of life, includinghiswork inSt.Gregory’s, which he was quite as much interested in as if it had been his exclusive occupation.Ingenuously,hewouldtrytodrawhisfriendsintopleasureswhichtheywerebytemperamentandtraininglittlefittedtoenjoy.Forinstance,hesaidtoDatcherdandMrs.LeMoineoneday,“We’vegotamissiononnowin theparish.There’saneighto’clockserviceonMondaynight, so there’llbenoclub. Iwishyou’dcometotheserviceinstead;it’sreallygood,themission.FatherDempsey,ofSt.Austin’s,istakingit.Haveyoueverheardhim?”

Datcherd,inhisgrave,melancholyway,shookhishead.EileensmiledatEddy,andpattedhisarminthemotherlymannershehadforhim.

“Nowwhatdoyouthink?No,weneverhave.Wouldweunderstandhimifwedid?Iexpectnot,doyouknow.Telluswhenthemission(isthatwhatyoucallit?ButIthoughttheywereforblacksandJews)isover,andI’llcomeagainandplay to theclubs.Till then,oughtn’tyou tobegoing toserviceseverynight,andIwonderoughtyoutobediningandtheatreingwithusonThursday?”

“Oh, I can fit it ineasily,” saidEddy,cheerfully. “But, seriously, Idowishyou’dcomeonenight.You’d like Father Dempsey. He’s an extraordinarily alive and stimulating person. Hillier thinks himflippant;butthat’srubbish.He’sthebestmanintheChurch.”

Allthesame,theydidn’tcome.Howdifficultitistomakepeopledowhattheyarenotusedto!Howgooditwouldbeforthemiftheywould;ifHillierwouldbutsometimesspendaneveningatDatcherd’ssettlement; if James Peters would but come, at Eddy’s request, to shop at the Poetry Bookshop; ifDatcherdwouldbutsitunderFatherDempsey,thebestmanintheChurch!ItsometimesseemedtoEddythatitwashealone,inastrange,uneclecticworld,whodidallthesethingswithimpartialassiduityandfervour.

Andhefound,whichwassadandbewildering,thatthosewithlessimpartialityoftastegotannoyed

with him. The vicar thought, not unnaturally, that during the mission he ought to have given up otherengagements,anddevotedhimselfexclusivelytotheparish,gettingthemtocome.Allthecuratesthoughtso too. Meanwhile Arnold Denison thought that he ought to have stayed to the end of the debate onImpressionisminPoetryattheWednesdayClubthatmetinBillyRaymond’srooms,insteadofgoingawayinthemiddletobeintimeforthelateserviceatSt.Gregory’s.Arnoldthoughtsoparticularlybecausehehadn’tyet spokenhimself,and itwouldobviouslyhavebeenmorebecoming inEddy towaitandhearhim.Eddygrewtohaveanuncomfortablefeelingofbeingalittlewrongwitheveryone;hefeltaggrievedunderit.

Atlast,afortnightbeforeChristmas,thevicarspoketohim.ItwasonaSundayevening.Eddyhadhad supper with Cecil LeMoine, as it was Cecil’s turn to have the Sunday Games Club, a childishinstitutionthatflourishedjustthenamongthem,meetathishouse.EddyreturnedtoSt.Gregory’slate.

Thevicarsaid,atbedtime,“Iwanttospeaktoyou,Oliver, ifyoucanspareaminuteortwo,”andtheywent into his study.Eddy felt rather like a schoolboy awaiting a jawing.Hewatched the vicar’ssquare,sensible,kindface, throughacloudofsmoke,andsawhispointofviewprecisely.Hewanted

certainworkdone.Hedidn’tthinktheworkwassowelldoneifahundredotherthingsweredonealso.Hebelievedincertainthings.Hedidn’tthinkbeliefinthosethingscouldbequitethoroughifthosewhoheldithadconstantandunnecessarytrafficwiththosewhoquitedefinitelydidn’t.Well,itwasofcourseapointofview;Eddyrealisedthat.

Thevicarsaid,“Idon’twanttobeinterfering,Oliver.But,frankly,areyouaskeenonthisjobasyouweretwomonthsago?”

“Yes,rather,”saidEddy.“Keener,Ithink.Onegetsintoit,yousee.”Thevicarnodded,patientandalittlecynical.“Quite.Well, it’s a fullman’s job, youknow; one can’t take it easy.One’s got to put every bit of

oneselfintoit,andevensothereisn’tnearenoughofmostofustogetupsideswithit....Oh,Idon’tmeandon’ttakeontimes,ordon’thaveoutsideinterestsandplentyoffriends;ofcourseIdon’t.Butone’sgotnot to fritter and squander one’s energies.And one’s got to have one’swhole heart in thework, or itdoesn’tgetdoneas it should. It’sa job for thekeen; for theenthusiasts; for thesingle-minded.Doyouthink,Oliver,thatit’squitethejobforyou?”

“Yes,”saidEddy,readily,thoughcrest-fallen.“I’mkeen.I’manenthusiast.I’m——”Hecouldn’tsaysingle-minded,sohebrokeoff.

“Really,”headded,“I’mawfullysorryifI’vescampedtheworklately,andbeenoutoftheparishtoomuch.I’vetriednotto,honestly—ImeanI’vetriedtofititallinandnotscampthings.”

“Fit it all in!”Thevicar tookhimup.“Precisely.Thereyouare.Whydoyou try to fit in somuchmorethanyou’veproperlyroomfor?Life’slimited,yousee.One’sgottoselectonethingoranother.”

“Oh,”Eddymurmured,“whatanawfulthought!Iwanttoselectlotsandlotsofthings!”“It’sgreedy,”saidthevicar.“What’smore,it’ssilly.You’llendbygettingnothing....Andnowthere’s

anotherthing.Ofcourseyouchooseyourownfriends;it’snobusinessofmine.Butyoubringthemagooddealintotheparish,andthat’smybusiness,ofcourse.Now,Idon’twanttosayanythingagainstfriendsofyours;stilllesstorepeatthecommentsofignorantandprejudicedpeople;butIexpectyouknowthesortofthingssuchpeoplewouldsayaboutMr.DatcherdandMrs.LeMoine.Afterall,they’rebothmarriedtosomeoneelse.You’lladmitthattheyareveryrecklessofpublicopinion,andthatthat’sapity.”Hespokecautiously,sayinglessthanhefelt, inordernot tobeannoying.ButEddyflushed,andfor thefirst timelookedcross.

“Surely,ifpeoplearelow-mindedenough——”hebegan.“That,” said thevicar, “ispartofone’swork, to consider lowminds.Besides—mydearOliver, I

don’t want to be censorious—butwhy doesn’tMrs. LeMoine livewith her husband?Andwhy isn’tDatcherdevertobeseenwithhiswife?Andwhyarethosetwoperpetuallytogether?”

Eddygrewhotter.Hishandshookalittleashetookouthispipe.“TheLeMoines liveapartbecause theyprefer it.Whynot?Datcherd, Ipresume,doesn’tgoabout

with his wife because they are hopelessly unsuited to each other in every way, and bore each otherhorribly.I’veseenLadyDorothyDatcherd.ThethoughtofherandDatcherdascompanionsisabsurd.Shedisapprovesofallheisanddoes.She’saworldly,selfishwoman.Shegoesherwayandhehis.Surelyit’sbest.As forDatcherdandMrs.LeMoine—theyaren’tperpetually together.Theycomedownheretogetherbecausethey’rebothinterested;butthey’reinquitedifferentsets,really.Hisfriendsaremostlysocialworkers,andpoliticians,andwritersofleadingarticles,andcontributorstothequarterliesandthepolitical press—what are called ablemen you know; his own family, of course, are all that sort.Herfriends are artists and actors and musicians, and poets and novelists and journalists, and casual,irresponsiblepeoplewhoplayroundandhaveagoodtimeanddocleverwork—Imean,hersetandhishaven’t verymuch to dowith one another really.”Eddy spoke rather eagerly, as if hewas anxious to

impressthisonthevicarandhimself.Thevicarheardhimoutpatiently, thensaid,“Ineversaidanythingaboutsets. It’shimandherI’m

talkingabout.Youwon’tdeny they’regreat friends.Well,nomanandwomanare ‘great friends’ in theeyesofpoorpeople;they’resomethingquitedifferent.Andthat’snotwholesome.Itstartstalk.Andyourbeinghandandglovewiththemdoesnogoodtoyourinfluenceintheparish.Foronething,Datcherd’sknowntobeanatheist.TheseconstantSundayoutingsofyours—you’realwaysmissingchurch,yousee,andthat’sapoorexample.I’vebeenspokentoaboutitmorethanoncebytheparentsofyourclass-boys.Theythinkitstrangethatyoushouldbeclosefriendswithpeoplelikethat.”

Eddystartedup.“Peoplelikethat?PeoplelikeHughDatcherdandEileenLeMoine?Goodheavens!I’m not fit to black their boots, and nor are the idiots who talk about them like that. Vulgar-mouthedlunatics!”

ThiswasunlikeEddy;henevercalledpeoplevulgar,nordespisedthem;thatwaspartlywhyhemadeagood churchworker.Thevicar looked at himover his pipe, a little irritated in his turn.Hehadnotreckonedontheboybeingsohotaboutthesefriendsofhis.

“It’s a clear choice,” said the vicar, rather sharply. “Either you give up seeing somuch of thesepeople,andcertainlygiveupbringingthemintotheparish;or—I’mverysorry,becauseIdon’twanttoloseyou—youmustgiveupSt.Gregory’s.”

Eddystoodlookingonthefloor,angry,unhappy,uncertain.“It’snochoiceatall,”hesaidatlast.“YouknowIcan’tgivethemup.Whycan’tIhavethemandSt.

Gregory’s,too?What’stheinconsistency?Idon’tunderstand.”Thevicarlookedathimimpatiently.Hisfacultyofsympathy,usuallysokind,humorous,andshrewd,

hadrunupagainstoneofthoselimitingwallsthatveryfewpeoplewhoaresupremelyinearnestoveronethingarequitewithout.Heoccasionally(reallynotoften)saidastupidthing;hedidsonow.

“Youdon’tunderstand?Surely it’sextremelysimple.Youcan’t serveGodandMammon; that’s thelongandtheshortofit.You’vegottochoosewhich.”

That,ofcourse,wasfinal.Eddysaid,“Naturally,ifit’slikethat,I’llleaveSt.Gregory’satonce.Thatis,directlyit’sconvenientforyouthatIshould,”headded,consideratebyinstinct,thoughangry.

Thevicarturnedtofacehim.Hewasbitterlydisappointed.“Youmeanthat,Oliver?Youwon’tgiveitanothertrial,onthelinesIadvise?Mind,Idon’tmeanI

want you to have no friends, no outside interests.... Look atTraherne, now; he’s full of them.... I onlywant,foryourownsakeandourpeople’s,thatyourheartshouldbeinyourjob.”

“Ihadbettergo,”saidEddy,knowingitforcertain.Headded,“Pleasedon’tthinkI’mgoingoffinastupidhufforanything.It’snotthat.Ofcourse,you’veeveryrighttospeaktomeasyoudid;butit’smademypositionquitecleartome.Iseethisisn’treallymyjobatall.Imustfindanother.”

Thevicarsaid,holdingouthishand,“I’mverysorry,Oliver.Idon’twanttoloseyou.Thinkitoverforaweek,willyou,andtellmethenwhatyouhavedecided.Don’tbehastyoverit.Remember,we’veallgrownfondofyouhere;you’llbethrowingawayagooddealofvaluableopportunityifyouleaveus.Ithink youmay bemissing the best in life. But Imustn’t take backwhat I said. It is a definite choicebetweentwowaysoflife.Theywon’tmix.”

“Theywill,theywill,”saidEddytohimself,andwenttobed.Ifthevicarthoughttheywouldn’t,thevicar’swayoflifecouldnotbehis.Hehadnoneedtothinkitoverforaweek.HewasgoinghomeforChristmas,andhewouldnotcomebackafterthat.Thisjobwasnotforhim.Andhecouldnot,heknewnow, be a clergyman. They drew lines; they objected to people and things; they failed to accept. Thevicar,whenhehadmentionedDatcherd,hadlookedasDatcherdhadlookedwhenEddyhadmentioned

FatherDempsey and themission; Eddywas getting to know that critical, disapproving look toowell.Everywhereitmethim.Hehatedit.Itseemedtohimevenstrangerinclergymenthaninothers,becauseclergymen are Christians, and, to Eddy’s view, there were no negations in that vivid and intenselypositivecreed.Itscommandswerealways,surely,togoanddo,nottoabstainandreject.Andlook,too,atthesortofpeoplewhowereofoldacceptedinthatgenerous,all-embracingcircle....

CHAPTERVI.

THEDEANERYANDTHEHALL.

EDDYwasmetatthestationbyhissisterDaphne,drivingthedog-cart.Daphnewastwenty;asmall,neatperson in tailor-made tweeds,bright-haired,withanattractivebrown-tanned face, andalertblueeyes,and a decisively-cut mouth, and long, straight chin. Daphne was off-hand, quick-witted, intenselypractical,spoilt,ratherselfish,verysureofherself,andwithanunveiledyouthfulcontemptformannersandpeoplethatfailedtomeetwithherapproval.Eitherpeoplewere“allright,”and“prettydecent,”ortheywerecursorilydismissedas“queer,”“messy,”or“stodgy.”Shewasverygoodatallgamesrequiringactivity,speed,anddexterityofhand,andmoreathomeoutofdoorsthanin.Shehadquiteenoughsenseofhumour,asharptongue,somecleverness,andverylittleimaginationindeed.Aconfidentyoungperson,determinedtogetandkeepthebestoutoflife.WithnoneofEddy’sknackofseeinganumberofthingsatonce,shesawafewthingsveryclearly,andwentstraighttowardsthem.

“Hullo,youngDaffy,”Eddycalledouttoher,ashecameoutofthestation.Shewavedherwhipathim.“Hullo.I’vebroughtthenewponyalong.Comeandtryhim.Heshiesatcatsandsmallchildren,so

lookoutthroughthestreets.Howareyou,Tedders?Prettyfit?”“Yes,rather.How’severyone?”“Goingstrong,asusual.Father talksPrayerBook revisioneverynightatdinner till Idropasleep.

He’sgotitfearfullyhotandstrongjustnow;meetingsaboutittwiceaweek,andletterstotheGuardianinbetween.Iwishthey’dhurryupandgetitrevisedandhavedone.Oh,bytheway,hesaysyou’llwanttofighthimaboutthatnow—becauseyou’llbetooHightowantittouched,orsomething.AreyouHigh?”

“Oh,Ithinkso.ButIshouldlikethePrayerBooktoberevised,too.”Daphnesighed.“It’saboreifyou’reHigh.Father’llwanttoargueatmeals.Idohopeyoudon’twant

tokeeptheAthanasianCreed,anyhow.”“Yes,rather.Ilikeit,exceptthebitsslangingotherpeople.”“Oh,well,”Daphnelookedrelieved.“Aslongasyoudon’tlikethosebits,Idaresayit’llbeallright.

CanonJacksoncametolunchyesterday,andhelikedit,slangingandall,andoh,myword,howtiredIgotofhimandfather!Whatcanitmatterwhetheronehasitornot?It’sonlyafewtimesayear,anyhow.Oh,andfather’skeenonanewtranslationoftheBible,too.Idaresayyou’veseenaboutit;hekeepswritingarticlesintheSpectatoraboutit....AndtheBellairshavegotanewcar,aPanhard;Molly’slearningtodriveit.Nevillletmetheotherday;itwasripping.Idowishfather’dkeepacar.Ishouldthinkhemightnow. It would be awfully useful for him for touring round to committee meetings. Mind that corner;Timothyalwaysfunksitabit.”

Theyturnedintothedrive.ItmayormaynothavehithertobeenmentionedthatEddy’shomewasaDeanery,becausehisfatherwasaDean.TheCathedralunderhiscarewasinamidlandcounty,infine,rolling,high-hedgedcountry,suitableforhunting,andsetwithhard-workingsquires.Themidlandsmaynot bepicturesqueor romantic, but they arewonderfully healthy, andproducequite a numberof sane,level-headed,intelligentpeople.

Eddy’sfatherandmotherwereinthehall.“Youlookalittletired,dear,”saidhismother,afterthegreetingsthatmaybeimagined.“Iexpectit

willbegoodforyoutogetarestathome.”“TrustFinchtokeephisworkersontherun,”saidtheDean,whohadbeenatCambridgewithFinch,

andhadn’tlikedhimparticularly.FinchhadbeentooHighChurchforhistasteeventhen;hehimselfhadalwaysbeenBroad,whichwas,nodoubt,whyhewasnowadean.

“Christmasisabusytime,”saidEddy,tritely.TheDeanshookhishead.“Theyoverdoit,youknow,thosepeople.Toomanyservices,andmeetings,

andguilds,andIdon’tknowwhat.Theyspoiltheirownworkbyit.”Hewas,naturally,anxiousaboutEddy.Hedidn’twanthimtogetinvolvedwiththeritualistsetand

becomethatsortofparson;hethoughtitfoolish,obscurantist,childish,andunintelligent,nottosayalittleunmanly.

Theywent into lunch.TheDeanwasrathervexedbecauseEddy, forgettingwherehewas,crossedhimselfatgrace.Eddyperceivedthis,andregisteredanotenottodoitagain.

“And when have you to be back, dear?” said his mother. She, like many deans’ wives, was adignified,intelligent,andcourteouslady,withmanysocialclaimspunctuallyandgraciouslyfulfilled,andagreatloveofbreeding,nicemanners,andsuitableattire.Shehadmanyanxieties,finelyrestrained.ShewasanxiouslesttheDeanshouldoverworkhimselfandgetabadthroat;lestDaphneshouldgetatoothknockedoutatmixedhockey,oralegbrokeninthehunting-field;lestEddyshouldchooseanunsuitablecareeroranunsuitablewife,orveryunsuitable ideas.Thesewerehernegativeanxieties.HerpositiveoneswerethattheDeanshouldberecognisedaccordingtohismerits;thatDaphneshouldmarrytherightman;thatEddyshouldbeasuccess,andalsopleasehisfather;thatthePrayerBookmightberevisedverysoon.

OneofherambitionsforEddywassatisfiedforthwith,forhepleasedhisfather.“I’mnotgoingbacktoSt.Gregory’satall.”TheDeanlookedupquickly.“Oh,you’vegiventhatup,haveyou?Well,itcouldn’tgoonalways,ofcourse.”Hewantedtoask,

“What have you decided about Orders?” but, as fathers go, he was fairly tactful. Besides, he knewDaphnewould.

“AreyougoingintotheChurch,Tedders?”Hermother,asalwayswhensheputitlikethat,correctedher.“Youknowfatherhatesyoutosaythat,

Daphne.TakeOrders.”“Well,takeOrders,then.Areyou,Tedders?”“I think not,” said Eddy, good-tempered as brothers go. “At present I’ve been offered a small

reviewingjobontheDailyPost.Iwasratherlucky,becauseit’sawfullyhardtogetonthePost,and,ofcourse, I’ve had no experience except at Cambridge; but I knowMaine, the literary editor. I used toreviewagooddealfortheCambridgeWeeklywhenhisbrotherranit.Ithinkitwillberatherfun.Yougetsuchlotsofnicebookstokeepforyourownifyoureview.”

“Nice andotherwise, nodoubt,” said theDean. “You’llwant to get rid ofmost of them, I expect.Well, reviewing is an interesting sideof journalism,of course, if youaregoing to try journalism.Yougenuinelyfeelyouwanttodothis,doyou?”

HestillhadhopesthatEddy,oncefreeoftheritualisticset,wouldbecomeaBroadChurchclergymanintime.Butclergymenarethebroader,hebelieved,forknockingabouttheworldalittlefirst.

Eddysaidhedidgenuinelyfeelhewantedtodoit.“I’mratherkeentodoalittlewritingofmyownaswell,”headded,“anditwillleavemesometime

forthat,aswellastimeforotherwork.IwanttogosometimestoworkinthesettlementofamanIknow,too.”

“Whatshallyouwrite?”Daphnewantedtoknow.

“Oh,muchwhateveryoneelsewrites,Isuppose.Ileaveittoyourimagination.”“H’m.Perhapsitwillstaythere,”Daphnespeculated,whichwassuperfluouslyunkind,considering

thatEddyusedtowritequitealotatCambridge,intheReview,theMagazine,theGranta,theBasileon,andeventheTripod.

“An able journalist,” said the Dean, “has a great power in his hands. He can do more than thepoliticians to mould public opinion. It’s a great responsibility. Look at theGuardian, now; and theTimes.”

Eddylookedat them,where they layon the tableby thewindow.He lookedalsoat theSpectator,Punch,theMorningPost,theSaturdayWestminster,theQuarterly,theChurchQuarterly, theHibbert,the Cornhill, the Commonwealth, the Common Cause, and Country Life. These were among theperiodicals takeninat theDeanery.Amongthosenot taken inwere theClarion, theEye-Witness (as itwascalled in thosebygonedays) theChurchTimes,PoetryandDrama, theBlueReview, theEnglishReview,theSuffragette,Further,andall thehalfpennydailies.All thesame, itwasawell-readhome,andbroad-minded,too,andlikedtoheartwosides(butnotmore)ofaquestion,aswillbeinferredfromtheabovelistofitsperiodicalliterature.

They had coffee in the hall after lunch. Grace, ease, spaciousness, a quiet, well-bred luxury,characterised the Deanery. It was a well-marked change to Eddy, both from the asceticism of St.Gregory’s,andthebohemianism(touseanidiotic,inevitableword)ofmanyofhisotherLondonfriends.Thiswasatruegentleman’shome,oneofthestatelyhomesofEngland,howbeautifultheystand.

Daphneproposedthat theyshouldvisitanother thatafternoon.Shehadtocallat theBellairs’forapuppy.ColonelBellairswas a land-owner and J.P.,whose homewas twomiles out of the town.HischildrenandtheDean’schildrenhadbeenintimatefriendssincetheDeancametoWelchesterfromEly,wherehehadbeenaCanon,fiveyearsago.MollyBellairswasDaphneOliver’sgreatestfriend.Therewere also several boys, who flourished respectively in Parliament, the Army, Oxford, Eton, andDartmouth. They were fond of Eddy, but did not know why he did not enter one of the Governmentservices,whichseemstheobviousthingtodo.

Beforestartingonthisexpedition,DaphneandEddywentroundthepremises,astheyalwaysdidonEddy’s first dayathome.Theyplayeda roundofbumble-puppyon the small lawn, inspected thenewtenniscourtthathadjustbeenlaid,andwasindangerofnotlyingquiteflat,andvisitedthekennelsandthestables,whereEddyfedhishorsewithacarrotandexaminedhislegs,anddiscussedwiththegroomthe prospects of hunting weather next week, and Daphne petted the nervous Timothy, who shied atchildrenandcats.

These pleasing duties done, they set out briskly for theHall, along the field path. It was just notfreezing.Theairblewroundthemcrispandcoolandstinging,andsanginthebarebeechwoodsthattheirpathskirted.Abovethemwhitecloudssailedaboutabluesky.Thebrownearthwasfullofarepressedyet vigorous joy. Eddy and Daphne swung along quickly through fields and lanes. Eddy felt theexuberanceofthecrispweatherandthesplendidearthtinglethroughhim.Itwasoneofthemanythingsheloved,andfeltutterlyathomewith,thismotionacrossopencountry,onfootoronhorse-back.Daphne,too,feltandlookedathome,withherfirm,lightstep,andherneat,usefulstick,andherfairhairblowinginstrandsunderhertweedhat,andallthecompetent,wholesomeyounggraceofher.Daphnewasrathercharming,therewasnodoubtaboutthat.ItsometimesoccurredtoEddywhenhemetherafteranabsence.Therewas a sort of adrawing-power abouther thatwasquite apart frombeauty, and thatmadeher apopularandsought-afterperson,inspiteofhercasualmannersandherfrequentselfishnesses.Theyoungmen of the neighbourhood all liked Daphne, and consequently she had a very good time, and wasdecidedly spoilt, and, in a cool, not unattractive way, rather conceited. She seldom had any tumblesmortifying toher self-confidence,partlybecauseshewas ingeneralcleverandcompetentat the things

thatcameinherwaytodo,andpartlybecauseshedidnottrytodothoseshewouldhavebeenlessgoodat,notfromanyfearoffailure,butsimplybecauseshewasboredbythem.Butaclergyman’sdaughter,even a dean’s, has, unfortunately, to do a few things that bore her.One is bazaars.Another is leavingthingsatcottages.Mrs.Oliverhadgiventhemabrownpaperparceltoleaveatahouseinthelane.Theyleft it, and Eddy stayed for amoment to talk with the lady of the house.Master Eddywas generallybeloved inWelchester, because he always had plenty of attention to bestow even on the poorest anddullest.MissDaphnewasbeloved,too,andadmired,butwasusuallymoreinahurry.Shewasinahurryto-day,andwouldn’tletEddystaylong.

“IfyouletMrs.TomClarkstartonTom’sabscess,weshouldnevergettotheHallto-day,”shesaid,astheyleftthecottage.“Besides,Ihateabscesses.”

“ButIlikeTomandhiswife,”saidEddy.“Oh, they’reall right.Thecottage isawfullystuffy,andalways inamess. Ishould thinkshemight

keepitcleaner,withalittleperseveranceandcarbolicsoap.Perhapsshedoesn’tbecauseMissHarrisisalwaysjawingtoheraboutit.Iwouldn’ttidyup,Imustsay,ifMissHarriswasontomeaboutmyroom.Whatdoyouthink,she’sgoneandmademotherpromiseIshalltakethedollstallattheAssistantCurates’Bazaar.It’stoobad.I’dhavedressedanynumberofdolls,butIdobarsellingthem.It’sahuntingday,too. It’s anawful fate tobeaparson’sdaughter. It’s all right foryou;parsons’ sonsdon’thave to selldolls.”

“Lookhere,”saidEddy,“arewehavingpeopletostayafterChristmas?”“Don’tthinkso.Onlycasualdroppers-inhereandthere;AuntMaimieandsoon.Why?”“Because,ifwe’veroom,Iwanttoasksomepeople;friendsofmineinLondon.Denison’sone.”Daphne,whoknewDenisonslightly,anddidnot likehim, received thiswithout joy.Theyhadmet

lastyearatCambridge,andhehadannoyedherinseveralways.Onewashisclothes;Daphnelikedmentobeneat.Anotherwas, thatat thedancegivenbythecollegewhichheandEddyadorned,hehadnotaskedhertodance,thoughintroducedforthatpurpose,buthadstoodathersidewhileshesatpartnerlessthroughherfavouritewaltz,apparentlyunderthedelusionthatwhatwasrequiredofhimwasinterestingconversation.Eventhathadfailedbeforelong,asDaphnehadneitherfounditinterestingnorpretendedtodoso,and they remained insilence together, she indignantandheunperturbed,watching the festivitieswithanindulgent, ifcynical,eye.Adisagreeable,useless,superfluousperson,Daphneconsideredhim.Hegatheredthis;itrequirednogreatsubtletytogatherthingsfromDaphne;andaccommodatedhimselftoherideaofhim,layinghimselfouttoprovokeandtease.HewasoneofthefewpeoplewhocouldstingDaphnetorealtemper.

Soshesaid,“Oh.”“Theothers,”wentonEddy,hastily,“aretwogirlsIknow;they’vebeenover-workingratherandare

rundown,andIthoughtitmightberathergoodforthemtocomehere.Besides,they’regreatfriendsofmine, and of Denison’s—(one of them’s his cousin)—and awfully nice. I’ve written about themsometimes,Iexpect—JaneDawnandEileenLeMoine.Janedrawsextraordinarilynicethingsinpenandink,andisaltogetherratherarefreshingperson.Eileenplaystheviolin—youmusthaveheardhername—Mrs.LeMoine.Everyone’sgoingtohearherjustnow;she’swonderful.”

“She’d better play at the bazaar, I should think,” suggestedDaphne,who didn’t seewhy parsons’daughtersshouldbetheonlyonesinvolvedinthisbazaarbusiness.Shewasn’tveryfondofartistsandmusiciansandliterarypeople,forthemostpart;sooftentheirconversationwasaboutthingsthatboredone.

“Are theypretty?”she inquired,wanting toknowifEddywasatall in lovewitheitherof them.Itmightbeamusingifhewas.

Eddy considered. “I don’t know that you’d call Jane pretty, exactly. Very nice to look at. Sweet-looking,andextraordinarilyinnocent.”

“Idon’tlikesweetinnocentgirls,”saidDaphne.“They’resoinept,asarule.”“Well, Jane’s very ept. She’s tremendously clever at her own things, youknow; in fact, clever all

round,onlyclever’snotabitthewordasamatteroffact.She’sagenius,Isuppose—asortofinspiredchild,verysimpleabouteverything,anddelightfultotalkto.Nottheleastconventional.”

“No;Ididn’tsupposeshe’dbethat.Andwhat’sMrs.—theotheronelike?”“Mrs.LeMoine.Oh,well—she’s—she’sverynice,too.”“Pretty?”“Ratherbeautiful,sheis.Irish,andalittleHungarian,Ibelieve.Sheplaysmarvellously.”“Yes,yousaidthat.”Daphne’sthoughtsonMrs.LeMoineproducedthequestion,“Isshemarried,orawidow?”“Married.She’squitefriendswithherhusband.”“Well,Isupposeshewouldbe.Oughttobe,anyhow.Canwehaveherwithouthim,bytheway?”“Oh,theydon’tlivetogether.That’swhythey’refriends.Theyweren’ttilltheyparted.Everyoneasks

themaboutseparatelyofcourse.SheliveswithaMissHogan,anawfullycharmingperson.I’dlovetoaskher,too,buttherewouldn’tberoom.Iwonderifmother’llmindmyaskingthosethree?”

“You’dbetterfindout,”advisedDaphne.“Theywon’trubfatherthewrongway,Isuppose,willthey?Hedoesn’tlikebeingsurprised,remember.You’dbetterwarnMr.Denisonnottotalkagainstreligionoranything.”

“Oh,Denisonwillbeallright.Heknowsit’saDeanery.”“Willtheothersknowit’saDeanery,too?”Eddy,tosaythetruth,hadashadeofdoubtastothat.Theywerebothsoinnocent.Arnoldhadlearnta

littleatCambridgeabouttheattitudeofthesuperiorclergy,andwhatnottosaytothem,thoughheknewmorethanhealwayspractised.JanehadbeenatSomervilleCollege,Oxford,butthisparticularbranchoflearningisnottaughtthere.Eileenhadneveradornedanyinstitutionforthehighereducation.Herfatherwasan Irishpoet,and theeditorofaNationalistpaper,anddidnot likeanyof themanyDeansofhisacquaintance.InIreland,DeansandNationalistsdonotalwaysseeeyetoeye.EddyhopedthatEileenhadnotanyhereditarydistastefortheprofession.

“Fatherandmother’llthinkitfunny,Mrs.LeMoinenotlivingwithherhusband,”saidDaphne,whohadthatinsightintoherparents’mindswhichcomesoftwentyyearsco-residence.

Eddywasafraidtheywould.“Butit’snotfunny,really,andthey’llsoonseeit’squiteallright.They’lllikeher,Iknow.Everyone

whoknowsherdoes.”HerememberedashespokethatHillierdidn’t,andJamesPetersdidn’tmuch.Butsurely theDean

wouldn’t be found on any point in agreementwithHillier, or evenwith the cheery, unthinking Peters,innocent of theHigherCriticism.Perhaps itmight be diplomatic to tell theDean that these twoyoungclergymendidn’tmuchlikeEileenLeMoine.

WhileEddy ruminatedon thisquestion, they reached theHall.TheHallwas that typeofhall theyerectedinthedaysofourearlierGeorges;ithadrisenonthesiteofanElizabethanhousebelongingtothesamefamily.ThisismentionedinordertoindicatethattheBellairs’hadlongbeenofsolidworthinthecountry. In themselves, they were pleasant, hospitable, clean-bred, active people, of a certain charm,whichthosesusceptibletoallkindsofcharm,likeEddy,feltkeenly.Finally,noneofthemwereclever,all

ofthemwerenicelydressed,andmostofthemwereonthelawn,hittingatacaptivegolf-ball,whichwasoneofthemanythingstheydidwell,thoughitisatbestanunsatisfactoryoccupation,achievinglittleinthewayofshowyresults.TheyleftitreadilytowelcomeEddyandDaphne.

Dick (theGuards) said, “Hullo, oldman, home forChristmas?Good for you.Come and shoot onWednesday,willyou?Notaparsonyet,then?”

Daphnesaid,“He’soffthatjustnow.”Eddysaid,“I’mgoingonapaperforthepresent.”Claude(Magdalen)said,“Awhat?Whatafunnygame!Shallyouhavetogotoweddingsandsitat

thebackandwriteaboutthebride’sclothes?Whatarag!”Nevill(theHouseofCommons)said,“Whatpaper?”incaseitshouldbeoneonthewrongside.It

may here be mentioned (what may or may not have been inferred) that the Bellairs’ belonged to theConservativepartyinthestate.NevillalittlesuspectedEddy’ssoundnessinthismatter(thoughhedidnotknowthatEddybelongedtotheFabianSocietyaswellastothePrimroseLeague).AlsoheknewwellthesadfactthatourLiberalorgansarelargelyservedbyConservativejournalists,andourgreatTorypressfedbyRadicalsfromBalliolCollege,Oxford,King’sCollege,Cambridge,andmanyotherlessrefinedhomesofsophistry.ThisfactNevillrightlycalleddisgusting.Hedidnotthinkthesejournalistshonestorgoodmen.Soheasked,“Whatpaper?”rathersuspiciously.

Eddy said, “TheDaily Post,” which is a Conservative organ, and also costs a penny, a highlyrespectablesum,soNevillwasrelieved.

“AfraidyoumightbegoingonsomeRadicalrag,”hesaid,quitesuperfluously,asithadbeenobvioushehadbeenafraidofthat.“SomeUnionistsdo.Awfullyunprincipled,Icallit.Ican’tseehowtheysquareitwiththemselves.”

“Ishouldthinkquiteeasily,”saidEddy;butadded, toavertanargument(hehadtriedarguingwithNevill often, and failed), “But my paper’s politics won’t touch me. I’m going as literary reviewer,entirely.”

“Oh,Isee.”Nevilllostinterest,becauseliteratureisn’tinteresting,likepolitics.“Novelsandpoetry,andallthat.”Novelsandpoetryandallthatofcoursemustbereviewed,ifwritten;butneitherthewritingofthemnorthereviewing(perhapsnotthereadingeither,onlythattakeslesstime)seemsquiteaman’swork.

Molly (thegirl) said, “I think it’s anawfully interestingplan,Eddy,” though shewasa little sorryEddywasn’tgoingintotheChurch.(TheBellairswereallowedtocallitthat,thoughDaphnewasn’t.)

Mollycouldbereliedonalwaystobesympatheticandnice.Shewasasunny,round-facedpersonoftwenty,withclear,amber-browneyesandcurlybrownhair,andamerryinfectiouslaugh.Peoplethoughtheradear littlegirl;shewassosweet-tempered,andunselfish,andcharminglypolite,andat thesametimefullofhilarioushighspirits,andhappy, tomboyishenergies.Thoughlessmagnetic,shewasreallymuchnicerthanDaphne.The twowereveryfondofoneanother.Everyone, includingherbrothersandEddyOliver,wasfondofMolly.Eddyandshehadbecome,inthelasttwoyears,sinceMollygrewup,closefriends.

“Well,lookhere,”saidDaphne,“we’vecomeforthepuppy,”andsotheyallwenttotheyard,wherethepuppylived.

Thepuppywasplumpandplayfulandamber-eyed,andratherlikeMolly,asEddyremarked.“TheDiddums! Iwish Iwas like him,”Molly returned, hugging him,while his brother and sister

tumbledaboutherankles.“He’sratherfatterthanWasums,Daffy,butnotquitesotubbyasBabs.Ithoughtyoushouldhavethemiddleone.”

“He’sanutterjoy,”saidDaphne,takinghim.“Perhaps I’d better walk down the lanewith youwhen you go,” saidMolly, “so as to break the

partingforhim.Butcomeintoteanow,won’tyou.”“Shallwe,Eddy?”saidDaphne.“D’youthinkweshould?There’llbecanons’wivesathome.”“Thatsettles it,”saidEddy.“Therewon’tbeus.MuchasI likecanons’wives, it’srathermuchon

one’sveryfirstday.Ihavetogetusedtothesethingsgradually,orIgetupset.Comeon,Molly,there’stimeforonegoatbumble-puppybeforetea.”

Theywentofftogether,andDaphnestayedaboutthestablesandyardwiththeboysandthedogs.TheBellairs’hadthatimmenselypreferablesortofteawhichtakesplaceroundatable,andhasjam

andknives.Theydidn’thavethisat theDeanery,becausepeopledodropinsoatDeaneries,andtheremightn’tbeenoughplaceslaid,besides,drawing-roomteaispoliter tocanonsandtheirwives.SothatalonewouldhavebeenareasonwhyDaphneandEddylikedteawiththeBellairs’.Also,theBellairs’enfamillewereadelightfulandjollyparty.ColonelBellairswashospitable,genial,andentertaining;Mrs.Bellairs wasmost wonderfully kind, and rather likeMolly on a sobered, motherly, and considerablyfilled-out scale. They were less enlightened than at the Deanery, but quite prepared to admit that thePrayerBookoughttoberevised,iftheDeanthoughtso,thoughforthem,personally,itwasgoodenoughasitstood.Therewerefewpeoplesokind-hearted,sogenuinelycourteousandwell-bred.

ColonelBellairs, though a little sorry for theDeanbecauseEddydidn’t seem tobe settlingdownsteadilyintoasensibleprofession—(inhisowncasethe“Whattodowithourboys”problemhadalwaysbeenverysimple)—wasfondofhisfriend’sson,andverykindtohim,andthoughthimanice,attractivelad,evenifhehadn’tyetfoundhimself.HeandhiswifebothhopedthatEddywouldmakethisdiscoverybeforelong,forareasontheyhad.

After teaClaudeandMolly startedbackwith theOlivers, tobreak theparting forDiddums.EddywantedtotellMollyabouthisprospects,andforher totellhimhowinterestingtheywere(Mollywasalwayssodelightfullyinterestedinanythingonetoldher),soheandshewalkedonaheaddownthelane,inthepalelightoftheChristmasmoon,thatrosesoonaftertea.(Itwasayearwhenthisoccurred).

“Iexpect,”hesaid,“youthinkit’sfairlyfeebletohavebegunathingandbedroppingitsosoon.ButIsupposeonehastotryroundalittle,tofindoutwhatone’sjobreallyis.”

“Why,ofcourse.Itwouldbeabsurdtostickonifitisn’treallywhatyouliketodo.”“Ididlikeit,too.OnlyIfoundIdidn’twanttogiveitquiteallmytimeandinterest.Ican’tbethat

sortofthorough,one-jobman.Thementhereare.Traherne,now—Iwishyouknewhim;he’ssplendid.Hesimplythrowshimselfintoitbodyandsoul,andsaysnotoeverythingelse.Ican’t.Idon’tthinkIevenwantto.Life’stoomany-sidedforthat,itseemstome,andonewantstohaveitall—orlotsofit,anyhow.TheconsequencewasthatIwaschuckedout.FinchtoldmeIwastocutoffthoseotherthings,orgetout.SoIgotout.Iquiteseehispointofview,andthathewasrightinaway;butIcouldn’tdoit.Hewantedmetoseelessofmyfriends,foronething;thoughttheygotinthewayofwork,whichperhapstheymayhave sometimes; also he didn’t much approve of all of them. That’s so funny.Why shouldn’t one befriendswithanyoneonecan,eveniftheirpointofviewisn’taltogetherone’sown?”

“Ofcourse.”Mollyconsidereditforamoment,andadded,“IbelieveIcouldbefriendswithanyone,exceptaheathen.”

“Awhat?”“Aheathen.Anunbeliever,youknow.”“Oh,Isee.Ithoughtyoumeantablack.Well,itpartlydependsonwhattheydon’tbelieve,ofcourse.

Ithink,personally,oneshouldtrytobelieveasmanythingsasonecan,it’smoreinteresting;butIdon’t

feelanybarrierbetweenmeandthosewhobelievemuchless.Norwouldyou,ifyougottoknowthemandlikethem.Onedoesn’tlikepeopleforwhattheybelieve,ordislikethemforwhattheydon’tbelieve.Itsimplydoesn’tcomeinatall.”

All thesame,Mollydidnot thinkshecouldberealfriendswithaheathen.Thefact thatEddydid,very slightlyworried her; she preferred to agreewith Eddy. But shewas always staunch to her ownprinciples,anddidn’tattempttodosointhismatter.

“IwantyoutomeetsomefriendsofminewhoIhopearecomingtostayafterChristmas,”wentonEddy,whoknewhecouldrelyonamuchmoresympatheticwelcomeforhisfriendsfromMollythanfromDaphne.“I’msureyou’lllikethemimmensely.One’sArnoldDenison,whomIexpectyou’veheardof.”(Mollyhad,fromDaphne.)“Theothersaregirls—JaneDawnandEileenLeMoine.”HetalkedalittleaboutJaneDawnandEileenLeMoine,ashehadtalkedtoDaphne,butmorefully,becauseMollywasamoregratifyinglistener.

“Theysoundawfullynice.Sooriginalandclever,”washercomment.“Itmustbeperfectlyrippingtobeabletodoanythingreallywell.IwishIcould.”

“SodoI,”saidEddy.“Ilovethepeoplewhocan.They’reso——well,alive,somehow.Evenmorethanmostpeople,Imean;ifpossible,”headded,consciousofMolly’sintensealiveness,andDaphne’s,andhisown,andDiddums’.But thegeniuses,heknew,hadasortofwhite-hot flameof livingbeyondeventhat....

“We’d betterwait here for the others,” saidMolly, stopping at the field gate, “and I’ll hand overDiddumstoDaffy.He’llfeelit’sallrightifIputhiminherarmsandtellhimtostaythere.”

Theywaited,sittingonthestile.Thesilverlightfloodedthebrownfields,turningthemgreyandpale.It silveredDiddums’ absurdbrownbody as he snuggled inMolly’s arms, andMolly’s curly, escapingwavesofhairandsmallsweetface,alittlepaledbyitsradiance.ToEddythegreyfieldsandwoodsandMollyandDiddumsbeneaththemoonmadeadelightfulhome-likepicture,ofwhichhehimselfwasverymuchpart.Eddycertainlyhadaconvenientknackoffittingintoanypicturewithoutajar,whetheritwasaSundaySchoolclassatSt.Gregory’s,aSundayGamesClubinChelsea,acanons’teaattheDeanery,thestablesandkennelsattheHall,orawalkwithapuppyovercountryfields.Hebelongedtoallofthem,andtheytohim,sothatnooneeversaid“Whatishedoinginthatgalère?”asissaidfromtimetotimeofmostofus.

Eddy, as theywaited forClaude andDaphne at the gate,waswondering a littlewhether his newfriendswouldfiteasilyintothispicture.Hehopedso,verymuch.

Theotherscameup,bickeringasusual.MollyputDiddumsintoDaphne’sarmsandtoldhimtostaythere,andtheyparted.

CHAPTERVII.

VISITORSATTHEDEANERY.

EDDY,while they played coon-can that evening (a horrid game prevalent at this time) approached hisparentsonthesubjectofthevisitorshewanted.HementionedtothemthefactsalreadyretailedtoDaphneand Molly concerning their accomplishments and virtues (omitting those concerning their domesticarrangements).Andtheseeulogiesareamistakewhenoneisaskingfriendstostay.Oneshouldnotutterthem.Todosostartsaprejudicehardtoeradicateinthemindsofparentsandbrothersandsisters,andthevisitmayproveafailure.Eddywasintelligentandshouldhaveknownthis,buthewasinanunthinkingmoodthisChristmas,anddidit.

Hismotherkindlysaid,“Verywell,dear.Whichdaydoyouwantthemtocome?”“I’dratherlikethemtobehereforNewYear’sday,ifyoudon’tmind.Theymightcomeonthethirty-

first.”Eddy put down three twos in the first round, for the excellent reason that he had collected them.

Daphne,disgusted,said,“LookatTeddysavingsixpointsoffhisdamage!Isupposethat’sthewaytheyplayinyourslum.”

Mrs.Oliversaid,“Verywell.RemembertheBellairs’arecomingtodinneronNewYear’sDay.Itwillmakeratheralargeparty,butwecanmanageallright.”

“Yourturn,mother,”saidDaphne,whodidnotlikedawdling.TheDean,whohadbeen looking thoughtful,said,“LeMoine,didyousayoneofyourfriendswas

called?Norelation,Isuppose,tothatwriterLeMoine,whoseplaywascensorednotlongago?”“Yes,that’sherhusband.Buthe’sadelightfulperson.Anditwasadelightfulplay,too.Notabitdull

orvulgarorpompous,likesomecensoredplays.Heonlyputinthepartstheydidn’tlikejustforfun,toseewhether itwould be censored or not, and partly because someone had betted him he couldn’t getcensoredifhetried.”

TheDeanlookedasifhethoughtthatsilly.Buthedidnotmeantotalkaboutcensoredplays,becauseofDaphne,whowasyoung.Soheonlysaid,“Playingwithfire,”andchangedthesubject.“Isitrainingoutside,Daffy?”heinquiredwithhumorousintention,ashisturncameroundtoplay.Asnooneaskedhimwhyhewantedtoknow,hetoldthem.“Because,ifyoudon’tmind,I’mthinkingofgoingout,”andhelaidhishandonthetable.

“Oh,Isay,father!Twojokers!Nowonderyou’reout.”(Thisjargonofanold-timebutoncepopulargameperhapsdemandsapology;anyhownooneneedtrytounderstandit.Toutpasse,toutlasse....EventheTangoTeawillalltoosoonbeoutofmode).

The Dean rose from the table. “Now I must stop this frivolling. I’ve any amount of work to getthrough.”

“Don’tgoontoolong,Everard.”Mrs.Oliverwasafraidhisheadwouldache.“Needs must, I’m afraid, when a certain person drives. The certain person in this case being

representedbypooroldTaggert.”PooroldTaggertwasconnectedwith anotherChurchpaper,higher than theGuardian, and he had

beenwritinginthispaperlongchallengestotheDean“tosatisfactorilyexplain”whathehadmeantbycertain expressions used by him in his last letter on Revision. The Dean could satisfactorily explainanything,andfounditanagreeableexercise,butonethattooktimeandenergy.

“Frightfulwasteoftime,Icallit,”saidDaphne,whenthedoorwasshut.“Becausetheyneverwill

agree,andtheydon’tseemtogetanyfurtherbytalking.Whydon’ttheytossuporsomething,toseewho’sright?Ordrawlots.Longone,reviseitall,middleone,reviseitasfatherandhislotwant,shortone,letitalone,liketheChurchTimesandCanonJacksonwant.”

“Don’tbesilly,dear,”saidhermother,absently.“Someday,”addedEddy,“youmaybeoldenoughtounderstandthesedifficultthings,dear.Tillthen,

tryandbeseenandnotheard.”“Anyhow,”saidDaphne,“Igoout....Ibelievethisisratherafootlinggame,really.Itdoesn’tamuse

onemorethanaweek.I’dratherplaybridge,orhideandseek.”Christmaspassed,asChristmaswillpass,onlygiveittime.Theykeptitatthedeanerymuchasthey

keepitatotherdeaneries,and,indeed,inverymanyhomesnotdeaneries.Theydidupparcelsandranshortofbrownpaper,andboughtmorestringandmanymorestamps,andsentoffcardsandcards,andreceivedcardsandcardsandcards,andhurried tosendoffmorecards tomakeup thedifference (butsomeonlyarrivedonChristmasDay,ameantrick,andhadtowaittobereturnedtillthenewyear),andtookroundparcels,andat last rested,andChristmasDaydawned. Itwasabright frostyday,with ice,etcetera,andtheOliverswentskatingintheafternoonwiththeBellairs,roundandroundoranges.EddytaughtMollyanewtrick,orstep,orwhateverthosewhoskatecallwhattheylearn,andDaphneandtheBellairsboysflewabouthand-in-hand,gracefulandcharmingtowatch.Inthenightitsnowed,andnextdaytheyalltobogganed.

“Ihaven’tseenMollylookingsowellforweeks,”saidMolly’smothertoherfather,thoughindeedMollyusuallylookedwell.

“Healthy weather,” said Colonel Bellairs, “and healthy exercise. I like to see all those childrenplayingtogether.”

Hiswife liked it too, andbeamedon themall at tea,which theOlivers often came in to after thehealthyexercise.

MeanwhileArnoldDenisonandJaneDawnandEileenLeMoineallwrotetosaytheywouldcomeon the thirty-first,which theyproceeded todo.Theycameby threedifferent trains,andEddyspent theafternoonmeeting them, instead of skatingwith theBellairs. FirstArnold came, fromCambridge, andtwentyminutes later Jane, fromOxford,without her bag,which she hadmislaid atRugby.MeanwhileEddygotalongtelegramfromEileentotheeffectthatshehadmissedhertrainandwascomingbythenext.HetookJaneandArnoldhometotea.

Daphnewasstillskating.TheDeanandhiswifewerealwayscharmingtoguests.TheDeantalkedCambridgetoArnold.HehadbeenupwithProfessorDenison,andmanyotherpeople,andhadalwayskept in touchwithCambridge, ashe remarked.Sometimes,while a canonofEly, hehadpreached theUniversitySermon.Hedidnotwhollyapproveofthesocialandtheological,ornon-theological,outlookofProfessorDenisonandhisfamily;butstill,theDenisonswereableandinterestingandrespect-worthypeople,ifcranky.ArnoldtheDeansuspectedofbeingverycrankyindeed;notthefriendhewouldhavechosenforEddyintheimprobablehypothesisofhishavinghadtheselectionofEddy’sfriends.CertainlynotthepersonhewouldhavechosenforEddytoshareroomswith,aswasnowtheirplan.Butnothingofthisappearedinhiscourteous,ifnotveryeffusive,mannertohisguest.

ToJanehe talkedaboutherfather,adistinguishedOxfordscholar,andmeanwhileeyedhera littlecuriously,wonderingwhyshe lookedsomehowdifferentfromthegirlshewasusedto.Hiswifecouldhavetoldhimitwasbecauseshehadonagrey-bluedress,ratherbeautifullyembroideredontheyokeandcuffs,insteadofashirtandcoatandskirt.Shewasnotsurprised,beingoneofthosepeoplewhoseratherlimitedexperiencehastaughtthemthatartistsareoftenlikethat.ShetalkedtoJaneaboutWelchester,andtheCathedral,anditswindows,someofwhichweregood.Jane,withhersmallsweetvoiceandpretty

manners and charming, friendly smile, was bound tomake a pleasant impression on anybody not toogreatlyprejudicedbythegrey-bluedress.AndMrs.Oliverwasartisticenoughtoseethatthedresssuitedher,thoughsheherselfpreferredthatgirlsshouldnotmakethemselveslooklikeearlyItalianpicturesofSt.Ursula.ItmightbeallrightinOxfordorCambridge(oneunderstandsthatthisstyleisstill,thoughwithdecreasingfrequency,occasionallytobemetwithinourolderUniversities),ornodoubt,atLetchworthandtheHampsteadGardenCity,andpossiblybeyondBlackfriarsBridge(Mrs.Oliverwasvagueastothis,notknowingthatpartofLondonwell);butinWelchester,amidlandcathedralcountrytown,itwasunsuitable,andnotdone.Mrs.OliverwonderedwhetherEddydidn’tmind,buthedidn’tseemto.Eddyhadnevermindedthe thingsmostboysmindin thoseways;hehadnever,whenatschool,betrayedtheleastanxietyconcerninghisparents’clothesormannerswhentheyhadvisitedhim;probablyhethoughtallclothesandallmanners,likeallideas,wereverynice,intheirdifferentways.

ButwhenDaphnecamein,tweed-skirted,andcladinabluegolferandcap,andprettilyflushedbythekeenairtothecolourofapinkshell,herquickeyestookineverydetailofJane’sattirebeforeshewas introduced,andhermotherguessedasuppressed twinkle inhersmile.Mrs.OliverhopedDaphnewasgoingtobepolitetothesevisitors.ShewasafraidDaphnewasinaratherperversemoodtowardsEddy’s friends.Denison, of course, she frankly disliked, and did notmakemuch secret of it.Hewasconceited,plain,hishairuntidy,hiscollarlow,andhismannerssupercilious.Denisonwaswellequippedfortakingcareofhimself;thosewhocametoblowswithhimrarelycameoffbest.Hebehavedverywellattea,knowing,asEddyhadsaid,thatitwasaDeanery.Buthewasannoyingonce.SomeonehadgivenMrs.OliveratChristmasacertainbook,containingmanybeautifulandtranquilthoughtsaboutthisworld,itsinhabitants,itsorigin,anditsgoal,byawriterwhohadproduced,andwould,nodoubt,continue toproduce, verymany such books.Many people read thiswriter constantly, and got help therefrom, andoftenwroteandtoldhimso;othersdidnotreadhimatall,notfindinglifelongenough;others,again,readhimsometimesinanidlemoment,togetalittlediversion.OftheselastwasArnoldDenison.Whenheputhis tea-cupdownon the table at his side, his eye chancedon the beautiful book lying thereon, andhelaughedalittle.

“Whichoneisthat?Oh,GardenPaths.That’sthelastbuttwo,isn’tit.”Hepickeditupandturnedtheleaves,andchuckledatacertainpassage,whichheproceededtoreadaloud.Ithad,unfortunately,orwas intended to have, a philosophical andmoreor less religious bearing (thewriterwas a vaguebutzealousseekeraftertruth);also,moreunfortunatelystill,theDeanandhiswifeknewtheauthor;infact,hehadstayedwiththemoften.EddywouldhavewarnedArnoldofthathadhehadtime,butitwastoolate.Hecouldonlynowsay,“Icallthatveryinteresting,andjollywellput.”

TheDeansaid,genially,butwithacerbity,“Ah,youmustn’tmakegameofPhilUnderwoodhere,youknow; he’s apersonagratawith us.A dear fellow.And not in the least spoilt by all his tremendoussuccess.AscandidandunaffectedashewaswhenwewereatCambridgetogether,fiveandthirtyyearsago.Andlookatallhe’sdonesincethen.He’swalkedstraightintotheheartofthereadingpublic—themore thoughtfulanddiscriminatingpartof it, that is, forofcoursehe’snotanyman’s fare—not showyenough; he’s not one of your smart paradox-and-epigram-mongers. He leads one by very quiet anddelightfulpaths,rightoutofthenoisyworld.Agreatrestandrefreshmentforbusymenandwomen;wewantmorelikehiminthishurryingage,whenmostpeople’schiefobjectseemstobetoseehowmuchtheycangetdoneinhowshortatime.”

“He’sfairlygoodatthat,youknow,”suggestedArnold,innocentlyturningtothetitle-pageofthelastbuttwo,tofinditsdate.

Mrs.Oliversaid,gently,butalittledistantly,“IalwaysfeelitratherapitytomakefunofawriterwhohashelpedsomanypeoplesoverygreatlyasPhilipUnderwoodhas,”whichwasdampingandfinal,andthesortofunfairthing,Arnoldfelt,thatshouldn’tbesaidinconversation.Thatistheworstofpeople

whoaren’tclever;theysuddenlyturnonyouandscoreheavily,andyoucan’tgeteven.Sohesaid,bored,“ShallIcomedownwithyoutomeetEileen,Eddy?”andDaphnethoughthehadrottenmannersandhadcheekedherparents.HeandEddywentouttogether,tomeetEileen.

ItwascharacteristicofJanethatshehadgivennocontributiontothisconversation,neverhavingreadanyPhilipUnderwood,andonlyveryvaguelyandremotelyhavingheardofhim.Janewasmarvellouslygoodatconcerningherselfonlywiththefirst-rate;hencesheneversneeredatthesecondorthird-rate,forithadnoexistenceforher.ShewasnotoneofthoseartistswhomockattheRoyalAcademy;sheneversawmostofthepicturesthereexhibited,butonlythefewshewishedtosee,andwentonpurposetosee.Neitherdidshejeeratevenourmostpopularwritersoffiction,noratPhilipUnderwood.Janewasverycloistered,verychaste.Whatsoeverthingswerelovely,shethoughtonthesethings,andonnoothers.AtthepresentmomentshewasthinkingoftheDeaneryhall,howbeautifullyitwasshaped,andhowgoodwasthecurveoftheoakstairsupfromit,andhowpleasingandworthdrawingDaphne’slong,irregular,delicately-tinted face,with thehumorous,one-sided,half-reluctantsmile,and thegoldenwavesofhairbeneaththebluecap.ShewonderedifDaphnewouldlethermakeasketch.Shewoulddrawherassomelittlevagabond,amused,sullen,elfish,half-tamed,whollyspoilt,preferablyinrags,andbare-limbed—Jane’sfingersitchedtobeatworkonher.

Ratherasilentgirl,Mrs.Oliverdecided,andsaid,“YoumustgoovertheCathedralto-morrow.”Janeagreedthatshemust,andDaphnehopedthatEddywoulddothatbusiness.Forher,shewassick

ofshowingpeopletheCathedral,andconductingthemtotheEarlyEnglishdoorandtheNormanarches,andthesomethingelseLady-chapel,andalltherestofthetiresomethingstheguide-booksuperfluouslyputitintopeople’sheadstoinquireafter.Onetookauntsround....ButwheneverDaphnecould,sheleftittotheDean,whoenjoyedit,andhad,ofcourse,verymuchmoretosayaboutit,knowingnotonlyeverydetailofitsarchitectureandhistory,buteverydetailofitsneededrepairsandpinnings-up,andgeneralimprovements,andhowlongtheywouldtaketodo,andhowlittlemoneywasatpresentforthcomingtodothemwith.TheDeanwasaskeenonhisCathedralasonrevision.Mrs.Oliverhadtheknowledgeofitcustomarywithpeopleofculturewholivenearcathedrals,andEddythatandsomethingmore,addedbyagreataffection.TheCathedralforhimhadaglamourandglory.

TheDeanbegantotellJaneaboutit.“Youareanartist,Eddytellsus,”hesaid,presently;“well,IthinkcertainbitsofourCathedralmust

beaninspirationtoanyartist.DoyouknowWilsonGavin’sstudiesofdetailsofEly?Veryexquisiteanddelicatework.”

Janethoughtsotoo.“PoorGavin,”theDeanadded,moregravely;“weusedtoseesomethingofhimwhenhecamedown

toEly,fiveorsixyearsago.It’sanextraordinarythingthathecoulddoworklikethat,somarvellouslypureanddelicate,andfull,apparentlyofsuchreverentloveofbeauty—andatthesametimeleadthelifehehasledsince,andIsupposeisleadingnow.”

Janelookedpuzzled.TheDeansaid,“Ah,ofcourse,youdon’tknowhim.Butonehearssadstories....”“IknowMr.Gavinalittle,”saidJane.“Ialwayslikehimverymuch.”The Dean thought her either not nearly particular enough, or too ignorant to be credible. She

obviouslyeitherhadneverheard,hadquiteforgotten,ordidn’tmind, thesadstories.Hehopedfor thebest,anddroppedthesubject.Hecouldn’twellsaystraightout,beforeMissDawnandDaphne,thathehadheardthatMr.Gavinhadelopedwithsomeoneelse’swife.

ItwasperhapsforthebestthatEddyandArnoldandEileenarrivedatthismoment.AtaglancetheOliverssawthatMrs.LeMoinewasdifferentfromMissDawn.Shewascharmingly

dressed.Shehadablue travelling-coat,grey furs,deepblueeyesunderblackbrows,andanengagingsmile.Certainly “rather beautiful,” as Eddy had said toDaphne, and of a charm that they all felt, butespeciallytheDean.

Mrs.Oliver,catchingEddy’seyeasheintroducedher,sawthathewasproudofthisoneamonghisvisitors.Sheknewthelook,radiant,halfshy,thelookofanicechildintroducinganadmiredschoolfriendtohispeople,suretheywillgeton,thinkinghowjollyforbothofthemtoknoweachother.Thelessnicechildhasadifferentlook,mistrustful,nervous,anxious,lesthispeopleshoulddisgracethemselves....

Mrs.OlivergaveMrs.LeMoinetea.Theyalltalked.Eileenhadbroughtinwithheraperiodicalshehadbeenreadinginthetrain,whichhadinitapoembyBillyRaymond.Arnoldpickeditupandreadit,andsaidhewassorryaboutit.Eddythenreaditandsaid,“Iratherlikeit.Don’tyou,Eileen?It’sverymuchBillyinacertainmood,ofcourse.”

ArnoldsaiditwasBillyreactingwithsuchviolenceagainstMasefield—averysensibleprocedurewithinlimits—thathehadallbutlandedhimselfintheimpressionistpreciosityoftheearlyEdwardians.

Eileensaid,“It’sBillywhenhe’sbeenlunchingwithCecil.He’softentakenlikethatthen.”TheDeansaid,“Andwho’sCecil?”Eileensaid,“Myhusband,”andtheDeanandMrs.Oliverweren’tsureif,givenonewaslivingapart

fromone’shusband,itwasquitenicetomentionhimcasuallyattealikethat;moreparticularlywhenhehadjustwrittenacensoredplay.

TheDean,inordernottopursuethesubjectofMr.LeMoine,heldouthishandfortheBlueReview,andperusedBilly’sproduction,whichwascalled“TheMusselPicker.”

Helaiditdownpresentlyandsaid,“Ican’tsayIgatheranyverycoherentthoughtfromit.”Arnold said, “Quite. Billy hadn’t any just then. That is wholly obvious. Billy sometimes has, but

occasionallyhasn’t,youknow.Billyisattimes,thoughbynomeansalways,ashallowyoungman.”“Shallow young men produce a good deal of our modern poetry, it seems to me from my slight

acquaintancewithit,”saidtheDean.“OnemissesthethoughtinitthatmadetheVictoriangiantssofine.”Asagoodmanyoftheshallowyoungproducersofourmodernpoetryweremoreorlessintimately

knowntohisthreeguests,ArnoldsuspectedtheDeanoftryingtogetbackonhimforhisaspersionsonPhilipUnderwood.Hewithdifficultyrestrainedhimselffromsaying,gentlybutaloofly,alaMrs.Oliver,“IalwaysthinkitratherapitytocriticizewriterswhohavehelpedsomanypeoplesoverygreatlyasourGeorgianpoetshave,”andsaidinstead,“ButthepointaboutthisthingofBilly’sisthatit’snotmoderninthe least. It breathes of fifteen years back—the timewhen people painted inwords, andwere all foratmosphere.Surelywhateveryousayaboutthebestmodernpeople,youcan’tdenythey’refullofthought—sofullthatsometimestheyforgetthesoundandeverythingelse.Ofcourseyoumayn’tlikethethought,that’squiteanotherthing;butyoucan’tmissit;itfairlyjumpsoutatyou....DidyoureadJohnHenderson’sthinginthismonth’sEnglishReview?”

Thiswasoneoftheperiodicalsnottakeninat theDeanery,sotheDeanhadn’treadit.Nordidhewanttoenterintoanargumentonmodernpoetry,withwhichhewaslessfamiliarthanwiththeVictoriangiants.

Arnold,talkingtoomuch,asheoftendidwhennottalkingtoolittle,saidacrosstheroomtoDaphne,“WhatdoyouthinkofJohnHenderson,MissOliver?”

Itamusedhimtoprovokeher,becauseshewasamatchforhiminrudeness,anddrewhimtoobyherattractivefaceandabruptspeech.Shewasn’tdull,thoughshemightcarenothingforJohnHendersonoranyotherpoet,andlookedonandyawnedwhenshewasbored.

“Neverthoughtabouthimatall,”shesaidnow.“Whoishe?”thoughsheknewquitewell.

Arnoldproceededtotellher,withelaborationanddiffuseness.“Icanlendyouhisworks,ifyou’dlike,”headded.Shesaid,“No, thanks,”andMrs.Oliversaid,“I’mafraidwedon’t findverymuchtimeforcasual

readinghere,Mr.Denison,”meaningthatshedidn’tthinkJohnHendersonproperforDaphne,becausehewassometimescoarse,andshesuspectedhimofbeingfree-thinking, thoughasamatterof facthewasardentlyandevenpassionatelyreligious,inawayhardlyfitfordeaneries.

“I don’t read John’s things, you know,Arnold,” put in Jane. “I don’t like themmuch.He said I’dbetternottry,ashedidn’tsupposeIshouldevergettolikethembetter.”

“That’sJohnallover,”saidEileen.“He’ssoniceanduntouchy.FancyCecilsayingthat—exceptinbittersarcasm.John’sadear,soheis.ThoughhereadworselastTuesdayattheBookshopthanI’veeverheardanyone.You’dthinkhehadapluminhismouth.”

Obviouslytheseyoungpeopleweremuchinterestedinpoetsandpoetry.SoMrs.Oliversaid,“Onthelastnightoftheyear,theDeanusuallyreadsussomepoetry,justbeforetheclockstrikes.VeryoftenhereadsTennyson’s‘Ringout,wildbells.’Itisanoldfamilycustomofours,”sheadded,andtheyallsaidwhatagoodone,andhownice itwouldbe.ThenMrs.Oliver told themthat theyweren’t todress fordinner,becausetherewasevensongafterwardsintheCathedral,onaccountofNewYear’sEve.

“Butyouneedn’tgounlessyouwant to,”Daphneadded,enviously.Herselfshehadtogo,whethershewantedtoornot.

“I’dliketo,”Eileensaid.“It’sawayofseeingtheCathedral,ofcourse,”saidEddy.“It’sratherbeautifulbycandlelight.”Sotheyallsettledtogo,evenArnold,whothoughtthatofallthewaysofseeingtheCathedral,that

was the leastgood.However,hewent,andwhen theycameback theysettleddownforafestivenight,playingcoon-canandthepianola,andpreparingpunch,tillhalf-pasteleven,whentheDeancameinfromhisstudywithTennyson,andread“Ringout,wildbells.”Atfiveminutestotwelvetheybeganlisteningfortheclocktostrike,andwhenithadstruckandbeendulycounted,theydrankeachotherahappynewyearinpunch,exceptJane,whodislikedwhiskytoomuchtodrinkit,andhadlemonadeinstead.Inshort,they formed one of themany happy homes of Englandwhowere seeing the old year out in the samecheerfulandfriendlymanner.Havingdoneso,theywenttobed.

“Eddyinthehomeisentirelyadear,”EileensaidtoJane,lingeringamomentbyJane’sfirebeforeshewent toherown.“He’ssuch—suchagoodboy, isn’the?”She leanton thewords,witha touchoftendernessandraillery.Thensheadded,“But,Jane,weshallhavehisparentsshockedbeforewego.Itwouldbeeasilydone.Infact,I’mnotsurewe’venotdoneitalready,alittle.Arnoldissoreckless,andyousoingenuous,andmyselfsoambiguousinposition.I’veafeartheythinkusalittleunconventional,noless,andarenervousaboutourbeingtoomuchwiththeprettylittlesulkysister.ButIexpectshe’llseetothatherself;weboreher,doyouknow.AndArnoldinsistsonannoyingher,whichistiresomeofhim.”

“Shelooksrathersweetwhenshe’scross,”saidJane,regardingthematterprofessionally.“Ishouldliketodrawherthen.Eddy’speopleareverynice,onlynotverypeaceful,somehow,doyouthink?Idon’tknowwhy,butonefeelsalittletiredaftertalkingmuchtothem;perhapsit’sbecauseofwhatyousay,thattheymighteasilybeshocked;andbesides,onedoesn’tquitealwaysunderstandwhattheysay.Atleast,Idon’t;butI’mstupidatunderstandingpeople,Iknow.”

Janesighedalittle,andletherwavybrownhairfallintwosmoothstrandsoneithersideofhersmallpaleface.TheDeanerywasfullofstrangestandardsandcodesandvalues,alienandunintelligible.Janedidn’tknowevenwhattheywere,thoughEileenandArnold,livinginalessrarefied,morein-the-worldatmosphere,couldhaveenlightenedheraboutmanyofthem.ItmatteredintheDeanerywhatone’sfatherwas;quitekindlybutquitedefinitelynotewastakenofthat;Mrs.Olivervaluedbirthandbreeding,though

shewasnotsnobbish,andwasquitepreparedtobekindandfriendlytothosewithoutit.Alsoitmatteredhowonedressed;whetheronehadonusual,tidy,andsufficientlyexpensiveclothes;whether,infact,onedisplayedgoodtasteinthematter,andwasneithercheapnorshowy,butsuitabletothehourandoccasion.Thesethingsdomatter,itisverycertain.Alsoitmatteredthatoneshouldbeabletofindone’swayabouta Church of England Prayer Book during a service, a task at which Jane and Eileen were bothincompetent.Janehadnotbeenbroughtuptofollowservicesinabook,onlytositincollegeante-chapelsandlistentoanthems;andEileen,rearedbyanincreasinglyanti-clericalfather,haddriftedfitfullyinandoutofRomanCatholicchurchesasachildinIreland,andhadsinceneverattendedany.Consequentlytheyhadhelplesslyfumbledwiththeirbooksateveningservice.Arnold,whohadreceivedthesoundChurcheducation(sublimelyindependentofpersonalfanciesastobeliefordisbelief)ofourEnglishmaleyouthatschoolandcollege,knewallaboutit,andshowedJanehowtofindthePsalms,whileEddyperformedthe same office for Eileen.Daphne looked onwith cynical amusement, andMrs.Oliverwith genuineshockedfeeling.

“Anyhow,” saidDaphne to hermother afterwards, “I should think they’ll agreewith father that itwantsrevising.”

Next day they all went tobogganing, and met the Bellairs family. Eddy threw Molly and Eileentogether,becausehewantedthemtomakefriends,whichDaphneresented,becauseshewantedtotalktoMollyherself, andEileenmadeher feel shy.When shewasalonewithMolly she said, “WhatdoyouthinkofEddy’sfriends?”

“Mrs.LeMoineisverycharming,”saidMolly,anappreciativeperson.“She’ssoawfullypretty,isn’tshe?AndMissDawnseemsrathersweet,andMr.Denison’sveryclever,Ishouldthink.”

Daphnesniffed.“Hethinksso,too.Iexpecttheyallthinkthey’rejollyclever.Butthosetwo”—sheindicatedEileenandJane—“can’t find theirplaces in theirPrayerBookswithoutbeingshown. Idon’tcallthatveryclever.”

“Howfunny,”saidMolly.Acrimonywas added toDaphne’s view ofEileen byClaudeBellairs,who looked at her as if he

admiredher.ClaudeasarulelookedatDaphneherselflikethat;Daphnedidn’twanthimto,thinkingitsilly,butitwasrathermuchtohavehisadmirationtransferredtothisMrs.LeMoine.Certainlyanyonemight have admired Eileen; Daphne grudgingly admitted that, as she watched her. Eileen’smanner ofaccepting attentionswas as lazy and casual asDaphne’s own, and considerably less provocative; shecouldn’tbesaidtoencouragethem.Onlytherewasacharmabouther,adrawing-power....

“Idon’tthinkit’snice,amarriedpersonlettingmenhangroundher,”saidDaphne,whowasrathervulgar.

Molly,whowasrefined,colouredalloverherround,sensitiveface.“Daffy!Howcanyou?Ofcourseit’sallright.”“Well,Claudewouldbeflirtinginnotimeifshelethim.”“Butofcourseshewouldn’t.Howcouldshe?”Mollywasdreadfullyshocked.Daphnegavehercynical,one-sidedsmile.“Easily, Ishould think.Onlyprobablyshedoesn’t think

himworthwhile.”“Daffy,Ithinkit’shorribletotalklikethat.Idowishyouwouldn’t.”“Allright.Comeonandhaveagodownthehill,then.”TheBellairs’ came todinner that evening.Mollywasa little subdued, andwithherusual flowof

childish high spirits not quite so spontaneous as usual. She sat between Eddy and theDean, andwasratherquietwithbothofthem.TheDeantookinEileen,andonherothersidewasNevillBellairs,who,

havingdeducedintheafternoonthatshewaspartlyIrish,verynaturallymentionedtheHomeRuleBill,whichhehadbeenspendinglastsessionlargelyinvotingagainst.BeingIrish,Mrs.LeMoinepresumablyfeltstronglyonthissubject,whichheintroducedwiththecomplacencyofonewhohadbeenfightinginhercause.She listened tohimwithherhalf railing, inscrutablesmile,untilEddysaidacross the table,“Mrs.LeMoine’saHomeRuler,Nevill; lookout,”andNevill stoppedabruptly in full flowandsaid,“You’renot!”andpretendednottomind,andtobeonlydisconcertedforhimself,butwasreallyindignantwithher forbeing sucha thing, anda littlewithEddy fornothavingwarnedhim. It drieduphisbestconversation,asonecouldn’ttalkpoliticstoaHomeRuler.HewonderedwassheaPapist, too.SohetalkedabouthuntinginIreland,andfoundsheknewnothingofhuntingthereorindeedanywhere.ThenhetriedLondon,butfoundthattheLondonsheknewwasdifferentfromhis,exceptexternally,andyoucan’ttalkforeveraboutstreetsandbuildings,especiallyifyoudonotfrequentthesameeating-places.Fromdifferenteating-placestheworldisviewedfromdifferentangles;fewthingsareamoresignificanttestofaperson’spointofview.

Meanwhile the Dean was telling Jane about places of interest, such as Roman camps, in theneighbourhood. TheDean, likemany deans, talked ratherwell.He thought Jane prettily attentive, andmoreeducatedthanmostyoungwomen,andthatitwasapitysheworesuchanold-fashioneddress.Hedidnotsayso,butaskedherifshehaddesigneditfromCarpaccio’sSt.Ursula,andshesaidno,fromanangelplayingthetimbrelbyJacopoBelliniintheAccademia.SoafterthattheytalkedaboutVenice,andhesaidhemustshowherhisphotographsofitafterdinner.“Itmustbeawonderfulplaceforanartist,”hetoldher,andsheagreed,andthentheycomparednotesandfoundthathehadstayedattheHotelEuropa,andhadhadalovelyviewoftheGiudeccaandSantaMariaMaggiorefromthewindows(“mostexquisiteonagreyday”),andshehadstayedintheflatofanartistfriend, lookingontotheRiodelleBeccarie,whichisarioofthepoor.LikeEileenandNevill,theyhadeatenindifferentplaces;but,unlikeLondon,Veniceisacoherentwhole,notringswithinrings,sotheycouldtalk,albeitwithreservationsandafewcrosspurposes.TheDeanlikedtalkingaboutpictures,andTorcello,andRuskin,andSt.Mark’s,andtheotherthingsonetalksaboutwhenonehasbeentoVenice.Perhapstooheevenwantedalittletohearhertalkaboutthem,feelinginterestedintheimpressionsofanartist.Janewasratherdisappointinglysimpleandpracticalonthesesubjects;artists,likeotherexperts,areapttoleaverhapsodiestothelayman,andtacitlyassumeadmirationofthebeautythatisdilatedonbytheunprofessional.Theyarebafflingpeople;theDeanrememberedthataboutpoorWilsonGavin.

WhilehethusheldJane’sattention,EddytalkedtoMollyaboutskating,asubjectinwhichbothwerekeenly interested,Daphne sparredwithClaude, andArnold entertainedMrs.Oliver,whomhe foundalittledifficileandratherthegrandedame.Frankly,Mrs.OliverdidnotlikeArnold,andhesawthroughher courtesy as easily as through Daphne’s rudeness. She thought him conceited (which he was),irreverent(whichhewasalso),worldly(whichhewasnot),andabadinfluenceoverEddy(andwhetherhewasthatdependedonwhatyoumeantby“bad”).

Onthewholeitwasratheranuncomfortabledinner,asdinnersgo.Therewasasenseofmisfitaboutit.Therewerejustenoughpeopleatcross-purposestogiveafeelingofstrain,afeelingfeltmoststronglybyEddy,whohadperceptions,andparticularlywantedtheeveningtobeasuccess.EvenMollyandhehadsomehowcomeupagainstsomething,arockbelowthecheerful,friendlystreamoftheirintercourse,that pulled him up, though he didn’t understandwhat it was. Therewas a spiritual clash somewhere,between nearly every two of them. Between him and Molly it was all her doing; he had never feltfriendlier;itwasshewhohadputupaqueer,vaguewall.Hecouldnotseeintohermind,sohedidn’tbotheraboutitmuchbutwentonbeingcheerfulandfriendly.

Theywereallhappierafterdinner,whenplayingthepianolainthehallanddancingtoit.Butonthewholetheeveningwasonlyamoderatesuccess.

TheBellairs’ told their parents afterwards that they didn’t much care about the friends Eddy hadstaying.

“I believe they’re stuckup,” saidDick (theGuards),whohadn’tbeenatdinner, buthadmet themtobogganing. “ThatmanDenison’s for ever trying tobe clever. I can’t stand that; it’s suchbeastlybadform.Don’t think he succeeds, either, if you askme. I can’t see it’s particularly clever to be alwayssneeringat thingsoneknowsnothingabout.Can’t thinkwhyEddylikeshim.He’snotabitkeenonthethingsEddy’skeenon—hunting,orshooting,orgames,orsoldiering.”

“There are lots like him at Oxford,” said Claude. “I know the type. Balliol’s full of it. Awfullyunwholesome, andagreatbore tomeet.Theywrite things, andadmire eachother’s. I suppose it’s thesameatCambridge.OnlyIshouldhavethoughtEddywouldhavekeptoutofthewayofit.”

ClaudehadbeendisgustedbywhatheconsideredArnold’srudenesstoDaphne.“IthoughtMrs.LeMoineseemedrathernice,though,”headded.

“Well, Imust say,”Nevill said, “shewas a little toomuch forme.EnglishHomeRulers are badenough,butatleasttheyknownothingaboutitandareusuallymerelysilly;butIrishonesaremorethanIcanstand.EddytoldmeafterwardsthatherfatherwasthatfellowConolly,whorunstheHibernian—themostdisloyalragthateverthroveinaDublingutter.ItdoesmoreharmthananyotherpaperinIreland,Ibelieve.Whatcanyouexpectofhisdaughter, letaloneawomanmarriedtoadisreputableplay-writer,andnotevenlivingwithhim?IratherwonderMrs.OliverlikestohaveherinthehousewithDaphne.”

“Miss—whatd’youcallher—Morning—seemedharmless,butalittleoffit,”saidDick.“Shedoesn’ttalktoomuch,anyhow,likeDenison.Queerthingsshewears,though.Andshedoesn’tknowmuchaboutLondon, for a personwho lives there, Imust say.Doesn’t seem to have seen anyof the plays.Rathervague,somehow,shestruckmeasbeing.”

Claudegroaned. “Sowould her father if youmet him.A fearful old dreamer. I coachwith him inPoliticalScience.He’sconsideredagreatswell;IwastoldIwasluckytogethim;butIcan’tmakeheadortailofhimorhisbooks.Hisdaughterhasjusthisabsenteye.”

“Poorthings,”saidMrs.Bellairs,sleepily.“AndpoorMrs.OliverandtheDean.Iwonderhowlongtheseunfortunatepeoplearestaying,andifweoughttoaskthemoveroneday?”

Butnoneofherchildrenappearedtothinktheyought.EvenMolly,alwaysloyal,alwayshospitable,alwaysgenerous,didn’t think so.For stronger inMolly’s child-like soul thanevenher loyaltyandherhospitality,andhergenerosity,washermoralsense,andthiswasquestioning,shamefacedly,reluctantly,whetherthesefriendsofEddy’swerereally“good.”

Sotheydidn’taskthemover.

CHAPTERVIII.

THEVISITORSGO.

NEXTmorningEileengotaletter.Shereaditbeforebreakfast,turnedratherpaler,andlookedupatEddyasifshewastryingtobringhermindbackfromagreatdistance.Inhereyeswasfear,andthatlookofbrooding,softpitythathehadlearnttoassociatewithoneonlyofEileen’sfriends.

She said, “Hugh’s ill,” frowningathimabsently, andadded,“Imustgo tohim, thismorning.He’salone,”andEddyrememberedaparagraphhehadseenintheMorningPostaboutLadyDorothyDatcherdand theRiviera.LadyDorothynever stayedwithDatcherdwhenhewas ill.Periodicallyhis lungsgotmuchworse,andhehadtolieup,andhehatedthat.

“Doeshewritehimself?”Arnoldasked.HewasfondofHughDatcherd.“Yes—oh,hedoesn’tsayhe’sill,heneverwill,butIknowitbyhiswriting—Imustgobythenext

train,I’mafraid”;sherememberedtoturntoMrs.Oliverandspeakapologetically.“I’mverysorrytobesosudden.”

“We are so sorry for the cause,” said Mrs. Oliver, courteously. “Is it your brother?” (Surely itwouldn’tbeherhusband,inthecircumstances?)

“It isnot,”saidEileen,stillabstracted.“It’safriend.He’salone,andconsumptive,andifhe’snotlookedafterhedestroyshimselfdoingquitemadthings.Hiswife’sgoneaway.”

Mrs.Oliverbecameashadelesssympathetic.Itwasapityitwasnotabrother,whichwouldhavebeenmore natural.However,Mrs. LeMoinewas, of course, amarriedwoman, though under curiouscircumstances.Shebegantodiscusstrains,andthepony-carriage,andsandwiches.

EddyexplainedafterwardswhileEileenwasupstairs.“It’sHughDatcherd,agreatfriendofhers;poorchap,hislungsarefrightfullygone,I’mafraid.He’s

anextraordinarily interestingandcapableman; runsanenormoussettlement inNorth-EastLondon,andhas any number of different social schemes all over the place.He editsFurther—doyou ever see it,father?”

“Further?Yes,it’sbeenbroughttomynoticeonceortwice.Itgoesagoodway‘further’thanevenourpoorhereticaldeans,doesn’tit?”

Itwent in aquitedifferent direction,Eddy thought.Ourheretical deansdonot alwaysgovery faralongtheroadwhichleadstosocialbettermentandslum-destroying; theyareoftentoobusyimprovingtheologytohavemuchtimetoimprovehouses.

“An able man, I daresay,” said the Dean. “Like all the Datcherds. Most of them have beenParliamentary, of course.TwoDatcherdswere atCambridgewithme—Roger andStephen; thisman’suncles, I suppose;his fatherwouldbebeforemy time.Theywerebothverybrilliant fellows,and finespeakers at theUnion, and have become capable Parliamentary speakers now.A family of hereditaryWhigs;butthisman’stheonlyoutandoutRadical,Ishouldsay.Apityhe’ssobitteragainstChristianity.”

“He’snotbitter,”saidEddy.“He’sverygentle.Onlyhedisbelievesinitasameansofprogress.”“Surely,” saidMrs.Oliver, “hemarried one ofLordUlverstone’s daughters—Dorothy,wasn’t it.”

(LordUlverstone andMrs.Oliver’s familywere both ofWestmorland,where there is strong clannishfeeling.)

“He and Dorothy don’t seem to be hitting it off, do they,” put in Daphne, and her mother said,“Daphne,dear,”andchangedthesubject.Daphneoughtnot,bygoodrights,tohaveheardthataboutHughDatcherdbeingillandalone,andMrs.LeMoinegoingtohim.

“She’satryingwoman,Ifancy,”saidEddy,whodidnotmeantobetactless,buthadbeenabsorbedinhisownthoughtsandhadgotleftbehindwhenhismotherstartedanewsubject.“Hard,andselfish,andextravagant, and thinks of nothing but amusing herself, and doesn’t care a hang for any of Datcherd’sschemes,orforDatcherdhimself,forthatmatter.Shejustgoesoffandleaveshimtobeillbyhimself.Henearlydiedlastyear;hewasawfullycutup,too,abouttheirlittlegirldying—shewastheonlychild,andDatcherdwasabsolutelydevotedtoher,andIbelievehermotherneglectedherwhenshewasill,justasshedoesDatcherd.”

“Thesestoriesgetexaggerated,ofcourse,”saidMrs.Oliver,becauseLadyDorothywasoneoftheWestmorlandUlverstones, becauseDaphnewas listening, and because she suspected the source of thestoriestobeEileenLeMoine.

“Oh,I’venodoubtthere’shersideofit,too,ifoneknewit,”admittedEddy,ready,asusual,toseeeveryone’spointofview.“Itwouldbeafrightfulborebeingmarriedtoamanwhowasinterestedinallthethingsyouhatedmost,andgavehiswholetimeandmoneyandenergytothem.Butanyhow,youseewhyhisfriends,andparticularlyEileen,who’shisgreatestfriend,feelresponsibleforhim.”

“Averysadstateofthings,”saidMrs.Oliver.“Anyhow,”saidDaphne,“here’sthepony-trap.”Eileencamedownstairs,hand-in-handwithJane,andsaidgoodbyetotheDean,andMrs.Oliver,and

Daphne,and“Thankyousomuchforhavingme,”anddroveoffwithEddyandJane,stillwiththatlookoftroubledwistfulnessinherface.

ShesmiledfaintlyatEddyfromthetrain.“I’msorry,Eddy.It’sashameIhavetogo,”butherthoughtswerenotforhim,asheknew.Outside the station theymetArnold, and he and Janewalked off together to see something in the

Cathedral,whileEddydrovehome.Janegavealittlepitifulsigh.“Poordears,”shemurmured.“H’m?”questionedArnold,whowasinterestedinthestreets.“PoorEileen,”Janeamplified;“poorHugh.”“Oh, quite,”Arnold nodded.But, feelingmore interested in ideas than in people, he talked about

Welchester.“Thestuffinessoftheplace!”hecommented,withenergyofabuse.“Thestodginess.Thecanonsand

their wives. The—the enlightened culture of the Deanery. The propriety. The correctness. Theintelligence.The cathedralism.Thegoodbreeding.HowcanEddybear it, Jane?Whydoesn’t he kicksomeoneorsomethingoverandrun?”

“Eddylikesit,”saidJane.“He’sveryfondofit.Afterall,itisratherexquisite;look——”TheyhadstoppedattheendofChurchStreet,andlookedalongitsnarrowlengthtothesquarethat

openedoutbeforethesplendidWestFront.Arnoldscreweduphiseyesatit,appreciatively.“That’sallright.It’sthepeopleI’mthinkingof.”“But you know, Arnold, Eddy’s not exclusive likemost people, like you andme, and—andMrs.

Oliver,andthoseniceBellairs’.Helikeseveryoneandeverything.Thingsaredelightful tohimmerelybecausetheyexist.”

Arnoldgroaned.“Whitmansaidthatbeforeyou,thebrute.IfIthoughtEddyhadanythingincommonwithWalt,ourfriendshipwouldendforthwith.”

“He has nothing whatever,” Jane reassured him, placidly. “Whitman hated all sorts of things.Whitman’smorelikeyou;he’dhavehatedWelchester.”

“Yes,I’mafraidthat’strue.Thecleanliness,thecant,thesmugfacesofmenandwomeninthestreet,theworshippers incathedrals, thekeepersofSabbaths, the respectableand thewell-to-do, theSundayhatsandblackcoatsofthemen,thepanachesandtightskirtsofthewomen,thetea-fights,thewell-readdeansandtheirlady-likewives—whathaveItodowiththeseorthesewithme?All,allofthemIloathe;awaywiththem,Iwillnothavethemnearmeanymore.Allons,camerado,Iwilltaketotheopenroadbeneaththestars....Whatapityhewouldhavesaidthat;butIcan’taltermyopinion,evenforhim....Howat home dear old Phil Underwood would be here, wouldn’t he. How he must enjoy his visits to theDeanery,wherehe’sapersonagrata.Andhowhemustboretheyoungsister.She’sallright,youknow,Jane.Iratherlikeher.Andshehatesme.She’squitegenuine,andfreefromcant;justasworldlyastheymake ’em, and never pretends to be anything else. Besides, she’s all alive; rather like a young wildanimal.It’squeersheandEddybeingbrotherandsister,shesodecidedandfixedinallheropinionsandrejections,andhe so impressionable.Oh,another thing—Ihaveanunhappy feeling thatEddy isgoing,eventually,tomarrythatlittleyellow-eyedgirl—MissBellairs.SomehowIfeelit.”

Janesaid,“Nonsense,”andlaughed.“She’snotabitthesort.”“Ofcourseshe’snot.But toEddy,asyouobserved,allsortsareacceptable.She’sonesort,you’ll

admit.And one he’s attached to—wind andweather and jolly adventures and old companionship, shestandsfortohim.Notasubtleappeal,butstill,anappeal.They’refondofeachother,anditwillturntothat,you’llsee.Eddyneversays,“That’snotthesortofthing,orthesortofperson,forme.”Becausetheyallare.Lookatthewayheswallowedthoseparsonsdowninhisslum.Swallowedthem—why,helovesthem. Look at the way he accepts Welchester, stodginess and all, and likes it. He was the same atCambridge;nothingwasoutside therangeforhim;heneverdrewthe line. I’mreallynotparticular”—Janelaughedathimagain—“butItellyouheconsortedsometimeswiththemostutterlyutter,anddidn’tseem to mind. Kept very bad company indeed on occasion; company the Dean wouldn’t at all haveapprovedof,I’msure.ManytimesI’vehadtostepinandtryinvaintohaulhimbyforceoutofsomeselectset.Nuts,smugs,piousmen,bettingroués,beefyhulks—allweregristtohismill.Andstillit’sthesame.MissBellairs,nodoubt,isaverynicegirl,quitegenuineandnatural,andratherlikeajollykitten,whichisalwaysattractive.Butshe’srigidwithin;shewon’tmixwiththepeopleEddywillwanttomixwith.She’snotcomprehensive.Shewouldn’tlikeusmuch,forinstance;she’dthinkusratherqueerandshadybeings,notwhatshe’susedtoorunderstands.Weshouldworryandpuzzleher.She’sgayandsweetandunselfish,andgood, sweetmaid,and letswhowillbeclever.Lets them,butdoesn’twant tohavemuchtodowiththem.She’llshutusallout,andtrytoshutEddyinwithher.Shewon’tsucceed,becausehe’llgoonwantingalittlebitofallthereis,andsothey’llbothbemiserable.Hershareoftheworld,yousee—all the share she asks for—is homogeneous; his is heterogeneous, a sort of gypsy stew witheverything in it. Youmay say that he’s greedy for mixed fare, while she has a simple and fastidiousappetite.Therearethematerialsforanotherunhappymarriagereadyprovided.”

JanewaslookingatthePrior’sDoorwithherheadononeside.Shesmiledatitpeacefully.“Really,Arnold——”“Oh,Iknow.You’regoingtosay,whatreasonhaveIforsupposingthatEddyhaseverthoughtofthis

younggirlinthatway,astheysayinfiction.Idon’tsayhehasyet.Buthewill.Propinquitywilldoit,andcommontastes,andoldaffection.You’llsee,Jane.I’mnotoftenwrongabouttheseunfortunateaffairs.Idislikethemsomuchthatitgivesmeaninstinct.”

Janeshookherhead.“IthinkWelchesterisaffectingyouforbad,Arnold.That,youknow,iswhatthepeoplewhoannoyyousomuchherewoulddo,Iexpect—lookatallaffectionandfriendshiplikethat.”

“That’strue.”Arnoldlookedatherinsurprise.“ButIshouldn’thaveexpectedyoutoknowit.Youareimprovinginperspicacity,Jane;it’sthefirsttimeIhaveknownyouawareofthevulgarityaboutyou.”

Jane looked a little proud of herself, as she only didwhen she had displayed a piece ofworldlyknowledge.Shedidnotsay thatshehadobtainedherknowledgefromMrs.OliverandtheDean,who,watchingEddyandEileen,hadtooobviouslydonesowithtroubledeyes,sothatshelongedtocomfortthemwithexplanationstheywouldneverunderstand.

ItwascertainthattheywererelievedthatEileenhadgone,thoughthereasonofhergoinghadplacedherinamoredubiouslight.Also,sheforgot,unfortunately,towriteherbreadandbutterletter.“Isupposeshecan’tsparethetimefromHugh,”saidDaphne.ButshewrotetoJane,tellingherthatHughwaslaidupwithhemorrhage,andhadbeenorderedtogoawaydirectlyhewasfit.“TheysayDavos,buthewon’t.Idon’tknowwhereitwillbe.”Jane,whoseworldlyshrewdnessafterallhadnarrowlimits,repeatedthistoEddyinhismother’spresence.

“Hashiswifegotbackyet?”Mrs.Oliver inquiredgravely, andJane shookherhead.“Ohno.Shewon’t.She’sspendingthewinterontheRiviera.”

“IshouldthinkMr.DatcherdtoohadbetterspendthewinterontheRiviera,”suggestedMrs.Oliver.“Isn’titratherbadforconsumption?”saidEddy,shirkingissuesotherthanhygienic.“Ibelieve,”saidJane,notshirkingthem,“hiswifeisn’tcomingbacktohimatallagain.She’stired

ofhim,I’mafraid.Idaresayit’sagoodthing;sheisveryirritatinganddifficult.”Mrs.Oliverchangedthesubject.Theseseemedtoherwhatwomeninherdistrictwouldhavecalled

strangegoingson.ShecommentedonthemtotheDean,who,moretolerant,said,“Onemustallowsomelicencetogenius,Isuppose.”Perhaps:butthequestionwas,howmuch.Geniusmightaltermanners—(fortheworse,Mrs.Oliverthought)—butitshouldn’tbeallowedtoaltermorals.

“Anyhow,” said Mrs. Oliver, “I am rather troubled that Eddy should be so intimate with thesepeople.”

“Eddyisasteady-headedboy,”saidtheDean.“Heknowswheretodrawtheline.”Whichiswhatparents often think of their children, with how little warrant! Drawing the line was precisely the artwhich,Arnoldcomplained,Eddyhadnotlearntatall.

Jane and Arnold stayed three days more at the Deanery. Jane drew details of the Cathedral andstudiesofDaphne.TheDeanthought,ashehadoftenthoughtbefore,thatartistswereinteresting,child-like, but rather baffling people, incredibly innocent, or else incredibly apt to accept moral evil withindifference;alsothat,though,hefeared,quiteoutsidetheChurch,andwhatheconsideredtobepaganinoutlook,shedisplayed,likepoorWilsonGavin,averydelicateappreciationofecclesiasticalarchitectureandreligiousart.

Mrs.Oliverthoughthermoreunconventionalandlackinginknowledgeoftheworldthananygirlhadarighttobe.

DaphneandtheBellairsfamilythoughtheraharmlesscrank,whotookoffherhatintheroad.TheBellairs’ supposed shemustWant aVote, till she announced her indifference on that subject,

whichdisgustedDaphne,anardentandpotentiallymilitantsuffragist,anddisappointedhermother,acalmbutearnestmemberoftheNationalUnionforWomen’sSuffrage,whowenttomeetingsDaphnewasnotallowedat.Jane—perhapsitwasbecauseofthequeersexlessnesswhichwaspartofhercharm,perhapsbecause of being an artist, and other-worldly—seemed to care little for women’s rights or women’swrongs.Mrs.Olivernoted thather socialconsciencewasunawakened,and thoughther selfish.Artistswereperhapslikethat—wrappedupintheirownjoyofthelovelyworld,sothattheyneverturnedandlookedintotheshadows.Eddy,akeensuffragisthimself,saiditwasbecauseJanehadneverlivedamongtheverypoor.

“Sheshoulduseherpowerofvision,”saidtheDean.“She’sgotplenty.”

“She’s one-windowed,” Eddy explained. “She only looks out on to the beautiful things; she has ablankwallbetweenherandtheugly.”

“Inplainwords,aselfishyoungwoman,”saidMrs.Oliver,buttoherself.SomuchforJane.Arnoldwasmoreseverelycondemned.Themoretheyallsawofhim,thelessthey

likedhim,andthemoresupercilioushegrew.EvenattimeshestoppedrememberingitwasaDeanery,thoughhereallytriedtodothis.Buttheatmospheredidannoyhim.

“Mr.Denisonhasreallyveryunfortunatewaysofexpressinghimselfattimes,”saidMrs.Oliver,whohadtoo,Arnoldthought.

“Oh,hemeanswell,”saidEddyapologetic.“Youmustn’tmindhim.He’sgotcorns,and ifanyonestepsonthemheturnsnasty.He’salwayslikethat.”

“Infact,aconceitedpig,”saidDaphne,nottoherself.PersonallyDaphnethoughtthebestofthethreewasMrs.LeMoine,whoanyhowdressedwelland

coulddance, thoughherhabitsmightbequeer.Betterqueerhabits thanqueerclothes, anyday, thoughtDaphne,innatelyapagan,withtheartist’seyeandthematerialist’ssoul.

Anyhow,JaneandArnolddepartedonMonday.FromthepointofviewofMrs.OliverandtheDean,itmighthavebeenbetterhaditbeenSaturday,astheirideasofhowtospendSundayhadbeenrevealedasunfittingaDeanery.TheOliverswerenotintheleastsabbatarian,theyweremuchtoowide-mindedforthat, but they thought their visitors should go to church once during the day. Perhaps Jane had beendiscouragedbyherexperienceswiththePrayerBookonNewYear’sEve.Perhapsitneveroccurredtoher togo.Anyhow in themorning she stayed at homeanddrew, and in the eveningwandered into theCathedral during the collects, stayed for the anthem, andwandered out, peaceful and content,with nosuspicionofhavingdonethewrongorunusualthing.ArnoldlayinthehallallthemorningandsmokedandreadTheNewMachiavelli,whichwasoneof thebooksnot likedat theDeanery. (Arnold,by theway,didn’tlikeitmucheither,butdippedinandoutofit,gruntingwhenbored.)Inconsequence(notinconsequenceofTheNewMachiavelli,whichshewouldhavefounddull,butofbeingobligedherselftogo to church),Daphnewas cross and envious, theDean and hiswife slightly disapproving, andEddysorryaboutthemisunderstanding.

Onthewhole,thevisithadnotbeenthesuccessEddyhadwishedfor.Hefeltthat.Inspiteofsomehonestendeavouronbothsides,thehostsandguestshadnotfittedintoeachother.

ComingbackintoWelchesterfromawalk,andseeingitsstreetsfullofpeaceandbluewintertwilightandstarredwithyellowlamps,Eddythoughtitqueerthatthereshouldbedisharmoniesinsuchaplace.Ithadpeace,andawistful,orderedbeauty,anddignity,andgrace....

TheyweresingingintheCathedral,andlightsglowedredlythroughthestainedwindows.Strangelytheplacetranscendedallfactions,allbarriers,provingthemillusionsinthestilllightoftheReal.Eddy,beneath all his ineffectualities, his futilities of life and thought, had a very keen sense of unity, of thecoherence of all beauty and good; in a sense he did really transcend the barriers recognised by lessshallowpeople.Withawelcoming leaphisheartwentout to embraceall beauty, all truth.Surelyonecouldaffordtomissnoaspectofitthroughblindness.Open-eyedhelookedintothebluenightoflampsand shadows andmen andwomen, andbeyond it to the stars and the sickle of themoon, and all of itcrowdedintohisvision,andhecaughthisbreathalittleandsmiled,becauseitwassogoodandsomuch.

Whenhegothomehesawhismothersittinginthehall,readingtheTimes.Movedbyloveandliking,heputhisarmroundhershouldersandbentoverherandkissedher.Thegrace,thebreeding,theculture—shewassurelypartofitall,andshouldmake,liketheCathedral,forharmony.ArnoldhadfoundMrs.Olivercommonplace.Eddyfoundheradmirable.Janehadnotfoundheratall.Therewasthedifferencebetweenthem.UndoubtedlyEddy’s,whetherthemosttruthfulwayornot,wastheleastwasteful.

CHAPTERIX.

THECLUB.

SOON after Eddy’s return to London, EileenLeMoinewrote and asked him tomeet her at lunch at arestaurantinOldComptonStreet.ItwasarathermoreselectrestaurantthantheyandtheirfriendsusuallyfrequentedinSoho,soEddydivinedthatshewantedtospeaktohimaloneanduninterrupted.Shearrivedlate, as always, and pale, and a little abstracted, as if shewere tired inmind or body, but her smileflashedoutathim,radiantandkind.Directandtothepoint,asusual,shebeganatonce,astheybegantoeatrisotto,“IwonderwouldyoudosomethingforHugh?”

Eddysaid,“Iexpectso,”andadded,“Ihopehe’smuchbetter?”“Heisnot,”shetoldhim.“Thedoctorsayshemustgoaway—outofEngland—forquiteamonth,and

havenobotherorworkatall.It’spartlynerves,yousee,andover-work.Someonewillhavetogowithhim, to lookafterhim,but they’venotsettledwhoyet.He’llprobablygotoGreece,andwalkabout....Anyhowhe’s tobeaway somewhere....Andhe’sbeendestroyinghimselfwithworrybecausehemustleavehiswork—thesettlementandeverything—andhe’safraiditwillgotopieces.YouknowhehastheClubHouseopeneveryeveningfortheboysandyoungmen,andgoesdowntherehimselfseveralnightsaweek.Whatwethoughtwasthatperhapsyouwouldn’tmindtakingcharge,beinggenerallyresponsible,infact.Thereareseveralhelpers,ofcourse,butHughwantssomeonetoseeafteritandgetpeopletogivelectures and keep the thing going.We thought you’d perhaps have the time, andwe knew you had theexperienceandcoulddoit.It’sveryimportanttohavesomeoneatthetopthattheylike;itjustmakesallthedifference.AndHughthinksitsohopefulthattheyturnedyououtofSt.Gregory’s;hedoesn’tentirelyapproveofSt.Gregory’s,asyouknow.Nowwillyou?”

Eddy,afterdueconsideration,saidhewoulddothebesthecould.“Ishallbeveryinept,youknow.Willitmattermuch?Isupposethemendownthere—Pollardandthe

rest—willseemethrough.Andyou’llbecomingdownsometimes,perhaps.”Shesaid“Imay,”thenlookedathimforamomentspeculatively,andadded,“ButImaynot.Imight

beaway,withHugh.”“Oh,”saidEddy.“Ifnooneelsesatisfactorycangowithhim,”shesaid.“Hemusthavetherightperson.Someonewho,

besides looking after him, will make him like living and travelling and seeing things. That’s veryimportant,thedoctorsays.Heissuchaterriblydepressedperson,poorHugh.Icanbrightenhimup.SoIratherexpectIwillgo,andwalkaboutGreecewithhim.Wewouldbothlikeit,ofcourse.”

“Ofcourse,”saidEddy,hischinonhishand,lookingoutofthewindowattheorangetreesthatgrewintubsbythedoor.

“And,lestweshouldhavepeopleshocked,”addedEileen,“Bridget’scomingtoo.Notthatwemindpeoplewiththatsortofhorriblemindbeingshocked—butitwouldn’tdotospoilHugh’sworkbyit,anditmight.Hugh,ofcourse,doesn’twantthingssaidaboutme,either.Peoplearesostupid.Iwonderwillthetimeevercomewhentwofriendscangoabouttogetherthewaynoharmwillbesaid.Bridgetthinksnever.Butafterall,ifnoone’spreparedtosetanexampleofcommon-sense,howarewetomoveoneveroutofallthishorrid,impropertangleandmuddle?Jane,ofcourse,says,whatdoesitmatter,noonewhocountswouldmind;butthenforJanesofewpeoplecount.Janewoulddoitherselfto-morrow,andnevereven suspect that anyone was shocked. But one can’t have people saying things about Hugh, and herunningclubsandsettlementsandthings;itwoulddestroyhimandthem;he’soneofthepeoplewho’ve

gottobecareful;whichisabore,butcan’tbehelped.”“No,itcan’tbehelped,”Eddyagreed.“Onedoesn’twantpeopletobehurtorshocked,evenapart

fromclubsandthings;andsomanyevenofthenicestpeoplewouldbe.”Thereshedifferedfromhim.“Notthenicest.Thelessnice.Thefoolish,thecoarse-minded,theshut-

in,the—thetiresome.”Eddy smiled disagreement, and she remembered that they would be shocked at the Deanery,

doubtless.“Ahwell,”shesaid,“haveityourownway.Thenicest,then,aswellastheleastnice,becausenone

of themknowanybetter,poordears.For thatmatter,Bridgetsaidshe’dbeshockedherself ifwewentalone. Bridget has moods, you know, when she prides herself on being proper—the British femaleguardingtheconventions.She’sinoneofthemnow....Well,goandseeHughto-morrow,willyou,andtalkabouttheSettlement.He’llhavealottosay,butdon’thavehimexcited.It’swonderfulwhatatrusthehasinyou,Eddy,sinceyouleftSt.Gregory’s.”

“An inadequate reason,” saidEddy, “but leading toaveryproper conclusion.Yes, I’ll goand seehim,then.”

Hedidso,nextday.HefoundDatcherdatthewriting-tableinhislibrary.Itwasalargeandbeautifullibrary ina largeandbeautifulhouse.TheDatcherdswererich(orwouldhavebeenhadnotDatcherdspentmuchtoomuchmoneyonbuildinghousesforthepoor,andLadyDorothyDatcherdrathertoomuchon cards and clothes and other luxuries), and there was about their belongings that air of caste, ofinheritedculture,oftransmittedintelligenceandrecognitionofsocialandpoliticalresponsibilities,thatisperhapsonlytobefoundinfamilieswithapoliticaltraditionofseveralgenerations.Datcherdwasn’tacleverliteraryfree-lance;hewasahereditaryWhig;thatwaswhyhecouldn’tbedetached,why,abouthis breakingwith custom and convention, therewould always be awrench and strain, a bitterness ofhostility, insteadof the lighteaseofEileenLeMoine’sset, thatcouldgentlymockat theheavy-handedworldbecauseithadneverbeenunderitsdominance,neverconceivedanythingbutfreedom.That,andbecauseoftheirfinersenseofresponsibility,iswhyitisaristocratswhowillalwaysmakethebestsocialrevolutionaries.Theyknowthatlifeisreal,lifeisearnest;theyareboundupwiththeestablishedstatusbyinnumerableties,whicheithertokeeportobreakmeanspurpose.Theyare,infact,heavilyinvolved,all round; theycannotescape their liabilities; theyare thegrown-uppeople ina light-heartedworldofchildren. Surely, then, they should have more of the reins in their hands, less jerking of them frombelow....Such,at least,wereEddy’sreflections inDatcherd’s library,whilehewaitedforDatcherdtofinishaletterandthoughthowillhelooked.

Theirensuingconversationneednotbedetailed.DatcherdtoldEddyaboutarranginglecturesattheClub House whenever he could, about the reading-room, the gymnasium, the billiard-room, thewoodwork,andtheotherdiversionsandeducationalenterpriseswhichflourishinsuchinstitutions.Eddywas familiar with them already, having sometimes been down to the Club House. It was in its mainpurposeeducational.To itcameyouthsbetween theagesof fifteenandfiveand twenty,andgave theireveningstoacquiringinstructioninpoliticaleconomy,sociology,history,art,physicalexercises,science,andotherbranchesoflearning.Theyhadregularinstructors;andbesidesthese,irregularlecturerscamedown once or twice a week, friends of Datcherd’s, politicians, social workers, writers, anyone whowouldcomeandwasconsideredbyDatcherdsuitable.TheFabianSociety,itseemed,throvestillamongtheClubmembers, andwasgivenoccasional indulgences suchasMr.ShaworMr.SidneyWebb, andlesser treats frequently. They had debates, and other habits such aswill be readily imagined. Havingindicated these,Datcherdproceeded to tellEddy something about his assistantworkers, inwhatwayseachneededfirmortenderhandling.

While theywere talking,BillyRaymondcame in, to tellDatcherdaboutanewpoethehad found,whowroteversethatseemedsuitableforFurther.BillyRaymond,agenerousandappreciativeperson,wasgiventofindingnewpoets,usuallyincellars,attics,orworkmen’sflats.Itwascommonlysaidthathelessfoundthemthanmadethem,bysometransmutingmagicofhisowntouch.Anyhowtheyquiteoftenproduced poetry, for longer or shorter periods. This latest one was a Socialist in conviction andexpression; hence his suitability forFurther. Eddy wasn’t sure that they ought to talk of Further; itobviouslyhadHughexcited.

HeandBillyRaymondcameawaytogether,whichratherpleasedEddy,ashelikedBillybetterthanmostpeopleofhisacquaintance,whichwassayingmuch.TherewasabreadthaboutBilly,alargeandgentletolerance,acourtesytowardsallsortsandconditionsofmenandviews,thatmadehimrestful,ascompared,forinstance,withtheintolerantArnoldDenison.PerhapsthedifferencewaspartlythatBillywasapoet,withtheartist’svision,whichtakesin,andArnoldonlyacritic,whosefunctionitistoselectandexclude.Billy,inshort,wasaproducer,andArnoldapublisher;andpublishershavetobeforeversaying that thingswon’tdo,aren’tgoodenough. If theycan’t say that, theyarepoorpublishers indeed.Billy,inEddy’sview,approachedmorenearlythanmostpeopletothatsynthesiswhich,Eddybelieved,unitesallfactionsandallsectionsoftruth.

Billysaid,“PoordearHugh.Iamextraordinarilysorryforhim.IamgladyouaregoingtohelpintheSettlement.Hehatesleavingitsomuch.I’msureIcouldn’tworryaboutmyworkoranythingelseifIwasgoing towalkaboutGreece for amonth;buthe’s so—soascetic. I think I respectDatcherdmore thanalmostanyone;he’ssoabsolutelysingle-minded.Hewon’tenjoyGreeceabit,Ibelieve,becauseofallthepeopleinslumswhocan’tbethere,andwouldn’tiftheycould.Itwillseemtohimwickedwasteofmoney.Waste,youknow!Myword!”

“Perhaps,”saidEddy,“he’lllearnhowtoenjoylifemorenowhiswifehaslefthim.Shemusthavebeenaweightonhismind.”

“Oh,well,”saidBilly,“Idon’tknow.Perhapsso....Oneneverreallyfeltthatshequiteexisted,andIdaresayhedidn’teither,soIdon’tsupposeherbeinggonewillmakesoverymuchdifference.Shewasasortofunrealthing—ashadow.Ialwaysgotonwithherprettywell;infact,Iratherlikedherinaway;butIneverfeltshewasactuallythere.”

“She’dbe there toDatcherd, though,”Eddy said, feeling thatBilly’swisdomhardly embraced thepeculiar circumstances of married life, and Billy, never much interested in personal relations, said,“Perhaps.”

TheywereinKensington,andBillywenttocallonhisgrandmother,wholivedinGordonPlace,andtowhomhewentfrequentlytoplaybackgammonandrelatethenews.Billywasaveryaffectionateanddutifulyoungman,andalsonearlyasfondofbackgammonashisgrandmotherwas.Withhisgrandmotherlivedanaunt,whodidn’tcare forhispoetrymuch,andBillywasvery fondofher too.HesometimeswentwithhisgrandmothertoSt.MaryAbbot’sChurch,tohelphertoseeweddings(whichshepreferredeventobackgammon),orattendservices.ShewasproudofBilly,but,forpoetstoread,preferredScott,Keble,orDoctorWatts.Sheadmittedherselfbehindmoderntimes,butlovedtoseeandhearwhatyoungpeople were doing, though it usually seemed rather silly. To her Billy went this afternoon, and EddymeanwhilecalledonMrs.LeMoineandMissHoganinCampdenHillRoad.HefoundMissHoganin,justreturnedfromapicture-show,andshegavehimteaandconversation.

“Ofcourseyou’veheardallaboutourintentions.Actuallywe’reoffonThursday....LasttimeEileenwentabroad,thepeopleshewaswithtookamaniacbymistake;soveryuncomfortable.Iquitethoughtafterthatshehaddecidedthattravelwasnotforher.However,itseemsnot.Youknow—I’msureshetoldyou—shewasforgoingjustheandshe,toutsimple.Mostimproper,ofcourse,nottosayunwholesome.Theymeantnoharm,dearchildren,butwhowouldbelievethat,andevenso,whataretheconvenancesforbuttobeobserved?IputitbeforeEileeninmymostbanalandbornémanner,but,needlesstosay,howfruitless!SoatlastIhadtooffertogotoo.Ofcoursefromkindnessshehadtoacceptthat,thoughitwon’tbeatallthesame,particularlynottoHugh.Anyhowthereweare,andwe’reoffonThursday.HughwillbeverymuchupsetbytheChannel;Ibelievehealwaysis;noconstitutionwhatever,poorcreature.AlsoIbelieveheisofthosewithwhomitlastsonbetweenCalaisandParis—amostunhappyclass,buttobe avoidedas travellingcompanions. I know toowell, becauseof anauntofmine....Well, anyhowwe’regoingtotakethetraintoTrieste,andthenashiptoKalamata,andthentaketoourfeetandwalkacrossGreece.HithertoIhaveonlydoneGreeceontheDunnottarCastle,inthecareofSirHenryLunn,which,iflessthrilling,issafer,owingtothewilddogsthattearthepedestrianontheGreekhills,oneisgiven to understand. I only hope we may be preserved.... And meanwhile you’re going to run thosewonderfulclubsofHugh’s.Iwonderifyou’lldoitatallashewouldwish!Itisbeautifultoseehowhetrusts you—why, I can’t imagine. In his place Iwouldn’t; Iwould rather hand overmy clubs to someunletteredsubordinateaftermyownheartandbredinmyownfaith.Asforyou,youhavesomanyfaithsthatHugh’swillbeswampedinthecrowd.Butyoufeelconfidentthatyouwilldoitwell?Thatisgood,andthemainqualificationforsuccess.”

ThusMissHoganbabbledon,partlybecauseshealwaysdid,partlybecausetheyoungmanlookedratherstrained,andshewasafraidifshepausedthathemightsayhowsadhewasatEileen’sgoing,andshebelievedthesethingsbetterunexpressed.Hewasn’ttheonlyyoungmanwhowasfondofEileen,andMissHoganhadherown ideasas tohowtodealwithsuchemotions.Shedidn’tbelieve itwentdeepwithEddy, or that hewould admit to himself any emotion at all beyond friendship, owing to his ownviewsastowhatwasright,nottospeakofwhatwassensible;andnodoubtiflefttohimselfforamonthorso,hewouldmanagetorecoverentirely.Itwouldbesoobviouslysilly,aswellaswrong,tofallinlovewithEileenLeMoine,andBridgetdidnotbelieveEddy, inspiteofsomeconfusioninhismentaloutlook,tobereallysilly.

Shedirectedtheconversationontothepicture-showshehadjustbeento,andthatremindedherofSallyPeters.

“Didyouhearwhatthestupidchild’sdone?JoinedtheWildWomen,andjabbedherumbrellaintoalotofPostImpressionistsintheGraftonGalleries.Ofcoursetheycaughtheratit—theclumsiestchild!—andtookheruponthespot,andshe’scomingupfortrialto-morrowwiththreeotherlunatics,oldenoughtoknowbetterthantoleadanignorantbabylikethatintomischief.Iexpectshe’llgetamonth,andserveherright.Isupposeshe’llgoonhunger-strike;butshe’ssoplumpthatitwillprobablyaffectherhealthnotunfavourably.Idon’tknowwhogotholdofher;doubtlesssomemadandbadcreatureswhosawshehadnomore sense than a little owl, and set her blundering into shop-windows and picture-glasses like ayoungblue-bottle....Bytheway,thoughyouare,Iknow,somanythings,Ifeelsureyoudrawthelineatthemilitants.”

Eddysaidhethoughthesawtheirpointofview.“Pointofview!They’venotone,”MissHogancried.“Isuppose,likeotherdecentpeople,youwant

womentohavevotes!Well,youmustgrantthey’vespoiltanychanceofthat,anyhow—smashedup thewholesuffragecampaignwiththeirhorriblejabbingumbrellasandabsurdlittlebombs.”

Eddygrantedthat.“They’vesmashedthesuffrage,forthepresent,yes.Poorthings.”Hereflectedforamoment on these unfortunate persons, and added, “But I do seewhat theymean, all the same. Theysmashandspoilandhurtthingsandpeopleandcauses,becausetheyarestupidwithanger;butthey’vegotthings to be angry about, after all.Oh, I admit they’re very, very stupid and inartistic, and hopelesslyunaestheticandBritishandunimaginativeandcruelandwithoutanyhumouratall—butIdoseewhattheymean,inaway.”

“Well,don’texplainittome,then,becauseI’vehearditatfirst-handfartoooftenlately.”EddywentroundtotheroomsinOldComptonStreetwhichhesharedwithArnoldDenison.Arnold

hadchosenSohoforresidencepartlybecausehelikedit,partlytoimprovehisknowledgeoflanguages,andpartlytostudythetasteoftheneighbourhoodinliterature,asitwastherethatheintended,whenhehadmore leisure, to start a bookshop.Eddy, too, liked it. (This is a superfluous observation, becauseanybodywould.)Infact,helikedhislifeingeneraljustnow.HelikedreviewingfortheDailyPostandwritingforhimself(himselfvia theeditorsofvariousmagazineswhometwithhisproductionsontheircircularrouteandpushedthemonagain).Helikedgettingreviewcopiesofbookstokeep;histastewascatholicandomnivorous,andboggledatnothing.Withjoyheperusedeverything,evennovelswhichhadwonprizesinnovelcompetitions,populardiscursiveworkscalled“AboutthePlace,”andbooksofverse(todothemjustice,notevenpopular)called“Pipings,”andsuch.Hewroteappreciativereviewsofallofthem,becauseheappreciatedthemall.Itmayfairlybesaidthathesaweachasitsproducersawit,whichmay or may not be what a reviewer should try to do, but is anyhow grateful and comforting to thereviewed.Arnold,whodidnotdo this, invainprotested thathewould losehis jobsoon.“Noliteraryeditorwill standsuch indiscriminate fulsomeness for long.... It’sadispensationofprovidence thatyoudidn’tcomeandreadforus,asIoncemistakenlywished.Youwould,sofarasyouradvicecarriedanyweight,havedraggedusdownintothegutter.Haveyounosenseofvaluesorofdecency?Canyoureallyliketheseflorideffusionsofbaseminds?”HewasreadingthroughEddy’slastreview,whichwasofabookofversebyaladygiftedwithemotionaltendenciesandanadmirationforlandscape.Arnoldshookhisheadandlaughedasheputthereviewdown.

“Thequeerthingaboutitisthatit’snotabadreview,inspiteofeverythingyousayinappreciationofthelunaticwhowrotethebook.That’swhatIcan’tunderstand;howyoucanbesointelligentandyetsoidiotic.You’vegiventhebookexactly,inafewphrases—noonecouldpossiblymistakeitsnature—andthenyoumakeseveralquitetrue,nottosaybrilliantremarksaboutit—andthenyougoonandsayhowgooditis....Well,Ishallbeinterestedtoseehowlongtheykeepyouon.”

“Theylikeme,”Eddyassuredhim,complacently.“TheythinkIwritewell.Theauthorslikeme,too.ManyaheartfeltletterofthanksdoIgetfromthosewhomtherearefewtopraiseandfewerstilltolove.Asyoumayhavenoticed, theystrewthebreakfast table.Is itcommeilfaut formetoanswer?Ido—Imean, I did, both times—because it seemed politer, but it was perhaps a mistake, because thecorrespondencebetweenmeandoneofthemhasnotceasedyet,andpossiblyneverwill,sinceneitherofuslikestoendit.Howinvolvinglifeis!”

Meanwhilehewent to theClubHouseby theLeamostevenings.That, too,he liked.HehadagiftwhichDatcherdhaddetectedinhim,thegiftofgettingonwellwithallsortsofpeople, irrespectiveoftheirincomes,breeding,socialstatus,intelligence,orrespectability.Hedidnot,likeArnold,ruleouttheunintelligent,therespectable,thecommonplace;nor,likeDatcherd,theorthodoxlyreligious;nor,asJanedid,withoutknowingit, thevulgar;nor, likemanydelightfulandcompanionableandwell-bredpeople,the uneducated, those whomwe, comprehensively and rightly, call the poor—rightly, because, thoughpovertymayseemthemerestsuperficialandinsignificantattributeofthecompletedproduct,itisalsotheoriginal,fundamentalcauseofalltheseveringdifferences.MollyBellairsthoughtEddywouldhavemadeasplendidclergyman,abetteronethanhisfather,whowasunlimitedlykind,butillatease,andtalkedabovepoorpeople’sheads.Eddy,withlessgripoftheologicalproblems,hadasurerholdofpointsofview, and apprehended the leastwitty of jokes, the least pathetic of quarrels, the least picturesque ofemotions.Hencehewaspopular.

HefoundthatthesortoflecturesDatcherd’sclubswereusedtoexpectwerelargelyonsubjectsliketheMinimumWage,CapitalismversusIndustrialism,OrganisedLabour,theEightHoursDay,PoorLawReform,theEndowmentofMothers,Co-partnership,andsuch;allveryinterestingandprofitableifwelltreated. So Eddywrote to Bob Traherne, the second curate at St. Gregory’s, to ask him to give one.Trahernerepliedthathewould,ifEddyliked,giveacourseofsix.Heproceededtodoso,andashewasagood,concise,andpungentspeaker,drewlargeaudiencesandwasimmenselypopular.Attheendofhislecture he sold penny tracts by Church Socialists; really sold them, in large numbers. After his thirdlecture,whichwasontheMinimumWage,hesaidhewouldbegladtoreceivethenamesofanypersonswhowouldliketojointheChurchSocialistLeague,themosteffectivesocietyheknewofforfurtheringtheseobjects.Hereceivedsevenforthwith,andsixmoreafterthenext.

ProtestsreachedEddyfromadisturbedsecretary,apale,red-hairedyoungman,loyaltoDatcherd’sspirit.

“It’snotwhatMr.Datcherdwouldlike,Mr.Oliver.”Eddysaid,“Whyonearthshouldn’the?HelikesthementobeSocialists,doesn’the?”“Notthatsort,hedoesn’t.Atleast,hewouldn’t.Helikesthemtothinkforthemselves,nottobetied

upwiththeChurch.”“Well, they are thinking for themselves.Hewouldn’t like them to be tied up to his beliefs either,

surely.Ifeelsureit’sallright,Pollard.Anyhow,Ican’tstopthemjoiningtheLeagueiftheywantto,canI?”

“Weought tostop theReverendTraherne that’swhere it is.He’d talk theheadoffanelephant.Hegetsaholdofthem,andabusesit.Itisn’tright,anditisn’tfair,norwhatMr.DatcherdwouldlikeintheClub.”

“Nonsense,”saidEddy.“Mr.Datcherdwouldbedelighted.Mr.Traherne’safirst-ratelecturer,youknow;theylearnmorefromhimthantheydofromalltheSocialistliteraturetheygetoutofthelibrary.”

Worsethanthis,severalyoungmenwhodespisedchurch-going,quitesuddenlytooktoit,bicyclingovertotheBoroughtoheartheReverendTrahernepreach.Datcherdhadnoobjectiontoanyonegoingtochurch if from conviction, but this sort of unbalanced, unreasoning yielding to a personal influence he

wouldcertainlyconsiderdegradingandunworthyofathinkingcitizen.Beaman’sconvictionswhattheymight,Datcherdheld,letthembeconvictions,basedonreasonandprinciple,notincoherentimpulsesandchanceemotions.ItwasalmostcertainthathewouldnothaveapprovedofTraherne’sinfluenceoverhisclubs.

Still less,Pollard thought,wouldhehaveapprovedofCaptainGreville’s.CaptainGrevillewasaretiredcaptain,whoneedsnodescriptionhere.HismissioninlifewastotalkabouttheNationalServiceLeague.Eddy,who, itmayberemembered,belongedamongother leagues to this,methimsomewhere,andrequestedhimtocomeandaddresstheclubonthesubjectoneevening.Hedidso.Hemadeaverygoodspeech,forthirty-fiveminutes,whichisexactlytherightlengthforthistopic.(Somepeopleerr,andspeaktoolong,onthisasonmanyothersubjects,andmisstheirgoalinconsequence.)CaptainGrevillesaid,Howdelightfultostrengthenthenationalfibreandthesenseofcivicdutybybringingallmenintorelationwith national ideas throughpersonal training duringyouth; to strengthen the national health bysoundphysicaldevelopmentanddiscipline,etcetera; tobring tobearupon themost importantbusinesswithwhich a nation can have to deal, namely,NationalDefence, the knowledge, the interest, and thecriticismofthenationalmind;tosafeguardthenationagainstwarbyshowingthatwearepreparedforit,andensure that, shouldwarbreakout,peacemaybe speedily re-established; in short, toOrganizeourManPower;further,nottobeshotintimeofinvasionforcarryingagununlawfully,whichisafrequentincident(sensation).Hesaidagooddealmore,whichneednotbespecified,asitisdoubtlessfamiliartomany,andwouldbeunwelcometoothers.Attheendhesaid,“AreyouDemocrats?ThenjointheLeague,whichadvocatestheonlydemocraticsystemofdefence.AreyouSocialists?”(thiswasgenerous,becausehedislikedSocialistsverymuch)“ThenjointheLeague,whichaimsatareformstrictly inaccordancewith the principles of co-operative socialism; in fact, many people base their opposition to it on thegroundsthatit istoosocialistic.Finally(heobserved),whatwewantisnotastandingarmy,andnotawar—God forbid—butmencapableof fighting likemen in defence of theirwives, their children, andtheirhomes.”

TheClub apparently realised suddenly that thiswaswhat they didwant, and crowded up to signcardsandreceivebuttonsinscribedwiththeinspiringmotto:“ThePathofDutyisthePathofSafety.”Inshort,quitea thirdof theyoungmenbecameadherentsof theLeague,encouraged theretobyEddy,andcongratulatedby theenthusiastic captain.Theywere invited to askquestions, so theydid.Theyasked,Whataboutemployerschuckingaman forgoodbecausehehad tobeaway forhis fourmonthscamp?Answer: Thiswould not happen; forcewould be exerted over the employer. (Some scepticism, but ageneral sentiment of approval for this, as for something which would indeed be grand if it could beworked, andwhichmight in itself beworth joining theLeague for,merely to score off the employer.)Furtheranswer:ThelateSirJosephWhitworthsaid,“Thelabourofamanwhohasgonethroughacourseofmilitarydrill iswortheighteen-penceaweekmorethanthatofoneuntrained,asthroughthetrainingreceived inmilitary drill men learn ready obedience, attention, and combination, all of which are sonecessary in work.” Question: Would they get it? Answer: Get what? Question: The eighteen-pence.Answer:Injusticetheycertainlyshould.Question:Wouldemployersbeforcedtogiveitthem?Answer:All thesedetailsareleft tobeworkedoutlaterintheBill.Conclusion:TheBillwouldnotbepopularamongemployers.Furtherconclusion:Letusjoinit.Whichtheydid.

Beforehedeparted,CaptainGrevillesaidthathewasverypleasedwiththeencouragingresultsofthe evening, and he hoped that asmany aswould be interestedwould come and see a cinematographdisplayhewasgivinginHackneynextweek,called“InTimeofInvasion.”Fromthathewouldventuretosay they would learn something of the horrors of unprepared attack. The Club went to that. It was asplendidshow,wellworth threepence. Itabounded inmenbeingfoundunlawfullywithgunsandbeingshotlikerabbits;inuntrainedandincompetentsoldiersfleeingfromthefoe;abandonedmothersdefending

their cottagehomes to the last againstabrutal soldiery;corpsesofchildren tossedonpikes tomakeaPrussianholiday;BoyScoutsandGirlGuides,theonesavingelementintheterribledisplayofnationalincompetence,performingmarvellousfeatsofskillandheroism,anddyinglikefliesindischargeoftheirduties. Afterwards there was a very different series to illustrate the Invasion as it would be had theNational Service Act been passed. “The Invaders realise their Mistake,” was inscribed on thepreliminarycurtain.Well-trained,efficient,andcourageousyoungmenthensalliedintothefield,proudinthe possession of fire-arms they had a right to, calm in their perfect training, temerity, and discipline,presentinganunflinchingand impregnable front to thecowering foe,who retreated inbrokendisorder,realisingtheirmistake(cheers).ThenontheFiniscurtainblazedoutthegrandmoralofitall:“ThePathofDutyisthePathofSafety.KeepyourhomesinviolatebylearningtoDefendthem.”(Renewedcheers,and“GodSavetheKing”).

Averyfineshow,towhich,itmaybeadded,Mr.SidneyPollard,theClubSecretary,didnotgo.ItwassoonafterthisthatCaptainGreville,havingbeenmuchpleased—verypleased,ashesaid—by

theLea-sideClub,presenteditslibrarywithacompletesetofKipling.Kipling,sincetheKiplingperiodwassomeyearspast,wasnotwellknownbytheClub;appearingamongthemsuddenly,onthetopoftheCinema,hemadesomethingofafurore.IfMr.DatcherdwouldgethimtowritepoetryforFurther,now,insteadofMr.HendersonandMr.Raymond,andallthepeoplehedidget,thatwouldbesomethinglike.FindingKipling sopopular, andyielding toa request,Eddy,who read ratherwell,gave someKiplingreadings,whichweremuchenjoyedbyacrowdedaudience.

“Mightaswelltakethemtoamusichallatonce,”complainedMr.Pollard.“Wouldtheylikeit?Iwill,”returnedEddy,anddidso,payingforadozenboysattheEmpire.ItmustnotbesupposedthatEddyneglected,inthecultofamanlypatriotism,theotheraspectsoflife.

Onthecontrary,heinducedBillyRaymond,agood-naturedperson,togivealectureontheDrama,andafter it, tookaparty to theSavoyTheatre, toseeGranvilleBarker’sShakespeare,whichbored themagood deal. Then he got Jane to give an address on drawings, and, to illustrate it, took some ratherapatheticyouths to see Jane’sownexhibition.Alsoheconductedaparty towhereMr.RogerFrywasspeakingonPost-Impressionism,and then,when theyhad thoroughlygrasped it, to thegallerywhere itwasjustthenbeingexemplified.Firsthetoldthemthattheycouldlaughatthepicturesiftheychoose,ofcourse,butthatwasanexceedinglystupidwayoflookingatthem;sotheyactuallydidnot,suchwashisinfluence over them at this time. Instead, when he pointed out to them the beauties of Matisse, theypretendedtoagreewithhim,andlistenedtolerant,ifbored,whilehehadanintelligentdiscussionwithanartistfriendwhomhemet.

AllthisistosaythatEddyhadhisyoungmenwellinhand—betterinhandthanDatcherd,whowaslesscordialandhail-fellow-well-metwiththem,hadeverhadthem.Itwasgreatfun.Influencingpeopleinamassalwaysis;itfeelsratherlikedrivingalargeandpowerfulcar,whichissentswervingtorightor left by a small turn of thewrist. Probably actors feel like thiswhen acting, onlymore so; perhapsspeakers feel like this when speaking. Doing what you like with people, the most interesting andabsorbing of the plasticmaterials ready to the hand—that is better thanworkingwith clay, paints, orwords.Not thatEddywasconsciouslyawareofwhathewasdoing in thatway;onlyabouteach freshthingasitturneduphewasdesiroustomaketheseladsthathelikedfeelkeenandappreciative,ashefelthimself; and he was delighted that they did so, showing themselves thereby so sane, sensible, andintelligent. He had found them keen enough on some important things—industrial questions, certainaspectsofSocialism, theRadicalParty inpolitics; itwas forhim tomake themequallykeenonotherthings, hitherto apparently rather overlooked by them. One of these things was the Church; here hissuccesswasonlypartial,butdistinctlyencouraging.AnotherwasthegoodinToryism,whichtheywerealittleblindto.Toopentheireyes,hehadareallyintelligentConservativefriendofhistoaddressthemon

foursuccessiveTuesdaysonpolitics.Hedidnotwantintheleasttochangetheirpolitics—whatcanbebetter than to be a Radical?—(thiswas aswell, because it would have been a task outside even hissphereofinfluence)—butcertainlytheyshouldseebothsides.Sobothsidesweresetbeforethem;andtheresultwascertainlythattheylookedmuchlessintolerantlythanbeforeuponthewrongside,becauseMr.Oliver,whowasafirst-rater,gaveithiscountenance,ashehadtoMatisseandthattediousthingattheSavoy.Matisse,Shakespeare,TariffReform,theyallseemedsilly,butthere,theypleasedagoodchapand a pleasant friend,who could also appreciateHarry Lauder, oldVictorGrayson,Kipling, and theMinimumWage.

SuchweretheinterestsofavariedandcrowdedlifeonclubnightsbytheLea.Distraughtbythem,Mr.SidneyPollardwrote tohismaster inGreece—(address,Poste-Restante,Athens,whereeventuallyhiswanderingswould lead himandhewould call for letters)—to say that allwas going to sixes andsevens,andherewasaTariffReformerletlooseontheClubonTuesdayevenings,andaparsontorotabouthisfancySocialismonWednesdays,andanotherparsonholdingamissionserviceinthestreetlastSunday afternoon, not even about Socialism—(this was Father Dempsey)—and half the club hangingabouthimandaskinghimposers,whichisalwaysthebeginningoftheend,becauseanyparson,havingbeenbredtoit,cananswerposerssomuchmoreposinglythananyonecanaskthem;andsomecaptainorothertalkingthatblankednonsenseaboutNationalService,andgivingroundhissillybuttonsasif theywere chocolate drops at a school-feast, and leading them on to go to an idiotMoving Picture Show,calculated to turn themall into Jingoesof thedeepestdye;andsomeBlueWatermaniacgassingaboutDreadnoughts,sothat“Wewanteightandwewon’twait”wassungbytheschool-childreninthestreetsinstead of “Every nice girl loves a sailor,” which may mean, emotionally, much the same, but ispolitically offensive. Further, Mr. Oliver had been giving Kipling readings, and half the lads wereKipling-mad,andfoughttogetBarrack-roomBalladsoutofthelibrary.Finally,“Mr.Olivermaymeannoharm,butheisdoingalot,”saidMr.Pollard.“Ifhegoesonhere,thetoneoftheClubwillbespoilt,heispersonallypopular,owingtobeingafriendtoallinhismannerandhavingpleasantways,andthatistheworstsort.Ifyouarenotcominghomeyourselfsoon,perhapsyouwillmakesomechangebywriting,andtellMr.Oliverifyouapproveofabovethingsornot.Ihavethoughtitrighttoletyouknowall,andyouwillactaccordingasyouthink.Iverymuchtrustyourhealthisonthemend,youarebadlymissedhere.”

Datcherdgot that letter at last, butnot justyet, forhewas thenwalking inlandacross thePlainofThessalybetweenVoloandTempe.

CHAPTERX.

DATCHERD’SRETURN.

ONthelastdayofApril,EddyprocuredanIrishNationalisttoaddresstheClubonHomeRule.Hewasahot-temperedperson,anddespisedEnglishpeopleandsaidso;whichwasfoolishinaspeaker,andratherdiscountedhisotherremarks,becausetheClubyoungmenpreferredtobeliked,evenbythosewhomadespeechestothem.Hiscause,putnodoubtover-vehemently,wasonthewholeapprovedofbytheClub,Radicallyinclinedasitinthemainwas;butitisanoticeablefactthatthisparticularsubjectisapttofalldeadonEnglishworking-classaudiences,whohave,presumably,adeeply-rootedfeelingthatitdoesnotseriouslyaffectthemeitherway.Anyhow,thisNationalisthardlyevokedthesympathyhedeservedintheClub.Alsotheywereinclinedtobeamusedathisaccent,whichwasunmodifiedWexford.ProbablyEddyappreciatedhimandhisargumentsmorethananyoneelsedid.

So,whenontheseconddayofMayEddyintroducedanOrangemantospeakonthesamesubjectfromanotherpointofview,theaudiencewasinclinedtoreceivehimfavourably.TheOrangemanwasyoung,muchyoungerthantheNationalist,andequallyIrish,thoughfromanotherregion,bothgeographicallyandsocially.Hisaccent,whathehadof it, isbestdescribedaspoliteNorthofIreland,andhehadbeenatCambridgewithEddy.Thoughcapableof fierceness, andwithanUlster-will-fight look in theeye, thefiercenesswasdirectedratheragainsthisdisloyalcompatriotsthanagainsthisaudience,whichwasmoresatisfactory to the audience. And whenever he liked he could make them laugh, which was moresatisfactorystill.Fromhisfaceyoumight,beforehespoke,guesshimtobeaNationalist,soessentiallyand indubitablysouth-west Irishwas the lookof it.Toavert sodistressinganerrorhedidspeak,asarule,quitealot.

He spoke this evening with energy, lucidity, humour, and vehemence, and the Club listenedappreciatively.Graduallyheworkedthemupfrompersonalapprovalofhimselftopartialapprovalof,orat least sympathywith, his cause.Hewent into the financial questionwith an imposing production offigures.Hebeganseveraltimes,“TheNationalistswilltellyou,”andthenproceededtorepeatpreciselywhat the Nationalist the other night had told them, only to knock it downwith an argument that wassometimesconclusive,oftenwouldjustdo,andoccasionallyjustwouldn’t;andtheClubcheeredthefirstsort,acceptedthesecondasingenious,andsaid“Oh,”good-humouredly,tothethird.Altogetheritwasanexcellent speech, full of profound conviction, with some incontrovertible sense, and a smattering ofintelligent nonsense. Not a word was dull, and not a word was unkind to the Pope of Rome or hisadherents,asisusual,andperhapsessential,insuchspeecheswhenproducedinIreland,andnecessitatestheir careful expurgating before they are delivered to English audiences, who have a tolerant, ifsupercilious,feelingtowardsthatmisguidedChurch.Theyoungmanspokeforhalfanhour,andheldhisaudience.He held them evenwhen he said, drawing to the end, “Iwonder do any of you here knowanythingatallaboutIrelandandIrishpolitics,ordoyougetitallsecond-handfromtheEnglishRadicalpapers?Doyouknowatallwhatyou’retalkingabout?Badgovernment,incompetenteconomy,partiality,prejudice,injustice,tyranny—that’swhattheEnglishRadicalswanttohandusoverto.Andthatiswhattheywillnothandusoverto,becauseweinUlster,themosttrulyandnationallyIrishpartofIreland,havesignedthis.”Heproducedfromhisbreast-pockettheCovenant,andhelditupbeforethem,sothattheyallsaw theRedHand that blazed out on it.He read it through to them, and sat down.Cheers broke out,stampingoffeet,clappingofhands;itwasthemostenthusiasticreceptionaspeakerhadeverhadattheClub.

Someone began singing “Rule Britannia,” as the nearest expression that occurred to him of the

patrioticandanti-disruptivesentimentsthatfilledhim,anditwastakenupandshoutedallovertheroom.Itwas as if the insidious influence ofKipling, theNationalServiceLeague, the InvasionPictures, thePrimrose League, and theBlueWater School,which had been eatingwith gradual corruption into thesoundheartoftheClub,wasbreakingoutatlast,underthefinishingpoisonofOrangeism,intoaneruptionwhichcouldonlybeeasedbysongandshout.Sotheysangandshouted,somefromenthusiasm,someforfun,andEddysaidtohisfriendthespeaker,“You’vefairlyfetchedthemthistime,”andlookedsmilingoverthejubilantcrowd,fromthefrontchairstotheback,and,atthebackofall,mettheeyesofDatcherd.Hestoodleaningagainstthedoor,unjubilant,songless,morose,hishandsinhispockets,acynicalsmilefaintly touchinghis lips.At his sidewasSidneyPollard,with verybright eyes in awhite face, and a“There,youseeforyourself”airabouthim.

Eddyhadn’tknownDatcherdwascomingdowntotheClubto-night,thoughheknewhehadarrivedin England, three weeks before he had planned. Seeing him, he rose to his feet and smiled, and theaudience, followinghiseyes, turned roundandsaw their returnedpresidentandmaster.Upon that theycheeredagain,louderifpossiblethanbefore.Datcherd’sacknowledgmentwasofthefaintest.Hestoodthereforamomentlonger,thenturnedandlefttheroom.

Themeetingended,aftertheusualcourtesiesandvotesofthanks,andEddytookhisfriendaway.“YoumustcomeandbeintroducedtoDatcherd,”hesaid.“Iwonderwherehe’sgotto.”His friend looked doubtful. “He could have come and spoken tome in the room if he’d wanted.

Perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps he’d be tired after his journey. He didn’t look extraordinarily cheery,somehow.IthinkI’llnotbotherhim.”

“Oh, he’s all right.He only looked like aHomeRuler listening toOrange cheering. I expect theydon’t,asarule,lookveryradiant,dothey?”

“Theydonot.Butyoudon’tmeanhe’dmindmycomingtospeak,surely?Because,ifhedoes,Ioughtnevertohavecome.Youtoldmetheyhadlecturesfromallsortsofpeopleonallsortsofthings.”

“Sotheydo.No,ofcoursehewouldn’tmind.Butthat’sthewayhe’sboundtolookinpublic,asamanifesto,don’tyousee.Likeaclergyman listening toaNonconformistpreacher.Hehas toasserthisprinciples.”

“ButaChurchclergymanprobablywouldn’tgetaNonconformisttopreachinhischurch.Theydon’t,Ibelieve,asarule.”

Eddywasforcedtoadmitthat,unfortunately,theydidn’t.Hisfriend,apersonofgoodmanners,wasalittlecross.“We’vehadhimoffendednow,andIdon’t

blamehim.Youshouldhavetoldme.Ishouldneverhavecome.It’ssuchrusticmanners,tobreakintoaperson’sClubandpreachthingshehates.Icouldtellhehatedit,bythelookinhiseye.Hekepttheotherendoftheroom,thewayhewouldn’tbreakoutatmeandsayanythingferocious.No,I’mnotcomingtolookforhim;Iwouldn’tdarelookhimintheface;youcangobyyourself.You’vefairlyletmein,Oliver.Ihatebeingrudetothewrongside,itgivesthemsuchanadvantage.They’rerudeenoughtous,asarule,todoforthetwo.Idon’twanttohaveanythingtodowithhislittleRadicalClub;ifhewantstokeepittohimselfandhisRadicalfriends,he’swelcome.”

“You’retalkingnonsense,”Eddysaid.“DiditbehavelikeaRadicalclubto-night?”“Itdidnot.WhichisexactlywhyDatcherdhaseveryreasontobeannoyed.Well,youcantellhim

frommethatitwasnoone’sfaultbutyourown.Good-night.”Hedeparted,moreinangerthaninsorrow—(ithadreallybeenratherfunto-night,thoughrude)—and

EddywenttofindDatcherd.Buthedidn’tfindDatcherd.HewastoldthatDatcherdhadlefttheClubandgonehome.Hisfriend’s

remarkcamebacktohim.“Hekepttheotherendoftheroom,thewayhewouldn’tbreakoutatmeandsay anything ferocious.”Was thatwhatDatcherdwas doing to him, orwas he tired after his journey?Eddyhopedforthebest,butfeltforebodings.Datcherdcertainlyhadnotlookedcordialorcheerful.ThewayhehadlookedhaddisappointedandratherhurttheClub.Theyfeltthatanotherexpression,afterthreemonthsabsence,wouldhavebeenmoresuitable.Afterall,forpleasantnessofdemeanour,Mr.Datcherd,evenatthebestoftimes(whichthis,itseemed,hardlywas)wasn’tapatchonMr.Oliver.

These events occurred on a Friday evening. It so happened thatEddywas going out of town nextmorningforaCambridgeweek-end,sohewouldnotseeDatcherdtillMondayevening.HeandArnoldspenttheweek-endatArnold’shome.WheneverEddyvisitedtheDenisonshewasstruckafreshbytheextremeandrarefiedrefinementoftheiratmosphere;they(exceptArnold,whohadbeencoarsened,likehimself,bycontactwiththeworld)wereacademicinthebestsense;theoretical,philosophical,idealistic,serenelysureoftruth,makingupinbreedingwhat,possibly,theyalittlelacked(atleastMrs.Denisonandherdaughterlacked)inhumour;neverswervingfromthepolitical,religious,andeconomicpositiontheyhad taken up once and for all. A trifle impenetrable and closed to new issues, theywere; the sort ofLiberal one felt would never, however changed the circumstances, become Conservative. A valuabletype, representing breeding and conscience in a rough-and-tumbleworld; if Christian andAnglican, itoftenbelongstotheChristianSocialUnion;ifnot,liketheDenisons,itwillsurelybelongtosomeotherwell-intentioned and high-principled society for bettering the poor. They are, in brief, gentlemen andladies.Life in thecountry is toosleepyfor themandtheirprogressive ideas;Londonisquite toowideawake; so they flourish like exquisite flowers in our older Universities and inManchester, and visitGreeceandItalyinthevacations.

EddyfounditpeacefultobewiththeDenisons.TocomebacktoLondononMondaymorningwasalittledisturbing.HecouldnothelpaslightfeelingofanxietyabouthismeetingwithDatcherd.Perhapsitwasjustaswell,hethought,tohavegivenDatcherdtwodaystorecoverfromtheshockoftheUnionistmeeting. He hoped that Datcherd, when he met him, would look less like a Home Ruler listening toOrangecheering(averyunpleasantexpressionofcountenance)thanhehadonFridayevening.Thinkingthathemightaswellfindoutaboutthisassoonaspossible,hecalledatDatcherd’shousethatafternoon.

Datcherdwasinhislibrary,asusual,writing.HegotupandshookhandswithEddy,andsaid,“Iwascomingroundtoseeyou,”whichrelievedEddy.Buthespokerathergravely,andadded,“TherearesomethingsIwanttotalktoyouabout,”andsatdownandnursedhisgauntkneeinhisthinhandsandgnawedhislips.

Eddy asked him if hewasmuch better, thinking he didn’t look it, and if he had had a good time.Datcherdscarcelyanswered;hewasoneofthosepeoplewhoonlythinkofonethingatonce,andhewasthinkingjustnowofsomethingotherthanhishealthorhisgoodtime.

Hesaid,afteramoment’ssilence,“It’sbeenextremelykindofyoutomanagetheCluballthistime.”Eddy,withawansmile,saidapologetically,“Youknow,wereallydidhaveaHomeRulertospeak

onWednesday.”Datcherdrelaxedalittle,andsmiledinhisturn.“Iknow.Infact, Igather that thereareveryfewrepresentativesofanycauseswhateverwhomyou

havenothadtospeak.”“Isee,”saidEddy,“thatPollardhastoldyouall.”“Pollard has toldme some things.And youmust remember that I spent both Saturday andSunday

eveningsattheClub.”“What,”inquiredEddyhopefully,“didyouthinkofit?”Datcherdwassilentforamoment.PerhapshewasrememberingagainhowkindithadbeenofEddy

tomanagetheCluballthistime.Whenhespoke,itwaswithadmirablemoderation.“Ithardly,”hesaid,“seemsquiteonthelinesIleftiton.Iwasalittlesurprised,Imustown.Wehad

averysmallClubonSundaynight,becausea lotof themhadgoneoff tosomeservice inchurch.Thatsurprisedmerather.Theyneverusedtodothat.OfcourseIdon’tmind,but——”

“That’sTraherne,”saidEddy.“Hegota tremendousholdonsomeof themwhenhecamedown tospeak.He’salwayspopular,youknow,withmenandlads.”

“Idaresay.Whatmadeyougethim?”“Oh,tospeakaboutrentsandwagesandthings.He’sverygood.Theylikedhim.”“Thatisapparent.He’sdraggedsomeofthemintotheChurchSocialistLeague,andmoretochurch

afterhim.Well,it’stheirownbusiness,ofcourse;iftheylikethesortofthing,I’venoobjection.They’llget tiredof it soon, Iexpect....But, ifyou’llexcusemyasking,whyonearthhaveyoubeencorruptingtheirmindswith lecturesonTariffReform,NationalService,UlsterismandDreadnoughts?Didn’tyourealisethatonecan’tletinthatsortofinfluencewithoutendangeringthesanityofasetofhalf-educatedlads? I left them readingMill; I find them reading Kipling. Upon my word, anyone would think youbelongedtothePrimroseLeague,fromthewayyou’vebeengoingon.”

“Ido,”saidEddysimply.Datcherdstaredathim,utterlytakenaback.“Youwhat?”“IbelongtothePrimroseLeague,”Eddyrepeated.“Whyshouldn’tI?”Datcherdpulledhisstartledwitstogether,andlaughedshortly.“Ibegyourpardon.Themistake,Isuppose,wasmine.Ihadsomehowgot it intomyheadthatyou

wereaFabian.”“SoIam,”saidEddy,patientlyexplaining.“Allthoseoldthings,youknow.Andmostofthenewones

aswell.I’msorryifyoudidn’tknow;IsupposeIoughttohavementionedit,butIneverthoughtaboutit.Doesitmatter?”

Datcherdwasgazingathimwithgrave,startledeyes,asatamaniac.“Matter?Well, Idon’tknow.Yes, I suppose itwouldhavemattered, frommypointofview, if I’d

known.Becauseitjustmeansthatyou’vebeenplayingwhenIthoughtyouwereinearnest;that,whereasIsupposedyou tookyour convictions andmine seriouslyandmeant to acton them, really they’re just agametoyou.Youtakenocauseseriously,Isuppose.”

“Itakeallcausesseriously,”Eddycorrectedhimquickly.Hegotup,andwalkedabouttheroom,hishandsdeepinhispockets,frowningalittlebecauselifewassoserious.

“You see,” he explained, stopping in front of Datcherd and frowning down on him, “truth is sopervasive; it gets everywhere; leaks into everything. Like cod-liver oil spilt in a trunk of clothes;everything’ssaturatedwithit.(Isthatanastycomparison?Ithoughtofitbecauseithappenedtometheotherday.)Theclothesarealldifferentfromeachother,butthecod-liveroilisinallofthemforeverandever.Truthislikethat—pervasive.Isn’tit?”

“No,”saidDatcherd,withvehemence.“No.Truthisnotlikethat.Ifitwere,itwouldmeanthatonethingwasnobetterandnoworsethananother;thatallprogress,moralandotherwise,wasillusive.Weshouldallbecomefatalists,torpid,uncaring,dead,sittingwithourhandsbeforeusanddriftingwiththetide.There’dbeanendofallfight,allimprovement,alllife.Buttruthisnotlikethat.Onethingisbetterthananother,andalwayswillbe.Democracyisabetteraimthanoligarchy;freedomisbetterthantyranny;workisbetterthanidleness.And,becauseitfights,howeverslowlyandhesitatingly,onthesideofthosebetterthings,LiberalismisbetterthanToryism,theLeagueofYoungLiberalsabetterthingtoencourage

amongtheyoungmenofthecountrythanthePrimroseLeague.Yousaytruthiseverywhere.Frankly,IlookatthePrimroseLeague,andallyourToryAssociations,andIcan’tfindit.Iseeonlyamonumentaltissueoflies.Lyingtothepeoplefor theirgood—that’swhatallhonestTorieswouldadmit theydo.Lyingtothemfortheirharm—that’swhatwesaytheydo.Truth!Itisn’tnamedamongthem.They’venotgotmindsthatcanknowtruthwhentheyseeit.It’snottheirfault.They’remostlygoodmenwarpedbyabadcreed.Andyousayonecreedisasgoodasanother.”

“Isaythere’struthinallofthem,”saidEddy.“Can’tyouseethetruthinToryism?Ican,soclearly.It’sallsohackneyed,sooftenrepeated,butit’strueinspiteofthat.Isn’ttheretruthingovernmentbythebest for theothers? If that isn’t goodwhat is? If it’s not true that oneman’smore fittedbynature andtrainingtomanagedifficultpoliticalaffairsthananother,nothing’strue.Andit’struethathecandoitbestwithoutamassofignorant,uninstructed,sentimentalpeopleforeverjerkingatthereins.Putthebestontop—that’sthegistofToryism.”Datcherdwaslookingathimcynically.

“Andyet—youbelongtotheYoungLiberals’League.”“OfcourseIdo.DoyouwantmetoenlargeonthegistandthebeautiesofLiberalismtoo?Icould,

onlyIwon’t,becauseyou’vejustdonesoyourself.Allthatyou’vesaidaboutitsmakingforfreedomandenlightenmentisprofoundlytrue,andiswhyIamaLiberal.Iinsistonmyrighttobeboth.Iamboth.IhopeIshallalwaysbeboth.”

Datcherdsaid,afterathoughtfulmoment,“Iwishwehadhadthisconversationthreemonthsago.Wedidn’t;Iwasrecklessandhasty,andsowe’vemadethismessofthings.”

“Isitamess?”askedEddy.“I’msorryifso.Ithasn’tstruckmeinthatlightallthistime.”“Don’tthinkmeungrateful,Oliver,”saidDatcherd,quickly.“I’mnot.Lookingatthingsasyoudo,I

supposeitwasnaturalthatyoushouldhavedoneasyouhave.Perhapsyoumighthaveletmealittlemoreintoyourviewsbeforehandthanyoudid—butnevermindthatnow.ThefactthatmattersisthatIfindtheClubinastateofmentalconfusionthatIneverexpected,anditwilltakesometimetosettleitagain,ifweeverdo.Wewant,asyouknow,tomaketheClubthenucleusofasoundRadicalconstituency.Well,uponmyword, if therewasanelectionnow, I couldn’t saywhichway someof themwouldvote.Youmayanswerthatitdoesn’tmatter,assofewarevotersyet;butitdoes.It’swhatIcallamess;andasillymess,too. They’ve been playing the fool with things they ought to be keen enough about to take in deadlyearnest.That’syourdoing.Youseemtohavebecomeprettypopular,Imustsay;whichisjustthemischiefofit.AllIcandonowistotryandstraightenthingsoutbydegrees.”

“You’dratherIdidn’tcomeandhelpanymore,Isuppose,”saidEddy.“Tobequitefrank,Iwould.Infact,Iwouldn’thaveyouatanyprice.Youdon’tmindmyspeaking

plainly?Themistake’sbeenmine;butithasbeenaprettyidioticmistake,andwemustn’thaveanymoreofit....Ioughtnevertohavegoneaway.Ishan’tagain,whateveranyfoolsofdoctorssay.”

Eddyheldouthishand.“Goodbye.I’mreallyverysorry,Datcherd.IsupposeIoughttohaveguessedwhatyouwouldfeelaboutallthis.”

“Honestly,Ithinkyouought.Butthankyouverymuch,allthesame,forallthetroubleyou’vetaken....You’redoingsomereviewingworknow,aren’tyou?”HistoneimpliedthatEddyhadbettergoondoingreviewingwork,anddesistfromdoinganythingelse.

Eddyleftthehouse.Hewassorry,andratherangry,andbadlydisappointed.HehadbeenkeenontheClub;hehadhopedtogoonhelpingwithit.Itseemedthathewasnotconsideredfitbyanyonetohaveanythingtodowithclubsandsuchphilanthropicenterprises.FirsttheVicarofSt.Gregory’shadturnedhimoutbecausehehadtoomanyinterestsbesides(Datcherdbeingone),andnowDatcherdturnedhimoutbecausehehad tried togive theClub toomany interests (thecause thevicar stood forbeingone).Nowheredidheseemtobewanted.Hewasafailureandanoutcast.Besideswhich,Datcherdthoughthe

hadbehaveddishonourably.Perhapshehad.HerehesawDatcherd’spointofview.EvenhisfriendtheUlstermanhadobviouslyhadthesamethoughtaboutthat.EddyruefullyadmittedthathehadbeenanidiotnottoknowjusthowDatcherdwouldfeel.ButhewasangrywithDatcherdforfeelinglikethat.Datcherdwasnarrow,opinionated,andunfair.Somanypeopleare,inanunfairworld.

Hewent home and toldArnold,who said, “Of course. I can’t thinkwhy you didn’t know how itwouldbe.Ialwaystoldyouyouwerebeingabsurd,withyourBlueWaterlunatics,andyourFoodTaxante-diluvians,andyourconscriptioncaptains.(No,don’ttellmeaboutit’snotbeingconscription;nowisnot themoment.Youaredown,and it is forme to talk.)Youhadbetter tryyourhandatnomoregoodworks,butsticktoearninganhonestlivelihood,aslongastheywillgiveyouanymoneyforwhatyoudo.Idaresay froma rumour I heard from Innes to-day, that itwon’tbe long. I believe theDailyPost arecontemplatingareductionintheir literarystaff,andtheywillveryprobablybeginwithyou,unlessyoulearn to restrain your redundant appreciations a little. No paper could bear up under that weight ofindiscriminateenthusiasmforlong.”

“HulberttoldmeIwastocriticizemoreseverely,”saidEddy.“SoItrytonow.It’sdifficult,whenIlikeathing,tobesevereaboutit.Iwonderifoneought.”

ButhewasreallywonderingmorewhatEileenLeMoinethoughtandwouldsayabouthisdifferencewithDatcherd.

Hedidn’tdiscoverthisforaweek.Hecalledat3,CampdenHillRoad,andfoundbothitsoccupantsout.Theydidnotwrite,ashehadhalfexpected,toaskhimtocomeagain,ortomeetthemanywhere.AtlasthemetEileenalone,comingoutofanexhibitionofMaxBeerbohmcartoons.Hehadbeengoingin,buthe turnedbackonseeingher.She lookedsomehowaltered,andgrave,andshewasmorebeautifuleven than he had known, but tired, andwith shadowed eyes of fire and softness; to him she seemed,vaguely,lessofachild,andmoreofawoman.PerhapsitwasGreece....SomehowGreece,andalltheworldsoldandnew,andalltheseas,seemedbetweenthemasshelookedathimwithhardeningeyes.Anobserverwouldhavesaidfromthat lookthatshedidn’t likehim;yetshehadalways likedhimagooddeal.Acapriciouspersonshewas;allherfriendsknewthat.

Heturnedbackfromtheentrancedoortowalkwithher,thoughshesaid,“Aren’tyougoingin?”“No,”he said. “I’ve seen themoncealready. I’d rather seeyounow, ifyoudon’tmind. I suppose

you’regoingsomewhere?Youwouldn’tcomeandhaveteawithmefirst?”Shehesitatedamoment,as ifwonderingwhether shewould, thensaid,“No; I’mgoing to teawith

Billy’sgrandmother;shewantstohearaboutGreece.ThenBillyandIaretakingJanetotheAcademy,tobroadenhermind.She’sneverseenityet,andit’stimehereducationwascompleted.”

Shesaiditcoldly,eventhelittlefamiliarmockeryofJaneandtheAcademy,andEddyknewthatshewas angrywith him. That he did not like, and he said quickly, “May I gowith you as far asGordonPlace?” (whichwaswhereBilly’s grandmother lived), and she answeredwith childish sullenness, “Ifwe’regoingtheonewayattheonetimeIsupposewewillbetogether,”andsaidnomoretillhebrokethesilenceastheycrossedLeicesterSquareinthesunshinewith,“Please,isanythingthematter,Eileen?”

Sheturnedandlookedathim,herfacehardintheshadowofthesweepinghat-brim,andflungbackironically,“Itisnot.Ofcoursenot;howwoulditbe?”

Eddymadeagestureofdespairwithhishands.“You’re angry too. I knew it.You’re all angry, because I hadTariffReformers andOrangemen to

lecturetotheClub.”“D’youtellmeso?”Shestillspokeinuncomfortableirony.“Iexpectyouhopedwewouldbegrateful

anddelightedatbeingdraggedbackfromGreecejustwhenHughwasbeginningtobebetter,andtoenjoythings,byaletterfromthatmiserablePollardallaboutthewayyouhadtheClubspoilt.Why,wehadn’t

beentoOlympiayet.WewerejustgoingtherewhenHughinsistedoncallingforlettersatAthensandgotthis.Lettersindeed!BridgetandIdidn’taskwerethereanyforus;butHughalwayswill.Andofcourse,whenhe’dreaditnothingwouldholdhim;hemusttearoffhomebythenexttrainandarriveinLondonthreeweekssoonerthanwe’dplanned.Nowwhy,ifyoufeltyouhadtogotospoilHugh’sclub,couldn’tyouhavehadPollardstrangledfirst,thewayhewouldn’tbewritingletters?”

“IwishIhad,”saidEddy,withbitterfervour.“Iwasafool.”“Andworsethanthat,soyouwere,”saidEileen,unsparingly.“Youwereunprincipled,andthenso

wanting foresight that you wrecked your own schemes. Three weeks more, and you might have hadtwenty-onemorecaptainsandclergymenandyoungmenfromUlstertocompletetheeducationofHugh’syoungLiberals.Asitis,Hughthinksyou’venotdonethemmuchharm,thoughyoudidyourbest,andhe’sslavingawaytoputsenseintothemagain.ThegoodofGreeceisallgonefromhimalready;worrywasjustwhathewasn’ttodo,andyou’vemadehimdoit.He’slivingalreadyagainattopspeed,andover-working, and being sad because it’s all in such a sillymess. Hugh cares for his workmore than foranythingin theworld,”hervoicesoftenedto theprotectivecadencefamiliar toEddy,“andyou’vehurthiminit.NooneshouldhurtHughinhiswork,evenalittle.Didn’tyouknowthat?”

She looked at him now with eyes less hostile but more sad, as if her thoughts had left him andwanderedtosomeotherapplicationofthisprinciple.Indeed,asshesaidit,ithadtheeffectofacreed,astatementofagoverningprincipleoflife,thatmustsomehowbepreservedintactwhileallelsebroke.

“CouldIhaveknownitwouldhavehurthim—afewlectures?”Eddyprotestedagainsttheunfairnessof it, losinghis tempera little.“Youall talkas ifDatcherdwas themistressofagirls’school,whoisexpected toprotectherpupils fromthecontaminationofdegrading influencesandfinds theyhavebeenreadingNietscheorTomJones.”

Itwasamistaketosaythat.Hemighthaveknownit.Eileenflushedpinkwithanewrushofanger.“Is thatso?Is that thewaywespeakofHugh?I’ll tellhimyousaidso.No,Iwouldn’t troublehis

earswithanything sopaltry. Iwonderdoyouknow thewayhe speaksofyou?He thinksyoumustbeweakinthehead,andhemakesexcusesforyou,sohedoes;heneversaysanunkindwordagainstyou,onlyhowyouought tobe lockedupandnot let loose likeordinarypeople, andhowheought tohaveknownyouwere like thatandexplained toyou insomanywordsbeforehand theprincipleshewantedmaintained.Asifhehadn’tbeentooilltoexplainanything,andasifanybabywouldn’thaveknown,andasifanyhonourablepersonwouldn’thavetakenparticularcare, justwhenhewasillandaway, torunthingsjustthewayhewouldlike.Andafterthatyoucallhimagirls’schoolmistress....”

“On the contrary,” said Eddy, crossly, “I said he wasn’t. You are horribly unfair. Is it any usecontinuingthisconversation?”

“Itisnot.Noranyother.”So,inherexcitement,shegotintoabusthatwasnotgoingtoBilly’sgrandmother,andheswallowed

hisprideandtoldherso,butshewouldnotswallowhersandlistentohim,butclimbedontothetop,andwascarrieddownPiccadilly,andwouldhavetochangeatHydeParkCorner.

Eileenwassingularlypooratbuses,Eddyreflectedbitterly.HewalkeddowntotheEmbankment,toocrushedandunhappytogohomeandriskmeetingArnold.Hehadbeenrudeandill-temperedtoEileen,andsneeredatDatcherdtoher,andshehadbeenrudeandill-temperedtohim,andwouldneverforgivehim,becauseithadbeenaboutDatcherd,herfriend,loyaltytowhomwasthemainspringofherlife.Allherotherfriendsmightgobytheboard,ifDatcherdbutprospered.Howmuchshecared,Eddyreflected,his anger fast fading into a pity and regret that hurt. For all her bitterwords to himhad that basis—apoignant caring for Datcherd, with his wrecked health, and his wrecked home, and his hopeless,unsatisfied love for her—a love which would never be satisfied, because he had principles which

forbadeit,andshehadaloveforhimwhichwouldalwayspreservehisprinciplesandhis life’sworkintact.Andtheyweregrowingtocaresomuch—EddyhadseenthatinEileen’sfacewhenfirsthemetherattheLeicesterGalleries—withsuchintensity,suchabsorbingflame,thatithurtandburnt....Eddydidnotwanttowatchit.

Butonethingithaddoneforhim;ithadkilledinhimthelastvestigesofthatabsurdemotionhehadhadforher,anemotionwhichhadalwaysbeensohopeless,andforthatveryreasonhadneverbecome,andneverwouldbecome,love.

But he wanted to be friends. Howevermuch she had been the aggressor in the quarrel, howeverunfair,andunjust,andunkindshehadbeen,stillhewasmindedtowriteandsayhewassorry,andwouldshepleasecometolunchandgoonbeingfriends.

He turned into Soho Square, andwent back to his rooms. There he found a letter from his editortellinghim thathis serviceson theDailyPostwouldnot be required after the endofMay. Itwasnotunexpected.ThePostwaseconomisinginitsliterarystaff,andstartingonhim.Itwasverynatural,eveninevitable,thattheyshould;forhisreviewinglackeddiscrimination,andhisinterestintheClubhadoftenmadehimcarelessabouthisownjob.HethrewtheletteratArnold,whohadjustcomein.

Arnoldsaid,“Ifearedasmuch.”“Whatnow,Iwonder?”saidEddy,notcaringparticularly.Arnoldlookedathimthoughtfully.“Really,it’sverydifficult.Idon’tknow....Youdosomuddlethingsup,don’tyou?Iwishyou’dlearn

todoonlyonejobatonceandsticktoit.”Eddysaidbitterly,“Itwon’tsticktome,unfortunately.”Arnoldsaid,“IfUncleWilfredwouldhaveyou,wouldyoucometous?”Eddysupposedhewould.OnlyprobablyUncleWilfredwouldn’thavehim.Laterintheeveninghe

gotatelegramtosaythathisfatherhadhadastroke,andcouldhecomehomeatonce.Hecaughtatrainathalf-pasteight,andwasatWelchesterbyten.

CHAPTERXI.

THECOUNTRY.

THEDeanwasparalyseduptherightside,hiswifeagitatedandanxious,hisdaughtercross.“It’s absurd,” saidDaphne to Eddy, themorning after his arrival. “Father’s nomore sense than a

baby. He insists on bothering about some article he hasn’t finished for theChurchQuarterly on theSynopticProblem.Asifonemorelikethatmattered!Themagazinesaretoofullofthemalready.”

But theDeanmade itobvious toEddy that itdidmatter, and inducedhim to findanddecipherhisroughnotesfortheendofthearticle,andwritethemoutinproperform.HewassomuchbetterafteranafternoonofthatthatthedoctorsaidtoEddy,“Howlongcanyoustopathome?”

“AslongasIcanbeanyuse.Ihavejustgivenuponejobandhaven’tbegunanotheryet,soatpresentIamfree.”

“Thelongeryoustaythebetter,bothforyourfatherandyourmother,”thedoctorsaid.“YoucantakealotofstrainoffMrs.Oliver.MissDaphne’sveryyoung—tooyoungformuchsick-nursing,Ifancy;andthenursecanonlydowhatnursescando.Hewantscompanionship,andsomeonewhocandoforhimthesortofjobyou’vebeendoingto-day.”

SoEddywrote toArnold that he didn’t knowwhen hewould be coming back toLondon.Arnoldrepliedthatwheneverhedidhecouldcomeintohisuncle’spublishinghouse.HeaddedinapostscriptthathehadmetEileenandDatcherdattheMoulind’Or,andEileenhadsaid,“GiveEddymylove,andsayI’msorry.Don’tforget.”Sorryabouthisfather,Arnoldunderstood,ofcourse;butEddybelievedthatmorewasmeant by it than that, and that Eileenwas throwing him across space her characteristicallysweetandcasualamendsforherbitterwords.

HewentonwiththeSynopticProblem.TheDean’snoteswerelucidandcoherent,likeallhiswork.It seemed to Eddy an interesting article, and the Dean smiled faintly when he said so. Eddy wasappreciativeandintelligent,ifnotlearnedorprofound.TheDeanhadbeenafraidforatimethathewasgoingto turnintoaclericof thatactivesortwhichissoabsorbedinpracticalenergies that itdoesnotgiveduevaluetothoughtfultheology.TheDeanhadreasontofearthattoomanyHighChurchclergywerelikethis.ButhehadhopesnowthatEddy,ifintheendhedidtakeOrders,mightbeofthosewhothinkoutthe faith that is in them, and tackle the problem of the Fourth Gospel. Perhaps he had had to, whilemanagingDatcherd’sfree-thinkingclub.

“AreyoustillhelpingDatcherd?”theDeanasked,intheslow,hinderedspeechthatwasallhecouldusenow.

“No.Datcherd has donewithme. Imanaged things badly there, from his point of view. I wasn’texclusiveenoughforhim,”andEddy,toamusehisfather,toldthestoryofthatfiasco.

Daphnesaid,“Serveyourightforgettingananti-suffragisttospeak.Howcouldyou?They’realwaysso deadly silly, and so dull.Worse, almost, than the other side, though that’s saying a lot. I do think,Tedders,youdeservedtobechuckedout.”

Daphnehadblossomedintoamilitant.Mrs.OliverhadbeentellingEddyaboutthatthedaybefore.Mrs. Oliver herself belonged to the respectable National Union for Women’s Suffrage, the pure andreformedbranchofitinWelchesterestablished,non-militant,non-party,non-exciting.Daphne,andafewotherbrightandardentyoungspirits,hadjoinedtheW.S.P.U.,andhadbeenendeavouringtomilitateinWelchester. Daphne had dropped some Jeye’s disinfectant fluid, which is sticky and brown, into thepillar-boxatthecorneroftheClose,andmadedisagreeabletherebyalettertoherselffromaneighbour

askinghertotennis,andalettertotheDeanfromacanonfixingthedate(whichwasindecipherable)ofacommitteemeeting.

Daphne looked critically at breakfast next day at these two results of her tactics, and called them“Jollyfine.”

“Disgusting,”saidtheDean.“Ididn’tknowwehadthesewildwomeninWelchester.Whoonearthcanithavebeen?”

“Me,”saidDaphne.“AloneIdidit.”Scene: theDeanhorrified, stern, and ashamed;Mrs.Oliver shocked and repressive;Daphne sulky

anddefiant,andrefusingtopromisenottodoitagain.“We’vejoinedthemilitants,severalofus,”shesaid.“Who?”inquiredhermother.“I’msureMollyhasn’t.”“No,Mollyhasn’t,”saidDaphne,withdisgust.“AlltheBellairs’aretoofrightfullywell-bredtofight

forwhattheyoughttohave.They’reantis,allofthem.Nevillapprovesofforciblefeeding.”“Sodoes anyone, of course,” said theDean. “Prisoners can’t be allowed todie onourhands just

because theyarecriminally insane.Onceforall,Daphne,Iwillnothavearepetitionof thisdisgustingepisode.Otherpeople’sdaughterscanmakefoolsofthemselvesiftheylike,butmineisn’tgoingto.Isthatquiteclear?”

Daphne muttered something and looked rebellious; but the Dean did not think she would flatlydisobey him. She did not, in fact, repeat the disgusting episode of the Jeye, but shewas found a feweveningslatertryingtosetfiretoaworkmen’sshelterafterdark,andarrested.Shewasnaturallyanxiousto go to prison, to complete her experiences, but shewas given the option of a fine (which theDeaninsisted,inspiteofherprotests,onpaying),andboundovernottodoitagain.TheDeansaidafterthatthathewasashamedtolookhisneighboursintheface,andveryshortlyhehadastroke.Daphnedecidedreluctantlythatmilitantmethodsmustbeinabeyancetillhewasrecovered,andmorefittofaceshocks.Torelieveherself,sheengagedinaviolentquarrelwithNevillBellairs,whowashomeforWhitsuntideandventuredtoremonstratewithheronherproceedings.Theypartedinsorrowandanger,andDaphnecamehomeverycross,andabusedNevilltoEddyasastick-in-the-mud.

“But it is silly toburnand spoil things,” saidEddy. “Very few thingsare silly, I think,but that is,becauseit’snotthewaytogetanything.You’remerelyputtingthingsback;you’rereactionaries.Allthesanesuffragistshateyou,youknow.”

Daphnewasnot roused to say anything about peacefulmethodshaving failed, and the timehavingcomeforviolence,oranyoftheotherthingsthatarenaturalandusualtosayinthecircumstances;shewassullenlysilent,andEddy,glancingatherinsurprise,sawhersombreandangry.

Wonderingalittle,heputitdowntoherdisagreementwithNevill.Perhapsshereallyfeltthatbadly.CertainlysheandNevillhadbeengreatfriendsduringthelastyear.Itwasapitytheyshouldquarreloveradifferenceofopinion;anythingintheworld,toEddy,seemedamorereasonablecauseofalienation.Helooked at his young sisterwith a new respect, however; after all, itwas rather respectable to care asmuchasthatforapointofview.

MollyBellairsthrewmorelightonthebusinessnextdaywhenEddywenttotennisthere(Daphnehadrefusedtogo).

“PoorDaffy,”MollysaidtoEddywhentheyweresittingout.“She’sfrightfullycrosswithNevillforbeing anti-suffragist, and telling her she’s silly to militate. And he’s cross with her. She told him, Ibelieve,thatshewasn’tgoingtobefriendswithhimanymoretillhechanged.Andheneverdoeschangeaboutanything,andshedoesn’teither,sotheretheyare.It’ssuchapity,becausethey’rereallysoawfully

fondofeachother.Nevill’smiserable.Lookathim.”Eddylooked,andsawNevill,moroseandgracefulinflannels,smashingdoublefaultsintothenet.“Healwaysdoesthatwhenhe’soutoftemper,”Mollyexplained.“Whydoeshecaresomuch?”Eddyasked,withbrotherlycuriosity.“Doyoumeanhe’sreallyfondof

Daffy?Fonder,Imean,thantherestofyouare?”“Quitedifferently.”Mollybecamemotherlyandwise.“Haven’tyouseenit?It’sbeencomingonfor

quiteayear.Ibelieve,Eddy,they’dbeengagedbynowifitwasn’tforthis.”“Oh,wouldthey?”Eddywasinterested.“Butwouldtheybesuchdonkeysastoletthisgetintheway,

iftheywanttobeengaged?IthoughtDaffyhadmoresense.”Mollyshookherhead.“They thinkeachother sowrong,yousee,and they’vegotcrossabout it....

Well,Idon’tknow.Isupposethey’reright,iftheyreallydofeelit’saquestionofrightandwrong.Youcan’t go on being friends with a person, let alone get engaged to them, if you feel they’re behavingfrightfullywrongly.Yousee,DaffythinksitimmoralofNevilltobeontheantisideinParliament,andtoapproveofwhat she calls organised bullying, andhe thinks it immoral of her to be amilitant. I thinkDaffy’swrong,ofcourse,butIcanquiteseethatshecouldn’tgetengagedtoNevillfeelingasshedoes.”

“Why,”Eddypondered,“can’ttheyeachseetheother’spointofview,—thegoodinit,notthebad?It’ssoabsurdtoquarrelabouttherespectivemeritsofdifferentprinciples,whenallaresoexcellent.”

“They’re not,” saidMolly, rather sharply. “That’s so like you,Eddy, and it’s nonsense.What elseshouldonequarrelabout?What I think isabsurd is toquarrelaboutpersonal things, like somepeopledo.”

“It’sabsurdtoquarrelatall,”saidEddy,andtheretheyleftit,andwenttoplaytennis.Beforehewenthome,ColonelBellairsproposeda scheme tohim.Hisyoungestboy,Bob,having

beenill,hadbeenorderedtospendthesummerathome,andwasnottogobacktoEtontillSeptember.Meanwhilehewantedtokeepupwithhiswork,andtheyhadbeenlookingoutforatutorforhim,someintelligentyoungpublic-schoolmanwhowouldknowwhatheoughttobelearning.AsEddyintendedtobeathomefor thepresent,wouldhe takeup this job?TheColonelproposedagenerouspayment,andEddythought itanexcellentplan.Hewenthomeengagedfor the job,andstarted itnextmorning.Bob,whowassixteen,was,likealltheBellairs’,neitherclevernorstupid;hisgiftswerepracticalratherthanliterary,buthehadafairlyserviceablehead.Eddyfoundthatheratherlikedteaching.Hehadacertainpoweroftransmittinghisowninterestinthingstootherpeoplethatwasuseful.

AstheDeangotbetter,EddysometimesstayedonattheHallafterworkhours,andplayedtennisorbumble-puppywithMollyandBobbeforelunch,orhelpedMollytofeedtherabbits,orwashoneofthedogs.Therewasapleasantcoherenceandunityabouttheseoccupations,andaboutMollyandBob,whichEddyliked.Meanwhileheactedasamanuensisandsecretarytohisfather,andwasusefulandagreeableinthehome.

Coherence and unity; these qualities seemed in the main sadly lacking inWelchester, as in otherplaces. Itwas—country life is, life inCathedral or any other cities is—a chaos ofwarring elements,disturbing to the onlooker. There are no communities now, village or other. InWelchester, and in thecountryroundaboutit,therewasthecontinuousstrainofopposinginterests.YousawitonthemainroadintoWelchester,wherevillasandvillapeopleoustedcottagesandsmallfarmers;oustedthem,andmadeadifferentdemandonlife,setupadifferent,opposingstandard.Then,intheheartofthetown,wastheCathedral,standingonahillandforasetofinterestsquitedifferentagain,androundaboutitwerethecanons’ houses of old brick, and the Deanery, and they were imposing on life standards of a certaindignity and beauty and tradition and order, not in the least accepted either by the slum-yards behindChurchStreet,orbyBeulah, thesmug tabernacle justoutside theClose.And theCathedralsociety, the

canons and their families, the lawyers, doctors, and unemployed gentry, kept themselves apart withsatisfiedgentilityfromthetownspeople,thekeepersofshops,thedentists,theauctioneers.SentimentandopinioninWelchesterwas,inshort,disintegrated,rent,atoddswithinitself.ItreturnedaConservativemember,butonlybyasmallmajority;thelargeminorityhelditselfneglected,unrepresented.

Outintherollinggreencountrybeyondthetowngates,thesameunwholesomestrifesaddenedfieldandlaneandpark.Land-owners,greatandsmall,foughttothelastditch,thelastungenerousnotice-board,withland-traversers;squiresandkeepersdisagreedbitterlywithpoachers;tenantfarmerssawlifefroman opposite angle to that of labourers; the parson differed from theminister, and often, alas, from hisflock.Itwasasifallthesewarringelements,whichmight,fromacommonvantage-ground,havetogetherconductedtheexplorationintothepromisedland,werestayingathomedisputingwithoneanotherastothenatureofthatland.Somegood,somebetterstateofthings,wasinmostoftheirmindstoseek;buttheirpathsofapproach,alldivergent,seemedtorunweaklyintowasteplacesforwantofacommonenergy.Itwas a saddening sight. The great heterogeneous unity conceived by civilised idealists seemedinaccessiblyremote.

EddythissummertooktowritingarticlesfortheVineyardaboutthebreachesincountrylifeandhowtoheal them.Thebreach,forinstance,betweentenant-farmerandlabourer; thatwasmuchonhismind.But,whenhehadwrittenandwritten,andsuggestedandsuggested,likemanybeforehimandsince,thebreachwasnonearerbeinghealed.Heformedinhismindatthistimeaschemeforanewpaperwhichhewouldliketostartsomedayifanyonewouldbackit,andifDenison’sfirmwouldpublishit.And,afterall, somany new papers are backed, but how inadequately, and started, and published, and flash likemeteorsacrossthesky,andplungefizzlingintotheseaofobliviontoperishmiserably—sowhynotthis?HethoughthewouldlikeittobecalledUnity,andtohavethatforitsgloriousaim.Allpapershaveaimsbeforehand (onemay find them set forth inmany a prospectus); how soon, alas, inmany cases to bedisregardedorabandonedinresponsetotheexigenciesofcircumstanceanddemand.ButtheaimofUnityshouldpersist,and,ifheavenwaskind,reachitsmark.

Pondering on this scheme, Eddy could watch chaos with more tolerant eyes, since nothing is sointolerableifoneisthinkingofdoingsomething,evenaverylittle,totryandalleviateit.HecarriedonacorrespondencewithArnold about it. Arnold said he didn’t for amoment suppose hisUncleWilfredwouldbesomisguidedastohaveanythingtodowithsuchascheme,buthemight,ofcourse.Thegreatdodge with a new paper, was, Arnold said, the co-operative system; you collect a staff of eagercontributorswhowillundertaketowriteforsomanymonthswithoutpay,andnotwanttogettheirownbackagaintillafterthethingiscoiningmoney,andthentheysharewhatprofitsthereare,ifany.Iftheycouldcollectafewusefulpeopleforthispurpose,suchasBillyRaymond,andDatcherd,andCecilLeMoine (only probably Cecil was too selfish), and John Henderson, andMargaret Clinton (a novelistfriendofArnold’s),andvariousother intelligentmenandwomen, thethingmightbeworked.AndBobTraherneandDeanOliver, to represent twodifferentChurchstandpoints,Eddyadded to the list,andafieldlabourerheknewwhowouldtalkaboutsmallholdings,andaConservativeortwo(ConservativeswereconspicuouslylackinginArnold’slist).EncouragedbyArnold’sreceptionoftheidea,EddyrepliedbysketchinghisschemeforUnitymoreelaborately.Arnoldanswered,“Ifwegetalloranyofthepeoplewe’vethoughtof towritefor it,Unitywillgo itsownway,regardlessofschemesbeforehand....HaveyourToriesandparsonsinifyoumust,onlydon’tbesurprisediftheysinkit....Thechiefthingtomindaboutwithawriteris,hasheanythingnewtosay?Ihateallthatsentimentaltakingupandpattingonthebackofploughmenandnavviesandtrampsmerelyassuch;it’ssilly,invertedsnobbery.Itdoesn’tfollowthatamanhasanything tosay that’sworthhearingmerelybecausehesays itungrammatically.Getdaylabourers towrite about land-tenure if they have anything to say about it that’smore enlightening thanwhatyouorIwouldsay;butnotunless;becausetheywon’tputitsowell,byalongway.IfeverIhaveanythingtodowithapaper,Ishallseethatitavoidssentimentalitysofarasisconsistentwithjustenoughpopularitytoliveby.”

Itwasstillallintheair,ofcourse,butEddyfeltcheeredbythedefinitetreatmentArnoldwasgivingtohisidea.

AboutthemiddleofJuneArnoldwrotethatDatcherdhadhopelesslybrokendownatlast,andthereseemednochance forhim,andhehadgivenupeverythingandgonedown toacottage inDevonshire,probablytodiethere.

“Eileenhasgonewithhim,”Arnoldadded,ingraverveinthanusual.“Isupposeshewantsto lookafterhim,andtheybothwantnottowastethetimethat’sleft....Ofcourse,manypeoplewillbehorrified,andthinktheworst.Personally,I thinkitapitysheshoulddoit,becauseitmeans,forher,givingupagreatdeal,nowandafterwards,thoughforhimnothingnowbutaprinciple.Thebreakingoftheprincipleissurprisinginhim,andreally,ifonecomestothinkofit,prettysad,andasignofhowhe’sbrokenupaltogether.Becausehehasalwaysheldthesethingsuncivilisedandwrong,andsaidso.Isupposehe’stooweakinbodytosaysoanymore,ortostandagainsthisneedandhersanylonger.Ithinkitabadmistake,andIwishtheywouldn’tdoit.Besides,she’stoofine,andhastoomuchtogive, tothrowitallatonedyingman, as she’s doing.What’s it been inDatcherd all along that’s so held her—he so sickly andwrecked andmorose, she so brilliant and alive and young and full of genius and joy?Of course he’sbrillianttoo,inhisownway,andlovable,andinteresting;butafailureforallthat,andanunhappyfailure,andnowatthelastafailureevenastohisownprinciplesoflife.Isupposeithasbeenalwaysjustthatthathasheldher;hisfailureandneed.Thesethingsaredark;butanyhowthereitis;oneneversawtwopeoplecareforeachothermoreorneedeachothermore....Shewasafraidofhurtinghisworkbycomingtohimbefore;butthetimeforthinkingofthatispast,andIsupposeshewillstaywithhimnowtilltheend, and it will be their one happy time. You know I think these things mostly a mistake, and theseabsorbingemotionsuncivilised,andnearlyallalliancesill-assorted,andthisonewillbecondemned.Butmuchshe’llcareforthatwhenitisalloverandhehasgone.WhatwillhappentoherthenIcan’tguess;

shewon’tcaremuchforanythinganyofuscandotohelp,foralongtime.Itisapity.Butsuchislife,aseriesoffutilewreckages.”Hewentontoothertopics.Eddydidn’treadtherestjustthen,butwentoutforalongandviolentwalkacrosscountrywithhisincrediblymongreldog.

Confusion,with itsmany faces, its shoutingof innumerablevoices,overlay thegreenJunecountry.Forhiminthathourthevoiceofpityandloverosedominant,drowningtheothervoices,thatquestionedandwondered and denied, as the cuckoos from every tree questioned and commented on life in theirstrange,latenote.Loveandpity;pityandlove;mightn’tthesetworesolvealldiscordatlast?Arnold’spointofview,thatofthecivilisedpersonofsense,hesawandshared;Eileen’sandDatcherd’shesawand felt; his own mother’s, and the Bellairs’, and that of those like-minded with them, he saw andappreciated;allweresurelyright,yettheydidnotmakeforharmony.

Meanwhile,abackgroundtodiscord, thewoodsweregreenand thehedgesstarredpinkwithwildrosesandthecow-parsleyawhitefoamintheditches,andthecloudsshredsofwhitefleeceintheblueabove,andcowsknee-deepincoolpoolsbeneathspreadingtrees,and,behindthejubilanceoflarksandtheotherjocundlittlefowls,criedtheperpetualquestioningoftheunansweredgreybird....

In the course of July, Eddy became engaged to Molly Bellairs, an event which, with all itspreliminary and attendant circumstances, requires andwill receive little treatment here.Proposals andtheirattendantemotions,thoughmoreinterestingeventhanmostthingstothoseprincipallyconcerned,aredoubtlesssofamiliartoallastobereadilyimagined,andcanoccupynoplaceinthesepages.ThefactemergesthatEddyandMolly,aftertheusualpreliminaries,didbecomeengaged.Itmustnotbesurmisedthattheiremotions,becausepassedlightlyover,werenotofthecustomaryandsuitablefervour;inpointoffact,bothwereverymuchinlove.Boththeirfamilieswerepleased.Themarriage,ofcourse,wasnottooccurtillEddywassettleddefinitelyintoapromisingprofession,butthathehopedtobeintheautumn,ifheenteredtheDenisons’publishingfirmandatthesametimepractisedjournalism.

“Youshouldget settledwithsomethingpermanent,myboy,”said theDean,whowasbynowwellenoughtotalklikethat.“Idon’tlikethistakingthingsupanddroppingthem.”

“Theydropme,”Eddyexplained,muchashehadtoArnoldonce,buttheDeandidnotlikehimtoputitlikethat,asanyonewouldratherhissondroppedthanwasdropped.

“Youknowyoucandowellifyoulike,”hesaid,beingfairlystartedinthatvein.“YoudidwellatschoolandCambridge,andyoucandowellnow.Andnowthatyou’regoingtobemarried,youmustgiveupfeelingyourwayandoccupyingyourselfwithjobsthataren’tyourregularcareer,andgetyourteethintosomethingdefinite.Itwouldn’tbefairtoMollytoplayaboutwithoddjobs,evenusefulandvaluableones,asyouhavebeendoing.Youwouldn’tthinkofschoolmasteringatall,Isuppose?Withyourdegreeyou could easily get a good place.”TheDean hankered after a scholastic career for his son; besides,schoolmasterssooftenendinOrders.ButEddysaidhethoughthewouldpreferpublishingorjournalism,though it didn’t pay sowell at first.He told theDean about the proposed paper and the co-operativesystem,whichwassuretoworksowell.

TheDeansaid,“Ihaven’tanyfaithinallthesenewpapers,whateverthesystem.Eventhebestdie.LookatthePilot.AndtheTribune.”

EddylookedbackacrosstheagesatthePilotandtheTribune,whosedeathshejustremembered.“There’vebeenplentydiedsincethose,”heremarked.“Thosewhomthegodslove,etcetera.Butlots

havelived,too.Ifyoucometothat,lookattheTimes,theSpectator,andtheDailyMirror.Theywerenewonce.SowastheEnglishReview;sowasPoetryandDrama;sowastheNewStatesman;sowastheBlueReview.They’realiveyet.ThenwhynotUnity?Evenifithasashortlife,itmaybeamerryone.”

“Tohealdivisions,”musedtheDean.“Agoodaim,ofcourse.Thoughprobablyahopelessone.Onemakesitone’stask,youknow,tothrowbridges,asfarasonecan,betweentheChurchandtheagnostics,

andtheChurchanddissent.Andlookattheresult.AfriendlyactofconciliationonthepartofoneofourbishopscallsforthtorrentsofbitterabuseinthecolumnsofourChurchpapers.TheHighChurchpartyissounmanageable:it’sstiff:itstandsoutfordifferences:itwon’tbebroughtin.Howcanweeverprogresstowardsunityiftheextremeleftremainsinthatstateofwilfulobscurantismandunchristianintolerance?...Of course, mind, there are limits; one would fight very strongly against disestablishment ordisendowment;but theritualistsseemtobeoutforquarrelsover trifles.”Headded,becauseEddyhadworkedinSt.Gregory’s,“Ofcourse,individually,therearenumberlessexcellentHighChurchmen;onedoesn’twanttorundowntheirwork.Butthey’llneverstandforunity.”

“Quite,”saidEddy,meditatingonunity.“That’sexactlywhatFinchandtherestsayabouttheBroadChurch party, you know.And it’swhat dissenters say about Church people, andChurch people aboutdissenters.Thefactis,sofewpartiesdostandforunity.Theynearlyallstandforfaction.”

“Idon’tthinkweBroadChurchmenstandforfaction,”saidtheDean,andEddyrepliedthatnordidtheHighChurchmenthinktheydid,nordissenterseither.Theyallthoughttheywereaimingatunity,butitwasthesortofunityattainedbythesurvivoroftheNancybrig,orthetigerofRiga,thatwastheidealofmostparties; itwasdoubtless also the idealof aboa-constrictor.Mrs.Oliver,whohad come into theroom andwasn’t sure itwas in good taste to introduce light verse and boa-constrictors into religiousdiscussions,said,“Youseemtobetalkingagreatdealofnonsense,dearboy.Everard,haveyouhadyourdropsyet?”

InsuchfruitfulfamilydiscoursetheywiledawaytheDean’sconvalescence.MeanwhileMolly,jollyandyoungandalive,withherbrownhaircurlinginthesun,andherhappy

infectiouslaughandherbright,eager,ambereyesfulloffriendlymirth,wasasheerjoy.Ifshetoo“stoodfor”anythingbeyondherself,itwasforyouthandmirthandjollityandcountrylifeintheopen;allsweetthings.Eddyandshelikedeachotherrathermoreeachday.TheymadeaplanforMollytospendamonthorsointheautumnwithherauntthat livedinHydeParkTerrace,sothatsheandEddyshouldbeneareachother.

“They’redarlings,”saidMolly,ofheruncleandauntandcousins.“Sojollyandhospitable.You’lllovethem.”

“I’msureIshall.Andwilltheyloveme?”inquiredEddy,forthisseemedevenmoreimportant.Mollysaidofcoursetheywould.“Dotheylovemostpeople?”Eddypursuedhisinvestigations.Mollyconsideredthat.“Well...most...that’salot,isn’tit.No,AuntVyviandoesn’tdothat,Ishould

think.UncleJimmymore.He’sasailor,youknow;acaptain,retired.Heseemsawfullyyoung,always;muchyoungerthanme....OnethingaboutAuntVyvianis,Ishouldthinkyou’dknowitprettyquickifshedidn’tlikeyou.”

“She’dsayso,wouldshe?”“She’dsnubyou.She’srathersnippysometimes,eventomeandpeopleshe’sfondof.Onlyonegets

used to it, and it doesn’t mean anything except that she likes to amuse herself. But she’s frightfullyparticular,andifshedidn’tlikeyoushewouldn’thaveanythingtodowithyou.”

“Isee.Thenit’smostimportantthatsheshould.WhatcanIdoaboutit?”“Oh,justbepleasant,andmakeyourselfasentertainingasyoucan,andpretendtobefairlysensible

and intelligent.... Shewouldn’t like it if she thought youwere,well, a socialist, or an anarchist, or apersonwhowastryingtodosomethingandcouldn’t,likepeoplewhotryandgetplaystaken;orifIwasasuffragette.Shethinkspeopleoughtn’ttobelikethat,becausetheydon’tgeton.And,too,shelikesverymuchtobeamused.You’llbeallright,ofcourse.”

“Sure tobe. I’msuchaworldly success.Well, I shallhauntherdoorstepwhether she likesmeornot.”

“Ifshedarednotto,”saidMollyindignantly,“Ishouldwalkstraightoutofherhouseandnevergointo itagain,andmakeNevill takeme intohis rooms instead. I should jollywell thinkshewould likeyou!”

CHAPTERXII.

HYDEPARKTERRACE.

FORTUNATELYMrs. Crawford did like Eddy (he presumed, therefore, that she did not know hewas asocialistandasuffragist,andhadtriedtodomanythingshecouldn’t),soMollydidnothavetowalkoutof the house.He liked her too, andwent to her house very frequently. Shewas pretty and clever andfranklyworldly,andhadasweettrailingvoice,agracefulfigure,andtwodaughtersjustout,oneofwhomwasengagedalreadytoayoungmanintheForeignOffice.

ShetoldMolly,“Ilikeyouryoungman,dear;hehaspleasantmanners,andseemstoappreciateme,”andaskedhimtocometothehouseasoftenashecould.Eddydidso.Hecametolunchanddinner,andmet pleasant, polite,well-dressed people. (You had to be ratherwell-dressed at theCrawfords’: theyexpectedit,assomanyothersdo,withwhatvaryingdegreesoffulfilment!)Itis,ofcourse,asmaybeforehavebeen remarked in thesepages, exceedingly important todresswell.Eddyknew this, havingbeenwell brought up, and did dress aswell as accordedwith his station and his duties.He quite saw thebeauty of the idea, as of the other ideas presented to him. He also, however, saw the merits of theoppositeideaheldbysomeofhisfriends,thatclothesarethingsnotworthtime,money,ortrouble,andfashionanirrelevantabsurdity.HealwaysassentedsincerelytoArnoldwhenhedeliveredhimselfonthissubject,andwithequalsinceritytothetacitrecognitionofhighstandardsthathemetattheCrawfords’andelsewhere.

HealsometattheCrawfords’theirnephewNevillBellairs,whowasnowparliamentarysecretarytoaneminentmember,andmorethaneveradmirableinhiscertaintyaboutwhatwasrightandwhatwrong.TheCrawfordstoowerecertainaboutthat.TohearNevillonWhyWomenshouldNotVotewastofeelthatheandDaphnemustbeforeversundered,and,infact,werebestapart.Eddycametothatmelancholyconclusion,thoughhedivinedthattheirmutualandunhappylovestillflourished.

“You’reunfashionable,Nevill,”hisauntadmonishedhim.“Youshouldtryandnotbethatmorethanyoucanhelp.”

Captain Crawford, a simple, engaging, and extraordinarily youthful sailor man of forty-six, said,“Don’tbebrow-beaten,Nevill; I’mwithyou,”for thatwasthesortofmanhewas;andtheyoungmanfromtheForeignOfficesaidhowalittlewhileagohehadapprovedofalimitedwomen’ssuffrage,butsincethemilitants,etc.,etc.,andeveryoneheknewwassayingthesame.

“I am sure they are,”Mrs. Crawfordmurmured to Eddy. “What a pity it does not seem to him asufficient reason for abstaining from the remark himself. I do so dislike the subject of the suffrage; itmakeseveryonesoexceedinglybanalandobvious.Inevermakeanyremarksaboutitmyself,forIhaveadeepfearthatifIdidsotheymightnotbemoreoriginalthanthat.”

“Minecertainlywouldn’t,”Eddyagreed.“Militantsuffragismisliketheweather,asafety-valveforall our worst commonplaces. Only it’s unlike the weather in being a little dull in itself, whereas theweather is an agitatingly interesting subject, as a rule inadequately handled.... You know, I’ve noobjection to commonplace remarks myself, I rather like them. That’s why I make them so often, Isuppose.”

“I think you have no objection to any kind of remarks,” Mrs. Crawford commented. “You arefortunate.”

Nevillsaidfromacrosstheroom,“How’sthepapergettingon,Eddy?Is thefirstnumberlaunchedyet?”

“Notyet.Only thedummy. Ihaveacopyof thedummyhere; lookat it.Wehave filled itwith theopinionsofeminentpersonsonthegreatneedthatexistsforourpaper.Wewrotetomany.Somedidn’tanswer.Isupposetheywerenotawareofthisgreatneed,whichisrecognisedsoclearlybyothers.ThestrangethingisthatUnityhasneverbeenstartedbefore,consideringhowbadlyitisobviouslywanted.We have here encouraging words from politicians, authors, philanthropists, a bishop, an eminentrationalist,afellowofAllSouls,alandlord,alabourmember,andmanyothers.Thebishopsays,‘Iamgreatly interested in theprospectusyouhavesentmeofyourproposednewpaper.Withoutcommittingmyselftoagreementwitheverydetail,ImaysaythatthelinesonwhichitisproposedtoconductUnitypromise a very useful and attractive paper, and one which should meet a genuine need and touch anextensivecircle.’Thelabourmembersays,‘Yournewpaperismuchneeded,andwithsuchfineidealsshouldbeofgreatservicetoall.’Thelandlordsays,‘Yourarticlesdealingwithcountrymattersshouldmeet a long-felt demand, and make for good feeling between landlords, tenants and labourers.’ Therationalist says, ‘Preciselywhatwewant.’TheLiberal politician says, ‘I heartilywish all success toUnity.Agoodnewpaperonthoselinescannotfailtobeofinestimableservice.’TheUnionistsays,‘Acapitalpaper,withexcellentideals.’Thephilanthropistsays,‘Ihopeitwillwagerelentlesswaragainstthe miserable internal squabbles which retard our social efforts.’ Here’s a more tepid one—he’s anauthor. He only says, ‘Theremay be scope for such a paper, amid the ever-increasing throng of newjournalistic enterprises. Anyhow there is no harm in trying.’ A little damping, he was. Denison wasagainstputtingitin,butIthinkitsorude,whenyou’veaskedamanforawordofencouragement,andhegivesityouaccordingtohismeans,nottouseit.Ofcoursewehadtodrawthelinesomewhere.Shoremerelysaid,‘It’safreecountry.Youcanhangyourselves ifyoulike.’Wedidn’tput in that.Butonthewhole people are obviously pining for the paper, aren’t they.Of course they all thinkwe’re going tosupporttheirparticularpetpartyandproject.Andsoweare.ThatiswhyIthinkweshallsellsowell—touchsoextensiveacircle,asthebishopputsit.”

“Aslongasyouhelptoknockanotherplankfrombeneaththefeetof thisbeggarlygovernment,I’llbackyouthroughthickandthin,”saidCaptainCrawford.

“AreyougoingontheDown-with-the-Jewstack?”Nevillasked.“That’sbeenoverdone,Ithink;it’ssuchbeastlybadform.”

“Allthesame,”murmuredCaptainCrawford,“Idon’tcareabouttheHebrew.”“We’renot,”saidEddy,“goingonadown-with-anybodytack.Ourmétieristoencouragethegood,

nottodiscourageanyone.That,asIremarkedbefore,iswhyweshallsellsoextremelywell.”Mrs.Crawfordsaid,“Humph.Itsoundstomeatriflesavourless.Alittleabusehasn’tusuallybeen

found,Ibelieve,toreducethesalesofapaperappreciably.Wemostofusliketoseeourenemieshauledoverthecoals;or,failingourenemies,someinnocuousandeminentmemberofanunpopularandover-intelligentrace.Inshort,weliketoseeafinehotquarrelgoingon.IfUnity isn’tgoingtoquarrelwithanyone,Ishallcertainlynotsubscribe.”

“You shall have it gratis,” saidEddy. “It is obviously, as the eminent rationalist puts it, preciselywhatyouneed.”

Nevill said, “By theway,what’s happening to that Radical paper of poorHughDatcherd’s? Is itdead?”

“Yes.Itcouldn’thavesurvivedDatcherd;nooneelsecouldpossiblytakeiton.Besides,hefinanceditentirelyhimself;itneveranythingnearpaiditsway,ofcourse.It’sapity;itwasinteresting.”

“Like it’s owner,”Mrs.Crawford remarked. “He too, onegathers,was a pity, thoughnodoubt aninterestingone.Theonefailureinadistinguishedfamily.”

“IshouldcallalltheDatcherdsapity,ifyouaskme,”saidNevill.“They’rewrong-headedRadicals.

Allagnostics,too,andmoreorlessanti-church.”“Allthesame,”saidhisaunt,“they’renotfailures,mostly.Theyachievesuccess;evenrenown.They

occasionallybecomecabinetministers.Iasknomoreofafamilythanthat.Youmaybeaswrong-headed,radical, andanti-churchasyouplease,Nevill, ifyouattain tobeingacabinetminister.Ofcourse theyhavedisadvantages,suchasEnglandexpectingthemnottoinvesttheirmoneyastheywouldprefer,andsoon; but on the whole an enviable career. Better even than running a paper which meets a long-feltdemand.”

“Butthepaper’smuchmorefun,”Mollyputin,andherauntreturned,“Mydearchild,wearenotputintothistroubledworldtohavefun,thoughIhavenoticedthatyoulabourunderthatdelusion.”

TheyoungmanfromtheForeignOfficesaid,“It’snotadelusionthatcansurviveinmyprofession,anyhow.Imustbegettingback,I’mafraid,”andtheyallwentawaytodosomethingelse.EddyarrangedtomeetMollyandherauntattea-time,andtakethemtoJaneDawn’sstudio;hehadaskedherifhemightbringthemtoseeherdrawings.

TheymetatMrs.Crawford’sclub,anddrovetoBlackfriars’Road.“Where?”inquiredMrs.Crawford,afterEddy’sordertothedriver.“PleasanceCourt,Blackfriars’Road,”Eddyrepeated.“Oh!IsomehowhadanideaitwasChelsea.That’swhereoneoftenfindsstudios;but,afterall,there

mustbemanyothers,ifonecomestothinkofit.”“PerhapsJanecan’taffordChelsea.She’snotpoor,butshespendshermoneylikeachild.Shetakes

afterherfather,whoisextravagant,likesomanyprofessors.”“Chelsea’ssupposedtobecheap,mydearboy.That’swhyit’sfullofstrugglingyoungartists.”“IdaresayPleasanceCourtischeaper.Besides,it’spleasant.Theylikeit.”“They?”“JaneandherfriendMissPeters,whosharesroomswithher.Ratherajollysortofgirl;though——”

On second thoughts Eddy refrained frommentioning that Sally Peters was amilitant and had been inprison;herememberedthatMrs.Crawfordfoundthesubjecttedious.

Butmilitancywill out, asmust havebeennoticedbymany.Before the visitors hadbeen there tenminutes,Sallyreferredtotherecentdestructionofthepropertyofadistinguishedwidowedladyinsuchlaudatory terms thatMrs. Crawford discerned her in aminute, raised a disapproving lorgnette at her,murmured,“Theydevourwidows’houses,andforapretencemakelongspeeches,”andturnedherbackon her. Jolly sorts of girls who were also criminal lunatics were not suffered in the sphere of heracquaintance.

Jane’sdrawingswereobviouslycharming;also theywere thedrawingsofanartist,notofayoungladyof talent.Mrs.Crawford,whoknew the difference, perceived that, andgave them the tribute shealwayscededtosuccess.ShethoughtshewouldaskJanetolunchoneday,without,ofcourse,theblue-eyedchildwhodevouredwidows’houses.Shedidsopresently.

Janesaid,“Thankyousomuch,butI’mafraidIcan’t,”andknittedherlargeforeheadalittle,inherapologeticway,soobviously trying to thinkofasuitable reasonwhyshecouldn’t, thatMrs.Crawfordcametoherrescuewith“Perhapsyou’retoobusy,”whichwasgratefullyaccepted.

“I am rather busy just now.” Janewas verypolite, verydeprecating, but inwardly she reproachedEddyforlettinginonherstrangeladieswhoaskedhertolunch.

Thatnooneoughttobetoobusyforsocialengagements,waswhatMrs.Crawfordthought,andsheturnedalittlecrisperandcoolerinmanner.Mollywasstandingbeforeasmalldrawinginacorner—adrawingofagirl,bare-legged,childish,halfelfin,lyingamongsedgesbyastream,oneleguptotheknee

inwater,andonearmuptotheelbow.Admirablythesuggestionhadbeencaughtofasmallwildthing,alittlehalf-sulkyanimal.Mollylaughedatit.

“That’sDaffy,ofcourse.It’snotlikeher—andyetitisher.Asortofinsidelookit’sgotofher;hasn’tit,Eddy?IsupposeitlooksdifferentbecauseDaffy’salwayssoneatandtailor-made,andneverwouldbelikethat.It’sadifferentDaffy,butitisDaffy.”

“Your pretty little sister, isn’t it, Eddy,” saidMrs.Crawford,who hadmetDaphne atWelchester.“Yes,that’sclever.‘Undine,’youcallit.Why?Hasshenosoul?”

Janesmiledandretiredfromthisquestion.Sheseldomexplainedwhyherpicturesweresocalled;theyjustwere.

MollywasnotlookingatUndine.Herglancehadfallenonadrawingnearit.Itwasanotherdrawingofagirl;averybeautifulgirl,playingaviolin.Itwascalled“Life.”Noonewouldhaveaskedwhyaboutthis; the lightly poised figure, the glowing eyes under their shadowing black brows, the fiddle tuckedaway under the round chin, and the dimples tucked away in the round cheeks, the fine supple hands,expressedtheveryspiritoflife,allitsjoyandbrillianceandgeniusandfire,andallitspotentialtragedy.Mollylookedatitwithoutcomment,asshemighthavelookedatapictureofsomefriendoftheartist’swhohaddiedasaddeath.SheknewthatEileenLeMoinehaddied,fromherpointofview;sheknewthatshehadspent the lastmonthsofHughDatcherd’s lifewithhim,forEddyhad toldher.Shehadsaid toEddythatthiswasdreadfulandwicked.Eddyhadsaid,“Theydon’tthinkitis,yousee.”Mollyhadsaidthat what they thought made no difference to right and wrong; Eddy had replied that it made all thedifferenceintheworld.Shehadfinallyturnedonhimwith,“Butyouthinkitdreadful,Eddy?”andhehad,toherdismay,shakenhishead.

“Notasthey’redoingit,Idon’t.It’sallright.You’dknowitwasallrightifyouknewthem,Molly.It’sbeen,allalong,themostfaithful,loyal,fine,simple,sadthingintheworld,theirlove.They’veheldoutagainstit justsolongastogiveinwouldhavehurtanyonebutthemselves;nowitwon’t,andshe’sgivingherselftohimthathemaydieinpeace.Don’tjudgethem,Molly.”

But she had judged them so uncompromisingly, so unyieldingly, that she had never referred to thesubjectagain,forfearitshouldcomebetweenEddyandher.AdifferenceofprinciplewastheonethingMollycouldnotbear.Toherthisthing,whateveritsexcuse,waswrong,againstthelawsoftheChristianChurch,infine,wicked.AnditwasEddy’sfriendswhohaddoneit,andhedidn’twanthertojudgethem;shemustsaynothing,therefore.Molly’swayswerewaysofpeace.

Mrs. Crawford peered through her lorgnette at the drawing. “What’s that delicious thing? ‘Life.’Quite; just that. That is really utterly charming. Who’s the original? Why, it’s——-” She stoppedsuddenly.

“It’sMrs.LeMoine,theviolinist,”saidJane.“She’s agreat friendofours,”Sally interpolated, in childishpride, frombehind. “I expectyou’ve

heardherplay,haven’tyou?”Mrs.Crawfordhad.She recognised thegeniusof thepicture,whichhad so exquisitely caught and

imprisonedthegeniusofthesubject.“Ofcourse;whohasn’t?Amarvellousplayer.Andamarvellouspicture.”“It’sEileenallover,”saidEddy,whoknewitofold.“Hugh bought it, you know,” said Jane. “And when he died Eileen sent it back to me. I thought

perhaps you and Eddy,” she turned to Molly, “might care to have it for a wedding-present, with‘Undine.’”

Mollythankedhershyly,flushinga little.Shewouldhavepreferredtorefuse‘Life,’buthernever-

failingcourtesyandtendernessforpeople’sfeelingsdrovehertosmileandaccept.Itwasthenthatsomeoneknockedonthestudiodoor.Sallywenttoopenit;cried,“Oh,Eileen,”and

drewherin,anarmaboutherwaist.ShewasnotverylikeJane’sdrawingofherjustnow.ThetragicelementsofLifehadconqueredand

beatendownitsbrillianceandjoy;theroundedwhitecheekswerethin,andshowed,insteadofdimples,thefinestructureofthefaceandjaw;thegreatdeepblueeyesbroodedsombrelyundersadbrows;shedroopedalittleasshestood.Itwasasifsomethinghadbeenquenchedinher,andleftherasadeadfire.Theoldflashingsmilehadleftonlythewan,strangeghostof itself.IfJanehaddrawnhernow,oranytimesincethemiddleofAugust,shewouldratherhavecalledthedrawing“Wreckage.”ToEddyandallherfriendssheandherwreckedjoy,herquenchedvividness,stabbedatapitybeyondtears.

Mollylookedatherforamoment,andturnedrosyredalloverherwholesomelittletannedface,andbentoverapicturenearher.

Mrs.Crawford looked at her, throughher, aboveher, and said to Jane, “Thankyou somuch for adelightfulafternoon.Wereallymustgonow.”

Janesaid,slippingahandintoEileen’s,“Oh,butyou’llhavetea,won’tyou?I’msosorry;weoughtto have had it earlier.... Do you knowMrs. LeMoine?Mrs. Crawford; and you know each other, ofcourse,”sheconnectedEileenandMollywithasmile,andMollyputoutatimidhand.

Mrs.Crawford’s bowwas so slight that itmight havebeennot a bowat all. “Thankyou, but I’mafraidwemustn’tstop.Wehaveenjoyedyourdelightfuldrawingsexceedingly.Goodbye.”

“Must you both go?” said Eddy to Molly. “Can’t you stop and have tea and go home with meafterwards?”

“I’mafraidnot,”Mollymurmured,stillrosy.“Areyoucomingwithus,Eddy?”askedMolly’saunt,inhersweet,sub-acidvoice.“No?Goodbye

then.Oh,don’t trouble,please,MissDawn;Eddywill showusout.”Her faintbowcomprehended thecompany.

Eddycamewiththemtotheircarriage.“I’msorryyouwon’tstop,”hesaid.Mrs.Crawford’sfineeyebrowsrosealittle.“Youcouldhardlyexpectmetostop,stilllesstoletMollystop,incompanywithaladyofMrs.Le

Moine’s reputation.Shehaselected tobecome,asyouofcourseareaware,oneof thepersonswhoseacquaintancemustbedispensedwithbyallbuttheunfastidious.Youarenotgoingtodispensewithit,Iperceive?Verywell;butyoumustallowMollyandmetotaketheordinarycourseoftheworldinsuchmatters.Goodbye.”

Eddy,redasifherwordshadbeenawhipinhisface,turnedbackintothehouseandshutthedoorratherviolentlybehindhim,asifbythegesturehewouldshutoutalltheharsh,coarsejudgmentsoftheundiscriminatingworld.He climbed the stairs to the studio, and found themhaving tea and discussingpictures,fromtheirownseveralpointsofview,nottheworld’s.Itwasarest.

Mrs.Crawford,astheydroveoverthejoltingsurfaceofBlackfriars’Road,said,“Veryoddfriendsyouryoungmanhas,darling.Andwhataveryunpleasantregiontheylivein.Itisjustaswellforthesakeofthecarriagewheelsthatweshallneverhavetogothereagain.Wecan’t,ofcourse,ifweareliabletomeetpeopleofnoreputationthere.I’msureyouknownothingaboutthingslikethat,butI’msorrytosaythatMrs.LeMoinehasdonethingssheoughtnottohavedone.Onemaycontinuetoadmirehermusic,asonemayadmiretheactingofthosewholeadsuchunfortunatelivesonthestage;butonecan’tmeether.Eddyoughttoknowthat.Ofcourseit’sdifferentforhim.Menmaymeetanyone;infact,Ibelievetheydo;

and no one thinks theworse of them.But I can’t; still less, of course, you. I don’t suppose your dearmotherwouldlikemetotellyouabouther,soIwon’t.”

“Iknow,”saidMolly,blushingagainandfeelingsheoughtn’tto.“Eddytoldme.He’sagreatfriendofhers,yousee.”

“Oh,indeed.Well,girlsknoweverythingnow-a-days,ofcourse.Infact,everyoneknowsthis;bothsheandHughDatcherdweresuchwell-knownpeople.Idon’tsayitwassoverydreadfullywrong,whattheydid;andofcourseDorothyDatcherdleftHughinthelurchfirst—butyouwouldn’thaveheardofthat,no—onlyitdoesputMrs.LeMoinebeyondthepale.And,infact,itisdreadfullywrongtoflyinthefaceofeverybody’sprinciplesandsocialcodes;ofcourseitis.”

Molly cared nothing for everyone’s principles and social codes; but she knew it was dreadfullywrong,whattheyhaddone.Shecouldn’tevenreasonitout;couldn’tformulatetherealreasonwhyitwaswrong; couldn’t see that it was because it was giving rein to individual desire at the expense of theviolationofasystemwhichonthewhole,howeverroughlyandcrudely,madeforcivilisation,virtue,andintellectual andmoral progress; that it was, in short, a step backwards into savagery, a giving up ofground gained. Arnold Denison, more clear-sighted, saw that; Molly, with only her childlike,unphilosophical, but intensely vivid recognition of right and wrong to help her, merely knew it waswrong. From three widely different standpoints those three, Molly, Arnold Denison, Mrs. Crawford,joined in that recognition. Against them stood Eddy, who saw only the right in it, and the stabbing,woundingpityofit....

“Itisextremelyfortunate,”saidMrs.Crawford,“thatthatyoungwomanMissDawnrefusedtocometolunch.Idaresaysheknewshewasn’tfitforlunch,withsuchpeoplestrayinginandoutofherroomsandsheholdingtheirhands.Igivehercreditsofar.Asfortheplumpfairchild,sheisobviouslyoneofthosevulgariansIinsistonnothearingmentioned.Verystrangefriends,darling,your....”

“I’msurenearlyallEddy’sfriendsareverynice,”Mollybrokein.“MissDawnwasstayingat theDeaneryatChristmas,youknow.I’msureshe’snice,andshedrawsbeautifully.AndIexpectMissPetersisnicetoo;she’ssofriendlyandjolly,andhassuchprettyhairandeyes.And....”

“Youcanstopthere,dearest.IfyouareproceedingtosaythatyouaresureMrs.LeMoineisnicetoo,youcanspareyourselfthetrouble.”

“Iwasn’t,”saidMollyunhappily,andliftedhershamed,honest,ambereyestoheraunt’sface.“Ofcourse...Iknow...shecan’tbe.”

Herauntgaveherasoothingpatontheshoulder.“Verywell,pet:don’tworryaboutit.I’mafraidyouwillfindthattherearealargenumberofpeopleintheworld,andonlytoomanyofthemaren’tatallnice.Shockinglysad,ofcourse;butifonetookthemalltoheartonewouldsinkintoanearlygrave.Theworstof this really is that we have lost our tea.Wemight drop in on the TommyDurnfords; it’s their day,surely....WhenshallyouseeEddynext,bytheway?”

“Ithinkdoesn’thecometodinnerto-morrow?”“Sohedoes.Well,heandImusthaveagoodtalk.”Mollylookedatherdoubtfully.“AuntVyvian,Idon’tthinkso.TrulyIdon’t.”“Well,Ido,mydear.I’mresponsibletoyourparentsforyou,andyouryoungman’sgottobecareful

ofyou,andIshalltellhimso.”Shetoldhimsointhedrawing-roomafterdinnernextevening.Shesatoutfrombridgeonpurposeto

tellhim.Shesaid,“Iwassurprisedandshockedyesterdayafternoon,Eddy,asnodoubtyougathered.”Eddyadmittedthathehadgatheredthat.“DoyoumindifIsaythatIwastoo,alittle?”headded.“Is

thatrude?Ihopenot.”

“Not in the least. I’venodoubtyouwere shocked;but I don’t think really that you canhavebeenmuch surprised, you know.Did you honestly expectme andMolly to stay and have teawithMrs. LeMoine?She’snotapersonwhomMollyoughttoknow.She’ssteppeddeliberatelyoutsidethesocialpale,andmuststaythere.Seriously,Eddy,youmustn’tbringherandMollytogether.”

“Seriously,”saidEddy,“Imeanto.IwantMollytoknowandcareforallmyfriends.Ofcourseshe’llfind in lotsof themthingsshewouldn’tagreewith;but that’snobarrier. Ican’tshutherout,don’tyousee?Iknowallthesepeoplesoawfullywell,andseesomuchofthem;ofcourseshemustknowthemtoo.AsforMrs.LeMoine,she’soneof thefinestpeopleIknow;Ishould thinkanyonewouldbeproud toknowher.Surelyonecan’tberigidaboutthings?”

“Onecan,”Mrs.Crawfordasserted.“Onecan,andoneis.Onedrawsone’sline.Orrathertheworlddrawsitforone.Thosewhochoosetostepoutsideitmustremainoutsideit.”

Eddysaidsoftly,“Bothertheworld!”“I’mnotgoing,”shereturned,“todoanysuchthing.Ibelongtotheworld,andammuchattachedtoit.

Andaboutthissortofthingithappenstobeentirelyright.Iabidebyitsdecrees,andsomustMolly,andsomustyou.”

“I had hoped,” he said, “that you, as well asMolly, wouldmake friends with Eileen. She needsfriendshiprather.She’shurtandbroken;youmusthaveseenthatyesterday.”

“Indeed,Ihardlylooked.ButI’venodoubtshewouldbe.I’msorryforyourunfortunatefriend,Eddy,butIreallycan’tknowher.Youdidn’tsurelyexpectmetoaskherhere,tomeetChrissieandDulcieandmyinnocentJimmy,didyou?Whatwillyouthinkofnext?Well,well,I’mgoingtoplaybridgenow,andyoucangoandtalktoMolly.Onlydon’ttryandpersuadehertomeetyourscandalousfriends,becauseIshallnotallowherto,andshehasnodesiretoifIdid.Molly,Iampleasedtosay,isaveryright-mindedandwell-conductedgirl.”

Eddydiscoveredthatthiswasso.MollyevincednodesiretomeetEileenLeMoine.Shesaid“AuntVyviandoesn’twantmeto.”

“But,”Eddy expostulated, “she’s constantlywith the rest—Jane andSally, andDenison, andBillyRaymond,andCecilLeMoine,andallthatset—youcan’thelpmeetinghersometimes.”

“Ineedn’tmeetanyofthemmuch,really,”saidMolly.Eddydisagreed.“Ofcourseyouneed.They’resomeofmygreatestfriends.They’vegottobeyour

friendstoo.Whenwe’remarriedthey’llcomeandseeusconstantly,Ihope,andweshallgoandseethem.Weshallalwaysbemeeting. Iawfullywantyou toget toknowthemquickly.They’resuchgoodsorts,Molly;you’lllikethemall,andthey’llloveyou.”

TherewasanodddoubtfullookinMolly’seyes.“Eddy,”shesaidafteramoment,painfullyblushing,“I’mawfullysorry,anditsoundspriggishand

silly—but Ican’t likepeoplewhen I think theydon’t feel rightlyabout rightandwrong. I suppose I’mmadelikethat.I’msorry.”

“Youpreciousinfant.”Hesmiledatherdistressedface.“You’remadeasIprefer.Butyousee,theydofeelrightlyaboutthings;theyreallydo,Molly.”

“Then,”hershamed,avertedeyesseemedtosay,“whydon’ttheyactrightly?”“Justtry,”hebesoughther,“tounderstandtheirpointsofview—everyone’spointofview.Orrather,

don’tbotheraboutpointsofview;justknowthepeople,andyouwon’tbeabletohelpcaringforthem.Peoplearelikethat—somuchmorealiveandimportantthanwhattheythinkordo,thatnoneofthatseemstomatter.Oh,don’tputupbarriers,Molly.Dolovemyfriends.Iwantyouto.I’llloveallyours;Iwillindeed,whatever dreadful things they’ve done or are doing. I’ll love them even if they burnwidows’

houses,orpaintproblempicturesfortheAcademy,orwriteprizenovels,orwon’ttakeinUnity.I’lllovethemthrougheverything.Won’tyouloveminealittle,too?”

Shelaughedbackathim,unsteadily.“Idiot,ofcourseIwill.Iwillindeed.I’lllovethemnearlyall.OnlyIcan’tlovethingsIhate,Eddy.

Don’taskmetodothat,becauseIcan’t.”“Butyoumustn’thate,Molly.Whyhate?Itisn’twhatthingsaretherefor,tobehated.Lookhere.Here

areyouandIsetdowninthemiddleofallthisjolly,splendid,excitingjumbleofthings,justlikeatoy-shop,andwecangoroundlookingateverything,touchingeverything,tastingeverything(Iusedalwaystotrytotastetartsandthingsinshops,didn’tyou?)Wellisn’titalljollyandnice,anddon’tyoulikeit?Andhereyousitandtalkofhating!”

Mollywaslookingathimwithhermerryeyesunusuallyserious.“ButEddy—you’rejustpretendingwhenyoutalkofhatingnothing.Youknowyouhatesomethings

yourself;therearesomethingseveryonemusthate.Youknowyoudo.”“DoI?”Eddyconsideredit.“Why,yes,Isupposeso;somethings.Butveryfew.”“There’s good,” saidMolly,with a gesture of one hand, “and there’s bad....” she swept the other.

“They’requiteseparate,andthey’refighting.”EddyobservedthatshewasaManicheanDualist.“Don’tknowwhatthatis.Butitseemstomeananordinarysensibleperson,soIhopeIam.Aren’t

you?”“Ithinknot.Nottoyourextent,anyhow.ButIquiteseeyourpointofview.Nowwillyouseemine?

AndEileen’s?Andalltheothers?Anyhow,willyouthinkitover,sothatbythetimewe’remarriedyou’llbereadytobefriends?”

Mollyshookherhead.“It’snouse,Eddy.Don’tlet’stalkaboutitanymore.Comeandplaycoon-can;Idolikeitsuchalot

betterthanbridge;it’ssomuchsillier.”“Ilikethemall,”saidEddy.

CHAPTERXIII.

MOLLY.

EDDY next Sunday collected a party to row up toKew. Theywere JaneDawn, BridgetHogan, BillyRaymond, Arnold Denison,Molly and himself, and they embarked in a boat at Crabtree Lane at twoo’clock,andalltookturnsofrowingexceptBridget,who,ashasbeenobservedbefore,wasalilyofthefield,andinsistedonremainingso.She,Molly,andEddymaybecalledtherespectable-lookingmembersof the party; Jane,Arnold, andBillywere sublimely untidy,whichEddyknewwas a pity, because ofMolly,whowasalwaysadaintilyarrayed,fastidiouslyneatchild.Butitdidnotreallymatter.Theywereallveryhappy.TheothersmadeapetandplaythingofMolly,whoseinfectious,whole-heartedchuckleand naïve high spirits pleased them. She and Eddy decided to live in a river-side house, and madeselectionsastheyrowedby.

“You’dbebetteroffinSoho,”saidArnold.“Eddywouldbenearerhisbusiness,andnearertheshopwe’regoingtostartpresently.Besides,it’s

moreselect.Youcan’tavoidtherespectableresident,uptheriver.”“Thecheerynon-resident,too,whichisworse,”addedMissHogan.“Likeus.Theriveronaholiday

isunthinkable.WewereonitallGoodFridaylastyear,whichseemssilly,butIsupposewemusthavehadsomewisepurpose.Whywas it,Billy?Doyou remember?Youcame,didn’tyou?Andyou, Jane.And Eileen andCecil, I think.Anyhow never again.Oh yes, andwe took some poor starved poet ofBilly’s—a most unfortunate creature, who proved, didn’t he, to be unable even to write poetry. Or,indeed, tosit still inaboat.Oneor twoverynarrowshaveswehadI remember.He’sgone intoPeterRobinson’ssince,Ibelieve,aswalker.Somuchnicerforhimineveryway.IsawhimtherelastTuesday.Igavehimafriendlysmileandaskedhowhewas,butIthinkhehadforgottenhispastlife,orelsehehadunderstoodmetobeaskingthewaytothestockingdepartment,forheonlyreplied,“Hose,madam?”ThenIrememberedthatthatwaspartlywhyhehadfailedtobeapoet,becausehewouldcallstockingshose,andusesimilarunhealthysynonyms.SoIconcludedwithpleasurethathehadreallyfoundhisvocation,theonecareerwheresuchsynonymsaresuitable,and,infact,necessary.”

“He’saveryniceperson,Nichols,”Billysaid;“hestillwritesalittle,butIdon’tthinkhe’llevergetanythingtaken.Hecan’tgetridoftheideathathe’sgottobeelegant.It’sapity,becausehe’sreallygotalittletosay.”

“Yes;quitealittle,isn’tit.Poordear.”Eddyaskedhopefully,“Wouldhedousanarticle forUnity from theshopwalker’spointofview,

aboutshoplife,andtherelationsbetweencustomersandshoppeople?”Billyshookhishead.“I’msurehewouldn’t.He’dwanttowriteyouapoemaboutsomethingquite

different instead.Hehates theshop,andhewon’twriteprose;hefinds it toohomely.Andifhedid, itwouldbehorriblestuff,fullofcommencing,andhose,andwordslikethat.”

“Andcorsets,andthenextpleasure,andkindlywalkthisway.Itmightberatherdelightfulreally.Ishouldtrytogethimto,Eddy.”

“IthinkIwill.Weratherwanttheshopman’spointofview,andit’snoteasytoget.”TheywerepassingChiswickMall.Mollysawtherethehouseshepreferred.“Look,Eddy.Thatonewithwistariaoverit,andthebalcony.What’sitcalled?TheOsiers.Whata

nicename.Dolet’sstopandfindoutifwecanhaveit.”“Well,someoneobviouslylivesthere;infact,Iseesomeoneonthebalcony.Hemightthinkitoddof

us,doyouthink?”“Butperhapshe’sleaving.Orperhapshe’dassoonlivesomewhereelse,ifwefoundaniceplacefor

him.Iwonderwhoitis?”“Idon’tknow.Wemightfindoutwhohisdoctoris,andgethimtotellhimit’sdampandunhealthy.It

looksfairlyold.”“Andtheysaythoseosierbedsaremostunwholesome,”Bridgetadded.“It’sheavenly.Andlook,there’saheron....Can’twelandontheisland?”“No.Bridgetsaysit’sunwholesome.”Sotheydidn’t,butwentontoKew.Theretheylandedandwenttolookforthebadgerinthegardens.

Theydidnotfindhim.Oneneverdoes.Buttheyhadtea.ThentheyroweddownagaintoCrabtreeLane,andtheirwaysdiverged.

Eddywent homewithMolly. She said, “It’s been lovely,Eddy,” andhe said “Hasn’t it.”Hewaspleased,becauseMollyandtheothershadgotonsowellandmadesuchahappyparty.Hesaid,“Whenwe’reattheOsierswe’lloftendothat.”

Shesaid“Yes,”thoughtfully,andhesawthatsomethingwasonhermind.“AndwhenDaffyandNevillhavestoppedquarrelling,”addedEddy,“we’llhavethemestablished

somewherenearby,andtheyshallcomeontherivertoo.Wemustfixthatupsomehow.”Mollysaid“Yes,”again,andheasked,“Andwhat’sthematternow?”andtouchedalittlepuckeron

herforeheadwithhisfinger.Shesmiled.“Iwasonlythinking,Eddy....ItwassomethingMissHogansaid,aboutspendingGoodFridayonthe

river.Doyouthinktheyreallydid?”Helaughedalittleatherwide,questioningeyesandseriousface.“Isupposeso.ButBridgetsaid‘Neveragain’—didn’tyouhear?”“Ohyes.Butthatwasonlybecauseofthecrowd....Ofcourseitmaybeallright—butIjustwished

shehadn’tsaidit,rather.Itsoundedasiftheydidn’tcaremuch,somehow.I’msuretheydo,but....”“I’msuretheydon’t,”Eddysaid.“Bridgetisn’twhatyouwouldcallaChurchwoman,yousee.Nor

areJane,orArnold,orBilly.Theyseethingsdifferently,that’sall.”“But—they’renotdissenters,arethey?”Eddylaughed.“No.That’sthelastthinganyofthemare.”Molly’swidegazebecamestartled.“Doyoumean—they’reheathens?Oh,howdreadfullysad,Eddy.Can’tyou ...can’tyouhelp them

somehow?Couldn’tyouasksomeclergymanyouknowtomeetthem?”Eddy chuckled again. “I’m glad I’m engaged to you, Molly. You please me. But I’m afraid the

clergymanwouldbenomorelikelytoconvertthemthantheyhim.”MollyrememberedsomethingDaphnehadoncetoldheraboutMissDawnandMrs.LeMoineandthe

prayer book. “It’s so dreadfully sad,” she repeated. There was a little silence. The revelation wasworkinginMolly’smind.Sheturneditoverandover.

“Eddy.”“Molly?”“Don’tyoufinditmatters?Inbeingfriends,Imean?”“What?Oh, that. No, not a bit. How should itmatter, that I happen to believe certain things they

don’t?Howcouldit?”

“Itwouldtome.”Mollyspokewithconviction.“Imighttry,butIknowIcouldn’treallybefriends—notclosefriends—withanunbeliever.”

“Ohyes,youcould.You’dgetoverall that,onceyouknewthem.Itdoesn’tstickoutofthem,whattheydon’tbelieve;itveryseldomturnsup.Besidestheirsissuchanordinary,andsuchacomprehensibleandnaturalpointofview.Haveyoualwaysbelievedwhatyoudonowaboutsuchthings?”

“Why,ofcourse.Haven’tyou?”“Ohdearno.Forquitea long timeIdidn’t.Afterall, it’sprettydifficult....Andparticularlyatmy

homeI think itwasa littledifficult—forme,anyhow. I suppose Iwantedmoreof theCatholicChurchstandpoint.Ididn’tcomeacrossthatmuchtillCambridge;thensuddenlyIcaughtontothepointofview,andsawhowfineitwas.”

“It’smorethanfine,”saidMolly.“It’strue.”“Rather,of course it is.Soareall fine things. Ifonceall thesepeoplewhodon’tbelieve saw the

fineness of it, they’d see itmust be true.Meanwhile, I don’t see that the fact that one believes one’sfriends tobemissing something theymighthave is any sortof reason fornotbeing friends. Is it now?Billymightaswellsayhecouldn’tbefriendswithyoubecauseyousaidyoudidn’tcareaboutMasefield.Youmisssomethinghe’sgot;that’sallthedifferenceitmakes,ineithercase.”

“Masefieldisn’tsoimportantas——”Mollyleftashyhiatus.“No;of course; but, it’s the sameprinciple....Well, anyhowyou like them,don’t you?” saidEddy

shiftinghisground.“Oh,yes,Ido.ButIexpecttheythinkmeaduffer.Idon’tknowanythingabouttheirthings,yousee.

They’reawfullynicetome.”“Thatseemsodd,certainly.AndtheymaycomeandvisitusattheOsiers,mayn’tthey?”“Ofcourse.Andwe’llallhaveteaonthebalconythere.Oh,dolet’sbeginturningoutthepeoplethat

livethereatonce.”MeanwhileJaneandArnoldandBilly,walkingalongtheembankment,whentheyhaddiscussedthe

colourof thewater, theprospectsof theweather, thenumberof catson thewall, andother interestingsubjects,commentedonMolly.Janesaid,“She’salittlesweetmeat.Iloveheryelloweyesandherroughcurlyhair.She’slikeaspanielpuppywe’vegotathome.”

Billysaid,“She’squitenicetotalkto,too.Ilikeherlaugh.”Arnoldsaid,maliciously,“She’llneverreadyourpoetry,Billy.SheprobablyonlyreadsTennyson’s

andScott’sandtheAnthologyofNineteenthCenturyVerse.”“Well,”saidBilly,placidly,“I’minthat.Ifsheknowsthat,sheknowsallthebesttwentiethcentury

poets. You seem to be rather acrimonious about her. Hadn’t she read your ‘Latter Day Leavings,’ orwhat?”

“I’msureItrustnot.She’dhatethem....It’sallverywell,andI’venodoubtshe’saverynicelittlegirl—butwhatdoesEddywantwithmarryingher?Or,indeed,anyoneelse?He’snotoldenoughtosettledown.Andmarryingthatspaniel-childwillmeansettlingdowninasense.”

“Oh,Idon’tknow.She’sgotplentyoffun,andcanplayallright.”Arnoldshookhisheadoverher.“Allthesame,she’sonthesideofdarknessandtheconventions.She

mayn’t know it yet, being still half a child, and in theplayingpuppy stage, but giveher tenyears andyou’llsee.She’llbecomeproper.Evennow,she’snotsurewe’requiteniceorverygood.Ispottedthat....Don’tyouremember,Jane,whatIsaidtoyouatWelchesteraboutit?Withmynever-failingperspicacity,Iforesawtheturneventswouldtake,andIforesawalsoexactlyhowshewouldaffectEddy.YouwillnodoubtrecollectwhatIsaid(Ihopeyoualwaysdo);thereforeIwon’trepeatitnow,evenforBilly’ssake.

ButImaytellyou,Billy,thatIprophesiedtheworst.Istillprophesyit.”“You’retoofrightfullyparticulartolive,Arnold,”Billytoldhim.“She’saverygoodsortandavery

pleasantperson.Ratherlikeabrookinsunlight,Ithoughther;hereyesarethatcolour,andherhairanddressaretheshadowedparts,andherlaughislikethewaterchucklingoverastone.Ilikeher.”

“Oh,heavens,”Arnoldgroaned.“Ofcourseyoudo.YouandJanearehopeless.Youmaylikebrooksinsunlightorpuppiesoranythingelseintheuniverse—butyoudon’twanttogoandmarrythembecauseofthat.”

“I don’t,”Billy admitted, peacefully. “Butmanypeople do.Eddyobviously is oneof them.And Ishouldsayit’squiteagoodthingforhimtodo.”

“Ofcourseitis,”saidJane,whowasmoreinterestedatthemomentintheeffectoftheeveningmistontheriver.

“Perhaps they’ll think better of it and break it off before the wedding-day,” Arnold gloomilysuggested.“There’salways thathope.... Iseenoplacefor this thingcalled love inareasonable life. ItwillsmashupEddy,asit’ssmashedupEileen.Ihatethething.”

“Eileen’sa littlebetter lately,”saidJanepresently.“She’sgoing toplayatLovinski’sconcertnextweek.”

“She’sratherworsereally,”saidBilly,asingularlyclear-sightedperson;andtheyleftitatthat.Billywasverylikelyright.AtthatmomentEileenwaslyingonthefloorofherroom,herheadonher

flung-outarms,tearlessandstill,mutteringanameoverandover,throughclenchedteeth.Thepassageoftime tookher further fromhim,slowhourbyslowhour; tookherout intocold, lonelyseasofpain, todrownuncomforted.Shewasnotratherbetter.

Shewould spend longmorningsor evenings in the fields and lanesby theLea,walkingor sitting,silentandalone.Sheneverwenttothedisorganised,lifelessremnantofDatcherd’ssettlement;onlyshewouldtravelbythetramupShoreditchandMareStreettothenortheast,andwalkalongthenarrowpathby theLea-sidewharf cottages, little andold and jumbled, and so over the river on toLeytonMarsh,wheresheepcropthegrass.HeresheandDatcherdhadoftenwalked,afteraneveningattheClub,andhereshenowwanderedalone.Theseregionshaveaqueer,perhapsmorbid,peace;theybrood,asitwere,on the fringe of the hugeworld of London; they divide it, too, from that other stranger, sadderworldbeyondtheLea,Walthamstowanditsendlessdrabslums.

Here, in theNovember twilight onLeytonMarsh,Eddy foundher once.HehimselfwasbicyclingbackfromWalthamstow,wherehehadbeentoseeoneofhisClubfriends(hehadmademany)wholivedthere.Eileenwasleaningonastileattheendofoneofthefootpathsthatthreadthisstrangeborderland.Theymetfacetoface;andshelookedathimasifshedidnotseehim,asifshewasexpectingsomeonenothim.Hegotoffhisbicycle,andsaid“Eileen.”

Shelookedathimdully,andsaid,“I’mwaitingforHugh.”Hegentlytookherhand.“You’recold.Comehomewithme.”Herdazedeyesuponhisfaceslowlytookperceptionandmeaning,andwiththempainrushedin.She

shudderedhorribly,andcaughtawayherhand.“Oh...Iwaswaiting...butit’snouse...IsupposeI’mgoingmad....”“No.You’reonlytiredandunstrung.Comehomenow,won’tyou.Indeedyoumustn’tstay.”Themistswerewhiteandchillyaboutthem;itwasastrangephantomworld,setbetweenthemillion-

eyedmonstertothewest,andthesmaller,sprawling,infinitelysadmonstertotheeast.She flungouther arms to the red-eyedcity, andmoaned, “Hugh,Hugh,Hugh,” till shechokedand

cried.

Eddybithisownlipstosteadythem.“Eileen—dearEileen—comehome.He’dwantyouto.”Shereturned,throughsobsthatrenther.“Hewantsnothinganymore.Healwayswantedthings,and

nevergotthem;andnowhe’sdead,thewayhecan’tevenwant.ButIwanthim;Iwanthim;Iwanthim—oh,Hugh!”

Soseldomshecried,sostrungupandtensehadshelongbeen,eventothevergeofmentaldelusion,thatnowthatabreaking-pointhadcome,shebrokeutterly,andcriedandcried,andcouldnotstop.

He stood by her, saying nothing,waiting till he could be of use.At last from veryweariness shequieted,andstoodverystill,herheadbowedonherarmsthatwereflungacrossthestile.

Hesaidthen,“Dear,youwillcomenow,won’tyou,”andapatheticallysheliftedherhead,andherdim,wet,distortedfacewasstrangeinthemist-swathedmoonlight.

Togethertheytookthelittlepathbackoverthegrass-grownmarsh,wherephantomsheepcoughedinthefog,andsoacrossthefoot-bridgetotheLondonsideoftheLea,andthelittlewharfsidecottages,anduponto theLeaBridgeRoad,andintoMareStreet,andthere,byunusualgoodfortunetherestrayedataxi,ararephenomenonnorthofShoreditch,andEddyputEileenandhimselfandhisbicycleinitandonit,andsotheycamebackoutofthewildsoftheeast,byLiverpoolStreetandthecity,acrossLondontoCampdenHillRoadinthefurtherwest.AndallthewayEileenleantbackexhaustedandverystill,onlyshudderingfromtimetotime,asonedoesafterafitofcryingorofsickness.Butbytheendofthejourneyshewasalittlerestored.ListlesslyshetouchedEddy’shandwithhercoldone.

“Eddy,youareadear.You’vebeengoodtome,andIsuchagreatfool.I’msorry.Itisn’toftenIam....ButIthinkifyouhadn’tcometo-nightIwouldhavegonemad,noless.Iwasonthewaythere,Ibelieve.Thankyouforsavingme.Andnowyou’llcomeinandhavesomething,won’tyou.”

Hewouldnotcomein.HeshouldbeforethishavebeenatMrs.Crawford’sfordinner.Hewaitedtosee her in, then hurried back to Soho to dress. His last sight of her was as she turned to him in thedoorway,thelightonherpale,tear-marredface,tryingtosmiletocheerhim.Thatwasagoodsign,hebelieved,thatshecouldthinkevenmomentarilyofanyonebutherselfandtheotherwhofilledherbeing.

Heavy-heartedforpityandregret,hedrovebacktohisroomsandhurriedlydressed,andarrivedinHydeParkTerracedesperatelylate,athingMrs.Crawfordfoundithardtoforgive.Infact,shedidnottrytoforgiveit.Shesaid,“Oh,wehadquitegivenuphope.Hardwick,somesoupforMr.Oliver.”

Eddysaidhewould ratherbeginwhere theyhadgot to.Buthewasnotallowed thus toevadehisposition,andhadtohurrythroughfourcoursesbeforehecaughtthemup.Theywereasmallparty,andheapologisedacrossthetabletohishostessasheate.

“I’mfrightfullysorry;simplyabject.Thefactis,ImetafriendonLeytonMarsh.”“Onwhat?”“LeytonMarsh.Upinthenortheast,bytheLea,youknow.”“I certainly don’t know. Is that where you usually take your evening walks when dining in

Kensington?”“Well,sometimes.It’sthewaytoWalthamstow,yousee.Iknowsomepeoplethere.”“Really.Youdo,as therationalistbishoptoldyou, touchaveryextensivecircle,certainly.Andso

youmetoneofthemonthismarsh,andthepleasureoftheirsocietywassuch——”“Shewasn’twell,andItookherbacktowhereshelived.ShelivesinKensington,soittookages;

thenIhadtogetbacktoComptonStreettodress.Really,I’mawfullysorry.”Mrs.Crawford’seyebrowsconveyedattentiontothesexofthefriend;thensheresumedconversation

withthebarristeronherright.Mollysaidconsolingly,“Don’tyoumind,Eddy.Shedoesn’treally.Sheonlypretendsto,forfun.She

knowsitwasn’tyourfault.Ofcourseyouhadtotakeyourfriendhomeifshewasn’twell.”“Icouldn’thavelefther,asamatteroffact.Shewasfrightfullyunhappyandunhinged....ItwasMrs.

LeMoine.”Heconqueredavaguereluctanceandaddedthis.HewasnotgoingtohavethevestigeofasecretfromMolly.

She flushed quickly and said nothing, and he knew that he had hurt her.Yet itwas an unthinkablealternativetoconcealthetruthfromher;equallyunthinkablenottodothesethingsthathurther.Whatthen,wouldbethesolution?Simplyhedidnotknow.Achangeofattitudeonherpartseemedtohimtheonlypossibleone,andhehadwaitednowlongforthatinvain.Toaverthersombrenessandhis,hebegantotalk cheerfully to her about all manner of things, and she responded, but not quite spontaneously. Ashadowlaybetweenthem.

Soobviouswasitthatafterdinnerhetoldherso,inthosewords.Shetriedtosmile.“Doesit?Howsillyyouare.”“You’dbettertellmetheworst,youknow.Youthinkitwasill-bredofmetobelatefordinner.”“Whatrubbish;Idon’t.Asifyoucouldhelpit.”Butheknewshethoughthecouldhavehelpedit.Sotheyleftitatthat,andtheshadowremained.Eddy, itmay have beenmentioned, had the gift of sympathy largely developed—the quality of his

defectofimpressionability.Hehaditmorethaniscustomary.Peoplefoundthathesaidandfeltthemostconsolingthing,andleftunsaidtheless.Itwasbecausehefoundrealisationeasy.Sopeoplein troubleoftencametohim.EileenLeMoine,reachingoutinherdesperateneedonthemist-boundmarshes,had,as itwere,met the savinggraspof his hand.Half-consciously shehad let it drawher out of thedeepwaterswhereshewassinking,ontotheshoresofsanity.Shereachedouttohimagain.HehadcaredforHugh;hecaredforher;heunderstoodhownothinginheavenandearthnowmattered;hedidnot try togiveherinterests;hesimplygaveherhissorrowandunderstandingandhisadmirationofHugh.Sosheclaimedit,asadrowningmanclutchesinstinctivelyatthethingwhichwillbestsupporthim.Andassheclaimedhegave.Hegaveofhisbest.HetriedtomakeMollygivetoo,butshewouldnot.

TherecameadaywhenBridgetHoganwroteandsaidthatshehadtogooutoftownforSunday,anddidn’twanttoleaveEileenaloneintheflatallday,andwouldEddycomeandseeherthere—cometolunch,perhaps,andstayfortheafternoon.

“Youaregoodforher;betterthananyoneelse,Ithink,”Bridgetwrote.“ShefeelsshecantalkaboutHughtoyou,thoughtohardlyanyone—noteventomemuch.Iamanxiousaboutherjustnow.Pleasedocomeifyoucan.”

Eddy,who had been going to lunch and spend the afternoon at theCrawfords’,made no questionaboutit.HewenttoMollyandtoldherhowitwas.Shelistenedsilently.Theroomwasstrangewithfogandblurredlights,andhersmallgravefacewasstrangeandpaletoo.

Eddysaid,“Molly,Iwishyouwouldcometoo,justthisonce.Shewouldloveit;shewouldindeed....Justthisonce,Molly,becauseshe’sinsuchtrouble.Willyou?”

Mollyshookherhead,andhesomehowknewitwasbecauseshedidnottrusthervoice.“Well,nevermind,then,darling.I’llgoalone.”Stillshedidnotspeak.Afteramomentherosetogo.Hetookhercoldhandsinhis,andwouldhave

kissedher,butshepushedhimback,stillwordless.Soforamoment theystood,silentandstrangeandperplexedintheblurredfog-boundroom,handslockedinhands.

ThenMollyspoke,steady-voicedatlast.“Iwanttosaysomething,Eddy.Imust,please.”“Do,sweetheart.”

Shelookedathim,asifpuzzledbyherselfandhimandtheworld,frowningalittle,childishly.

“Wecan’tgoon,Eddy.I...Ican’tgoon.”Coldstillnessfelloverhimlikeapall.Thefog-shadowshuddledupcloserroundthem.“Whatdoyoumean,Molly?”“Justthat.Ican’tdoit....Wemustn’tbeengagedanymore.”“Oh,yes,wemust.Imust,youmust.Molly,don’ttalksuchghastlynonsense.Iwon’thaveit.Those

aren’tthingstobesaidbetweenyouandme,eveninfun.”“It’snotinfun.Wemustn’tbeengagedanymore,becausewedon’tfit.Becausewemakeeachother

unhappy.Because,ifwemarried,itwouldbeworse.No—listennow;it’sonlythisonceandforall,andImustgetitallout;don’tmakeitmoredifficultthanitneedbe,Eddy.It’sbecauseyouhavefriendsIcan’teverhave;youcareforpeopleImustalwaysthinkbad;Ishallneverfitintoyourset....Theveryfactofyourcaringforthemandnotmindingwhatthey’vedone,proveswe’remilesapartreally.”

“We’renotmilesapart.”Eddy’shandsonhershouldersdrewhertohim.“We’reclosetogether—likethis.Andalltherestoftheworldcangoanddrownitself.Haven’tweeachother,andisn’titenough?”

Shepulledaway,hertwohandsagainsthisbreast.“No,itisn’tenough.Notenoughforeitherofus.Notforme,becauseIcan’tnotmindthatyouthink

differentlyfrommeaboutthings.Andnotforyou,becauseyouwant—youneedtohave—alltherestoftheworldtoo.Youdon’tmeanthataboutitsdrowningitself.Ifyoudid,youwouldn’tbegoingtospendSundaywith——”

“No,IsupposeIshouldn’t.You’reright.Therestoftheworldmustn’tdrownitself,then;butitmuststandwellawayfromusandnotgetinourway.”

“Andyoudon’tmeanthat,either,”saidMolly,strangelyclear-eyed.“You’renotmadetocareonlyforoneperson—youneedlots.Andifweweremarried,you’deitherhavethem,oryou’dbecrampedandunhappy.Andyou’dwant thepeopleIcan’tunderstandor like.Andyou’dwantmeto like them,andIcouldn’t.Andweshouldbothbemiserable.”

“Oh,Molly,Molly,arewesosillyasallthat?Justtrustlife—justliveit—don’tlet’sbroodoveritandmap out all its difficulties beforehand. Just trust it—and trust love—isn’t love good enough for apilot?—andwe’lltaketheplungetogether.”

Shestillheldhimawaywithherpressinghands,andwhispered,“No,loveisn’tgoodenough.Not—notyourloveforme,Eddy.”

“Not?”“No.”Quitesuddenlysheweakenedandcollapsed,andherhandsfellfromhim,andshehidherface

inthemandthetearscame.“No—don’t touchme, or I can’t say it. I knowyou care ... but there are somanyways of caring.

There’sthewayyoucareforme...andtheway...thewayyou’vealwayscaredfor...her....”Eddystoodandlookeddownatherasshecrouchedhuddledinachair,andspokegently.“Therearemanywaysof caring.Perhapsone cares for eachofone’s friends ratherdifferently—I

don’tknow.Butloveisdifferentfromthemall.AndIloveyou,Molly.Ihavelovednooneelse,ever,inthat sense.... I’m not going to pretend I don’t understand you. By ‘her’ I believe youmean Eileen LeMoine.NowcanyoulookmeinthefaceandsayyouthinkIcareforEileenLeMoinein—inthatway?No,ofcourseyoucan’t.YouknowIdon’t;what’smore,youknowIneverdid.Ihavealwaysadmiredher,likedher,beenfondofher,attractedtoher.IfyouaskedwhyIhaveneverfalleninlovewithher,IsupposeIshouldanswerthatitwas,inthefirstinstance,becauseshenevergavemethechance.Shehasalways,sinceIknewher,beensomanifestlygivenover,heartandsoul,tosomeoneelse.Tofallinlovewithherwouldhavebeenabsurd.Loveneedsjusttheelementofpotentialreciprocity;atleast,formeit

does.TherewasneverthatelementwithEileen.SoInever—quite—fellinlovewithher.Thatperhapswasmy reasonbefore I found I cared for you.After that, no reasonwas needed. I had found the realthing.... And now you talk of taking it away fromme.Molly, say you don’t mean it; say so at once,please.”Shehadstoppedcrying,andsathuddledinthebigchair,withdownbent,avertedface.

“ButIdomeanit,Eddy.”Hervoicecamesmallanduncertainthroughthefog-chokedair.“TrulyIdo.Yousee,thethingsIhateandcan’tgetoverarejustnothingatalltoyou.Wedon’tfeelthesameaboutrightandwrong....There’sreligion,now.Youwantme,andyou’dwantmemoreifweweremarried,tobefriendswithpeoplewhohaven’tany,inthesenseImean,anddon’twantany.Well,Ican’t.I’veoftentoldyou.IsupposeI’mmadethatway.Sothereitis;itwouldn’tbehappyabit,foreitherofus....Andthen there are thewrong thingspeopledo, andwhichyoudon’tmind.Perhaps I’maprig,but anyhowwe’redifferent,andIdomind.Ishallalwaysmind.AndIshouldn’tliketofeelIwasgettinginthewayofyour having the friends you liked, andwe should have to go separateways, and though you could befriendswithallmyfriends—becauseyoucanwitheveryone—Icouldn’twithallyours,andweshouldhateit.YouwantsomanymorekindsofthingsandpeoplethanIdo;Isupposethat’sit.”(ArnoldDenison,whohadoncesaid,“Hershareoftheworldishomogeneous;hisisheterogeneous,”wouldperhapshavebeensurprisedatherdiscernment,confirminghis.)

Eddysaid,“Iwantyou.WhateverelseIwant,Iwantyou.Ifyouwantme—ifyoudidwantme,asIthoughtyoudid—itwouldbeenough.Ifyoudon’t....Butyoudo,youmust,youdo.”

Anditwasnoargument.Andshehadreasonandlogiconherside,andhenothingbuttheunreasoningreasonoflove.Andsothroughthedimafternoontheyfoughtitout,andhecameupagainstawillfirmerthanhisown,holdingboth their loves incheck,avisionclearer thanhisown, seeing life steadilyandseeing itwhole, tillat last thevisionwasdrowned in tears,andshesobbed tohimtogo,becauseshewouldtalknomore.Hewent,vanquishedandangry,outintotheblack,muffledcity,andgropedhiswaytoSoho,likeamanwhohasbeenrobbedofhisallandisfullofbitternessbutunbeaten,andmeanstogetitbackbyartificeorforce.

Hewentbacknextday,andthedayafterthat,hammeringdesperatelyontheshutdoorofherresolve.The third day she left London and went home. He only saw Mrs. Crawford, who looked at himspeculativelyandwithanodd touchofpity,andsaid,“So it’sallover.Mollyseems toknowherownmind.Idislikebrokenengagementsexceedingly; theyaresonoticeable,andgivesomuchtrouble.Onewouldhavethoughtthatinalltheyearsyouhaveknowneachotheroneofyoumighthavediscoveredyourincompatibilitybeforeentering intorashcompacts.ButdearMollyonlyseesa littleata time,and thatextremely clearly. She tells me you wouldn’t suit each other. Well, she may be right, and anyhow Isupposeshemustbeallowedtojudge.ButIamsorry.”

Shewaskind;shehopedhewouldstillcomeandseethem;shetalked,andhervoicewasfarawayandirrelevant.Helefther.Hewaslikeamanwhohasbeenrobbedofhisallandknowshewillnevergetitback,byanyartificeoranyforce.

OnSundayhewenttoEileen.ItseemedaboutamonthagothathehadheardfromBridgetaskinghimtodoso.Hefoundherlistlessandheavy-eyed,andyawningfromlackofsleep.Gentlyheledhertotalk,tillHughDatcherdseemedtostandaliveintheroom,caressedbytheirallusions.Hetoldherofpeoplewhomissedhim;quotedwhatworking-menof theSettlementhadsaidofhim;discussedhiswork.Shewoke fromapathy. Itwasas if, amongaworld that,meaningkindness,badeher forget, thisonevoicebadeherremember,andrememberedwithher;asif,amongmanyvoicesthatsoftenedoverhisnameaswithpityforsadnessandfailure,thisonevoiceranggloryinginhissuccess.SheerintuitionhadtoldEddythat thatwaswhatshewanted,whatshewassickfor—somerecognition,some triumphforhimwhosegiftshadseemedtobebrokenandwasted,whoselifehadsetinthegreynessofunsuccess.Asfarasonemancouldgiveherwhatshewanted,hegaveit,withbothhands,andsosheclungtohimoutofallthe

kind,uncomprehendingworld.Theytalkedfarintothegreyafternoon.Andshegrewbetter.Shegrewsomuchbetterthatshesaidto

himsuddenly,“Youlooktiredtodeath,doyouknow.Whathaveyoubeendoingtoyourself?”Withthequestionandherconcernedeyes,theneedcametohiminhisturnforsympathy.“I’vebeendoingnothing.Mollyhas.Shehasbrokenoffourengagement.”“Do you say so?” She was startled, sorry, pitiful. She forgot her own grief. “My dear—and I

botheringyouwithmyownthingsandneverseeinghowitwaswithyou!Howgoodyou’vebeentome,Eddy.Iwonderisthereanyoneelseintheworldwouldbesopatientandsokind.Oh,butI’msorry.”

Sheaskednoquestions,andhedidnottellhermuch.Buttotalkofitwasgoodforbothofthem.Shetriedtogivehimbacksomeofthesympathyshehadhadofhim;shewasonlypartlysuccessful,beingstillhalfnumbedandboundbyherownsorrow;but theeffort a little loosened thebands.Andpartofhimwatched their looseningwith interest, as adoctorwatches apatient’s firstmotionsof returninghealth,while theotherpart foundrelief in talkingtoher. Itwasastrange,halfselfish,halfunselfishafternoontheybothhad,andalittlelightcreptinthroughthefogsthatbroodedaboutbothofthem.Eileensaidashewent,“It’sbeendearofyoutocomelikethis....I’mgoingtospendnextSundayatHolmburySt.Mary.Ifyou’redoingnothingelse,Iwishyou’dcometheretoo,andwe’llspendthedaytramping.”

Herthoughtwastocomfortbothofthem,andheaccepteditgladly.ThethoughtcametohimthattherewasnoonenowtomindhowhespenthisSundays.Mollywouldhaveminded.Shewouldhavethoughtitodd,notproper,hardlyright.Havinglostherpartlyonthisveryaccount,hethrewhimselfwiththemorefervourintothismissionofhelpandhealingtoanotherandhimself.Hislossdidnotthusseemsuchutterwaste,theemptinessofthelongdaysnotsoblank.

CHAPTERXIV.

UNITY.

THEofficeofUnitywasaroomonthetopflooroftheDenisons’publishinghouse.ItlookedoutonFleetStreet, oppositeChanceryLane.Sitting there,Eddy,whennototherwise engaged (he andArnoldwerejointeditorsofUnity)watchedtherushingtidefarbelow, thepeoplecrowdingby.Therewith thetidewentthebusinessmen,thelawyers,thenewspaperpeople,whomadethoughtandensuedit, thesellersandthebuyers.Eachhadhisandherowninterests,hisandherownironsinthefire.Theywantednoneofotherpeople’s;oftentheyresentedotherpeople’s.Yet,lookedatlongenoughahead(oneoftheeditorsinhistritewaymused)allinterestsmustbethesameintheend.Nostate,surely,couldthrive,dividedintofactions,onefactionspoilinganother.Theymustneedshaveacommonaim,findaheterogeneouscityofpeace.SoUnity,gaily flingingdownbarriers, cheerilybestridingwalls,withone footplanted ineachneighbouring and antagonistic garden—Unity, so sympathetic with all causes, so ably written, soversatile,mustsurelysucceed.

Unity really was rather well written, rather interesting. New magazines so often are. The co-operativecontributors,beingcleverpeople,andfresh-minded,usuallyfoundsomenew,unstaledaspectof the topics they touched, and gave them life. The paper, except for a few stories and poems anddrawings, was frankly political and social in trend; it dealt with current questions, not in the leastimpartially(whichissodull),buttakingalternateandverydefinitepointsofview.Someofthesearticleswerebythestaff,othersbyspecialists.Notafraidtoaimhigh,theyendeavouredtoget(inafewcasessucceeded,inmostfailed)articlesbyprominentsupportersandopponentsoftheviewstheyhandled;as,for example, LordHughCecil andDr. Clifford onChurchDisestablishment;Mr.HaroldCox and SirWilliamRobertsonNicholl onReferendums,Dr. Cunningham andMr. Strachey on Tariff Reform;Mr.RogerFryandSirWilliamRichmondonArt;LordRobertCecilandtheSidneyWebbsontheMinimumWage;theDeanofWelchesterandMr.HakluytEgertononPrayerBookRevision;Mr.ConradNoelandMr.VictorGraysononSocialism asSynonymouswithChristianity, anEmployer, aFactoryHand, andMissConstanceSmith,ontheInspectionofFactories;Mrs.FawcettandMissVioletMarkhamonWomenasPoliticalCreatures;Mr.J.M.RobertsonandMonsignorR.H.BensonontheChurchasanAgentforGood; land-owners, farmers, labourers, and Mr. F. E. Greene, on Land Tenure. (The farmers’ andlabourers’ articleswere among the failures, andhad tobe editorially supplied.)Apaper’s reachmustexceeditsgrasp,orwhatareenterprisingeditorsfor?ButUnitydidactuallygraspsomewritersofnote,andsomeofunletteredardour,andsupplied,tofillthegapsinthese,contributorsofacertainoriginalityand vividness of outlook.On thewhole itwas a readable production, as productions go. Therewereseveraladvertisementsonthelastpage;most,ofcourse,wereofbookspublishedbytheDenisons,buttherewerealsoafewbookspublishedbyotherpeople,and,oneproudweek,“DarnNoMore,”“WhyDrop Ink,” and “Dry Clean Your Dog.” “Dry Clean Your Dog” seemed to the editors particularlypromising;dogs, thoughled, indeed,bysomeliterarypeopleabout thebook-shopsof towns,suggest inthe main a wider, more breezy, less bookish class of reader; the advertisement called up a pleasantpictureofUnitybeingperusedinthecountry,perhapsevenasfarawayasWeybridge;lyingonhalltablesalongwith theFieldandCountryLife,while its readersobediently repaired to thekennelswithadryshampoo....Itwasanencouragingpicture.For,thoughanynewjournalcangettakenin(foratime)bythebookiercliquesofcities,whoreadandwritesomuchthattheydonotneedtobeverycareful,ineithercase,whatitis,howfewshallforceadifficultentranceintoourfastidiouscountryhomes.

TheeditorsofUnitycouldnot, indeed,persuadethemselvesthat theyhadalargecirculationinthecountryasyet.Arnoldsaidfromthefirst,“Wenevershallhave.Thatisverycertain.”

Eddysaid,“Why?”Hehopedtheywouldhave.ItwashishopethatUnitywouldcirculateallroundtheEnglish-speakingworld.

“Becausewedon’tstandforanything,”saidArnold,andEddyreturned,“Westandforeverything.WestandforTruth.WeareofUse.”

“Westandforalotoflies,too,”Arnoldpointedout,becausehethoughtitwasliestosaythatTariffReformandReferendums andDemocracieswere good things, and thatEveryone shouldVote, and thatPlaysshouldbeCensored,andthePrayerBookRevised,andlotsofotherthings.Eddy,whoknewthatArnoldknewthatheforhispartthoughtthesethingstrue,didnottroubletosaysoagain.

Arnoldadded,“Not,ofcourse,thatstandingforliesisanycheckoncirculation;quitethecontrary;but it’s dangerous to mix them up with the truth; you confuse people’s minds. The fact that I do notapproveofanyexistingformofgovernmentorconstitutionofsociety,andthatyouapproveofall,makesusharmoniouscollaborators,buthardlygivesus,asaneditorialbody,enoughinsightintothemindoftheaveragepotentialreader,whoasaruleprefers,quitedefinitelyprefers,onepartyoronestateofthingstoanother;has,infact,nopatiencewithanyother,anddoesnotintheleastwishtobetoldhowadmirableitis.Andifhedoes—ifacountrysquire,forinstance,reallydoeswanttohearaeulogyofFreeTrade—(theremaybeafewsuchsquires,possibly,hiddeninthehomecounties;Idoubtit,buttheremay)—well,there is the Spectator ready to his hand. The Spectator, which has the incidental advantage of notdisgusting him on the next pagewith ‘AWord for a FreeDrama,’ or ‘Socialism as SynonymouswithChristianity.’If,ontheotherhand,asmightconceivablyhappen,hedesiredtohearthepraisesofTariffReform—well,therearetheTimesandtheMorningPost,bothorgansthatheknowsandtrusts.Andif,byany wild chance, in an undisciplined mood, he craved for an attack on the censorship, or otherinsubordinatesentiments,hemightfindatanyrateafewtogoonwithin,say,theEnglishReview.Or,ifitisSocialismhewantstohearabout(andIneveryetmettheland-owner,didyou,whohadn’tSocialismonthebrain;it’saclassobsession),thereistheNewStatesman,sobright,thorough,andreliable.Or,ifhewantstolearnthepointofviewandthegrievancesofhistenantfarmersorhisagriculturallabourers,without asking them, he can read books on ‘TheTyranny of theCountryside,’ or take in theVineyard.Anyhow,wheredoesUnitycomein?Idon’tseeit,I’mafraid.Itwouldbedifferentifweweremerelyormainlyliterary,butwe’refranklypolitical.Tobepoliticalwithoutbeingpartisanissavourless,likeaneggwithoutsalt. Itdoesn’tgodown.Liberalsdon’t like,whilereadingapaper, tobehit in theeyebylongarticlesheaded‘ToryismastheonlyBasis.’Unionistsdon’tcaretoopenatapageinscribed‘TheNeedforHomeRule.’Socialistsobjecttobeingconfrontedbyarticleson‘LibertyasanIdeal.’Noonewants to see exploited and held up for admiration the ideals of others antagonistic to their own.Youyourselfwouldn’t readanarticle—not a longarticle, anyhow—called ‘PartyWarfare as the Ideal.’Atleastyoumight,becauseyou’rethatkindoflunatic,butfewwould.Thatiswhyweshallnotsellwell,whenpeoplehavegotoverbuyingusbecausewe’renew.”

Eddymerelysaid,“We’regood.We’reinteresting.LookatthisdrawingofJane’s;andthisthingofLeMoine’s.Theybythemselvesshouldsellus,asmereartandliterature.Therearelotsofpeoplewho’llletushaveanypoliticswelikeifwegivethemthingsasgoodasthatwiththem.”

ButArnoldjeeredattheideaoftherebeingenoughreaderswhocaredforgoodworktomakeapaperpay.“Themajoritycareforbad,unfortunately.”

“Well,anyhow,”saidEddy,“thefactoryarticlesaremakingastiramongemployers.Here’saletterthatcamethismorning.”

Arnoldreadit.“Hethinks it’shisfactorywemeant,apparently.Ratherannoyed,hesounds.‘Doesnotknowifwe

purposeaseriesonthesamesubject’—norifsowhat’sgoingtogetputintoit,Isuppose.Iimaginehe

suspectsoneofhisownhandsofbeingtheauthor.Itwasn’t,though,wasit;itwasajamman.Andverytemperate in tone it was; most unreasonable of any employer to cavil at it. The remarks were quitegeneral, too;mainlytotheeffectthatallfactorieswereunwholesome,andalldaystoolong;statementsthatcanhardlybedisputedevenby theproudestemployer. Iexpecthe’smoreafraidofwhat’scomingthanofwhat’scomealready.”

“Anyhow,”saidEddy,“he’scoming.Inabouttenminutes,too.ShallIseehim,oryou?”“Oh,youcan.Whatdoeshewantoutofus?”“Isupposehewantstoknowwhowrotethearticle,andifwepurposeaseries.Ishalltellhimwedo,

andthatIhopethenextnumberofitwillbeanarticlebyhimontheGrievancesofEmployers.Weneedone,anditoughttosweetenhim.Anyhowitwillshowhimwe’venoprejudiceinthematter.Hecansayallworkersarepamperedandalldaystooshort,ifhelikes.Ishouldthinkthatwouldbehimcomingupnow.”

Itwas not him, but a sturdy and sweet-faced youngmanwith an article on the Irrelevance of theChurchestotheWorld’sMoralNeeds.Theeditors,alwayspositive,nevernegative,alteredthetitletotheCase forSecularism. Itwas tobe setnext to an articlebyaChurchSocialist onChristianity theOnlyRemedy.Thesweet-facedyoungmanobjectedtothis,butwasover-ruled.Inthemiddleofthediscussioncamethefactoryowner,andEddywasleftalonetodealwithhim.AfterthatasmanyofthecontributorsasfounditconvenientmetatlunchattheTown’sEndTavern,astheygenerallydidonFridays,todiscussthenextweek’swork.

ThiswasattheendofJanuary,whenUnityhadbeenrunningfortwomonths.Thefirsttwomonthsofa weekly paper may be significant, but are not conclusive. The third month is more so.Mr.WilfredDenison, who publishedUnity, found the third month conclusive enough for him. He said so. At theTown’sEndona foggyFriday towards the endofFebruary,ArnoldandEddyannouncedat lunch thatUnitywasgoingtostop.Noonewassurprised.Mostofthesepeoplewerejournalists,andusedtothesecatastrophicbirthsanddeaths,soradiantorsosad,andoftensoabrupt.Itisbetterwhentheyareabrupt.Some die a long and lingering death, with many recuperations, artificial galvanisations, desperaterecoveries,andrelapses.Theendisthesameineithercase;betterthatitshouldcomequickly.Itwasanexpectedmoment in this case, even to the day, for the contractwith the contributors had been that thepapershouldrunonitspreliminarytrialtripforthreemonths,andthenconsideritsposition.

Arnold,speakingforthepublishers,announcedtheresultoftheconsideration.“It’snogood.We’vegottostop.We’renotincreasing.Infact,we’redwindling.Nowthatpeople’s

firstinterestinanewthingisover,theydon’tbuyusenoughtopayourway.”“The advertisements arewaning, certainly,” said someone. “They’renearly all books and author’s

agenciesandfountainpensnow.That’sabadsign.”Arnoldagreed.“We’remainlyboughtnowby intellectualsandnon-politicalpeople.Asapolitical

paper, we can’t grow fat on that; there aren’t enough of them....We’ve discussedwhether we shouldchangeouraimandbecomepurelyliterary;butafterall,that’snotwhatwe’reoutfor,andtherearetoomanyofsuchpapersalready.We’reessentiallypoliticalandpractical,and ifwe’re tosucceedas that,we’ve got to be partisan too, there’s no doubt about it. Numbers of people have told us they don’tunderstandourline,andwanttoknowpreciselywhatwe’redrivingatpolitically.Wereplywe’redrivingataunionofparties,athrowingdownofbarriers.Noonecaresforthat;theythinkitsilly,andsodoI.So,probably,domostofus;perhapsallofusexceptOliver.NedJackson, for instance,wasobjecting theotherdaytomyanti-UnionarticleontheDocksstrikeappearingsidebysidewithhisownremarksofanoppositetendency.He,verynaturally,wouldlikeUnitynotmerelytosingthepraiseoftheUnions,buttogive no space to the other side. I quite understand it; I felt the samemyself. I extremely disliked his

article;buttheprinciplesofthepapercompelledustotakeit.Why,myownfatherdislikeshisessaysontheMonisticBasistobebalancedbyProfessorWedgewood’sonDualismasaNecessityofThought.Aphilosophy,accordingtohim,iseithergoodorbad,trueorfalse.So,tomostpeople,areallsystemsofthoughtandprinciplesofconduct.Verynaturally, therefore, theyprefer that thepapers theyreadshouldeschew evil aswell as seeking good.And so, since one can’t (fortunately) read everything, they readthosewhichseemtothemtodoso.Ishouldmyself,ifIcouldfindonewhichseemedtometodoso,onlyIneverhave....Well,Iimaginethat’sthesortofreasonUnity’sfailing;it’stoocomprehensive.”

“It’stoounevenontheliteraryandartisticside,”suggestedacontributor.“Youcan’texpectworking-men,forinstance,whomaybeinterestedinthemorepracticalsideofthepaper,toreaditifit’sliabletobeweightedbyRaymond’sverse,orLeMoine’sessays,orMissDawn’sdrawings.Ontheotherhand,thecleverpeopleareoccasionallyshockedbycomingonverseandprosesuitableforworkingmen.Iexpectit’s that;youcan’trelyonit; it’snotallofapiece,evenonits literaryside, likeTit-Bits, for instance.Peopleliketoknowwhattoexpect.”

CecilLeMoinesaidwearily inhishighsweetvoice,“Consideringhowfewthingsdopay,Ican’timaginewhyanyofyoueverimaginedUnitywouldpay.Isaidfromthefirst...butnoonelistenedtome;theyneverdo. It’snotUnity’s fault; it’s the fault of all theotherpapers.There arehundreds toomanyalready;millionstoomany.Theywantthinning,likedandelionsinagarden,andinstead,likedandelions,theyspreadlikeadisease.Somethingoughttobedoneaboutit.IhateActsofParliament,butthisisreallyacaseforone.ItissurelyMr.McKenna’sbusinesstoseetoit;butIsupposeheiskepttoobusywithallthesevulgardisturbances.Anyhow,wehavedoneourbestnowtostemthetide.Therewillbeonepaperless.Perhapssomeoftheotherswillfollowourexample.PerhapstheRecordwill.Imetawomaninthetrainyesterday(betweenHammersmithandTurnhamGreenitwas),andIpassedhermycopyofUnitytoread.IthoughtshewouldliketoreadmyDramaticCriticism,soitwasfoldedbackatthat,butsheturnedoverthepagestillshecametosomethingabouttheRomanCatholicChurch,bysomeMonsignor;thenshehandeditbacktomeandsaidshealwaystooktheRecord.SheobviouslysupposedUnitytobeaPopishorgan. I hunted through it for someDissenting sentiments, and found an article by aWelshCalvinisticMethodistonDisestablishment,butitwastoolate;shehadgotout.Butthereit is,yousee;shealwaystooktheRecord.Theyallalwaystakesomething.Therearetoomany....Well,anyhow,can’tweallaskeachothertodinneronenight,towindourselvesup?Asortoffuneralfeast.Oroughttheeditorstoasktherestofus?PerhapsIshouldn’thavespoken.”

“Youshouldnot,”Eddysaid.“Weweregoingtointroducethatsubjectlateron.”Thecompany,havingarrangedthedateofthedinner,andofthefinalbusinessmeeting,dispersedand

gotbacktotheirseveraljobs.NoonemindedparticularlyaboutUnity’sdeath,exceptEddy.Theyweresousedtothatsortofthing,intheworldofshiftingfortunesinwhichwritersforpapersmove.

ButEddymindedagooddeal.Forseveralmonthshehadlivedinandforthispaper;hehadloveditextraordinarily.Hehadloveditforitself,andforwhat,tohim,itstoodfor.Ithadbeenhiscontributiontothe cause that seemed to him increasingly of enormous importance; increasingly, as the failure of theworldatlargetoappreciateitflunghimfromfailuretofailure,wrestedopportunitiesonebyoneoutofhis grasp. People wouldn’t realise that they were all one; that, surely, was the root difficulty of thisdistressedworld.Theywouldthinkthatonesetofbeliefsexcludedanother;theywereblind,theywererigid,theyweremad.Sotheywouldn’treadUnity,surelyagoodpaper;soUnitymustperishforlackofbeingwanted,poorlonelywaif.Eddyrebelledagainstthesinkingofthelittleshiphehadlaunchedandloved;itmight,itwould,haditbeengivenachance,havedonegoodwork.Butitschancewasover;hemustfindsomeotherway.

Tocheerhimselfupwhenhelefttheofficeatsixo’clock,hewenteastward,toseesomefriendshehadinStepney.Butitdidnotcheerhimup,fortheyweremiserable,andhecouldnotcomfortthem.He

foundawifealone,waitingforherhusbandandsons,whowerestilloutatthedockswheretheyworked,thoughtheyoughttohavebeenbackanhoursince.Andtheywereblacklegs,andhadrefusedtocomeoutwiththestrikers.Thewifewaswhite,andred-eyed.

“Theywatchforthem,”shewhimpered.“Theylayandwaitforthem,andsetonthem,manytoone,anddoforthem.Therewassomeone’eardaUnionmansayhemeanttodoformymenoneday.Ibeggedmymantocomeout,oranyhowtolettheboys,buthewouldn’t,andhesaystheUnionmenmaygoto’ellfor’im.Iknowwhat’llbetheend.Therewasamandrownedyesterday;theyfound’iminthecanal,’is’andstiedup;’ewouldn’tcomeout,andsotheydidfor’im,thedevils.Andit’sjustseven,andtheystopatsix.”

“They’veverylikelystoppedatthepublicforabitonthewayhome,”Eddysuggestedgently,butsheshookherhead.

“They’venotbinstoppin’anywheresincethestrikebegan.Themaswon’tcomeoutgetnopeaceatthepublic....TheUnion’sacruel thing, that it is,andmymanandladsthatneverdono’urt tonobody,they’lllayandwaitfor’emtilltheycandofor’em....There’sMrs.Japhet,inJubileeStreet;she’slostheryoungman;theyknocked’imdownandkicked’imtodeathon’isway’ometheotherday.Ofcourse’ewasaJew,too,whichmade’immorerightlydislikedasitwere;butitwerebecause’ewouldn’tcomeouttheydidit.AndtherewasMrs.JimTurner;theylaidfor’erandbashed’er’eadinatthecornerofSalmonLane,tospiteTurner.Andthey’resosly,thepolicecan’tlay’andsonthem,scarcelyever....Andit’sgoneseven,andasdarkas’ats.”

Sheopenedthedoorandstoodlisteningandcrying.AttheendofthesqualidstreetthetramsjangledbyalongCommercialRoad,bringingmenandwomenhomefromwork.

“They’llbeallrightiftheycomebytram,”saidEddy.“There’sallupJamaicaStreettowalkaftertheygetout,”shewailed.Eddywentdownthestreetandmetthematthecorner,asmallmanandtwobigboys,slouchingalong

thedarkstreet,FredWebbandhissons,SidandPerce.HehadknownthemwelllastyearatDatcherd’sclub;theywereuncompromisingindividualists,andlibertywastheirwatchword.TheyloathedtheUnionlikepoison.

FredWebbsaidthattherehadbeenabitofarowdownatthedocks,whichhadkeptthem.“TherewasBenTillett speaking, stirring themup all.Theybeganhustling about a bit—butwegot clear.Themissuswantsmetocomeout,butI’mnothavingany.”

“Comeoutwiththatlot!”Sidadded,inaratherunsteadyvoice.“I’dseethemalldamnedfirst.Youwouldn’tsayweoughttocomeout,Mr.Oliver,wouldyou?”

Eddysaid,“Well,notjustnow,ofcourse.Inageneralway,Isupposethere’ssomesenseinit.”“Sense!”growledWebb. “Don’tyougo talking tomyboys like that, sir, if youplease.You’re not

goingtocomeout,Sid,soyouneedn’tthinkaboutit.Goodnight,Mr.Oliver.”Eddy, dismissed,went to see anotherDocks family he knew, and heard how the strikewas being

indefinitelydraggedoutanditssuccessjeopardisedbytheblacklegs,whothoughtonlyforthemselves.“Ihateamannottohavepublicspirit.Themeanskunks.They’dletalltherestgotothedeviljustto

gettheirownfewshillingsregularthroughthebadtimes.”“They’ve a right to judge for themselves, I suppose,” said Eddy, and added a question as to the

powersofthedecentmentopreventintimidationandviolence.Themanlookedathimaskance.“Ain’tno’timidationorviolence,asIknowof.‘Coursetheysayso;they’llsayanything.Whenevera

mangetsdamagedinaprivatequarreltheyblameitontheUnionchapsnow.It’stheiropportunity.Pack

o’liars,theyare.‘Courseamanmaygethurtinarowsometimes;youcan’thelprows;butthat’ssixofoneand ’alfadozenof theother,and it’susually theblacklegsasbegin it.Weonlypicket them,quitepeaceful....Judgeforthemselves,didyousay?No,dangthem;that’sjustwhatnoman’sarighttodo.It’sselfish;that’swhatitis....I’venopatiencewiththese’ereindividualists.”

DiscoveringthatEddyhad,heshutupsullenlyandsuspiciously,andceasedtoregardhimasafriend,soEddylefthim.Onthewhole,ithadnotbeenacheeryevening.

HetoldArnoldaboutitwhenhegothome.“There’ssuchafrightfullottobesaidonbothsides,”headded.Arnoldsaid,“Therecertainlyis.Afrightfullot.IfonegoesdowntotheDocksanydayonemayhear

agooddealofitbeingsaid;onlythat’snearlyallononeside,andthewrongside....IloathetheUnionsand theirwhole system; it’s revolting, thewhole theory of the thing, quite apart from the bullying andcoercion.”

“Ishouldrather like,”saidEddy,“togodownto theDocks to-morrowandhear themenspeaking.Willyoucome?”

“Well,Ican’tanswerformyself;Imaymurdersomeone;butI’llcomeifyou’lltaketheriskofthat.”Eddyhadn’tknownbeforethatArnold,thecynicalandnegligent,feltsostronglyaboutanything.He

wasratherinterested.“You’vegottohaveUnions,surelyyou’dadmitthat,”heargued.Thisbeganadiscussiontoofamiliar

inoutlinetoberetailed;thereasonsforUnionsandagainstthemarebothexceedinglyobvious,andmaybeimaginedasgiven.Itlastedthemtilllateatnight.

TheywentdowntotheDocksnextday,aboutsixo’clockintheevening.

CHAPTERXV.

ARNOLD.

THEREwasacrowdoutsidetheDocksgates.Some,undertheeyesofvigilantpolicemen,werepicketingthegroupsofworkmenas theycamesullenly,nervously,defiantly,or indifferentlyout from theDocks.Otherswerelisteningtoayoungmanspeakingfromacart.ArnoldandEddystoppedtolisten,too.Itwaspoor stuff; not at all interesting. But it was adapted to its object and its audience, and punctuated byvehementapplause.Atthecheering,Arnoldlookeddisgustedlyontheground;nodoubthewasashamedofthehumanrace.ButEddythought,“Theman’safool,buthe’sgotholdofsomethingsound.Theman’sastupidman,buthe’sgotbrainsonhis side, and strength, andorganisation; all the forces thatmake forcivilisation.They’re crude, they’rebrutal, they’re revolting, thesepeople, but theydo lookahead, andthat’scivilisation.”TheTory-Socialistsideofhimthusappreciated,whiletheLiberal-Individualistsideapplauded the blacklegs coming up from work. The human side applauded them, too; they were fewamongmany,pluckymensurroundedbymurderousbullies,whowouldaslikelyasnottracksomeofthemhomeandbashtheirheadsinontheirowndoorsteps,andperhapstheirwives’headstoo.

Eddy caught sight of FredWebb and his two sons walking in a group, surrounded by picketters.Suddenlythescenebecameanightmaretohim,impossiblydreadful.Somehowheknewthatpeopleweregoing tohurtandbehurtverysoon.He lookedat the fewpolice,andwonderedat thehelplessnessorindifference of the law, that lets such things be, that is powerless to guard citizens from assault andmurder.

HeheardArnoldgiveashortlaughathisside,andrecalledhisattentiontowhatthemanonthecartwassaying.

“Thepoorlunaticcan’tevenmakesenseandlogicoutofhisowncase,”Arnoldremarked.“Icoulddoitbettermyself.”

Eddylistened.Itwasindeedpatheticallystupid,pointless,sentimental.Afteranotherminuteofit,Arnoldsaid,“Sincethey’resoreadytolisten,whyshouldn’ttheylistento

meforachange?”andscrambledupontoacartfullofbarrelsandstoodforamomentlookinground.Thespeakerwentonspeaking,butsomeonecried,“Here’sanotherchapwithsomethingtosay.Let’imsayit,mate;goon,youngfeller.”

Arnold did go on.He had certainly got something to say, and he said it. For aminute or two thecaustic quality of his utteranceswasmissed; then it was slowly apprehended. Someone groaned, andsomeoneelseshouted,“Chuckit.Pullhimdown.”

Arnoldhadaknackofbitinganddisagreeablespeech,andhewasusingit.Hewascommentingontheweakpoints in theotherman’sspeech.But ifhehadthought topersuadeany,hewasdisillusioned.Likeanaudienceofold,theycriedoutwithaloudvoice,metaphoricallystoppedtheirears,andranathimwith one accord. Someone threw a brick at him. The nextmoment hands dragged him down andhustledhimaway.AvoiceEddyrecognisedasWebb’scried,“Fairplay;let’imspeak,can’tyou.’Ewastalkingsense,whichismorethanmostheredo.”

Thescufflingandhustlingbecameexcitedandviolent.Itwasbecomingafreefight.Blacklegsweresurroundedthreateninglybystrikers;thepolicedrewnearer.Eddypushedthroughshoving,angrymentogettoArnold.TheyrecognisedhimasArnold’scompanion,andhustledhimabout.Arnoldwasusinghisfists. Eddy saw him hit a man on the mouth. Someone kicked Eddy on the shin. He shot out his fistmechanically,andhitthemanintheface,andthought,“Imusthavehurthimalot,whatalotofrighthe’sgotonhisside,”beforetheblowwasreturned,cuttinghislipopen.

HesawArnolddisappear,bornedownbyanangrygroup;hepushedtowardshim, jostlingthroughthemen in hisway,whowere confusedly giving now before themounted police.He could not reachArnold; he lost sight of where he was; he was carried back by the swaying crowd. He heard awhimpering boy’s voice behind him, “Mr.Oliver, sir,” and looked round into youngSidWebb’s sick,frightenedface.

“They’vedowneddad....AndIthinkthey’vedoneforhim....Theykickedhimonthehead....They’reaftermenow——”

Eddysaid,“Sticknearme,”and thenextmomentSidgaveanangrysqueal,becausesomeonewastwistinghisarmback.Eddyturnedroundandhitamanunderthechin,sendinghimstaggeringbackunderthefeetofaplunginghorse.Thesightofthetramplinghoofssoneartheman’sheadturnedEddysick;hesworeandcaughtat the rein,anddragged thehorsesharplysideways.Thepolicemanriding itbroughtdownhistruncheonviolentlyonhisarm,whichdroppednervelessandheavyathisside.Handscaughtathiskneesfrombelow;hewasdraggedsuddenlytotheground,andsaw,lookingup,thebleedingfaceofthemanhehadknockeddownclosetohisown.Thenextmomentthemanwasup,tramplinghim,pushingoutofthewayoftheplunginghorse.Eddystruggledtohisknees,triedtogetup,andcouldnot.Hewasbeatendownbyawrithingforestoflegsandheavyboots.Hegaveitup,andfelloveronhissideintotheslimy, troddenmud.Everythinghurt desperately—otherpeople’s feet, his ownarm,his face, his body.Theforestsmeltofmudandhumanclothes,andsuddenlybecamequitedark.

Someonewas liftinghishead, and trying tomakehimdrinkbrandy.Heopenedhis eyes and said,moving his cut lips stiffly and painfully, “Their principles are right, but their methods are rotten.”Someoneelsesaid,“He’scominground,”andhecame.

Hecouldbreatheandseenow,fortheforesthadgone.Therewerepeoplestill,andgas-lamps,andstars, but all remote. There were policemen, and he remembered how they had hurt him. It seemed,indeed,thateveryonehadhurthim.Alltheirprincipleswerenodoubtright;butall theirmethodswerecertainlyrotten.

“I’mgoingtogetup,”hesaid,andlaystill.“Wheredoyoulive?”askedsomeone.“Perhapshe’dbetterbetakentohospital.”Eddysaid, “Oh,no. I live somewhereall right.Besides, I’mnothurt,”buthecouldnot talkwell,

because hismouthwas so swollen. In anothermoment he rememberedwhere he did live. “22A,OldComptonStreet,ofcourse.”ThatremindedhimofArnold.Thingswerecomingbacktohim.

“Where’smyfriend?”hemumbled.“Hewasknockeddown,too.”Theysaid,“Don’tyouworryabouthim;he’llbelookedafterallright,”andEddysatupandsaid,“I

supposeyoumeanhe’sdead,”quietly,andwithconviction.Sincethatwaswhattheydidmean,theyhushedhimandtoldhimnottoworry,andhelaybackinthe

mudandwasquiet.

CHAPTERXVI.

EILEEN.

EDDYlayforsomedaysinbed,batteredandbruised,andslightlybroken.Hewasnotseriouslydamaged;notirreparablylikeArnold;Arnold,whowasbeyondpiecingtogether.

Throughthequeer,dim,saddaysandnights,Eddy’sweakenedthoughtswereofArnold;Arnoldthecynical, the sceptical, the supercilious, the scornful;Arnold,whohadbelieved innothing, andhadyetbeenmurderedforbelievinginsomething,andsayingso.Arnoldhadhateddemocratictyranny,andhishatredhadgivenhiswordsandhisblowsa force thathad recoiledonhimself andkilledhim.Eddy’sblowsonthatchaotic,surprisingeveninghadlackedthisenergy;hisownconsciousnessofhatingnothinghadunnervedhim;sohehadn’tdied.Hehadmerelybeenbuffetedaboutandknockedoutofthewaylikesomuchrubbishbybothcombatantsidesinturn.Heborethescarsofthestrikers’fistsandboots,andofthe heavy truncheon of the law. Both sides had struck him as an enemy, because he was not whole-heartedlyforthem.Itwas,surely,anironicalepitome,abriefsumming-upintermsofblows,ofthestoryofhislife.Whatchaos,whatconfusion,whatunheroicshipwreckofplansandworkandcareerdoggedthosewhofoughtundermanycolours!Onediedforbelievinginsomething;onedidn’tdieforbelievingineverything;onelivedonincoherently,fromhandtomouth,despisedofall,acceptedofnone,fruitfulofnothing.For these theworldhasnouse; thepiteous, travailingworld thatneedsall thehelpers,all theworkers it can get.The dim shadowsof his room through the long, strange nights seemed to bewallspressing round, pressing in closer and closer, pushed by the insistent weight of the unredressed evilwithout.Herehesawhimselflying,shutbytheshadowwallsintoalittlesecludedplace,allowedtodonothing,becausehewasnouse.Theevilwithouthauntedhisnightmares;itmusthavebittenmoredeeplyintohisactivewakingmomentsthanhehadknown.Itseemedhideoustolieanddonothing.Andwhenhewantedtogetupatonceandgooutanddosomethingtohelp,theywouldnotlethim.Hewasnouse.Heneverwouldbeanyuse.

Moreandmoreitseemedtohimclearthattheonewaytobeofuseinthisoddworld—oftheoddityoftheworldhewasbecomingincreasinglyconvinced,comparingitwiththemanyworldshecouldmoreeasilyhaveimagined—theoneway,itseemed,tobeofusewastotakeadefinitelineandsticktoitandrejectallothers;tobesingle-mindedandardent,andexclusive;tobe,inbrief,apartisan,ifnecessaryabigot.Inprocessiontheremovedbeforehimthefine,strong,ardentpeoplehehadknown,whohadspentthemselvesforanidea,andforitsinherentnegations,andhesawthemallasmartyrs;Eileen,livingonbroken and dead because so utter had been her caring for one person that no one elsewas any good;Molly,cuttingtwolivesapartforadifferenceofprinciple;BillyRaymond,JaneDawn,allthecompanyof craftsmen and artists, fining words and lines to their utmost, fastidiously rejecting, laying downinsuperablebarriersbetweengoodandbad, so thatnever the twainshouldmeet;priestsandallmoralreformers,workingagainstoddsforthesesamebarriersinadifferentsphere;allworkers,allartists,allhealersofevil,allmakersofgood;evenDaphneandNevill,partedforprinciplesthatcouldnotjoin;andArnold,deadforacause.Onlytheaimlessdrifters,theineptitudes,contenttoslopethroughtheworldonthoughts,wereleftoutsidetheworkshopunused.

Inthesedarkhoursofself-disgust,Eddyhalfthoughtofbecominganovelist,thatlastresourceofthespirituallydestitute.Fornovelsarenot life, that immeasurably important thing thathas tobesosternlyapproached;innovelsonemaytakeasmanypointsofviewasonelikes,allatthesametime;insteadofworking for life, onemay sit and survey it from all angles simultaneously. It is onlywhen one startswalkingonaroadthatonefindsitexcludestheotherroads.Yes;probablyhewouldendanovelist.An

ignoble,perhapsevenafatuouscareer;but it is,afterall,onewaythroughthisqueer,shiftingchaosofunanswerableriddles.Whensolutionsareprovedunattainable,somespendthemselvesandtheirallonarough-and-readyshotattruth,ondoingwhattheycanwiththelittletheyknow;othersgiveitupandtalkaboutit.Itwasasarefugeforsuchasthesethatthenovelist’stradewaspresentedtoman,wewillnotspeculatefromwhenceorbywhom....

Breakingintothesedarkreflectionscamefriendstoseehim,droppinginonebyone.ThefirstwasProfessorDenison,themorningaftertheaccident.AtelegramhadbroughthimupfromCambridge,latelastnight.Seeinghisgrey,strickenface,Eddyfeltmiserablydisloyal, tohavecomeoutof italive.Dr.Denisonpattedhimontheshoulderandsaid,“Poorboy,poorboy.Itishardforyou,”anditwasEddywhohadtearsinhiseyes.

“Itookhimthere,”hemuttered;butDr.Denisontooknonoticeofthat.Eddy saidnext, “He spoke so splendidly,” then remembered thatArnoldhad spokenon thewrong

side,andthatthat,too,mustbebittertohisfather.ProfessorDenisonmadeaqueer,hopeless,deprecatorygesturewithhishands.“Hewasmurderedbyacruelsystem,”hesaid, inhisremote, tonelessvoice.“Don’t thinkIblame

thoseignorantmenwhodidhimtodeath.Whatkilledhimwasthesystemthatmadethosemenwhattheyare—the cruel oppression, the economic grinding—what can you expect....” He broke off, and turnedhelplesslyaway,rememberingonlythathehadlosthisson.

EverydayaslongashestayedinLondonhecameintoEddy’sroomaftervisitingArnold’s,andsatwithhim,infinitelygentle,silent,andsad.

Mrs.Oliversaid,“Poorman,one’stoodreadfullysorryforhimtosuggestit,butit’snotthebestthingforyoutohavehim,dear.”

TheothervisitorswhocamewereprobablybetterforEddy,butMrs.Oliverthoughthehadtoomany.Allhisfriendsseemedtocomeallday.

AndonceEileenLeMoinecame,and thatwasnotas itshouldbe.Mrs.Oliver,whenthemessagewassentup,turnedtoEddydoubtfully;buthesaidatonce,“Askherifshe’llcomeup,”andshehadtobearit.

Mrs.LeMoinecamein.Mrs.Oliverslightlytouchedherhand.Foramomentherlookhungstartledon the changed,dimmedbrilliance she scarcely recognised.Mrs.LeMoine,whateverher sins, had, itseemed,beenthroughdesperatetimessincetheyhadpartedatWelchesterfourteenmonthsago.Therewasan absent look about her, as if she scarcely took in Eddy’s mother. But for Eddy himself, stretchedshatteredonthecouchbythefire,herlookwaspitifulandsoft.

Mrs.Oliver’s eyeswavered from her to Eddy.Being a lady of kind habits, she usually left Eddyalone with his friends for a little. In this instance she was doubtful; but Eddy’s eyes, unconsciouslywistful, decided her, and she yielded.After all, a three-cornered interviewbetween themwould havebeenapainfulabsurdity.IfEddymusthavesuchfriends,hemusthavethemtohimself....

When theywerealone,Eileensatdownbyhim,stilla littleabsentand thoughtful, though,bendingcompassionate eyes on him, she said softly, of him and Arnold, “You poor boys....” Then she wasbroodinglysilent,andseemedtobecastingabouthowtobegin.

Suddenlyshepulledherselftogether.“We’venotmuchtime,havewe?Imustbequick.I’vesomethingIwanttosaytoyou,Eddy....Doyou

knowMrs.Crawfordcametoseemetheotherday?”Eddyshookhishead,languidly,movedonlywithafaintsurpriseatMrs.Crawford’sunexpectedness.Eileenwenton,“Ijustwonderedhadshetoldyou.ButIthoughtperhapsnot....Ilikeher,Eddy.She

wasnicetome.Idon’tknowwhy,becauseIsupposed—butnevermind.Whatshecameforwastotellmesomethings.ThingsIthinkIoughttohaveguessedformyself.IthinkI’vebeenverystupidandveryselfish,andIcomplainingtoyouaboutmytroublesallthislongwhile,andneverthinkinghowitmightbedoingyouharm.IoughttohaveknownwhyMollybrokeyourengagement.”

“Therewereanumberofreasons,”saidEddy.“Shethoughtwedidn’tagreeaboutthingsandcouldn’tpulltogether.”

Eileenshookherhead.“Shemayhave.ButIthinktherewasonlyonereasonthatmatteredverymuch.Shedidn’tapproveofme,anddidn’t like it thatyouweremyfriend.Andshewassurelyright.Amanshouldn’t have friends hiswife can’t be friendswith too; it spoils it all.Andof course sheknew shecouldn’tbefriendswithme;shethinksmebad.Mollywouldfinditimpossibleevenifitwasn’twrong,tobefriendswithabadperson.Soofcourseshehadtheengagementended;therewasnootherway....Andyounevertoldmeitwasthat....Youshouldhavetoldme,youfoolishboy.Instead,youwentonseeingmeandbeinggoodtome,andlettingmetalkaboutmyownthings,and—andbeingjusttheonecomfortIhad,(foryouhavebeenthat;it’sthewayyouunderstandthings,Isuppose)—andIallthetimespoilingyourlife.WhenMrs.CrawfordtoldmehowitwasIwasangrywithyou.Youhadarighttohavetoldme.AndnowI’vecometotellyousomething.You’retogotoMollyandmendwhat’sbroken,andtellheryouandIaren’tgoing tobe friendsanymore.Thatwillbe theplain truth.Wearenot.Not friends tomatter, Imean.Wewon’tbeseeingeachotheraloneandmeetingthewaywe’vebeendoing.Ifwemeetitwillbebychance,andwithotherpeople;thatwon’thurt.”

Eddy, red-faced and indignant, said weakly, “It will hurt. It will hurt me. Haven’t I lost enoughfriends,then,thatImustloseyou,too?”

Aqueerlittlesmiletouchedherlips.“Youhavenot.Notenoughfriendsyet.Eddy,what’sthebestthingofallinthisworldofgoodthings?

Don’tyouandIbothknowit?Isn’titlove,noless?Andisn’tlovegoodenoughtopayapricefor?Andifthe pricemust be paid in coin you value—in friendship, and in some other good things—still, isn’t itworthit?Ah,youknow,andIknow,thatitis!”

Thefirelight,flickeringacrossherwhiteface,lititswiftlytopassion.She,whohadpaidsoheavyapriceherself,wassayingwhatsheknew.

“Soyou’llpayit,Eddy.You’llpayit.You’llhavetopaymorethanyouknow,beforeyou’vedonewithlove.Iwonderwillyouhavetopayyourverysoulaway?Manypeoplehavetodothat;payawaytheirowninmostselves,thethingsinthemtheycareformost,theirsecretdreams.‘Ihavelaidmydreamsunderyourfeet.Treadsoftly,becauseyoutreadonmydreams.’...It’slikethatsooften;andthenshe—orhe—doesn’t always tread softly; theymay tread heavily, theway the dreams break and die. Still, it’sworthit....”

Shefell intosilence,broodingwithbentheadand lockedhands.Thensherousedherself,andsaidcheerfully,“Youmaysayjustwhatyoulike,Eddy,butI’mnotgoingtospoilyourlifeanymore.That’sgoneontoolongalready.Ifitwasonlybywayofsayingthankyou,Iwouldstopitnow.Foryou’vebeenalotofusetome,youknow.Idon’tthinkIcouldeasilytellyouhowmuch.I’mnotgoingtotry;onlyIamgoing to dowhat I can to help youpatchupyour affairs that you’vemuddled so.So you go toMollydirectlyyougethome,andmakehermarryyou.Andyou’llpaythepricesheasks,andyou’llgoon,bothofyou,payingitandpayingit,moreandmoreofit,aslongasyoubothlive.”

“Shewon’t haveme,” said Eddy. “No onewould haveme, I should think.Why should they? I’mnothing. Everyone else is something; but I’m nothing. I can do nothing, and be nothing. I am a meremuddle.WhyshouldMolly,whoisstraightandsimpleanddirect,marryamuddle?”

“Because,” saidEileen, “she cares for it.And she’ll probably straighten it out a bit; that’swhat I

mean,partly,bytheprice...you’llhavetobecomestraightandsimpleanddirecttoo,Iwouldn’twonder,intheend.YoumaydieaTorycountrygentleman,noless,saying,‘TohellwiththeseSocialistthieves’—no,that’sthehorridlanguageweuseinIrelandaloneisn’tit,butIwouldn’twonderiftheEnglishsquiresmeantthesame.Oryoumightbecomeequallysimpleanddirectinanotherdirection,andsay,‘Downwiththelandedtyrants,’onlyMollywouldn’tlikethatsowell.Butit’llbeawonderifyoudon’t,onceyou’remarried toMolly,have to throwoverboarda fewcreeds,aswellasa fewpeople.Anyhow, that’snotyourbusinessnow.Whatyou’vegottodonowistogetyourhealthagainandgodowntoWelchesterandtalktoMollythewayshe’llseereason....AndnowImustgo.Yourmotherdoesn’tcareformetobehere,butIhadtocomethisonce;it’sneveragain,youcantellherthat.”

Eddy sat up and frowned. “Don’t goon like that,Eileen. I’ve not the least intentionof havingmyfriendships broken forme like this. IfMolly evermarriesme—only shewon’t—itwill be to takemyfriends;thatiscertain.”

Sheshookherheadandsmileddownonhimassherose.“You’llhavetoletyourfriendssettlewhethertheywanttobetakenornot,Eddy....Dear,kind,absurd

boy,that’sbeensogoodtome,I’mgoingnow.Goodbye,andgetwell.”Herfingerslightlytouchedhisforehead,andshelefthim;lefthimaloneinaworldbecomepoorand

thinandordinary,shornofsomebeauty,ofcertaindreamsandlaughterandsurprises.Intoitcamehismother.“IsMrs.LeMoinegone,then,dear?”“Yes,”hesaid.“Sheisgone.”Soflatlyhespoke,soapathetically,thatshelookedathiminanxiety.“Shehastiredyou.Youhavebeentalkingtoomuch.Really,thismustn’thappenagain....”Hemovedrestlesslyoverontohisside.“Itwon’thappenagain,mother.Neveragain.”

CHAPTERXVII.

CONVERSION.

ONMidsummerEve,whichwasthedaybeforehismarriage,EddyhadanumberofhisfriendstodinnerattheMoulind’Or.Ithadamusedhimtoaskagreatmany,andtoselectthemfrommanydifferentquartersandsets,andtowatchhowtheyallgotontogether.Formanyofthemwerenotinthehabitofmeetingoneanother.TheVicarofSt.Gregory’s,forinstance,didnot,inthenormalcourseofhisdays,asarulecomeacrossBillyRaymond,orCecilLeMoine,withwhomhewasconversingcourteouslyacrossthetable;BobTraherne,hiscurate,seldomchattedaffablywithConservativeyoungmembersofParliamentsuchasNevillBellairs;Mrs.CrawfordhadlongsinceirrevocablydecidedagainstsocialintercoursewithEileenLeMoine, towhomshewas talking this eveningas if shewas ratherpleased tohave theopportunity;BridgetHoganwaswonttoavoidmilitantdesirersofvotes,butto-nightshewasgarrulouslyholdingforthtoa ladynovelistof thesehabitswhoresided inagardencity;Eddy’s friend, theyoungIrishUnionist,wasconfrontedandprobablyoutragedbyBlakeConnolly,Eileen’s father, theNationalist editorof theHibernian,avehement-tongued,hot-tempered,ratherwittyperson,withdeepblueeyeslikeEileen’s,andaflexible,persuasivevoice.AtthesametablewithBobTraherneandJaneDawnwasabeautifulyoungmaninasoftfrillyshirt,anevangelicalyoungmanwhoatCambridgehadbelongedtotheC.I.C.C.U.,andhad preached in theMarket Place. If he had known enough about them, he would have thought JaneDawn’s attitude towards religion and life a pity, and Bob Traherne’s a bad mistake. But on thisharmonious occasion they allmet as friends. Even James Peters, sturdy and truthful, forbore to showCecilLeMoinethathedidnotlikehim.EvenHillier,thoughitwaspainandgrieftohim,keptsilencefromgoodwords,anddidnotdenounceEileenLeMoine.

AndEddy,lookingroundtheroomatallofthem,thoughthowwelltheyallgotonforoneevening,becausetheywerewantingto,andbecauseoneeveningdidnotmatter,andhowtheywouldnot,manyofthem,getonatall,andwouldnotevenwantto,iftheywereputtoalongertest.Andonceagain,atthis,thathetoldhimselfwasnotthelast,gatheringoftheheterogeneouscrowdofhisfriendstogether,hesawhowrighttheyallwere,intheirdifferentwaysandyetatodds.Herememberedhowsomeonehadsaid,“The interesting quarrels of the world are never between truth and falsehood, but between differenttruths.”Ah,butmusttherebequarrels?Moreandmoreclearlyhehadcometoseelatelythattheremust;thatthroughthefightingofextremessomethingisbeatenout....

Someone thumped the table for silence,andBillyRaymondwasonhis feet,proposing theirhost’shealth and happiness. Billy was rather a charming speaker, in his unselfconscious, unfluent, amused,quietly allusive way, that was rather talk than speechifying. After him came Nevill Bellairs, Eddy’sbrother-in-law to be, who said the right things in his pleasant, cordial, well-bred, young member’smanner.ThentheydrankEddy’shealth,andafterthatEddygotontohisfeettoreturnthanks.Butallhesaidwas “Thanks verymuch. It was very nice of all of you to come. I hope you’ve all enjoyed thiseveningasmuchasIhave,andIhopeweshallhavemanymorelikeitinfuture,after....”Whenhepausedsomeonebroke inwith “He’s a jolly good fellow,” and they shouted it till the passers by in theSohostreetstookitupandsangandwhistledinchorus.Thatwastheanswertheyunanimouslygavetothehopehehadexpressed. Itwasananswersocheerfulandsofriendly that itcovered thefact thatnoonehadechoed thehope,orevenadmitted itasapossibility.Afterall, itwasanabsurd thing tohope, foronedinner-partyneverisexactlylikeanother;howshoulditbe,withsomuchoflifeanddeathbetween?

Whenthesingingandthecheeringandthetoastingwasover,theyallsatonandtalkedandsmokedtilllate. Eddy talked too. And under his talking his perceptions were keenly working. The vivid, alive

personalitiesofallthesepeople,thesewidelydifferingmenandwomen,boysandgirls,strucksharplyonhis consciousness. There were vast differences between them, yet in nearly all was a certain fine,vigorouseffectiveness, apowerofachieving,getting somethingdone.Theyallhad theirweapons,andusedtheminthebattlesoftheworld.Theyall,artistsandphilosophers,journalistsandpoliticians,poetsandpriests,workersamong thepoor,playersamong the rich,knewwhat theywouldbeat,where theythoughttheyweregoingandhow,andwhattheywereupagainst.Theymadetheirchoices;theyselected,preferred, rejected ...hated....Thesharp,hardwordbroughthimup.Thatwas it; theyhated.Theyall,probably,hatedsomethingorother.Eventhetolerant,large-mindedBilly,eventhegentleJane,hatedwhatthey considered bad literature, bad art. They not only sought good, but eschewed evil; if they had notrealisedthebad,theword“good”wouldhavebeenmeaninglesstothem.

Witheveryoneintheroomitwasthesame.BlakeConnollyhatedtheUnion—thatwaswhyhecouldbetheforceforNationalismthathewas;JohnMacleod,theUlsterman,hatedNationalistsandPapists—thatwaswhyhespokesowellonplatformsfortheUnion;BobTrahernehatedcapitalism—thatwaswhyhe could fight so effectively for the economic betterment that he believed in; Nevill Bellairs hatedLiberalism—thatwaswhyhegotinatelections;thevicarofSt.Gregory’shateddisregardofmorallaws—that was why he was a potent force for their observance among his parishioners; Hillier hatedagnosticism—thatwaswhyhecould tellhispeoplewithout flinching that theywouldgo tohell if theydidn’tbelongtotheChurch;(healso,Eddyremembered,hatedsomewritersofplays—andthat,nodoubt,waswhyhelookedatCecilLeMoineashedid;)CecilLeMoinehatedthecommonplaceandthestupid—thatwaswhyheneverlapsedintoeitherinhisplays;Mrs.Crawfordhatederrorsofbreeding(suchasdiscordantclothes,elopements,incendiarism,andothervulgarviolence)—thatwaswhyherhousewassoselect; Bridget Hogan hated being bored—that was why she succeeded in finding life consistentlyamusing;JamesPetershatedmenofhisownclasswithoutcollars,menofanyclasswithoutbackbones,aswellas lies,unwholesomeness,andallmorbid rot—thatwasprobablywhyhis short,unsubtle,boyishsermonshad a force, a driving-power, thatmade them tell, andwhy themen andboysheworked andplayedwithlovedhim.

AndArnold,whowasnottherebutoughttohavebeen,hadhatedmanythings,andthatwaswhyhewasn’tthere.

Yes,theyallhatedsomething;theyallrejected;allrecognisedwithoutshirkingtheimpliednegationsinwhattheyloved.Thatwashowandwhytheygotthingsdone,thesevivid,livingpeople.Thatwashowandwhyanyoneevergotanythingdone,inthisperplexing,unfinished,rough-hewnworld,withsomuchtodo to it, and for it. An imperfect world, of course; if it were not, hate and rejections would not benecessary;aroughandready,stupidmuddleofaworld,anincoherent,astonishingchaosofcontradictions—but,afterall,theworldonehastoliveinandworkinandfightin,usingtheweaponsreadytohand.Ifonedoesnotusethem,ifonerejectsthemastooblunt,tooroughandready,tooinaccurate,forone’sfinesenseoftruth,oneisleftweaponless,anon-combatant,auselessdrifterfromcompanytocompany,castoutofallinturn....Betterthanthat,surely,isanyabsurdityofpartyandcreed,dogmaandsystem.Afterall,whenallissaidintheirdespite,itisthesethatdothework.

SuchwereEddy’sbrokenanddetachedreflectionsinthecourseofthischeerfulevening.Thevariouspiecesofcounselofferedhimbyotherswereto thesameeffect.BlakeConnolly,who,meetinghimto-night for the first time, had taken a strong fancy to him, said confidentially and regretfully, “I hear thebride’saTory;that’sapity,now.Don’tletherhaveyoucorrupted.You’vesomefineLiberalsentiments;Iusedtoreadtheminthatqueerpaperofyours.”(HeignoredthefineUnionistsentimentshehadalsoreadinthequeerpaper.)“Don’tletthemruntowaste.Youshouldgoonwriting;you’veagift.Goonwritingfortherightthings,stickingupfortherightside.Bepractical;getsomethingdone.Astheyusedtosayintheolddays:

‘TakeabusinesstourthroughMunster,Shootalandlord;beofuse.’”

“Iwilltry,”saidEddy,modestly.“ThoughIdon’tknowthatthatisexactlyinmylineatpresent...I’mnotsurewhatI’mgoingtodo,butIwanttogetsomenewspaperwork.”

“That’sright.Write,thewayyou’llhavepublicintereststirredupintherightthings.Iknowyou’reofgooddispositionsfromwhatEily’stoldmeofyou.AndwhyyouwanttogomarryingaTorypassesme.Butifyoumustyoumust,andIwouldn’tfortheworldhaveyouupsetaboutitnowattheeleventhhour.”

ThencameTraherne,wantinghimtohelpinaboys’campinSeptemberandundertakeanightaweekwithclubsinthewinter;andtheelegantC.I.C.C.U.youngmanwantedhimtopromisehisassistancetoaPrayer-and-Total-Abstinence mission in November; and Nevill Bellairs wanted to introduce him to-morrowmorningbeforetheweddingtotheeditoroftheConservative,whohadvacanciesonhisstaff.Toallthesepeoplewhoofferedhimfieldsforhisenergieshegave,notthereadyacceptancehewouldhavegivenofold,butindefiniteanswers.

“Ican’t tellyouyet. Idon’tknow.I’mgoing to thinkabout it.”For thoughhestillknewthatallofthemwereright,heknewalsothathewasgoingtomakeachoice,aseriesofchoices,andhedidn’tknowyetwhatineachcasehewouldchoose.

Thepartybrokeupatmidnight.Whentheresthaddispersed,EddywenthomewithBillytoChelsea.He had given up the rooms he had shared with Arnold in Soho, and was staying with Billy till hismarriage.TheywalkedtoChelseabywayoftheEmbankment.BythetimetheygottoBatterseaBridge(Billy livedat theriverendofBeaufortStreet) thebeginningsof thedawnwerepaling theriver.Theystoodforalittleandwatchedit;watchedLondonsprawlingeastandwestinmurmuringsleep,vastandgolden-eyed.

“Onemust,”speculatedEddyaloud,afteralongsilence,“becontent,then,toshutone’seyestoallofit—toallofeverything—exceptonelittlepiece.Onehasgottobedeafandblind—abigot,seeingonlyonethingatonce.That,itseems,istheonlywaytogettoworkinthisextraordinaryworld.One’sgottoturnone’sbackonnearly all truth.One leaves it, I suppose, to thephilosophers andartists andpoets.Truthisforthem.Truth,Billy,isperhapsforyou.Butit’snotforthecommonpersonlikeme.Forusitisachoicebetweentruthandlife;they’renotcompatible.Well,one’sgottolive;thatseemscertain....Whatdoyouthink?”

“I’m not aware,” said Billy, drowsily watching the grey dream-city, “of the incompatibility youmention.”

“Ididn’tsupposeyouwere,”saidEddy.“Yourbusinessistoseeandrecord.Youcanlookatalllifeatonce—allofityoucanmanage,thatis.Myjobisn’ttoseeortalk,but(Iamtold)to‘takeabusinesstourthroughMunster,shootalandlord,beofuse.’...Well,Isupposetruthcanlookafteritselfwithoutmyhelp;that’sonecomfort.Thesynthesisisthereallright,evenifweallsayitisn’t....Afterto-nightIamgoingtotalk,notofTruthbutoftheTruth;myownparticularbrandofit.”

Billylookedsceptical.“Andwhichisyourownparticularbrand?”“I’mnot sureyet.But I’mgoing to findoutbeforemorning. Imustknowbefore to-morrow.Molly

musthaveabigottomarry.”“I take it yourmarriage is upsetting yourmental balance,” saidBilly tranquilly,with the common

senseofthepoet.“You’dbettergotobed.”Eddylaughed.“Upsettingmybalance!Well,itreasonablymight.Whatshould,ifnotmarriage?After

all,ithasitsimportance.Comein,Billy,andwhileyousleepIwilldecideonmyfutureopinions.Itwillbemuchmoreexcitingthanchoosinganewsuitofclothes,becauseI’mgoingtowearthemforalways.”

BillymurmuredsomepoetryastheyturnedupBeaufortStreet.

“Thebrute,untroubledbygiftsofsoul,Seeslifesingleandseesitwhole.Man,thebetterofbrutesbywit,Seeslifedoubleandseesitsplit.”

“I don’t see,” he added, “that it canmatter verymuchwhat opinions one has, if any, about partypolitics,forinstance.”

Eddysaid,“No,youwouldn’tseeit,ofcourse,becauseyou’reapoet.I’mnot.”“You’d better become one,” saidBilly, “if itwould solve your difficulties. It’s very little trouble

indeedreally,youknow.Anyonecanbeapoet;infact,practicallyallCambridgepeopleare,exceptyou;Ican’t imaginewhyyou’renot. It’s really rathera refreshingchange;only I should think itoften leadspeopletomistakeyouforanOxfordman,whichmustberatherdistressingforyou.NowI’mgoingtobed.Hadn’tyoubetter,too?”

ButEddyhadsomething todobeforehewent tobed.By thegrey light thatcame through theopenwindowofthesitting-room,hefoundapackofcards,andsatdowntodecidehisopinions.Firsthewrotea listof all the societieshebelonged to; they filleda sheetofnote-paper.Thenhewent through them,couplingeachtwowhich,hehaddiscovered,strucktheordinarypersonasincompatible;then,ifhehadnopreferenceforeitherofthetwo,hecut.Hecut,forinstance,betweentheLeagueofYoungLiberalsandthePrimroseLeague.TheYoungLiberalshadit.

“Mollywillbealittledisappointedinme,”hemurmured,andcrossedoffthePrimroseLeaguefromhis list.“AndIexpect itwouldbegenerally thought that Iought tocrossoff theTariffReformLeague,too.” He did so, then proceeded to weigh the Young Liberals against all the Socialist societies hebelongedto(suchas theAnti-sweatingLeague, theNationalServiceLeague, theEugenicsSociety,andmanyothers), for evenhecould see that these twowaysof thoughtdidnotgowell together.Hemightpossibly have been a Socialist and a Primrose Leaguer, but he could not, as theworld looks at suchthings,beaSocialistandaLiberal.Hechose tobeaSocialist,believing that thatwas theway,at themoment,togetmostdone.

“Verygood,”hecommented,writingitdown.“AbigotedSocialist.ThatwillhavetheadvantagethatTrahernewillletmehelpwiththeclubs.NowfortheChurch.”

TheChurchquestionalsohedecidedwithoutrecoursetochance.AshemeanttocontinuetobelongtotheChurchofEngland,hecrossedofffromthelisttheFreeThoughtLeagueandtheTheosophistSociety.It remained that he should choose between the various Church societies he belonged to, such as theChurch Progress Society (High and Modernist), the E. C. U. (High and not Modernist), the LiberalChurchmen’sLeague (Broad), and theEvangelicalAffiance (Low).Of thesehe selected that systemofthoughtthatseemedtohimtogomostsuitablywiththeSocialismhewasalreadypledgedto;hewouldbea bigoted High ChurchModernist, and hate Broad Churchmen, Evangelicals, Anglican Individualists,UltramontaneRomans,Atheists,and(particularly)GermanLiberalProtestants.

“Fatherwillbedisappointedinme,I’mafraid,”hereflected.ThenheweighedtheChurchDefenceSocietyagainsttheSocietyfortheLiberationofReligionfrom

StatePatronageandControl,foundneitherwanting,butconcludedthatasaSocialistheoughttosupportthe former, so wrote himself down an enemy of Disestablishment, remarking, “Father will be betterpleasedthistime.”ThenhedealtwiththeSundaySociety(fortheopeningofmuseums,etc.,onthatday)asincongruouswiththeLord’sDayObservanceSociety;theSundaySocietyhadit.Turningtothearts,hesupposed regretfully that some peoplewould think it inconsistent to belong both to theLeague for theEncouragement andBetterAppreciation of Post Impressionism, and to that for theMaintenance of the

PrinciplesofClassicalArt;ortotheSocietyforEncouragingtheRealisticSchoolofModernVerse,andtothePoetrySociety(whichdoesnotdothis.)ThenitstruckhimthattheFactoryIncreaseLeagueclashedwiththeCoalSmokeAbatementSociety,thattheBacktotheLandLeaguewasperhapsincompatiblewiththeSociety for thePreservation ofObjects ofHistoric Interest in theCountryside; that one should notsubscribebothtotheNationalArtsCollectionsFund,andtotheMaintenanceofCordialTrans-AtlanticRelations;totheCharityOrganisationSociety,andtotheSalvationArmySheltersFund.

Many other such discrepancies of thought and ideal he found in himself and corrected, either bychoiceor,moreoften(soequallygooddidbothalternativesasaruleseemtohimtobe)bythehandofchance.Itwasnottillafterfouro’clockonhisweddingmorning,whenthemidsummer-daysunrisewasgilding the river and breaking into the room, that he stood up, cramped and stiff and weary, but ahomogeneous and consistentwhole, ready at last for bigotry to seal him for her own.Hewould yieldhimselfunflinchinglytoherhand;sheshould,inthecourseofthelongyears,stamphimutterlyintoshape.Helookedahead,asheleantoutofthewindowandbreathedintheclearmorningair,andsawhisfuturelifeoutspreading.Whatalothewouldbeabletoaccomplish,nowthathewasgoingtoseeoneangleonlyoflifeandbelieveinitsoexclusivelythathewouldthinkitthewhole.Alreadyhefelttheapproachesofthisdesirablestate.Itwouldapproach,hebelieved,rapidly,nowthathewasnolongertobedistractedbydivergent interests, tornbyopposingclaimsonhissympathy.Hesawhimselfawriter for thepress(buthereallymustremembertowritenomorefortheConservativepress,ortheLiberal).HewouldhateConservatism, detest Liberalism; he would believe that Socialists alone were actuated by their well-known sense of political equity and sound economics. In working, as he meant to do, in Datcherd’ssettlement,hewouldbeasfanaticallypoliticalasDatcherdhimselfhadbeen.Mollymightslightlyregretthis,becauseofthedifferenttenetsofNevillandtherestofherfamily;butshewastoosensiblereallytomind.Hesawherandhimselflivingtheirhappy,and,hehoped,notuselesslife,inthelittlehousetheyhadtakeninElmParkRoad,Chelsea(theyhadnotsucceededinoustingtheinhabitantsoftheOsiers).Hewouldbewriting for somepaper,andworkingeveryevening in theLeaBridgeSettlement,andMollywouldhelphimtherewiththegirls’clubs;shewaskeenonthatsortofthing,anddiditwell.Theywouldhavemany friends; theBellairs’ relationsandconnectionswerenumerous,andoftenmilitaryornaval;and therewouldbeNevillandhis friends, sohard-working,souseful, so tidy,sowell-bred;and theirownfriends,thefriendstheymade,thefriendstheyhadhadbefore....Itwasatthispointthatthepicturegrewalittlelessvividandclearly-outlined,andhadtobepaintedinwithgreatdecision.Ofcoursetheycameintothepicture,JaneandBillyandtherest,andperhapssometime,whensheandMollyhadbothchangedtheirmindsaboutit,Eileen;ofcoursetheywouldallbethere,cominginandoutandmixingupamicablywith theBellairscontingent, andpleasingandbeingpleasedbyNevill andhiswell-behavedfriends,andlikingtotalktoMollyandshetothem.Whynot?Eileenhadsurelybeenwrongaboutthat;hisfriendshipsweren’t,couldn’tbe,partofthepricehehadtopayforhismarriage,orevenforhisbigotry.Withadeterminedhandhepaintedthemintothepicture,andproducedasurprising,crowdedjumbleofvisitors in the little house—artists, colonels, journalists, civil servants, poets,members of Parliament,settlementworkers,actors,andclergymen....Hemustremember,ofcourse,thathedislikedConservatism,Atheism,andIndividualism;butthat,hethought,needbenobarrierbetweenhimandtheholdersoftheseunfortunate views.And any surprisingness, any lack of realism, in the picture he had painted, hewasfirmlyblindto.

SoMollyandhewouldliveandworktogether;workfortherightthings,waragainstthewrong.Hehad learnt how to set aboutworking now; learnt to use theweapons ready to hand, the onlyweaponsprovidedbytheworldforitsbattles.Usingthem,hewouldgetaccustomedtothem;graduallyhewouldbecometheCompleteBigot,astothemannerborn,suchapowerhasdoingtoreactonthevisionofthosewhodo.Thenandonlythen,when,forhim,many-facedTruthhadresolveditselfintoone,whenheshould

see but little here below but see that little clear, when he could say from the heart, “I believe TariffReformers,Unionists,Liberals,Individualists,RomanCatholics,Protestants,Dissenters,Vegetarians,andallotherswithwhomIdisagree,tobeabsolutelyinthewrong;IbelievethatIandthosewhothinklikemepossess notmerely truth but the truth”—then, and only thenwould he be able to set towork and getsomethingdone....

Whoshouldsayitwasnotworththeprice?Having completed the task he had set himself, Eddywas now free to indulge in reflectionsmore

suited toaweddingmorning.These reflectionswereof thehappyandabsorbingnaturecustomary inaperson in his situation; theymay, in fact, be so easily imagined that they need not here be set down.Havingabandonedhimselftothemforhalfanhour,hewenttobed,torestbeforehislaboriouslife.Forletnoonethinkhecanbecomeabigotwithoutmuchenergyofmindandwill.Itisnotaroadonecanslipintounawares,asitwere,liketheprimrosepathsoflife—thenovelist’s,forexample,thepoet’s,orthetramp’s. It needs fibre; a man has to brace himself, set his teeth, shut his eyes, and plunge with acourageousblindness.

Fiveo’clockstruckbeforeEddywenttobed.Hehopedtoleaveitatseven,inordertostartbetimesuponsostrenuousacareer.

Jarrold&Sons,Ltd.,Printers,TheEmpirePress,Norwich.

Typographicalerrorscorrectedbytheetexttranscriber:

Ibelievehermotherneglectedherwhenhewasill=>Ibelievehermotherneglectedherwhenshewasill{pg130}

omniverous=>omnivorous{pg154}incompatability=>incompatibility{pg250}

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