Betty answered—prettier than ever, a rounded but swaying young creature who said little and that slowly.
“Hello!” she said, “Sue's out.”
“I don't want Sue. Came to see you, Betty. I'm fired—out of a job—and while it lasts, hilariously2 happy. How about a bite at the Parisian?”
So they had humorously early tea at the old French restaurant near the Square. Then Betty went up-town on the bus for a little shopping, and Hy walked, at last, back to the office. They had decided3 to meet again for dinner.
Scripture4 House loomed5 before him—long, dingy6, grim in the gay sunshine. He stood motionless on the farther curb7, staring at it. Had three years of his life been spent, miserably8 spent, on a treadmill9, in that haunt of hypocrisy10? Had he been selling his presumably immortal11 soul on the instalment plan, at forty-five a week? Or was it a hideous12 dream? Was he dreaming now?
He shuddered13. Then, slowly, he walked across the street, deriding14 to pack up and get out for good just as swiftly as the thing could be done. He was glad, downright glad, that it was his character that had been so crudely assailed15. That let him out. He needn't be decent—needn't wait a month to break in a new man—nothing like that! He wondered mildly what the Worm would say, and Peter? It might be necessary to borrow a bit until he could get going again. Though perhaps they would take him back on the old paper until he could find something regular.
The sense of being haunted by a dream grew as he went up in the elevator and walked along the hall. He saw with new eyes the old building he had so long taken for granted—saw the worn hollows in the oak floors, the patched cracks in the plaster; he smelt16 the old musty odor with new' repugnance17; noted18 the legends on office doors he passed with a wry19 smile, the Reverend This and the Reverend That, the Society for the Suppression of Such and Such, the commercially religious Somebody & Company.
He had to will his hand to open the door lettered, “My Brother's Keeper; Hubbell Harkness Wilde, D. D.” He had to will his feet to carry him within. But once within, he stood motionless and the queerness seized on him, widened his eyes, caught at his breath. For the place was absolutely still. Not a typewriter sounded. Not an argumentative voice floated out over the seven-foot partitions. It was like a dead place—uncanny, awful. For an instant he considered running; wondered fantastically whether his feet would turn to lead and hold him back as feet do in dreams.
But he stood his ground and looked cautiously about. There within the rail, in the corner, the pretty little telephone girl sat motionless at her switchboard, watching him with eyes that stared stupidly out of a white face.
He stepped to her side—tiptoeing in spite of himself—tried to smile, cleared his throat, started at the sound; then whispered, “For Heaven's sake, what's the matter?” and patted the girl's cheek.
Ordinarily she would have dodged20 away and looked anxiously about in fear of being seen. Now she did nothing of the sort. After a moment she said, also whispering and quite incoherently—“Is Miss Hardwick going to have your room?”
At the sound of her voice and out of sheer nervousness, he gulped21. She was alive, at least. He pinched her cheek; and shook his head, rather meaninglessly. Then he braced22 himself and went on in, wholly unaware23 that he was still tiptoeing.
Two girl stenographers sat in a coiner, whispering. At sight of him they hushed. He passed on. The other girls were not at their desks, though he thought that most of their hats and coats hung in the farther corner as usual. The office boy was not to be seen. The copy editor and proof-reader was not in her cubby-hole at the end of the corridor. Miss Hardwick's door was shut; but as he passed he thought he heard a rustle24 within, and he was certain that he saw the tip of a hat feather over the partition.
He came to his own door. It was ajar. He felt sure he had closed it when he left. It was his regular practise to close it. He stopped short, considering this as if it was a matter of genuine importance. Then it occurred to him that the boy might have been in there with proofs.
Doctor Wilde's door at the end of the corridor stood open. The seven-foot square mahogany desk, heaped with papers and books, looked natural enough, but the chair behind it was empty.
He tiptoed forward, threw his door open. Then he literally25 gasped26. For there, between the desk and the window, stood the Walrus27. He held the nicked editorial shears28 in his hand—he must have picked them up from the floor—and was in the act of looking from them to the cut ends of the wires by the buzzer29.
Hy's overcharged nervous system leaped for the nearest outlet30. “I cut the damn things myself,” he said, “this morning.”
“Ah, yes,” he said. “I didn't know they were objectionable to you.”
“I've hated them for three years,” said Hy.
“You should have spoken. It is better to speak of things.”
“You know,” observed Doctor Wilde, as if he had not heard—his voice was husky and curiously34 weak—“we were interrupted this morning. You were wrong in imagining that a resignation was necessary. You jumped at that conclusion. I should say that you were unnecessarily touchy35.”
“But my character—”
“I repeat, it seems to me that you were unnecessarily touchy. A man must not be too sensitive. He should be strong to take as well as give blows. Your actions, it seemed to me, perhaps wrongly, were a blow to me, to the prestige of this establishment. You must understand, Mr. Lowe, that in this life that we all must live”—absently he looked about to see if Miss Hardwick's pencil was poised36 to render imperishable the thought that he was about to put into words, caught himself, brushed a limp hand (with the shears in them) across his eyes, then went on with an effort—“I will say further that when we spoke32 this morning I had not seen the dummy37 for the issue of July tenth. Now I don't mind telling you that I regard that as a good dummy. You have there caught my ideas of sound make-up better than ever before. And I have—”
“But my character—”
“—and I have just written instructions to Mr. Hennessy to make a change in your salary beginning with next Saturday's envelope. You are now doing the work of a full managing editor. Your income should be sufficient to enable you to support the position with reasonable dignity. Hereafter you will draw sixty dollars a week.”
He moved toward the door. He seemed suddenly a really old man, grayer of hair and skin, more bent38, less certain of his footing.
“Here!” cried Hy, sputtering39 in uncontrollable excitement, “those are my shears.”
“Ah, so they are. I did not notice.” And the Walrus came back, laid them carefully on the desk: then walked out, entered his own room, closed the dour40.
Hy shut his door, stood for a moment by the desk, sank, an inert41 figure, into his chair. His eyes focused on the old alpaca coat, stuffed into the waste basket. He took it out; spread it on the desk and stared at the ink stains. “I can have it cleaned,” he thought. Suddenly he pressed two shaking hands to his throbbing42 head.
“My God!” he muttered, aloud. “What did I say to him. What didn't I say to him? I'm a loon43! I'm a nut! This is the asylum44!”
He stiffened45 up; sat there for a moment, wildeyed. He reached down and pinched his thigh46, hard. He sprang up and paced the room. He wheeled suddenly, craftily47, on the silent buzzer, there on the partition. So far all right—the wires were cut!
He saw the shears lying on the desk; pounced48 on them and feverishly49 examined the blades. One was nicked.
So far, so good. But the supreme50 test remained. He plunged51 out into the silent corridor, hesitated, stood wrestling with the devils within him, conquered them and white as all the ghosts tapped at Doctor Wilde's door, opened it a crack, stuck in his head, and said:
“How much did you say it was to be, Doctor?”
The Walrus compressed his lips, and then drew a deep breath that was not unlike a sigh. “The figure I mentioned,” he replied, “was sixty dollars a week. If that is satisfactory to you.”
Hy considered this. “On the whole,” he said finally, “considering everything, I will agree to that.”
At ten minutes past midnight Hy let himself into the rooms. One gas jet was burning dimly in the studio. As he stood on the threshold he could just make out the long figure of the Worm half reclining in the Morris chair by a wide-open window, attired52 in the striped pajamas53 of the morning. From one elevated foot dangled54 a slipper55 of Chinese straw. He was smoking his old brier.
“Hello!” said Hy cheerfully.
Silence. Then, “Hello!” replied the Worm.
Hy tossed his hat on the couch-bed of the absent Peter, then came and stood by the open window, thrust hands deep into trousers packets, sniffed56 the mild evening air, gazed benevolently57 on the trees, lights and little moving figures of the Square. Then he lit a cigarette.
“Great night, my son!” said he.
The Worm lowered his pipe, looked up with sudden sharp interest, studied the gay young person standing58 so buoyantly there before him; then replaced the pipe and smoked on in silence.
“Oh, come!” cried Hy, after a bit. “Buck up! Be a live young newspaper man!”
“I'm not a newspaper man,'” replied the Worm.
“You're not a—-you were this afternoon.”
“True.”
“Say, my son, what were you around for today?”
The pipe came down again. “You mean to say you don't know?”
“Not a thing. Except that the place went absolutely on the fritz. I thought I had 'em.”
“I don't wonder,” muttered Henry Bates.
“He raised you?”
“Yes, my child.” Hy came around, sat on the desk, dangled his legs.
“Then,” observed the Worm, “he certainly thinks you know.”
The Worm knocked the ashes from his pipe; turned the warm bowl around and around in his hand. “Our paper—I should say The Courier—. has a story on Doctor Wilde—a charge that he has misappropriated missionary61 funds. They sent me up to-day to ask if he would consent to an accounting62.”
Hy whistled.
“The amount is put roughly at a million dollars. I didn't care much about the assignment.”
“I should think not.”
“I'm fond of Sue. But it was my job. When I told him what I was there for, he ran me out of his office, locked the door and shouted through the transom that he had a bottle of poison in his desk and would take it if I wouldn't agree to suppress the story. As if he'd planned exactly that scene for years.”
“Precisely. Melodrama. It was unpleasant.”
“You accepted the gentleman's proposition, I take it.”
“I dislike murders.”
Hy, considering this, stiffened up. “Say,” he cried, “what's the paper going to do about it?”
“I saw the assistant city editor this evening at the Parisian bar. He tells me they have decided to drop the story. But they dropped me first.” He looked shrewdly at Hy. “So don't worry. You can count on your raise.”
Hy's cigarette had gone out. He looked at it, tossed it out the window, lit a fresh one.
“Of course,” said he, “a fellow likes to know where he gets off.”
“Or at least that he is off,” said the Worm, and went to bed.
Hy let him go. A dreamy expression came into his eyes. As he threw off coat and waistcoat and started unbuttoning his collar, he hummed softly:
“I want si-imp-athee,
Si-imp-athee, just symp-ah-thee.”
He embraced an imaginary young woman—a blonde who was slow of speech and luxurious64 in movements—and danced slowly, rather gracefully65 across the room.
All was right with the world!
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1
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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hilariously
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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14
deriding
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的现在分词 ) | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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20
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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22
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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23
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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24
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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27
walrus
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| n.海象 | |
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28
shears
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| n.大剪刀 | |
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buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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31
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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32
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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33
sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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38
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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39
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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40
dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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41
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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loon
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| n.狂人 | |
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44
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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48
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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50
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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51
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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52
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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54
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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55
slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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56
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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59
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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elucidate
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| v.阐明，说明 | |
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61
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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62
accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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63
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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64
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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