Beaver of the inky thumbs and the bitten nails, who had, somehow, eluded2 him, though they both worked in the narrow Street. Nothing astonishing in this, for the work of Beaver lay in circles different from his own. He never came outside the radius3 of meetings, inquests, the opening of bazaars4 and the hundred and one minor5 happenings that are to be found in "To-day's Diary." But here he was, utterly6 unchanged from the Beaver with whom Humphrey had lived in Guilford Street, with Mrs Wayzgoose, her wasteful7 coal-scuttles and her bulrushes.
They met in a chop-house by Temple Bar, a strange place, where the lower floor was packed with keen-faced men from the Courts of Justice over the way and the Temple at the back. They sat crowded together, abandoning all comfort in the haste to enjoy the luxury of the chops and steaks for which the house was famed.
There were no table-cloths on the round tables, where coffee-cups and plates of poached eggs and rounds of toast jostled each other. Only in England would people sit with joy and eat cheek by jowl in this fashion, with the smell of coffee and hot food in their nostrils8, and the clatter9 of plates and knives and forks in their ears.
Upstairs men played chess and dominoes over coffee and rolls, cracking their boiled eggs with difficulty in the cramped10 space.
Humphrey heard a voice hail him as he threaded his way between the tables. He looked back and saw Beaver waving a friendly fork at him.
"Hullo!" cried Beaver, shifting his chair away a few[248] inches, and seriously incommoding a grey-haired man so absorbed in his game of chess that his coffee was cold and untouched. "Come and sit here," cried Beaver.
They shook hands. "Well, how goes it?" Humphrey asked. "Still with the nose to the grindstone?"
"That's it," Beaver said. Their positions had been changed since the days of Easterham, when Beaver seemed miles above him in worldly success. He remembered the day Beaver left for London, to embark11 on a career which shone clear and brilliant in Humphrey's imagination. "Write in!" Those had been Beaver's last words. "Write in. That's what I did." The vision of it all rose before him now, as he sat by Beaver: the dingy12 office, with the scent13 of the fishmonger next door, the auctioneer's bills on the walls, with samples of mourning and wedding cards, and tradesmen's invoice14 headings, to show the excellence15 of the Gazette's jobbing department. And now—? He was conscious of a change in Beaver's attitude towards him.
Humphrey had taken his place in Fleet Street among the personalities16, among the young men of promise and achievement. He had even seen his name signed to occasional articles in The Day—glorious thrill, splendid emotion, that repaid all the long anonymous17 hours of patient work!
"You're getting on!" Beaver said. There was admiration18 unconcealed in his eyes and voice. "Great Scott! It seems impossible that you and I ever worked together on that rotten Easterham paper. That was a fine story you did of the Hextable Railway Smash."
"I've got nothing to complain of," Humphrey replied, hacking19 at a roll of bread. "It hasn't been easy work. Yours isn't, for the matter of that."
Beaver laughed. "Oh, mine—it isn't difficult, you know. I get so used to it, that I can report a speech mechanically without even thinking of the speaker."
[249]
"It's a safe job, you know," he said, after a pause. "A life job."
Humphrey knew what Beaver's exultation20 in the safety of his job meant.
There were men in Fleet Street, husbands of wives, and fathers of families, who lived and worked tremblingly from day to day, never certain when a fatal envelope would not contain the irrevocable "regret" of the editor that he could no longer continue the engagement.
Why, it might happen to Humphrey himself, for aught he knew. Truly, Beaver was to be envied after all.
"But don't you think you'd do better on a daily paper?" Humphrey said. "I could tell Rivers about you, you know. There might be room on The Day."
"I'm taking no risks. I'm going to stop where I am. You see—er—" Beaver became suddenly hesitant, and smiled foolishly. "What I mean to say is—I'm engaged to be married."
He leant back in his seat and contemplated21 the astonishment22 in Humphrey's face.
"No—are you really!"
"Fact," retorted Beaver. "Been engaged for the last year."
Beaver going to be married! The news touched Humphrey oddly: Beaver could be earning very little more than Humphrey had earned at the time when he had almost plunged23 into married life, and there was no desire on Beaver's part to reach out and grasp greater things; he was in a life job, untouched by the wrack24 and torment25 of ambition, and the craving26 for success. Oh, assuredly, Beaver was not to be pitied in the equable calmness of his life and temperament27.
"Well, I congratulate you, old man—though I never thought you were the marrying sort."
Beaver took the congratulations blushingly. "Nor did I, until I met Her."
[250]
He spoke28 of "Her" in an awed29, impressive manner, as though She were some abnormal person far removed from all other people in the world. Humphrey tried to figure the girl whom Beaver had chosen. He thought of her as a rather plain, nice homely30 sort of person, with no great burden of intellect or imagination.
Beaver's hand dived into an inside pocket, and out came a leather case. This he opened, and displayed a photograph, reverently31.
"That's her!" he said, showing the portrait.
Humphrey kept his self-possession well. Neither by a look nor a word did he betray the past: there was nothing in his manner to show Beaver that the girl whose portrait he held in his hand was she whose lips had clung to his in the young, passionate32 kisses of yester-year.
But, as Humphrey looked on the face of Lilian Filmer, the same Lilian, even though the photograph was new, and the hair was done in a different fashion, an acute feeling of sorrow came over him, bringing with it the remembrance of aching days, of the early beginnings, of those meetings and partings, and hearts that strained, and he saw the reflection of himself, foolish and cruel, mistaking the shadow for the substance, struggling and struggling, all for nothing ... for not even as much as Beaver had gained.
She looked at him out of the eyes of her photograph, and about her lips there still hovered33 that smile which had always been a riddle34 to him; a smile of indulgent love, or contempt? Who knows—a woman's smile is the secret of her sex. Yet now, it seemed, her lips were curved in triumph. This was her revenge on him, that he should go for ever loveless through the world, while she should steal into a haven35 of welcome peace.
Beaver's voice brought him back to physical things. She would kiss Beaver's shaggy-moustached lips, and his[251] arms would catch her in an embrace.... How soon she had forgotten ... he thought, unreasonably36.... She might have waited.... She might have understood....
"Well?" said Beaver, awaiting praise. "You've had a good old look."
"She's awfully37 nice and charming," Humphrey answered, returning the photograph. "She's like somebody I know."
"Oh, you've probably seen the original, old man, when you used to come and call for me. She used to be one of the girls in our office."
He had forgotten that lunch in the Fleet Street public-house, when Humphrey had asked for the name of the girl.
Used to be one of the girls in the office! Then Lilian had left. He wondered what she was doing, and an impulse that could not be withstood, compelled him to find out whether she had ever mentioned him to Beaver.
"By George!" he said. "I remember, now. Miss Filmer, her name was, wasn't it?"
"That's it, Miss Filmer. Did you ever speak to her, then?"
He was treading on uncertain ground. It was clear that she had never spoken of him. He felt that she had forgotten him, absolutely and completely.
"Oh, I think so—just casually38, now and again."
"Well, I never!" said the innocent Beaver. "That's interesting. I'll tell her I met you."
"Oh, she wouldn't remember me or my name," Humphrey answered, hastily. "It was only just 'How-d'ye-do' and 'Good-day' with us.... So she's left the office now."
"Yes. It's rather a sad story. Her father died, you know. He was a chronic39 invalid—paralysis, I think.[252] Anyhow, we don't speak of it much, and I've never pressed her. But the father who was so useless in life, has been the salvation40 of the mother by his death. Odd, isn't it? He was insured for a good round sum, and Lilian's mother—did I tell you her name was Lilian?—has bought a little annuity41, so that Lilian's free. She used to slave for her mother and the rest of the family until they grew up. That's why she worked overtime42 at the office. 'Pon me soul, I'd rather be the lowest jackal in Fleet Street than some of these poor little typist girls at eighteen bob a week.... Well, time's up. I've got to be at the Mansion43 House at three: the Lord Mayor's taking the chair at some blooming meeting to raise a fund for something, somewhere. What are you doing to-day?"
"Oh, I'm on the Klipp case at the Old Bailey."
Humphrey came away profoundly disturbed. Something entirely44 unexpected had happened. Lilian had lived as the vaguest shadow at the back of his mind, just as he had last seen her, when she bent45 down to kiss him, and now this picture would have to be erased46. He shuddered47 at the thought. She was Beaver's "girl": she would be Beaver's "missis."
After all, what did it matter? He and Lilian had long since parted; there had been little in common between them. He might have married her, and been as Beaver; she might have married him, but never, never, could she have held the magic and the inspiration of Elizabeth Carr.
His mind, always susceptible48 to outside influences, brooded on the new fact that had come into his life. Unconsciously, as a natural sequel to his thoughts, he began to dream of his new love, and to see himself happier than he had ever been, with Elizabeth for ever at his side. The same motives49 that impelled50 him to Lilian after that scene in the registry office, when[253] Wratten was married, now urged him towards Kenneth Carr's sister....
And, of course, one day, Beaver would have to mention his name to Lilian. She would probably smile and say nothing. "He's engaged now," Beaver would say. "There won't be any bachelors left, soon." And that would be his message to Lilian.
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1
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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2
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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4
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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7
wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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8
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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9
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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10
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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12
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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13
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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14
invoice
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| vt.开发票；n.发票，装货清单 | |
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15
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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17
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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18
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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19
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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20
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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21
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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23
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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24
wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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25
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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26
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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28
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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29
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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31
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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32
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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33
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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34
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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35
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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unreasonably
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| adv. 不合理地 | |
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37
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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38
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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39
chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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40
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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41
annuity
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| n.年金；养老金 | |
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42
overtime
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| adj.超时的，加班的；adv.加班地 | |
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43
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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44
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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45
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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46
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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47
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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48
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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49
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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50
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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