VII
Jumping down from the high step of the dogcart the girl completely disappeared into the silver: she had on an otter-skin toque, dark, that should have been visible. But she was gone more completely than if she had dropped into deep water, into snowвБ†вАФor through tissue paper. More suddenly, at least! In darkness or in deep water a moving paleness would have been visible for a second: snow or a paper hoop would have left an opening. Here there had been nothing.
The constation interested him. He had been watching her intently and with concern for fear she should miss the hidden lower step, in which case she would certainly bark her shins. But she had jumped clear of the cart: with unreasonable pluckiness, in spite of his: вАЬLook out how you get down.вАЭ He wouldnвАЩt have done it himself: he couldnвАЩt have faced jumping down into that white solidityвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
He would have asked: вАЬAre you all right?вАЭ but to express more concern than the вАЬlook out,вАЭ which he had expended already, would have detracted from his stolidity. He was Yorkshire and stolid: she south country and soft: emotional: given to such ejaculations as вАЬI hope youвАЩre not hurt,вАЭ when the Yorkshireman only grunts. But soft because she was south country. She was as good as a manвБ†вАФa south country man. She was ready to acknowledge the superior woodenness of the north.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ That was their convention: so he did not call down: вАЬI hope youвАЩre all right,вАЭ though he had desired to.
Her voice came, muffled, as if from the back of the top of his head: the ventriloquial effect was startling:
вАЬMake a noise from time to time. ItвАЩs ghostly down here and the lampвАЩs no good at all. ItвАЩs almost out.вАЭ
He returned to his constations of the concealing effect of water vapour. He enjoyed the thought of the grotesque appearance he must present in that imbecile landscape. On his right an immense, improbably brilliant horn of a moon, sending a trail as if down the sea, straight to his neck: beside the moon a grotesquely huge star: in an extravagant position above them the Plough, the only constellation that he knew; for, though a mathematician, he despised astronomy. It was not theoretical enough for the pure mathematician and not sufficiently practical for daily life. He had of course calculated the movements of abstruse heavenly bodies: but only from given figures: he had never looked for the stars of his calculations.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Above his head and all over the sky were other stars: large and weeping with light, or as the dawn increased, so paling that, at times, you saw them; then missed them. Then the eye picked them up again.
Opposite the moon was a smirch or two of cloud; pink below, dark purple above; on the more pallid, lower blue of the limpid sky.
But the absurd thing was this mist!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It appeared to spread from his neck, absolutely level, absolutely silver, to infinity on each side of him. At great distances on his right black tree-shapes, in groupsвБ†вАФthere were four of themвБ†вАФwere exactly like coral islands on a silver sea. He couldnвАЩt escape the idiotic comparison: there wasnвАЩt any other.
Yet it didnвАЩt actually spread from his neck: when he now held his hands, nipple-high, like pallid fish they held black reins which ran downwards into nothingness. If he jerked the rein, the horse threw its head up. Two pricked ears were visible in greyness: the horse being sixteen two and a bit over, the mist might be ten foot high. ThereaboutsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He wished the girl would come back and jump out of the cart again. Being ready for it he would watch her disappearance more scientifically. He couldnвАЩt of course ask her to do it again: that was irritating. The phenomenon would have provedвБ†вАФor it might of course disproveвБ†вАФhis idea of smoke screens. The Chinese of the Ming dynasty were said to have approached and overwhelmed their enemies under clouds ofвБ†вАФof course, not acridвБ†вАФvapour. He had read that the Patagonians, hidden by smoke, were accustomed to approach so near to birds or beasts as to be able to take them by hand. The Greeks under Paleologus theвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Miss WannopвАЩs voice saidвБ†вАФfrom beneath the bottom board of the cart:
вАЬI wish youвАЩd make some noise. ItвАЩs lonely down here, besides being possibly dangerous. There might be dicks on each side of the road.вАЭ
If they were on the marsh there certainly would be dykesвБ†вАФwhy did they call ditches вАЬdykes,вАЭ and why did she pronounce it вАЬdicksвАЭ?вБ†вАФon each side of the road. He could think of nothing to say that wouldnвАЩt express concern and he couldnвАЩt do that by the rules of the game. He tried to whistle вАЬJohn Peel!вАЭ But he was no hand at whistling. He sang:
вАЬDвАЩye ken, John Peel at the break of dayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ and felt like a fool. But he kept on at it, the only tune that he knew. It was the Yorkshire Light Infantry quickstep: the regiment of his brothers in India. He wished he had been in the army: but his father hadnвАЩt approved of having more than two younger sons in the army. He wondered if he would ever run with John PeelвАЩs hounds again: he had once or twice. Or with any of the trencher-fed foot packs of the Cleveland district, of which there had been still several when he had been a boy. He had been used to think of himself as being like John Peel with his coat so greyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Up through the heather, over WhartonвАЩs place; the pack running wild; the heather dripping; the mist rolling upвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ another kind of mist than this south country silver sheet. Silly stuff! Magical! That was the word. A silly word.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ South countryвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In the north the old grey mists rolled together, revealing black hillsides!
He didnвАЩt suppose heвАЩd have the wind now: this rotten bureaucratic life!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If he had been in the army like the two brothers, Ernest and James, next above himвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But no doubt he would not have liked the army. Discipline!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He supposed he would have put up with the discipline: a gentleman had to. Because noblesse oblige: not for fear of consequencesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But army officers seemed to him pathetic. They spluttered and roared: to make men jump smartly: at the end of apoplectic efforts the men jumped smartly. But there was the end of it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Actually, this mist was not silver, or was, perhaps, no longer silver: if you looked at it with the eye of the artistвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ With the exact eye! It was smirched with bars of purple; of red; of orange: delicate reflections: dark blue shadows from the upper sky where it formed drifts like snow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The exact eye: exact observation: it was a manвАЩs work. The only work for a man. Why, then, were artists soft: effeminate; not men at all: whilst the army officer, who had the inexact mind of the schoolteacher, was a manly man? Quite a manly man: until he became an old woman!
And the bureaucrat then? Growing fat and soft like himself, or dry and stringy like Macmaster or old Ingleby? They did menвАЩs work: exact observation: return No.¬†17642 with figures exact. Yet they grew hysterical: they ran about corridors or frantically rang table bells, asking with high voices of querulous eunuchs why form ninety thousand and two wasnвАЩt ready. Nevertheless men like the bureaucratic life: his own brother, Mark, head of the family: heir to Groby.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Fifteen years older: a quiet stick: wooden: brown; always in a bowler-hat, as often as not with his racing-glasses hung around him. Attending his first-class office when he liked: too good a man for any administration to lose by putting on the screw.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But heir to Groby: what would that stick make of the place?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Let it, no doubt, and go on pottering from the Albany to race meetingsвБ†вАФwhere he never bettedвБ†вАФto Whitehall, where he was said to be indispensable.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why indispensable? Why in heavenвАЩs name? That stick who had never hunted, never shot: couldnвАЩt tell coulter from plough-handle and lived in his bowler-hat!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A вАЬsoundвАЭ man: the archetype of all sound men. Never in his life had anyone shaken his head at Mark and said:
вАЬYouвАЩre brilliant!вАЭ Brilliant! That stick! No, he was indispensable!
вАЬUpon my soul!вАЭ Tietjens said to himself, вАЬthat girl down there is the only intelligent living soul IвАЩve met for years.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A little pronounced in manner sometimes; faulty in reasoning naturally, but quite intelligent, with a touch of wrong accent now and then. But if she was wanted anywhere, there sheвАЩd be! Of good stock, of course: on both sides!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, positively, she and Sylvia were the only two human beings he had met for years whom he could respect: the one for sheer efficiency in killing: the other for having the constructive desire and knowing how to set about it. Kill or cure! The two functions of man. If you wanted something killed youвАЩd go to Sylvia Tietjens in the sure faith that she would kill it: emotion: hope: ideal: kill it quick and sure. If you wanted something kept alive youвАЩd go to Valentine: sheвАЩd find something to do for itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The two types of mind: remorseless enemy: sure screen: daggerвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ sheath!
Perhaps the future of the world, then, was to women? Why not? He hadnвАЩt in years met a man that he hadnвАЩt to talk down toвБ†вАФas you talk down to a child: as he had talked down to General Campion or to Mr.¬†WaterhouseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ as he always talked down to Macmaster. All good fellows in their way.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
But why was he born to be a sort of lonely buffalo: outside the herd? Not artist: not soldier: not bureaucrat: not certainly indispensable anywhere: apparently not even sound in the eyes of these dim-minded specialistsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ An exact observer.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Hardly even that for the last six and a half hours:
вАЬDie Sommer Nacht hat mirs angethan:
Das war ein schwiegsame ReitenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
he said aloud.
How could you translate that: you couldnвАЩt translate it: no one could translate Heine:
вАЬIt was the summer night came over me:
That was silent ridingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
A voice cut into his warm, drowsy thought:
вАЬOh, you do exist. But youвАЩve spoken too late. IвАЩve run into the horse.вАЭ He must have been speaking aloud. He had felt the horse quivering at the end of the reins. The horse, too, was used to her by now. It had hardly stirredвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He wondered when he had left off singing вАЬJohn Peel.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He said:
вАЬCome along, then: have you found anything?вАЭ
The answer came:
вАЬSomethingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But you canвАЩt talk in this stuffвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩll justвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The voice died away as if a door had shut. He waited: consciously waiting: as an occupation! Contritely and to make a noise he rattled the whip-stock in its bucket. The horse started and he had to check in quickly: a damn fool he was. Of course a horse would start if you rattled a whip-stock. He called out:
вАЬAre you all right?вАЭ The cart might have knocked her down. He had, however, broken the convention. Her voice came from a great distance:
вАЬIвАЩm all right. Trying the other sideвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
His last thought came back to him. He had broken their convention: he had exhibited concern: like any other man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He said to himself:
вАЬBy God! Why not take a holiday: why not break all conventions?вАЭ
They erected themselves intangibly and irrefragably. He had not known this young woman twenty-four hours: not to speak to: and already the convention existed between them that he must play stiff and cold, she warm and clinging.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yet she was obviously as cool a hand as himself: cooler, no doubt, for at bottom he was certainly a sentimentalist.
A convention of the most imbecile type.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Then break all conventions: with the young woman: with himself above all. For forty-eight hoursвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ almost exactly forty-eight hours till he started for Dover.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
вАЬAnd I must to the greenwood go,
Alone: a banished man!вАЭ
Border ballad! Written not seven miles from Groby!
By the descending moon: it being then just after cockcrow of midsummer nightвБ†вАФwhat sentimentality!вБ†вАФit must be half-past four on Sunday. He had worked out that to catch the morning Ostend boat at Dover he must leave the WannopsвАЩ at 5:15 on Tuesday morning, in a motor for the junction.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What incredible cross-country train connections! Five hours for not forty miles.
He had then forty-eight and three-quarter hours! Let them be a holiday! A holiday from himself above all: a holiday from his standards: from his convention with himself. From clear observation: from exact thought: from knocking over all the skittles of the exactitudes of others: from the suppression of emotions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ From all the weariness that made him intolerable to himself.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He felt his limbs lengthen, as if they too had relaxed.
Well, already he had had six and a half hours of it. They had started at 10 and, like any other man, he had enjoyed the drive, though it had been difficult to keep the beastly cart balanced, the girl had had to sit behind with her arm round the other girl who screamed at every oak tree.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
But he hadвБ†вАФif he put himself to the questionвБ†вАФmooned along under the absurd moon that had accompanied them down the heaven: to the scent of hay: to the sound of nightingales, hoarse by now, of courseвБ†вАФin June he changes his tune; of corncrakes, of bats, of a heron twice, overhead. They had passed the blue-black shadows of corn stacks, of heavy, rounded oaks, of hop oasts that are half church tower, half finger-post. And the road silver grey, and the night warm.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was midsummer night that had done that to him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Hat mirвАЩs angethan.
Das war ein schwiegsame Reiten.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Not absolutely silent of course: but silentish! Coming back from the parsonвАЩs, where they had dropped the little London sewer rat, they had talked very little.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not unpleasant people the parsonвАЩs: an uncle of the girlвАЩs: three girl cousins, not unpleasant, like the girl but without the individualityвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A remarkably good bite of beef: a truly meritorious Stilton and a drop of whisky that proved the parson to be a man. All in candlelight. A motherly mother of the family to take the rat up some stairsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a great deal of laughter of girlsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ then a restart an hour later than had been scheduled.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, it hadnвАЩt mattered: they had the whole of eternity before them: the good horseвБ†вАФreally it was a good horse!вБ†вАФputting its shoulders into the work.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
They had talked a little at first; about the safeness of the London girl from the police now; about the brickishness of the parson in taking her in. She certainly would never have reached Charing Cross by train.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
There had fallen long periods of silences. A bat had whirled very near their off-lamp.
вАЬWhat a large bat!вАЭ she had said. вАЬNoctilux major.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
He said:
вАЬWhere do you get your absurd Latin nomenclature from? IsnвАЩt it phal≈УnaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She had answered:
вАЬFrom WhiteвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The Natural History of Selborne is the only natural history I ever read.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬHeвАЩs the last English writer that could write,вАЭ said Tietjens.
вАЬHe calls the downs вАШthose majestic and amusing mountains,вАЩвАКвАЭ she said. вАЬWhere do you get your dreadful Latin pronunciation from? PhalвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ iвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ iвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ na! To rhyme with Dinah!вАЭ
вАЬItвАЩs вАШsublime and amusing mountains,вАЩ not вАШmajestic and amusing,вАЩвАКвАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬI got my Latin pronunciation, like all public schoolboys of today, from the German.вАЭ
She answered:
вАЬYou would! Father used to say it made him sick.вАЭ
вАЬCaesar equals Kaiser,вАЭ Tietjens said.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
вАЬBother your Germans,вАЭ she said, вАЬtheyвАЩre no ethnologists; theyвАЩre rotten at philology!вАЭ She added: вАЬFather used to say so,вАЭ to take away from an appearance of pedantry.
A silence then! She had right over her head a rug that her aunt had lent her; a silhouette beside him, with a cocky nose turned up straight out of the descending black mass. But for the square toque she would have had the silhouette of a Manchester cotton-hand: the toque gave it a different line; like the fillet of Diana. It was piquant and agreeable to ride beside a quite silent lady in the darkness of the thick Weald that let next to no moonlight through. The horseвАЩs hoofs went clock, clock: a good horse. The near lamp illuminated the russet figure of a man with a sack on his back, pressed into the hedge, a blinking lurcher beside him.
вАЬKeeper between the blankets!вАЭ Tietjens said to himself: вАЬAll these south country keepers sleep all night.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And then you give them a five quid tip for the weekend shoot.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He determined that, as to that too he would put his foot down. No more weekends with Sylvia in the mansions of the Chosen People.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
The girl said suddenly; they had run into a clearing of the deep underwoods:
вАЬIвАЩm not stuffy with you over that Latin, though you were unnecessarily rude. And IвАЩm not sleepy. IвАЩm loving it all.вАЭ
He hesitated for a minute. It was a silly-girl thing to say. She didnвАЩt usually say silly-girl things. He ought to snub her for her own sake.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
He had said:
вАЬIвАЩm rather loving it too!вАЭ She was looking at him; her nose had disappeared from the silhouette. He hadnвАЩt been able to help it; the moon had been just above her head; unknown stars all round her; the night was warm. Besides, a really manly man may condescend at times! He rather owes it to himself.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
She said:
вАЬThat was nice of you! You might have hinted that the rotten drive was taking you away from your so important work.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬOh, I can think as I drive,вАЭ he said. She said:
вАЬOh!вАЭ and then: вАЬThe reason why IвАЩm unconcerned over your rudeness about my Latin is that I know IвАЩm a much better Latinist than you. You canвАЩt quote a few lines of Ovid without sprinkling howlers in.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs vastum, not longumвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАШTerra tribus scopulis vastum procurritвАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs alto, not coeloвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАШUvidus ex alto desilientis.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩ How could Ovid have written ex coelo? The c after the x sets your teeth on edge.вАЭ
Tietjens said:
вАЬExcogitabo!вАЭ
вАЬThatвАЩs purely canine!вАЭ she said with contempt.
вАЬBesides,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬlongum is much better than vastum. I hate cant adjectives like вАШvast.вАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬItвАЩs like your modesty to correct Ovid,вАЭ she exclaimed. вАЬYet you say Ovid and Catullus were the only two Roman poets to be poets. ThatвАЩs because they were sentimental and used adjectives like vastum.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WhatвАЩs вАШSad tears mixed with kissesвАЩ but the sheerest sentimentality!вАЭ
вАЬIt ought, you know,вАЭ Tietjens said with soft dangerousness, вАЬto be вАШKisses mingled with sad tearsвАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАШTristibus et lacrimis oscula mixta dabisвАЩ.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬIвАЩm hanged if I ever could,вАЭ she exclaimed explosively. вАЬA man like you could die in a ditch and IвАЩd never come near. YouвАЩre desiccated even for a man who has learned his Latin from the Germans.вАЭ
вАЬOh, well, IвАЩm a mathematician,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬClassics is not my line!вАЭ
вАЬIt isnвАЩt,вАЭ she answered tartly.
A long time afterwards from her black figure came the words:
вАЬYou used вАШmingledвАЩ instead of вАШmixedвАЩ to translate mixta. I shouldnвАЩt think you took English at Cambridge, either! Though theyвАЩre as rotten at that as at everything else, father used to say.вАЭ
вАЬYour father was Balliol, of course,вАЭ Tietjens said with the snuffy contempt of a scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge. But having lived most of her life amongst Balliol people she took this as a compliment and an olive branch.
Some time afterwards Tietjens, observing that her silhouette was still between him and the moon, remarked:
вАЬI donвАЩt know if you know that for some minutes weвАЩve been running nearly due west. We ought to be going southeast by a bit south. I suppose you do know this road.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬEvery inch of it,вАЭ she said, вАЬIвАЩve been on it over and over again on my motor-bicycle with mother in the sidecar. The next cross road is called GrandfatherвАЩs Wantways. WeвАЩve got eleven miles and a quarter still to do. The road turns back here because of the old Sussex iron pits; it goes in and out amongst them; hundreds of them. You know the exports of the town of Rye in the eighteenth century were hops, cannon, kettles and chimney backs. The railings round St.¬†PaulвАЩs are made of Sussex iron.вАЭ
вАЬI knew that, of course,вАЭ Tietjens said: вАЬI come of an iron county myself.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why didnвАЩt you let me run the girl over in the sidecar, it would have been quicker?вАЭ
вАЬBecause,вАЭ she said, вАЬthree weeks ago I smashed up the sidecar on the milestone at HogвАЩs Corner: doing forty.вАЭ
вАЬIt must have been a pretty tidy smash!вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬYour mother wasnвАЩt aboard?вАЭ
вАЬNo,вАЭ the girl said, вАЬsuffragette literature. The sidecar was full. It was a pretty tidy smash. HadnвАЩt you observed I still limp a little?вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
A few minutes later she said:
вАЬI havenвАЩt the least notion where we really are. I clean forgot to notice the road. And I donвАЩt care.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ HereвАЩs a signpost though; pull into it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The lamps would not, however, shine on the arms of the post; they were burning dim and showing low. A good deal of fog was in the air. Tietjens gave the reins to the girl and got down. He took out the near light and, going back a yard or two to the signpost, examined its bewildering ghostlinesses.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
The girl gave a little squeak that went to his backbone; the hoofs clattered unusually; the cart went on. Tietjens went after it; it was astonishing; it had completely disappeared. Then he ran into it: ghostly, reddish and befogged. It must have got much thicker suddenly. The fog swirled all round the near lamp as he replaced it in its socket.
вАЬDid you do that on purpose?вАЭ he asked the girl. вАЬOr canвАЩt you hold a horse?вАЭ
вАЬI canвАЩt drive a horse,вАЭ the girl said; вАЬIвАЩm afraid of them. I canвАЩt drive a motorbike either. I made that up because I knew youвАЩd say youвАЩd rather have taken Gertie over in the sidecar than driven with me.вАЭ
вАЬThen do you mind,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬtelling me if you know this road at all?вАЭ
вАЬNot a bit!вАЭ she answered cheerfully. вАЬI never drove it in my life. I looked it up on the map before we started because IвАЩm sick to death of the road we went by. ThereвАЩs a one-horse bus from Rye to Tenterden, and IвАЩve walked from Tenterden to my uncleвАЩs over and over again.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬWe shall probably be out all night then,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬDo you mind? The horse may be tired.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She said:
вАЬOh, the poor horse!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I meant us to be out all night.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But the poor horse.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What a brute I was not to think of it.вАЭ
вАЬWeвАЩre thirteen miles from a place called Brede; eleven and a quarter from a place whose name I couldnвАЩt read; six and three-quarters from somewhere called something like Uddlemere.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬThis is the road to Uddlemere.вАЭ
вАЬOh, that was GrandfatherвАЩs Wantways all right,вАЭ she declared. вАЬI know it well. ItвАЩs called вАШGrandfatherвАЩsвАЩ because an old gentleman used to sit there called GranвАЩfer Finn. Every Tenterden market day he used to sell fleed cakes from a basket to the carts that went by. Tenterden market was abolished in 1845вБ†вАФthe effect of the repeal of the Corn Laws, you know. As a Tory you ought to be interested in that.вАЭ
Tietjens said patiently: He could sympathise with her mood; she had now a heavy weight off her chest; and, if long acquaintance with his wife had not made him able to put up with feminine vagaries, nothing ever would.
вАЬWould you mind,вАЭ he said then, вАЬtelling meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬIf,вАЭ she interrupted, вАЬthat was really GranвАЩferвАЩs Wantways: midland English. вАШVentвАЩ equals four crossroads: high French carrefour.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Or, perhaps, that isnвАЩt the right word. But itвАЩs the way your mind works.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬYou have, of course, often walked from your uncleвАЩs to GranвАЩferвАЩs Wantways,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬwith your cousins, taking brandy to the invalid in the old tollgate house. ThatвАЩs how you know the story of Grandfer. You said you had never driven it; but you have walked it. ThatвАЩs the way your mind works, isnвАЩt it?вАЭ
She said: вАЬOh!вАЭ
вАЬThen,вАЭ Tietjens went on, вАЬwould you mind telling meвБ†вАФfor the sake of the poor horseвБ†вАФwhether Uddlemere is or isnвАЩt on our road home. I take it you donвАЩt know just this stretch of road, but you know whether it is the right road.вАЭ
вАЬThe touch of pathos,вАЭ the girl said, вАЬis a wrong note. ItвАЩs you whoвАЩre in mental trouble about the road. The horse isnвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Tietjens let the cart go on another fifty yards; then he said:
вАЬIt is the right road. The Uddlemere turning was the right one. You wouldnвАЩt let the horse go another five steps if it wasnвАЩt. YouвАЩre as soppy about horses asвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ as I am.вАЭ
вАЬThereвАЩs at least that bond of sympathy between us,вАЭ she said drily. вАЬGranвАЩferвАЩs Wantways is six and three-quarter miles from Udimore; Udimore is exactly five from us; total, eleven and three-quarters; twelve and a quarter if you add half a mile for Udimore itself. The name is Udimore, not Uddlemere. Local place-name enthusiasts derive this from вАШOвАЩer the mere.вАЩ Absurd! Legend as follows: Church builders desiring to put church with relic of St.¬†Rumwold in wrong place, voice wailed: вАШOвАЩer the mere.вАЩ Obviously absurd!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Putrid! вАШOвАЩer theвАЩ by GrimmвАЩs law impossible as вАШUdiвАЩ; вАШmereвАЩ not a middle Low German word at all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬWhy,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬare you giving me all this information?вАЭ
вАЬBecause,вАЭ the girl said, вАЬitвАЩs the way your mind works.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It picks up useless facts as silver after youвАЩve polished it picks up sulphur vapor; and tarnishes! It arranges the useless facts in obsolescent patterns and makes Toryism out of them.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve never met a Cambridge Tory man before. I thought they were all in museums and you work them up again out of bones. ThatвАЩs what father used to say; he was an Oxford Disraelian Conservative Imperialist.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬI know of course,вАЭ Tietjens said.
вАЬOf course you know,вАЭ the girl said. вАЬYou know everything.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And youвАЩve worked everything into absurd principles. You think father was unsound because he tried to apply tendencies to life. You want to be a Nenglish country gentleman and spin principles out of the newspapers and the gossip of horse-fairs. And let the country go to hell, youвАЩll never stir a finger except to say I told you so.вАЭ
She touched him suddenly on the arm:
вАЬDonвАЩt mind me!вАЭ she said. вАЬItвАЩs reaction. IвАЩm so happy. IвАЩm so happy.вАЭ
He said:
вАЬThatвАЩs all right! ThatвАЩs all right!вАЭ But for a minute or two it wasnвАЩt really. All feminine claws, he said to himself, are sheathed in velvet; but they can hurt a good deal if they touch you on the sore places of the defects of your qualitiesвБ†вАФeven merely with the velvet. He added: вАЬYour mother works you very hard.вАЭ
She exclaimed:
вАЬHow you understand. YouвАЩre amazing: for a man who tries to be a sea-anemone!вАЭ She said: вАЬYes, this is the first holiday IвАЩve had for four solid months; six hours a day typing; four hours a day work for the movement; three, housework and gardening; three, mother reading out her dayвАЩs work for slips of the pen.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And on the top of it the raid and the anxiety.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Dreadful anxiety, you know. Suppose mother had gone to prison.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh, IвАЩd have gone mad.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Weekdays and Sundays.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She stopped: вАЬIвАЩm apologising, really,вАЭ she went on. вАЬOf course I ought not to have talked to you like that. You, a great Panjandrum; saving the country with your statistics and all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It did make you a rather awful figure, you knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and the relief to find youвАЩreвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, a man like oneself with feet of clay.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩd dreaded this drive.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩd have dreaded it dreadfully if I hadnвАЩt been in such a dread about Gertie and the police. And, if I hadnвАЩt let off steam I should have had to jump out and run beside the cart.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I could stillвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬYou couldnвАЩt,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬYou couldnвАЩt see the cart.вАЭ
They had just run into a bank of solid fog that seemed to encounter them with a soft, ubiquitous blow. It was blinding; it was deadening to sounds; it was in a sense mournful; but it was happy, too, in its romantic unusualness. They couldnвАЩt see the gleam of the lamps; they could hardly hear the step of the horse; the horse had fallen at once to a walk. They agreed that neither of them could be responsible for losing the way; in the circumstances that was impossible. Fortunately the horse would take them somewhere; it had belonged to a local higgler: a man that used the roads buying poultry for resale.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ They agreed that they had no responsibilities, and after that went on for unmeasured hours in silence; the mist growing, but very, very gradually, more luminous.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Once or twice, at a rise in the road, they saw again the stars and the moon, but mistily. On the fourth occasion they had emerged into the silver lake; like mermen rising to the surface of a tropical sea.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Tietjens had said:
вАЬYouвАЩd better get down and take the lamp. See if you can find a milestone; IвАЩd get down myself, but you might not be able to hold the horse.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She had plunged inвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
And he had sat, feeling he didnвАЩt know why, like a Guy Fawkes; up in the light, thinking by no means disagreeable thoughtsвБ†вАФintent, like Miss Wannop herself, on a complete holiday of forty-eight hours; till Tuesday morning! He had to look forward to a long and luxurious day of figures; a rest after dinner; half a night more of figures; a Monday devoted to a horse-deal in the market-town where he happened to know the horse-dealer. The horse-dealer, indeed, was known to every hunting man in England! A luxurious, long argument in the atmosphere of stable-hartshorn and slow wranglings couched in ostlerвАЩs epigrams. You couldnвАЩt have a better day; the beer in the pub probably good, too. Or if not that, the claret.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The claret in south country inns was often quite good; there was no sale for it so it got well kept.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
On Tuesday it would close in again, beginning with the meeting of his wifeвАЩs maid at Dover.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
He was to have, above all, a holiday from himself and to take it like other men; free of his conventions, his strait waist-coatings.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
The girl said:
вАЬIвАЩm coming up now! IвАЩve found out something.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He watched intently the place where she must appear; it would give him pointers about the impenetrability of mist to the eye.
Her otter skin cap had beads of dew: beads of dew were on her hair beneath: she scrambled up, a little awkwardly: her eyes sparkled with fun: panting a little: her cheeks bright. Her hair was darkened by the wetness of the mist, but she appeared golden in the sudden moonlight.
Before she was quite up, Tietjens almost kissed her. Almost. An all but irresistible impulse! He exclaimed:
вАЬSteady, the Buffs!вАЭ in his surprise.
She said:
вАЬWell, you might as well have given me a hand.вАЭ вАЬI found,вАЭ she went on, вАЬa stone that had I.R.D.C. on it, and there the lamp went out. WeвАЩre not on the marsh because weвАЩre between quick hedges. ThatвАЩs all IвАЩve found.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But IвАЩve worked out what makes me so tart with you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
He couldnвАЩt believe she could be so absolutely calm: the after-wash of that impulse had been so strong in him that it was as if he had tried to catch her to him and had been foiled by her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She ought to be indignant, amused, even pleased.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She ought to show some emotion.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
She said:
вАЬIt was your silencing me with that absurd non-sequitur about the Pimlico clothing factory. It was an insult to my intelligence.вАЭ
вАЬYou recognised that it was a fallacy!вАЭ Tietjens said. He was looking hard at her. He didnвАЩt know what had happened to him. She took a long look at him, cool, but with immense eyes. It was as if for a moment destiny, which usually let him creep past somehow, had looked at him. вАЬCanвАЩt,вАЭ he argued with destiny, вАЬa man want to kiss a schoolgirl in a scuffle.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His own voice, a caricature of his own voice, seemed to come to him: вАЬGentlemen donвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He exclaimed:
вАЬDonвАЩt gentlemen?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ and then stopped because he realised that he had spoken aloud.
She said:
вАЬOh, gentlemen do use fallacies to glide over tight places in arguments. And they browbeat schoolgirls with them. ItвАЩs that, that underneath, has been exasperating me with you. You regarded me at that dateвБ†вАФthree-quarters of a day agoвБ†вАФas a schoolgirl.вАЭ
Tietjens said:
вАЬI donвАЩt now!вАЭ He added: вАЬHeaven knows I donвАЩt now!вАЭ
She said: вАЬNo; you donвАЩt now!вАЭ
He said:
вАЬIt didnвАЩt need your putting up all that blue stocking erudition to convince me.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬBlue stocking!вАЭ she exclaimed contemptuously. вАЬThereвАЩs nothing of the blue stocking about me. I know Latin because father spoke it with us. It was your pompous blue socks I was pulling.вАЭ
Suddenly she began to laugh. Tietjens was feeling sick, physically sick. She went on laughing. He stuttered:
вАЬWhat is it?вАЭ
вАЬThe sun!вАЭ she said, pointing. Above the silver horizon was the sun; not a red sun: shining, burnished.
вАЬI donвАЩt seeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens said.
вАЬWhat there is to laugh at?вАЭ she asked. вАЬItвАЩs the day!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The longest dayвАЩs begunвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and tomorrowвАЩs as long.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The summer solstice, you know.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ After tomorrow the days shorten towards winter. But tomorrowвАЩs as long.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩm so gladвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬThat weвАЩve got through the night?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens asked.
She looked at him for a long time. вАЬYouвАЩre not so dreadfully ugly, really,вАЭ she said.
Tietjens said:
вАЬWhatвАЩs that church?вАЭ
Rising out of the mist on a fantastically green knoll, a quarter of a mile away, was an unnoticeable place of worship: an oak shingle tower roof that shone grey like lead: an impossibly bright weathercock, brighter than the sun. Dark elms all around it, holding wetnesses of mist.
вАЬIcklesham!вАЭ she cried softly. вАЬOh, weвАЩre nearly home. Just above MountbyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThatвАЩs the Mountby driveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Trees existed, black and hoary with the dripping mist. Trees in the hedgerow and the avenue that led to Mountby: it made a right-angle just before coming into the road and the road went away at right-angles across the gate.
вАЬYouвАЩll have to pull to the left before you reach the avenue,вАЭ the girl said. вАЬOr as like as not the horse will walk right up to the house. The higgler who had him used to buy Lady ClaudineвАЩs eggs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Tietjens exclaimed barbarously:
вАЬDamn Mountby. I wish weвАЩd never come near it,вАЭ and he whipped the horse into a sudden trot. The hoofs sounded suddenly loud. She placed her hand on his gloved driving hand. Had it been his flesh she wouldnвАЩt have done it.
She said:
вАЬMy dear, it couldnвАЩt have lasted foreverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But youвАЩre a good man. And very clever.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You will get through.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Not ten yards ahead Tietjens saw a tea-tray, the underneath of a black-lacquered tea-tray, gliding towards them: mathematically straight, just rising from the mist. He shouted: mad: the blood in his head. His shout was drowned by the scream of the horse: he had swung it to the left. The cart turned up: the horse emerged from the mist: head and shoulders: pawing. A stone seahorse from the fountain of Versailles! Exactly that! Hanging in air for an eternity: the girl looking at it, leaning slightly forward.
The horse didnвАЩt come over backwards: he had loosened the reins. It wasnвАЩt there any more. The damndest thing that could happen! He had known it would happen. He said:
вАЬWeвАЩre all right now!вАЭ There was a crash and scraping: like twenty tea-trays: a prolonged sound. They must be scraping along the mudguard of the invisible car. He had the pressure of the horseвАЩs mouth: the horse was away: going hell for leather. He increased the pressure. The girl said:
вАЬI know IвАЩm all right with you.вАЭ
They were suddenly in bright sunlight: cart: horse: commonplace hedgerows. They were going uphill: a steep brae. He wasnвАЩt certain she hadnвАЩt said: вАЬDear!вАЭ or вАЬMy dear!вАЭ Was it possible after so shortвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАК? But it had been a long night. He was, no doubt, saving her life too. He increased his pressure on the horseвАЩs mouth gently: up to all his twelve stone: all his strength. The hill told too. Steep, white road between shaven grass banks!
Stop; damn you! Poor beastвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The girl fell out of the cart. No! jumped clear! Out to the animalвАЩs head. It threw its head up. Nearly off her feet: she was holding the bit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She couldnвАЩt! Tender mouthвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ afraid of horses.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He said:
вАЬHorse cut!вАЭ Her face like a little white blancmange!
вАЬCome quick,вАЭ she said.
вАЬI must hold a minute,вАЭ he said, вАЬmight go off if I let go to get down. Badly cut?вАЭ
вАЬBlood running down solid! Like an apron,вАЭ she said.
He was at last at her side. It was true. But not so much like an apron. More like a red, varnished stocking. He said:
вАЬYouвАЩve a white petticoat on. Get over the hedge; jump it, and take it offвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬTear it into strips?вАЭ she asked. вАЬYes!вАЭ
He called to her; she was suspended halfway up the bank.
вАЬTear one half off first. The rest into strips.вАЭ
She said: вАЬAll right!вАЭ She didnвАЩt go over the quickset as neatly as he had expected. No take off. But she was over.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
The horse, trembling, was looking down, its nostrils distended, at the blood pooling from its near foot. The cut was just on the shoulder. He put his left arm right over the horseвАЩs eyes. The horse stood it, almost with a sigh of relief.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A wonderful magnetism with horses. Perhaps with women too? God knew. He was almost certain she had said вАЬDear.вАЭ
She said: вАЬHere.вАЭ He caught a round ball of whitish stuff. He undid it. Thank God: what sense. A long, strong, white band.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What the devil was the hissing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A small, closed car with crumpled mudguards: noiseless nearly: gleaming blackвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ God curse it: it passed them: stopped ten yards downвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the horse rearing back: mad! Clean madвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ something like a scarlet and white cockatoo, fluttering out of the small car doorвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a general. In full tog. White feathers! Ninety medals! Scarlet coat! Black trousers with red stripe. Spurs too, by God!
Tietjens said:
вАЬGod damn you, you bloody swine. Go away!вАЭ
The apparition, past the horseвАЩs blinkers, said:
вАЬI can, at least, hold the horse for you. I went past to get you out of ClaudineвАЩs sight.вАЭ
вАЬDamn good-natured for you,вАЭ Tietjens said as rudely as he could. вАЬYouвАЩll have to pay for the horse.вАЭ
The General exclaimed:
вАЬDamn it all! Why should I? You were driving your beastly camel right into my drive.вАЭ
вАЬYou never sounded your horn,вАЭ Tietjens said.
вАЬI was on private ground,вАЭ the General shouted. вАЬBesides I did.вАЭ An enraged, scarlet scarecrow, very thin, he was holding the horseвАЩs bridle. Tietjens was extending the half petticoat, with a measuring eye, before the horseвАЩs chest. The General said:
вАЬLook here! IвАЩve got to take the escort for the Royal party at St.¬†Peter-in-Manor, Dover. TheyвАЩre laying the BuffвАЩs colours on the altar or something.вАЭ
вАЬYou never sounded your horn,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬWhy didnвАЩt you bring your chauffeur? HeвАЩs a capable man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You talk very big about the widow and child. But when it comes to robbing them of fifty quid by slaughtering their horseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The General said:
вАЬWhat the devil were you doing coming into our drive at five in the morning?вАЭ
Tietjens, who had applied the half petticoat to the horseвАЩs chest, exclaimed:
вАЬPick up that thing and give it me.вАЭ A thin roll of linen was at his feet: it had rolled down from the hedge.
вАЬCan I leave the horse?вАЭ the General asked.
вАЬOf course you can,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬIf I canвАЩt quiet a horse better than you can run a carвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
He bound the new linen strips over the petticoat: the horse dropped its head, smelling his hand. The General, behind Tietjens, stood back on his heels, grasping his gold-mounted sword. Tietjens went on twisting and twisting the bandage.
вАЬLook here,вАЭ the General suddenly bent forward to whisper into TietjensвАЩ ears, вАЬwhat am I to tell Claudine? I believe she saw the girl.вАЭ
вАЬOh, tell her we came to ask what time you cast off your beastly otter hounds,вАЭ Tietjens said; вАЬthatвАЩs a matutinal job.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The GeneralвАЩs voice had a really pathetic intonation:
вАЬOn a Sunday!вАЭ he exclaimed. Then in a tone of relief he added: вАЬI shall tell her you were going to early communion in DucheminвАЩs church at Pett.вАЭ
вАЬIf you want to add blasphemy to horse-slaughtering as a profession, do,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬBut youвАЩll have to pay for the horse.вАЭ
вАЬIвАЩm damned if I will,вАЭ the General shouted. вАЬI tell you you were driving into my drive.вАЭ
вАЬThen I shall,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬand you know the construction youвАЩll put on that.вАЭ
He straightened his back to look at the horse.
вАЬGo away,вАЭ he said, вАЬsay what you like. Do what you like! But as you go through Rye send up the horse-ambulance from the vetвАЩs. DonвАЩt forget that. IвАЩm going to save this horse.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬYou know, Chris,вАЭ the General said, вАЬyouвАЩre the most wonderful hand with a horseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There isnвАЩt another man in EnglandвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬI know it,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬGo away. And send up that ambulance.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThereвАЩs your sister getting out of your car.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The General began:
вАЬIвАЩve an awful lot to get explainedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ But, at a thin scream of: вАЬGeneral! General!вАЭ he pressed on his sword hilt to keep it from between his long, black, scarlet-striped legs, and running to the car pushed back into its door a befeathered, black bolster. He waved his hands to Tietjens:
вАЬIвАЩll send the ambulance,вАЭ he called.
The horse, its upper leg swathed with crisscrosses of white through which a purple stain was slowly penetrating, stood motionless, its head hanging down, mule-like, under the blinding sun. To ease it Tietjens began to undo the trace. The girl hopped over the hedge and, scrambling down, began to help him.
вАЬWell. My reputationвАЩs gone,вАЭ she said cheerfully. вАЬI know what Lady Claudine is.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why did you try to quarrel with the General?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬOh, youвАЩd better,вАЭ Tietjens said wretchedly, вАЬhave a lawsuit with him. ItвАЩll account forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for your not going to MountbyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬYou think of everything,вАЭ she said.
They wheeled the cart backwards off the motionless horse. Tietjens moved it two yards forwardвБ†вАФto get it out of sight of its own blood. Then they sat down side by side on the slope of the bank.
вАЬTell me about Groby,вАЭ the girl said at last.
Tietjens began to tell her about his home.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There was, in front of it, an avenue that turned into the road at right angles. Just like the one at Mountby.
вАЬMy great-great-grandfather made it,вАЭ Tietjens said. вАЬHe liked privacy and didnвАЩt want the house visible by vulgar people on the roadвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ just like the fellow who planned Mountby, no doubt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But itвАЩs beastly dangerous with motors. We shall have to alter itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ just at the bottom of a dip. We canвАЩt have horses hurt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩll seeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ It came suddenly into his head that he wasnвАЩt perhaps the father of the child who was actually the heir to that beloved place over which generation after generation had brooded. Ever since Dutch William! A damn Nonconformist swine!
On the bank his knees were almost level with his chin. He felt himself slipping down.
вАЬIf I ever take you thereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he began.
вАЬOh, but you never will,вАЭ she said.
The child wasnвАЩt his. The heir to Groby! All his brothers were childlessвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ There was a deep well in the stable yard. He had meant to teach the child how, if you dropped a pebble in, you waited to count sixty-three. And there came up a whispering roar.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But not his child! Perhaps he hadnвАЩt even the power to beget children. His married brothers hadnвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Clumsy sobs shook him. It was the dreadful injury to the horse which had finished him. He felt as if the responsibility were his. The poor beast had trusted him and he had smashed it up. Miss Wannop had her arm over his shoulder.
вАЬMy dear!вАЭ she said, вАЬyou wonвАЩt ever take me to GrobyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs perhapsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ohвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ short acquaintance; but I feel youвАЩre the splendidestвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
He thought: вАЬIt is rather short acquaintance.вАЭ
He felt a great deal of pain over which there presided the tall, eel-skin, blonde figure of his wife.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
The girl said:
вАЬThereвАЩs a fly coming!вАЭ and removed her arm.
A fly drew up before them with a blear-eyed driver. He said General Campion had kicked him out of bed, from beside his old woman. He wanted a pound to take them to Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩs, waked out of his beauty sleep and all. The knackerвАЩs cart was following.
вАЬYouвАЩll take Miss Wannop home at once,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬsheвАЩs got her motherвАЩs breakfast to see to.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I shanвАЩt leave the horse till the knackerвАЩs van comes.вАЭ
The fly-driver touched his age-green hat with his whip.
вАЬAye,вАЭ he said thickly, putting a sovereign into his waistcoat pocket. вАЬAlways the gentlemanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a merciful man is merciful also to his beast.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I wouldnвАЩt leave my little wooden вАЩut nor miss my breakfast, for no beast.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Some do and someвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ do not.вАЭ
He drove off with the girl in the interior of his antique conveyance.
Tietjens remained on the slope of the bank, in the strong sunlight, beside the drooping horse. It had done nearly forty miles and lost, at last, a lot of blood.
Tietjens said:
вАЬI suppose I could get the governor to pay fifty quid for it. They want the money.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
He said:
вАЬBut it wouldnвАЩt be playing the game!вАЭ
A long time afterwards he said:
вАЬDamn all principles!вАЭ And then:
вАЬBut one has to keep on going.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Principles are like a skeleton map of a countryвБ†вАФyou know whether youвАЩre going east or north.вАЭ
The knackerвАЩs cart lumbered round the corner.