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Authors: Patrick Hamilton
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minute, and the fire within, with one large flame, flapping like a wind-tugged flag, leapt up to illuminate the room. If Mr. Gissing did not come at all (and when it was quite dark she would resign herself) she had her course of action more or less consciously resolved upon. She would go up to her dark bedroom, lie down upon her bed, cry until she was exhausted and satisfied, spend two more weeks in London going to every theatre, every day, that she cared to go to; and then return to Lady Perrin and be married as soon as it could possibly be negotiated . For if Mr. Gissing proved false to her (Jackie wasnow reduced to confessing to herself) she had come to the end of her spiritual resources.
For it had been raining continuously since the night of her arrival, three days ago; and apart from one ineffectual little morning trip to the West End (when it simply pelted and she very nearly lost herself), West Kensington — that treeless and drab asylum for the driven and cast-off genteel — had been all that a desolate Jackie, cast upon herself, had seen of her London so far: and some cause for her dark and tearful frame of mind, as she stood at this window, may be discerned.
Some cause, also, for her bounding sense of deliverance from nameless despairs, of her lightning transition to glad expectancy, may be imagined, as a taxi came wheeling round and snarling up from the station end of the road, and she herself rushed out to open the door and welcome him in.
And when, a few minutes later, he was sitting in the flapping firelight with his overcoat on, and his hat in his hand, and very much at his ease altogether as he smiled up at her, she was an emancipated creature — emancipated from all West Kensingtons, and demented milkmen, and desires to cry — and simply a young girl resident in a twilight city of adventure at the outset of her career.
II
Everything was perfect from the first moment. There was first of all the introduction to Mrs. Lover, in which Mrs. Lover was, as usual, very shy, and in which even he showed an amiable kind of diffidence — (not knowing in quite what spirit one was to take Old Nurses). And then he was shown his room, which was a rather nervous moment for Jackie, as she listened to their bumpings and conversation overhead, and wondered what he was Thinking of it. And then it was decided to tackle his trunk at once; and he, on his part, took what he described as the Worst End, and Mrs. Lover, on her part, took what was by deduction the Best End, of the thing — the enormous size of which he apologized breathlessly for, to Mrs. Lover, and the obtruding wooden banisters defeatingthe advancement of which Mrs. Lover apologized breathlessly for, to him: and then they came down into the hall again (where Jackie was standing) for his suitcase, and here Mrs. Lover mentioned Tea.
Whereat there was much silence, and “Well”-ing, and glances each to each, during which a ghostly vision of a deliciously intimate, not to say dual Tea, hovered in the air, waiting for an earthly medium to express it vocally, and champion its translation into fact. And Mr. Gissing said that he rather favoured, if the thing was negotiable at such short notice, a High one, as he had to play to-night and had had no lunch to speak of. At which Mrs. Lover made several tentative efforts to gauge the precise gastronomic dizzinesses conceived by her new lodger, and was at last humbly assured that he aspired no further than buttered (if possible) toast, and maybe poached (if he did not exceed the limits of audacity) eggs. Which Mrs. Lover amicably and virtually “Pooh-poohed” as a High Tea, as one having awaited a demand for Woolworth Buildings and received an order for Peacehaven Bungalows. And then she asked, About what time? “Well, I should say about an hour,” said Mr. Gissing, and then Jackie cut courageously in. “Would you like to have it with me?” she asked, and “Rather,” said Mr. Gissing, and it was settled.
“Are
For it had been raining continuously since the night of her arrival, three days ago; and apart from one ineffectual little morning trip to the West End (when it simply pelted and she very nearly lost herself), West Kensington — that treeless and drab asylum for the driven and cast-off genteel — had been all that a desolate Jackie, cast upon herself, had seen of her London so far: and some cause for her dark and tearful frame of mind, as she stood at this window, may be discerned.
Some cause, also, for her bounding sense of deliverance from nameless despairs, of her lightning transition to glad expectancy, may be imagined, as a taxi came wheeling round and snarling up from the station end of the road, and she herself rushed out to open the door and welcome him in.
And when, a few minutes later, he was sitting in the flapping firelight with his overcoat on, and his hat in his hand, and very much at his ease altogether as he smiled up at her, she was an emancipated creature — emancipated from all West Kensingtons, and demented milkmen, and desires to cry — and simply a young girl resident in a twilight city of adventure at the outset of her career.
II
Everything was perfect from the first moment. There was first of all the introduction to Mrs. Lover, in which Mrs. Lover was, as usual, very shy, and in which even he showed an amiable kind of diffidence — (not knowing in quite what spirit one was to take Old Nurses). And then he was shown his room, which was a rather nervous moment for Jackie, as she listened to their bumpings and conversation overhead, and wondered what he was Thinking of it. And then it was decided to tackle his trunk at once; and he, on his part, took what he described as the Worst End, and Mrs. Lover, on her part, took what was by deduction the Best End, of the thing — the enormous size of which he apologized breathlessly for, to Mrs. Lover, and the obtruding wooden banisters defeatingthe advancement of which Mrs. Lover apologized breathlessly for, to him: and then they came down into the hall again (where Jackie was standing) for his suitcase, and here Mrs. Lover mentioned Tea.
Whereat there was much silence, and “Well”-ing, and glances each to each, during which a ghostly vision of a deliciously intimate, not to say dual Tea, hovered in the air, waiting for an earthly medium to express it vocally, and champion its translation into fact. And Mr. Gissing said that he rather favoured, if the thing was negotiable at such short notice, a High one, as he had to play to-night and had had no lunch to speak of. At which Mrs. Lover made several tentative efforts to gauge the precise gastronomic dizzinesses conceived by her new lodger, and was at last humbly assured that he aspired no further than buttered (if possible) toast, and maybe poached (if he did not exceed the limits of audacity) eggs. Which Mrs. Lover amicably and virtually “Pooh-poohed” as a High Tea, as one having awaited a demand for Woolworth Buildings and received an order for Peacehaven Bungalows. And then she asked, About what time? “Well, I should say about an hour,” said Mr. Gissing, and then Jackie cut courageously in. “Would you like to have it with me?” she asked, and “Rather,” said Mr. Gissing, and it was settled.
“Are
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