"'And when you've got children of your own,' she said, 'and when you've got children of your own,' that was her remark," the customer, an insecurely fat woman, was saying.
"Just so," Mrs. Arb agreed, handing the change and pushing a little parcel across the counter. She ignored Mr. Earlforward completely. He stood near the door, while the fat customer repeated once more what some third person had remarked upon a certain occasion. The customer's accent was noticeably vulgar in contrast with Mrs. Arb's. Mrs. Arb was indeed very "well spoken." And she contrasted not merely with the customer but with the shop.
There were dozens of such little shops in and near King's Cross Road. The stock, and also the ornamentation, of the shop came chiefly from the wholesalers of advertised goods made up into universally recognizable packets. Several kinds of tea in large quantities, and picturesque1, bright tea-signs all around the shop. Several kinds of chocolate, in several kinds of fancy polished-wood glazed2 stands. (But the chocolate of one maker3 was in the stand of another.) All manner of patent foods, liquid and solid, each guaranteed to give strength. Two competitors in margarine. Scores of paper bags of flour. Some loaves; two hams, cut into. A milk-churn in the middle of the shop. Tinned fruits. Tinned fish. Tinned meats. And in the linoleum4-lined window the cakes and bon-bons which entitled the shop to style itself "confectioner's." Dirty ceiling; uneven5 dark wood floor; frowsy,[Pg 22] mysterious corners; a shabby counter covered with linoleum in black-and-white check, like the bottom of the window. One chair; one small, round, iron table. No cash-desk. No writing apparatus6 of any sort. A smell of bread, ham and biscuits. A poor little shop, showing no individuality, no enterprise, no imagination, no potentiality of reasonable profits. A shop which saved the shopkeeper from the trouble of thinking for himself. The inevitable7 result of big advertising8, and kept up to the average mark by the constant visitation of hurried commercial travellers and collectors who had the magic to extract money out of empty tills.
And Mrs. Arb, thin, bright, cheerful, with scintillating9 eyes; in a neat check dress and a fairly clean white apron10! Yes, she was bright, she was cheerful, she had a keen face. Perhaps that was what had attracted Mr. Earlforward, who was used to neither cheerfulness nor brightness. Yet he thought: "It would have been just about the same if she'd been a gloomy woman." Perhaps he had been attracted because she had life, energy, downrightness, masterfulness.
"Good evening, Mr. Earlforward. And what can I do for you?" She greeted him suddenly, vivaciously11, as the fat customer departed.
She knew him, then! She knew his real name. She knew that his name did not accord with the sign over his shop. Her welcoming smile inspired him, as alcohol would have inspired him had he ever tasted it. He was uplifted to a higher plane of existence. And also, secretly, he was a little bit flurried; but his demeanour did not betray this. A clock struck rapidly in some room behind the shop, and at the sound Mrs. Arb sprang from behind the counter, shut and locked the shop door, and drew down its blind for a sign to the world that business was over for the day. She had a fine movement with her. In getting out of her way Mr. Earlforward strove to conceal12 his limp as much as possible.
"I thought I'd just look in about that cookery-book you wanted," said he.[Pg 23]
"It's very kind of you I'm sure," said she. "But I really don't think I shall need it."
"Oh!"
"No! I think I shall get rid of this business. There's no doing anything with it."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Mr. Earlforward. And he was.
"It isn't as if I didn't enjoy it—at first. Quite a pleasant change for me to take something in hand. My husband died two years ago and left me nicely off, and I've been withering13 up ever since, till this came along. It's no life, being a widow at my age. But I couldn't stand this either, for long. There's no bounce to this business, if you understand what I mean. It's like hitting a cushion."
"I haven't decided. But I'm thinking about it.... You see, it's a queer neighbourhood."
"Queer?" He was shocked, perhaps a little hurt, but his calm tone disclosed nothing of that. He had a desire to explain to Mrs. Arb at great length that the neighbourhood was one of almost unique interest.
"Well, you know what I mean. You see, I come from Fulham—Chelsea you might call it. I'm not saying that when I lived in this shop before—eighteen years ago, is it?—I'm not saying I thought it was a queer neighbourhood then. I didn't—and I was here for over a year, too. But I do now."
"I must confess it hasn't struck me as queer."
"You know this King's Cross Road?" Mrs. Arb proceeded with increased ardour. "You know it? You've walked all along it?"
"Yes."
"So have I. Oh! I've looked about me. Is there a single theatre in it? Is there one music-hall? Is there one dance-hall? Is there one picture theatre? Is there one nice little restaurant? Or a tea-shop where a nice person could go if she'd a mind?... And yet it's a very important street; it's full of people all day. And you[Pg 24] can walk for miles round here and see nothing. And the dirt and untidiness! Well, I thought Fulham was dirty. Now look at this Riceyman Square place, up behind those funny steps! I walked through there. And I lay there isn't one house in it—not one—without a broken window! The fact is, the people about here don't want things nice and kept.... I'm not meaning you—certainly not! But people in general. And they don't want anything fresh, either. They only want all the nasty old things they've always had, same as pigs. And yet I must say I admire pigs, in a way. Oh, dear!" She laughed, as if at herself, a tinkling15 laugh, and looked down, with her steady agreeable hand still on the door.
Twice before she had looked down. It was more than coyness, better than coyness, more genuinely exciting. When she laughed her face crinkled up very pleasantly. She had energy. All the time her body made little movements. Her glance varied16, scintillating, darkling. Her tone ceaselessly varied. And she had authority. She was a masterful woman, but masterful in a broad-minded, genial17 manner. She was experienced, and had learnt from experience. She must be over forty.... And still, somehow girlish! Best of all, she was original; she had a point of view. She could see. Mr. Earlforward hated Clerkenwell to be damned. Yet he liked her to damn it. ... And how natural she was, dignified18, but not ceremonious, willing to be friends at once! He repeated to himself that from the first sight of her he had known her to be a highly remarkable19 creature.
"I brought the book along," he said, prudently20 avoiding argument. She took it amiably21 from him, and out of politeness inspected it again.
"You shall have it for ninepence. And you might be needing it after all, you know."
With her face still bent22 towards "Snacks and Titbits" she raised her eyes to his eyes—it seemed roguishly.
"I might! I might!" She shut the book with a smart snap. "But I won't go beyond sixpence, thank[Pg 25] you all the same. And not as I don't think it's very kind of you to bring it over."
What a woman! What a woman! She was rapidly becoming the most brilliant, attractive, competent, and comfortable woman on earth; and Mr. Earlforward was rapidly becoming a hero, a knight23, a madman capable of sublime24 deeds. He felt an heroical impulse such as he had never felt. He fought it, and was beaten.
"See here," he said quietly, and with unconscious grandeur25. "We're neighbours. I'll make you a present of the book."
Did she say, as a silly little creature would have said: "Oh, no! I couldn't possibly. I really couldn't"? Not a bit. She said simply:
"It's most kind of you, Mr. Earlforward. It really is. Of course I accept it with pleasure. Thank you."
And she looked down, like a girl who has received a necklace and clasped it on her neck. Yes, she looked down. The moment was marvellous to Mr. Earlforward.
"But I do think you're a little hard on Riceyman Square," he said, as she unlocked the door for his departure.
She replied gaily26 and firmly: "Not one house without a broken pane27!" She insisted and held out her hand.
"Well, we must see one day," said he.
She nodded.
"And if there is," she said, "I shall pay you a shilling for the book. That's fair."
She shook hands. Mr. Earlforward crossed the space between her shop and his with perfect calmness, and as he approached his door he took from his pocket with the mechanical movement of regular habit a shining key.
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收听单词发音
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1
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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7
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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8
advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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9
scintillating
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| adj．才气横溢的,闪闪发光的; 闪烁的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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11
vivaciously
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| adv.快活地；活泼地；愉快地 | |
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12
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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14
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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15
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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16
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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17
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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18
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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19
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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prudently
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| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
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21
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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22
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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23
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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24
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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25
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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