V + 

Mark TietjensвАЩ announcement that his father had after all carried out his long-standing promise to provide for Mrs.¬†Wannop in such a way as to allow her to write for the rest of her life only the more lasting kind of work, delivered Valentine Wannop of all her problems except one. That one loomed, naturally and immediately, immensely large. + 

She had passed a queer, unnatural week, the feeling dominating its numbness having been, oddly, that she would have nothing to do on Friday! This feeling recurred to her whilst she was casting her eyes over a hundred girls all in their cloth jumpers and menвАЩs black ties, aligned upon asphalt; whilst she was jumping on trams; whilst she was purchasing the tinned or dried fish that formed the staple diet of herself and her mother; whilst she was washing-up the dinner-things; upbraiding the house agent for the state of the bath, or bending closely over the large but merciless handwriting of the novel of her motherвАЩs that she was typing. It came, half as a joy, half mournfully across her familiar businesses; she felt as a man might feel who, luxuriating in the anticipation of leisure, knew that it was obtained by being compulsorily retired from some laborious but engrossing job. There would be nothing to do on Fridays! + 

It was, too, as if a novel had been snatched out of her hand so that she would never know the end. Of the fairy tale she knew the end: the fortunate and adventurous tailor had married his beautiful and be-princessed goose girl, and was well on the way to burial in Westminster AbbeyвБ†вАФor at any rate to a memorial service, the squire being actually buried amongst his faithful villagers. But she would never know whether they, in the end, got together all the blue Dutch tiles they wanted to line their bathroomвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She would never know. Yet witnessing similar ambitions had made up a great deal of her life. + 

And, she said to herself, there was another tale ended. On the surface the story of her love for Tietjens had been static enough. It had begun in nothing and in nothing it had ended. But, deep down in her beingвБ†вАФah! it had progressed enough. Through the agency of two women! Before the scene with Mrs.¬†Duchemin there could, she thought, have been few young women less preoccupied than she with the sexual substrata, either of passion or of life. Her months as a domestic servant had accounted for that, sex, as she had seen it from a back kitchen, having been a repulsive affair, whilst the knowledge of its manifestations that she had thus attained had robbed it of the mystery which caused most of the young women whom she knew to brood upon these subjects. + 

Her conviction as to the moral incidence of sex were, she knew, quite opportunist. Brought up amongst rather вАЬadvancedвАЭ young people, had she been publicly challenged to pronounce her views she would probably, out of loyalty to her comrades, have declared that neither morality nor any ethical aspects were concerned in the matter. Like most of her young friends, influenced by the advanced teachers and tendential novelists of the day, she would have stated herself to advocate anвБ†вАФof course, enlightened!вБ†вАФpromiscuity. That, before the revelations of Mrs.¬†Duchemin! Actually she had thought very little about the matter. + 

Nevertheless, even before that date, had her deeper feelings been questioned she would have reacted with the idea that sexual incontinence was extremely ugly and chastity to be prized in the egg and spoon race that life was. She had been brought up by her fatherвБ†вАФwho, perhaps, was wiser than appeared on the surfaceвБ†вАФto admire athleticism, and she was aware that proficiency of the body calls for chastity, sobriety, cleanliness and the various qualities that group themselves under the heading of abnegation. She couldnвАЩt have lived amongst the Ealing servant-classвБ†вАФthe eldest son of the house in which she had been employed had been the defendant in a peculiarly scabrous breach of promise case, and the comments of the drunken cook on this and similar affairs had run the whole gamut from the sentimentally reticent to the extreme of coarseness according to the state of her alcoholic barometerвБ†вАФshe couldnвАЩt then have lived among the Ealing servant-class and come to any other subliminal conclusion. So that, dividing the world into bright beings on the one hand and, on the other, into the mere stuff to fill graveyards whose actions during life couldnвАЩt matter, she had considered that the bright beings must be people whose public advocating of enlightened promiscuity went along with an absolute continence. She was aware that enlightened beings occasionally fell away from these standards in order to become portentous Egerias; but the Mary Wollstonecrafts, the Mrs.¬†Taylors, and the George Eliots of the last century she had regarded humorously as rather priggish nuisances. Indeed, being very healthy and very hard worked, she had been in the habit of regarding the whole matter, if not humorously, then at least good-humouredly, as a nuisance. + 

But being brought right up against the sexual necessities of a first-class Egeria had been for her a horrible affair. For Mrs.¬†Duchemin had revealed the fact that her circumspect, continent and suavely aesthetic personality was doubled by another at least as coarse as, and infinitely more incisive in expression, than that of the drunken cook. The language that she had used about her loverвБ†вАФcalling him always вАЬthat oafвАЭ or вАЬthat beastвАЭ!вБ†вАФhad seemed literally to pain the girl internally, as if it had caused so many fallings away of internal supports at each two or three words. She had hardly been able to walk home through the darkness from the rectory. + 

And she had never heard what had become of Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs baby. Next day Mrs.¬†Duchemin had been as suave, as circumspect, and as collected as ever. Never a word more had passed between them on the subject. This left in Valentine WannopвАЩs mind a dark patchвБ†вАФas it were of murderвБ†вАФat which she must never look. And across the darkened world of her sexual tumult there flitted continually the quick suspicion that Tietjens might have been the lover of her friend. It was a matter of the simplest analogy. Mrs.¬†Duchemin had appeared a bright being: so had Tietjens. But Mrs.¬†Duchemin was a foul whore.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ How much more then must Tietjens, who was a man, with the larger sexual necessities of the maleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Her mind always refused to complete the thought. + 

Its suggestion wasnвАЩt to be combated by the idea of Vincent Macmaster himself: he was, she felt, the sort of man that it was almost a necessity for either mistress or comrade to betray. He seemed to ask for it. Besides, she once put it to herself, how could any woman, given the choice and the opportunityвБ†вАФand God knows there was opportunity enoughвБ†вАФchoose that shadowy, dried leaf, if there were the splendid masculinity of Tietjens in whose arms to lie. She so regarded these two men. And that shadowy conviction was at once fortified and appeased when, a little later, Mrs.¬†Duchemin herself began to apply to Tietjens the epithets of вАЬoafвАЭ and вАЬbeastвАЭвБ†вАФthe very ones that she had used to designate the father of her putative child! + 

But then Tietjens must have abandoned Mrs.¬†Duchemin; and, if he had abandoned Mrs.¬†Duchemin, he must be available for her, Valentine Wannop! The feeling, she considered, made her ignoble; but it came from depths of her being that she could not control and, existing, it soothed her. Then, with the coming of the war, the whole problem died out, and between the opening of hostilities and what she had known to be the inevitable departure of her lover, she had surrendered herself to what she thought to be the pure physical desire for him. Amongst the terrible, crashing anguishes of that time, there had been nothing for it but surrender! With the unceasingвБ†вАФthe never ceasingвБ†вАФthought of suffering; with the never ceasing idea that her lover, too, must soon be so suffering, there was in the world no other refuge. No other! + 

She surrendered. She waited for him to speak the word, or look the look that should unite them. She was finished. Chastity: napoo finny! Like everything else! + 

Of the physical side of love she had neither image nor conception. In the old days when she had been with him, if he had come into the room in which she was, or if he had merely been known to be coming down to the village, she had hummed all day under her breath and had felt warmer, little currents passing along her skin. She had read somewhere that to take alcohol was to send the blood into the surface vessels of the body, thus engendering a feeling of warmth. She had never taken alcohol, or not enough to produce recognisably that effect; but she imagined that it was thus love worked upon the bodyвБ†вАФand that it would stop forever at that! + 

But, in these later days, much greater convulsions had overwhelmed her. It sufficed for Tietjens to approach her to make her feel as if her whole body was drawn towards him as, being near a terrible height, you are drawn towards it. Great waves of blood rushed across her being as if physical forces as yet undiscovered or invented attracted the very fluid itself. The moon so draws the tides. + 

Once before, for a fraction of a second, after the long, warm night of their drive, she had felt that impulsion. Now, years after, she was to know it all the time, waking or half waking; and it would drive her from her bed. She would stand all night at the open window till the stars paled above a world turned grey. It could convulse her with joy; it could shake her with sobs and cut through her breast like a knife. + 

The day of her long interview with Tietjens, amongst the amassed beauties of Macmaster furnishings, she marked in the calendar of her mind as her great love scene. That had been two years ago: he had been going into the army. Now he was going out again. From that she knew what a love scene was. It passed without any mention of the word вАЬloveвАЭ; it passed in impulses; warmths; rigors of the skin. Yet with every word they had said to each other they had confessed their love; in that way, when you listen to the nightingale you hear the expressed craving of your lover beating upon your heart. + 

Every word that he had spoken amongst the amassed beauties of Macmaster furnishings had been a link in a love-speech. It was not merely that he had confessed to her as he would have to no other soul in the worldвБ†вАФвАЬTo no other soul in the world,вАЭ he had said!вБ†вАФhis doubts, his misgivings and his fears: it was that every word he uttered and that came to her, during the lasting of that magic, had sung of passion. If he had uttered the word вАЬComeвАЭ she would have followed him to the bitter ends of the earth; if he had said, вАЬThere is no hope,вАЭ she would have known the finality of despair. Having said neither he said, she knew: вАЬThis is our condition; so we must continue!вАЭ And she knew, too, that he was telling her that he, like her, wasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, say on the side of the angels. She was then, she knew, so nicely balanced that, had he said, вАЬWill you tonight be my mistress?вАЭ she would have said вАЬYesвАЭ; for it was as if they had been, really, at the end of the world. + 

But his abstention not only strengthened her in her predilection for chastity; it restored to her her image of the world as a place of virtues and endeavours. For a time at least she again hummed beneath her breath upon occasion, for it seemed as if her heart sang within her. And there was restored to her her image of her lover as a beautiful spirit. She had been able to look at him across the tea-table of their dog kennel in Bedford Park, during the last months, almost as she had looked across the more shining table of the cottage near the rectory. The deterioration that she knew Mrs.¬†Duchemin to have worked in her mind was assuaged. It could even occur to her that Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs madness had been no more than a scare to be followed by no necessary crime. Valentine Wannop had re-become her confident self in a world of at least straight problems. + 

But Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs outbreak of a week ago had driven the old phantoms across her mind. For Mrs.¬†Duchemin she had still had a great respect. She could not regard her Edith Ethel as merely a hypocrite; or, indeed, as a hypocrite at all. There was her great achievement of making something like a man of that miserable little creatureвБ†вАФas there had been her other great achievement of keeping her unfortunate husband for so long out of a lunatic asylum. That had been no mean feat; neither feat had been mean. And Valentine knew that Edith Ethel really loved beauty, circumspection, urbanity. It was no hypocrisy that made her advocate the Atalanta race of chastity. But, also, as Valentine Wannop saw it, humanity has these doublings of strong natures; just as the urbane and grave Spanish nation must find its outlet in the shrieking lusts of the bullring or the circumspect, laborious and admirable city typist must find her derivative in the cruder lusts of certain novelists, so Edith Ethel must break down into physical sexualitiesвБ†вАФand into shrieked coarseness of fishwives. How else, indeed, do we have saints? Surely, alone, by the ultimate victory of the one tendency over the other! + 

But now after her farewell scene with Edith Ethel a simple rearrangement of the pattern had brought many of the old doubts at least temporarily back. Valentine said to herself that, just because of the very strength of her character, Edith Ethel couldnвАЩt have been brought down to uttering her fantastic denunciation of Tietjens, the merely mad charges of debauchery and excesses and finally the sexually lunatic charge against herself, except under the sting of some such passion as jealousy. She, Valentine, couldnвАЩt arrive at any other conclusion. And, viewing the matter as she believed she now did, more composedly, she considered with seriousness that, men being what they are, her lover respecting, or despairing of, herself had relieved the grosser necessities of his beingвБ†вАФat the expense of Mrs.¬†Duchemin, who had, no doubt, been only too ready. + 

And in certain moods during the past week she had accepted this suspicion; in certain other moods she had put it from her. Towards the Thursday it had no longer seemed to matter. Her lover was going from her; the long pull of the war was on; the hard necessities of life stretched out; what could an infidelity more or less matter in the long, hard thing that life is. And on the Thursday two minor, or major, worries came to disturb her level. Her brother announced himself as coming home for several daysвАЩ leave, and she had the trouble of thinking that she would have forced upon her a companionship and a point of view that would be coarsely and uproariously opposed to anything that Tietjens stood forвБ†вАФor for which he was ready to sacrifice himself. Moreover she would have to accompany her brother to a number of riotous festivities whilst all the time she would have to think of Tietjens as getting hour by hour nearer to the horrible circumstances of troops in contact with enemy forces. In addition her mother had received an enviably paid-for commission from one of the more excitable Sunday papers to write a series of articles on extravagant matters connected with the hostilities. They had wanted the money so dreadfullyвБ†вАФmore particularly as Edward was coming homeвБ†вАФthat Valentine Wannop had conquered her natural aversion from the waste of time of her mother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It would have meant very little waste of time, and the ¬£60 that it would have brought in would have made all the difference to them for months and months. + 

But Tietjens, whom Mrs.¬†Wannop had come to rely on as her right hand man in these matters, had, it appeared, shown an unexpected recalcitrancy. He had, Mrs.¬†Wannop said, hardly seemed himself and had gibed at the two first subjects proposedвБ†вАФthat of вАЬwar babiesвАЭ and the fact that the Germans were reduced to eating their own corpsesвБ†вАФas being below the treatment of any decent pen. The illegitimacy rate, he had said, had shown very little increase; the French-derived German word Cadaver meant bodies of horses or cattle; Leichnam being the German for the word вАЬcorpse.вАЭ He had practically refused to have anything to do with the affair. + 

As to the Cadaver business Valentine agreed with him; as to the вАЬwar babiesвАЭ she kept a more open mind. If there werenвАЩt any war babies it couldnвАЩt, as far as she could see, matter whether one wrote about them; it couldnвАЩt certainly matter as much as to write about them, supposing the poor little things to exist. She was aware that this was immoral, and her mother needed the money desperately and her mother came first. + 

There was nothing for it, therefore, but to plead with Tietjens, for Valentine knew that without so much of moral support from him as would be implied by a good-natured, or an enforced sanction of the article, Mrs.¬†Wannop would drop the matter and so would lose her connection with the excitable paper which paid well. It happened that on the Friday morning Mrs.¬†Wannop received a request that she would write for a Swiss review a propaganda article about some historical matter connected with the peace after Waterloo. The pay would be practically nothing, but the employment was at least relatively dignified, and Mrs.¬†WannopвБ†вАФwhich was quite in the ordinary course of things!вБ†вАФtold Valentine to ring Tietjens up and ask him for some details about the Congress of Vienna at which, before and after Waterloo, the peace terms had been wrangled out. + 

Valentine rang upвБ†вАФas she had done hundreds of times; it was to her a great satisfaction that she was going to hear Tietjens speak once more at least. The telephone was answered from the other end, and Valentine gave her two messages, the one as to the Congress of Vienna, the other as to war babies. The appalling speech came back: + 

вАЬYoung woman! YouвАЩd better keep off the grass. Mrs.¬†Duchemin is already my husbandвАЩs mistress. You keep off.вАЭ There was about the voice no human quality; it was as if from an immense darkness the immense machine had spoken words that dealt blows. She answered; and it was as if a substratum of her mind of which she knew nothing must have been prepared for that very speech; so that it was not her own вАЬsheвАЭ that answered levelly and coolly: + 

вАЬYou have probably mistaken the person you are speaking to. Perhaps you will ask Mr.¬†Tietjens to ring up Mrs.¬†Wannop when he is at liberty.вАЭ + 

The voice said: + 

вАЬMy husband will be at the War Office at 4:15. He will speak to you thereвБ†вАФabout your war babies. But IвАЩd keep off the grass if I were you!вАЭ The receiver at the other end was hung up. + 

She went about her daily duties. She had heard of a kind of pine kernel that was very cheap and very nourishing, or at least very filling. They had come to it that it was a matter of pennies balanced against the feeling of satiety, and she visited several shops in search of this food. When she had found it she returned to the dog kennel; her brother Edward had arrived. He was rather subdued. He brought with him a piece of meat which was part of his leave ration. He occupied himself with polishing up his sailorвАЩs uniform for a ragtime party to which they were to go that evening. They were to meet plenty of conchies, he said. Valentine put the meatвБ†вАФit was a Godsend, though very stringy!вБ†вАФon to stew with a number of chopped vegetables. She went up to her room to do some typing for her mother. + 

The nature of TietjensвАЩ wife occupied her mind. Before, she had barely thought about her: she had seemed unreal; so mysterious as to be a myth! Radiant and high-stepping: like a great stag! But she must be cruel! She must be vindictively cruel to Tietjens himself, or she could not have revealed his private affairs! Just broadcast; for she could not, bluff it how she might, have been certain of to whom she was speaking! A thing that wasnвАЩt done! But she had delivered her cheek to Mrs.¬†Wannop; a thing, too, that wasnвАЩt done! Yet so kindly! The telephone bell rang several times during the morning. She let her mother answer it. + 

She had to get the dinner, which took three-quarters of an hour. It was a pleasure to see her mother eat so well; a good stew, rich and heavy with haricot beans. She herself couldnвАЩt eat, but no one noticed, which was a good thing. Her mother said that Tietjens had not yet telephoned, which was very inconsiderate. Edward said: вАЬWhat! The Huns havenвАЩt killed old Feather Bolster yet? But of course heвАЩs been found a safe job.вАЭ The telephone on the sideboard became a terror to Valentine; at any moment his voice mightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Edward went on telling anecdotes of how they bamboozled petty officers on minesweepers. Mrs.¬†Wannop listened to him with the courteous, distant interest of the great listening to commercial travellers. Edward desired draught ale and produced a two shilling piece. He seemed very much coarsened; it was, no doubt, only on the surface. In these days everyone was very much coarsened on the surface. + 

She went with a quart jug to the jug and bottle department of the nearest public-houseвБ†вАФa thing she had never done before. Even at Ealing the mistress hadnвАЩt allowed her to be sent to a public-house; the cook had had to fetch her dinner beer herself or have it sent in. Perhaps the Ealing mistress had exercised more surveillance than Valentine had believed; a kind woman, but an invalid. Nearly all day in bed. Blind passion overcame Valentine at the thought of Edith Ethel in TietjensвАЩ arms. HadnвАЩt she got her own eunuch? Mrs.¬†Tietjens had said: вАЬMrs.¬†Duchemin is his mistress!вАЭ Is! Then she might be there now! + 

In the contemplation of that image she missed the thrills of buying beer in a bottle and jug department. Apparently it was like buying anything else, except for the smell of beer on the sawdust. You said: вАЬA quart of the best bitter!вАЭ and a fat, quite polite man, with an oily head and a white apron, took your money and filled your jug.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But Edith Ethel had abused Tietjens so foully! The more foully the more certain it made it!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Draught beer in a jug had little marblings of burst foam on its brown surface. It mustnвАЩt be split at the kerbs of crossings!вБ†вАФthe more certain it made it! Some women did so abuse their lovers after sleeping with them, and the more violent the transports the more frantic the abuse. It was the вАЬpost-dash-tristiaвАЭ of the Rev. Duchemin! Poor devil! Tristia! Tristia! + 

Terra tribus scopulis vastumвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Not longum! + 

Brother Edward began communing with himself, long and unintelligibly as to where he should meet his sister at 19:30 and give her a blowout! The names of restaurants fell from his lips into her panic. He decided hilariously and not quite steadilyвБ†вАФa quart is a lot to a fellow from a minesweeper carrying no booze at all!вБ†вАФon meeting her at 7:20 at High Street and going to a pub he knew; they would go on to the dance afterwards. In a studio. вАЬOh, God!вАЭ her heart said, вАЬif Tietjens should want her then!вАЭ To be his; on his last night. He might! Everybody was coarsened then; on the surface. Her brother rolled out of the house, slamming the door so that every tile on the jerry-built dog kennel rose and sat down again. + 

She went upstairs and began to look over her frocks. She couldnвАЩt tell what frocks she looked over; they lay like aligned rags on the bed, the telephone bell ringing madly. She heard her motherвАЩs voice, suddenly assuaged: вАЬOh! oh!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs you!вАЭ She shut her door and began to pull open and to close drawer after drawer. As soon as she ceased that exercise her motherвАЩs voice became half audible; quite audible when she raised it to ask a question. She heard her say: вАЬNot get her into troubleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Of course!вАЭ then it died away into mere high sounds. + 

She heard her mother calling: + 

вАЬValentine! Valentine! Come down.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt you want to speak to Christopher?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Valentine! Valentine!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ And then another burst: вАЬValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ValentineвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ As if she had been a puppy dog! Mrs.¬†Wannop, thank God, was on the lowest step of the creaky stairs. She had left the telephone. She called up: + 

вАЬCome down. I want to tell you! The dear boy has saved me! He always saves me! What shall I do now heвАЩs gone?вАЭ + 

вАЬHe saved others: himself he could not save!вАЭ Valentine quoted bitterly. She caught up her wideawake. She wasnвАЩt going to prink herself for him. He must take her as she was.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Himself he could not save! But he did himself proud! With women!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Coarsened! But perhaps only on the surface! She herself!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She was running downstairs! + 

Her mother had retreated into the little parlour: nine feet by nine; in consequence, at ten feet it was too tall for its size. But there was in it a sofa with cushions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ With her head upon those cushions, perhaps.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If he came home with her! Late!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Her mother was saying: HeвАЩs a splendid fellow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A root idea for a war baby article.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If a Tommy was a decent fellow he abstained because he didnвАЩt want to leave his girl in trouble.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If he wasnвАЩt he chanced it because it might be his last chance.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬA message to me!вАЭ Valentine said to herself. вАЬBut which sentence.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She moved, absently, all the cushions to one end of the sofa. Her mother exclaimed: + 

вАЬHe sent his love! His mother was lucky to have such a son!вАЭ and turned into her tiny hole of a study. + 

Valentine ran down over the broken tiles of the garden path, pulling her wideawake firmly on. She had looked at her wrist watch; it was two and twelve: 14:45. If she was to walk to the War Office by 4:15вБ†вАФ16:15вБ†вАФa sensible innovation!вБ†вАФshe must step out. Five miles to Whitehall. God knows what, then! Five miles back! Two and a half, diagonally, to High Street Station by half-past 19! Twelve and a half miles in five hours or less. And three hours dancing on the top of it. And to dress!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She needed to be fitвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, with violent bitterness, she said: + 

вАЬWell! IвАЩm fit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She had an image of the aligned hundred of girls in blue jumpers and menвАЩs ties keeping whom fit had kept her super-fit. She wondered how many of them would be menвАЩs mistresses before the year was out. It was August then. But perhaps none! Because she had kept them fit.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬAh!вАЭ she said, вАЬif I had been a loose woman, with flaccid breasts and a soft body. All perfumed!вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But neither Sylvia Tietjens nor Ethel Duchemin were soft. They might be scented on occasion! But they could not contemplate with equanimity doing a twelve-mile walk to save a few pence and dancing all night on top of it! She could! And perhaps the price she paid was just that; she was in such hard condition she hadnвАЩt moved him toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She perhaps exhaled such an aura of sobriety, chastity and abstinence as to suggest to him thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that a decent fellow didnвАЩt get his girl into trouble before going to be killed.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yet if he were such a town bull!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She wondered how she knew such phrases.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The sordid and aligned houses seemed to rush past her in the mean August sunshine. That was because if you thought hard time went quicker; or because after you noticed the paper shop at this corner you would be up to the boxes of onions outside the shop of the next corner before you noticed anything else. + 

She was in Kensington Gardens, on the north side; she had left the poor shops behind.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In sham country, with sham lawns, sham avenues, sham streams. Sham people pursuing their ways across the sham grass. Or no! Not sham! In a vacuum! No! вАЬPasteurizedвАЭ was the word! Like dead milk. Robbed of their vitamins.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

If she saved a few coppers by walking it would make a larger pile to put into the leeringвБ†вАФor compassionateвБ†вАФtaxicabmanвАЩs hand after he had helped her support her brother into the dog kennel door. Edward would be dead drunk. She had fifteen shillings for the taxi.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If she gave a few coppers more it seemed generous.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What a day to look forward to still! Some days were lifetimes! + 

She would rather die than let Tietjens pay for the cab! + 

Why? Once a taximan had refused payment for driving her and Edward all the way to Chiswick, and she hadnвАЩt felt insulted. She had paid him; but she hadnвАЩt felt insulted! A sentimental fellow; touched at the heart by the pretty sisterвБ†вАФor perhaps he didnвАЩt really believe it was a sisterвБ†вАФand her incapable bluejacket brother! Tietjens was a sentimental fellow too.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What was the difference?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And then! The mother a dead, heavy sleeper; the brother dead drunk. One in the morning! He couldnвАЩt refuse her! Blackness: cushions! She had arranged the cushions, she remembered. Arranged them subconsciously! Blackness! Heavy sleep; dead drunkenness!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Horrible!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A disgusting affair! An affair of Ealing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It shall make her one with all the stuff to fill graveyards.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, what else was she, Valentine Wannop: daughter of her father? And of her mother? Yes! But she herselfвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Just a little nobody! + 

They were no doubt wirelessing from the Admiralty.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But her brother was at home, or getting a little more intoxicated and talking treason. At any rate the flickering intermittences over the bitter seas couldnвАЩt for the moment concern him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ That bus touched her skirt as she ran for the island.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It might have been better.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But one hadnвАЩt the courage! + 

She was looking at patterned deaths under a little green roof, such as they put over bird shelters. Her heart stopped! Before, she had been breathless! She was going mad. She was dying.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ All these deaths! And not merely the deaths.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The waiting for the approach of death; the contemplation of the parting from life! This minute you were; that, and you werenвАЩt! What was it like? Oh heaven, she knew.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She stood there contemplating parting fromвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ One minute you were; the nextвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Her breath fluttered in her chest.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Perhaps he wouldnвАЩt comeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

He was immediately framed by the sordid stones. She ran upon him and said something; with a mad hatred. All these deaths and he and his like responsible!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He had apparently a brother, a responsible one too! Browner complexioned!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But he! He! He! He! completely calm; with direct eyes.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It wasnвАЩt possible. вАЬHolde Lippen: klare Augen: heller Sinn.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Oh, a little bit wilted, the clear intellect! And the lips? No doubt too. But he couldnвАЩt look at you so, unlessвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

She caught him fiercely by the arm; for the moment he belongedвБ†вАФmore than to any browner, mere civilian, brother!вБ†вАФto her! She was going to ask him! If he answered: вАЬYes! I am such a man!вАЭ she was going to say: вАЬThen you must take me too! If them, why not me? I must have a child. I too!вАЭ She desired a child. She would overwhelm these hateful lodestones with a flood of argument; she imaginedвБ†вАФshe feltвБ†вАФthe words going between her lips.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She imagined her fainting mind; her consenting limbs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

His looks were wandering round the cornice of these stone buildings. Immediately she was Valentine Wannop again; it needed no word from him. Words passed, but words could no more prove an established innocence than words can enhance a love that exists. He might as well have recited the names of railway stations. His eyes, his unconcerned face, his tranquil shoulders; they were what acquitted him. The greatest love speech he had ever and could ever make her was when, harshly and angrily, he said something like: + 

вАЬCertainly not. I imagined you knew me betterвАЭвБ†вАФbrushing her aside as if she had been a midge. And, thank God, he had hardly listened to her! + 

She was Valentine Wannop again; in the sunlight the chaffinches said вАЬPink! pink!вАЭ The seed-heads of the tall grasses were brushing against her skirt. She was clean-limbed, clearheaded.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was just a problem whether Sylvia Tietjens was good to him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Good for him was, perhaps, the more exact way of putting it. Her mind cleared, like water that goes off the boil.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬWaters stilled at even.вАЭ Nonsense. It was sunlight, and he had an adorable brother! He could save his brother. Transport! There was another meaning to the word. A warm feeling settled down upon her; this was her brother; the next to the best ever! It was as if you had matched a piece of stuff so nearly with another piece of stuff as to make no odds. Yet just not the real stuff! She must be grateful to this relative for all he did for her; yet, ah, never so grateful as to the otherвБ†вАФwho had done nothing! + 

Providence is kind in great batches! She heard, mounting the steps, the blessed word Transport! вАЬThey,вАЭ so Mark said: he and sheвБ†вАФthe family feeling againвБ†вАФwere going to get Christopher into the Transport.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ By the kindness of God the First Line Transport was the only branch of the services of which Valentine knew anything. Their charwoman, who could not read and write, had a son, a sergeant in a line regiment. вАЬHooray!вАЭ he had written to his mother, вАЬIвАЩve been off my feed; recommended for the D.C.M. too. So theyвАЩre putting me senior N.C.O. of First Line Transport for a rest; the safest soft job of the whole bally front line caboodle!вАЭ Valentine had had to read this letter in the scullery amongst black-beetles. Aloud! She had hated reading it as she had hated reading anything that gave details of the front line. But charity begins surely with the char! She had had to. Now she could thank God. The sergeant, in direct, perfectly sincere language, to comfort his mother, had described his daily work, detailing horses and G.S. limber wagons for jobs and superintending the horse-standings. вАЬWhy,вАЭ one sentence ran, вАЬour O.C. Transport is one of those fishing lunatics. Wherever we go he has a space of grass cleared out and pegged and bвБ†вЄЇвБ†y hell to the man who walks across it!вАЭ There the O.C. practised casting with trout and salmon rods by the hour together. вАЬThatвАЩll show you what a soft job it is!вАЭ the sergeant had finished triumphantly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

So that there she, Valentine Wannop, sat on a hard bench against a wall; downright, healthy middle-classвБ†вАФor perhaps upper middle-classвБ†вАФfor the Wannops were, if impoverished, yet of ancient family! Over her sensible, moccasined shoes the tide of humanity flowed before her hard bench. There were two commissionaires, the one always benevolent, the other perpetually querulous, in a pulpit on one side of her; on the other, a brown-visaged sort of brother-in-law with bulging eyes, who in his shy efforts to conciliate her was continually trying to thrust into his mouth the crook of his umbrella. As if it had been a knob. She could not, at the moment, imagine why he should want to conciliate her; but she knew she would know in a minute. + 

For just then she was occupied with a curious pattern; almost mathematically symmetrical. Now she was an English middle-class girlвБ†вАФwhose mother had a sufficient incomeвБ†вАФin blue cloth, a wideawake hat, a black silk tie; without a thought in her head that she shouldnвАЩt have. And with a man who loved her: of crystal purity. Not ten, not five minutes ago, she had beenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She could not even remember what she had been! And he had been, he had assuredly appeared a townвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No, she could not think the words.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A raging stallion then! If now he should approach her, by the mere movement of a hand along the table, she would retreat. + 

It was a Godsend; yet it was absurd. Like the weather machine of the old man and the old woman on opposite ends of the stick.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ When the old man came out the old woman went in and it would rain; when the old woman came outвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was exactly like that! She hadnвАЩt time to work out the analogy. But it was like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In rainy weather the whole world altered. Darkened!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The catgut that turned them slackenedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ slackened.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But, always, they remained at opposite ends of the stick! + 

Mark was saying, the umbrella crook hindering his utterance: + 

вАЬWe buy then an annuity of five hundred for your mother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It was astonishing, though it spread tranquillity through her, how little this astonished her. It was the merely retarded expected. Mr.¬†Tietjens senior, an honourable man, had promised as much years ago. Her mother, an august genius, was to wear herself out putting, Mr.¬†Tietjens alive, his political views in his paper. He was to make it up to her. He was making it up. In no princely fashion, but adequately, as a gentleman. + 

Mark Tietjens, bending over, held a piece of paper. A bellboy came up to him and said: вАЬMr.¬†Riccardo!вАЭ Mark Tietjens said: вАЬNo! HeвАЩs gone!вАЭ He continued: + 

вАЬYour brother.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Shelved for the moment. But enough to buy a practice, a good practice! When heвАЩs a full-fledged sawbones.вАЭ He stopped, he directed upon her his atrabilarian eyes, biting his umbrella handle; he was extremely nervous. + 

вАЬNow you!вАЭ he said. вАЬTwo or three hundred. A year of course! The capital absolutely your own.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He paused: вАЬBut I warn you! Christopher wonвАЩt like it. HeвАЩs got his knife into me. I wouldnвАЩt grudge youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, any sum!вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He waved his hand to indicate an amount boundless in its figures. вАЬI know you keep Christopher straight,вАЭ he said. вАЬThe only person that could!вАЭ He added: вАЬPoor devil!вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬHeвАЩs got his knife into you? Why?вАЭ + 

He answered vaguely: + 

вАЬOh, thereвАЩs been all this talk.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Untrue, of course.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬPeople have been saying things against you? To him? Perhaps because thereвАЩs been delay in settling the estate.вАЭ + 

He said: + 

вАЬOh, no! The other way round, in fact!вАЭ + 

вАЬThen they have been saying,вАЭ she exclaimed, вАЬthings againstвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ against me. And him!вАЭ + 

He exclaimed in anguish: + 

вАЬOh, but I ask you to believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I beg you to believe that I believeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you! Miss Wannop!вАЭ He added grotesquely: вАЬAs pure as dew that lies within AuroraвАЩs sun-tippedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His eyes stuck out like those of a suffocating fish. He said: вАЬI beg you not on that account to hand the giddy mitten toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He writhed in his tight double collar. вАЬHis wife,вАЭ he said, вАЬвА¶¬†sheвАЩs no good toвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs soppily in love with him. But no goodвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He very nearly sobbed. вАЬYouвАЩve the onlyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he said, вАЬI knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It came into her head that she was losing too much time in this Salle des Pas Perdus! She would have to take the train home! Fivepence! But what did it matter. Her mother had five hundred a year.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Two hundred and forty times five.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

Mark said brightly: + 

вАЬIf now we bought your mother an annuity of five hundred.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You say thatвАЩs ample to give Christopher his chop.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And settled on her threeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ fourвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I like to be exactвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ hundred a year.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The capital of it: with remainder to youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ His interrogative face beamed. + 

She saw now the whole situation with perfect plainness. She understood Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs: + 

вАЬYou couldnвАЩt expect us, with our official positionвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ to conniveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Edith Ethel had been perfectly right. She couldnвАЩt be expected.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She had worked too hard to appear circumspect and right! You canвАЩt ask people to lay down their whole lives for their friends!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was only of Tietjens you could ask that! She saidвБ†вАФto Mark: + 

вАЬItвАЩs as if the whole world had conspiredвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ like a carpenterвАЩs voiceвБ†вАФto force usвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ she was going to say вАЬtogether.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ But he burst in, astonishingly: + 

вАЬHe must have his buttered toastвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and his mutton chopвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and Rhum St.¬†James!вАЭ He said: вАЬDamn it all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You were made for him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You canвАЩt blame people for coupling you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩre forced to it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If you hadnвАЩt existed theyвАЩd have had to invent youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Like Dante forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ who was it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Beatrice? There are couples like that.вАЭ + 

She said: + 

вАЬLike a carpenterвАЩs vise.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Pushed together. Irresistibly. HavenвАЩt we resisted?вАЭ + 

His face became panic-stricken; his bulging eyes pushed away towards the pulpit of the two commissionaires. He whispered: + 

вАЬYou wonвАЩtвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ because of my oxвАЩs hoofвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ desert.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said:вБ†вАФshe heard Macmaster whispering it hoarsely. + 

вАЬI ask you to believe that I will neverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ abandonвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

It was what Macmaster had said. He must have got it from Mrs.¬†Micawber! + 

Christopher TietjensвБ†вАФin his shabby khaki, for his wife had spoilt his best uniformвБ†вАФsaid suddenly from behind her back, since he had approached her from beyond the pulpit of the two commissionaires and she had been turned towards Mark on his bench: + 

вАЬCome along! LetвАЩs get out of this!вАЭ He was, she asked herself, getting out of this! Towards what? + 

Like mutes from a funeralвБ†вАФor as if she had been, between the brothers, a prisoner under escortвБ†вАФthey walked down steps; half righted towards the exit arch; one and a half righted to face Whitehall. The brothers grunted inaudible but satisfied sounds over her head. They crossed, by the islands, Whitehall, where the bus had brushed her skirt. Under an archwayвБ†вАФ + 

In a stony, gravelled majestic space the brothers faced each other. Mark said: + 

вАЬI suppose you wonвАЩt shake hands!вАЭ + 

Christopher said: + 

вАЬNo! Why should I?вАЭ She herself had cried out to Christopher: + 

вАЬOh, do!вАЭ (The wireless squares overhead no longer concerned her. Her brother was, no doubt, getting drunk in a bar in Piccadilly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ A surface coarseness!) + 

Mark said: + 

вАЬHadnвАЩt you better? You might get killed! A fellow just getting killed would not like to think he had refused to shake his brother by the hand!вАЭ + 

Christopher had said: вАЬOhвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ well!вАЭ + 

During her happiness over this hyperborean sentimentality he had gripped her thin upper arm. He had led her past swansвБ†вАФor possibly huts; she never remembered whichвБ†вАФto a seat that had over it, or near it, a weeping willow. He had said, gasping, too, like a fish: + 

вАЬWill you be my mistress tonight? I am going out tomorrow at 8:30 from Waterloo.вАЭ + 

She had answered: + 

вАЬYes! Be at such and such a studio just before twelve.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I have to see my brother home.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He will be drunk.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She meant to say: вАЬOh, my darling, I have wanted you so much.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said instead: + 

вАЬI have arranged the cushions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She said to herself: + 

вАЬNow whatever made me say that? ItвАЩs as if I had said: вАШYouвАЩll find the ham in the larder under a plate.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЩ No tenderness about it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

She went away, up a cockle-shelled path, between ankle-high railings, crying bitterly. An old tramp, with red weeping eyes and a thin white beard, regarded her curiously from where he lay on the grass. He imagined himself the monarch of that landscape. + 

вАЬThatвАЩs women!вАЭ he said with the apparently imbecile enigmaticality of the old and the hardened. вАЬSome do!вАЭ He spat into the grass; said: вАЬAh!вАЭ then added: вАЬSome do not!вАЭ + 