She was in a mood of great discouragement; the struggle between Mrs. Pembrose and the Bloomsbury girls had suddenly reopened in an acute form and Sir Isaac, who was sickening again after a period of better health, had become strangely restless and irritable2 and hostile to her. He had thwarted3 her unusually and taken the side of the matrons in a conflict in which Susan Burnet's sister Alice was now distinguished4 as the chief of the malcontents. The new trouble seemed to Lady Harman to be traceable in one direction to that ardent5 unionist, Miss Babs Wheeler, under the spell of whose round-faced, blue-eyed, distraught personality Alice had altogether fallen. Miss Babs Wheeler was fighting for the union; she herself lived at Highbury with her mother, and Alice was her chosen instrument in the hostels6. The union had always been a little against the lady-like instincts of many of the waitresses; they felt strikes were vulgar and impaired7 their social standing8, and this feeling had been greatly strengthened by irruptions of large contingents9 of shop assistants from various department stores. The Bloomsbury Hostel in particular now accommodated a hundred refined and elegant hands—they ought rather to be called figures—from the great Oxford10 Street costume house of Eustace and Mills, young people with a tall sweeping11 movement and an elevation12 of chin that had become nearly instinctive13, and a silent yet evident intention to find the International girls "low" at the slightest provocation14. It is only too easy for poor humanity under the irritation15 of that tacit superiority to respond with just the provocation anticipated. What one must regretfully speak of as the vulgar section of the International girls had already put itself in the wrong by a number of aggressive acts before the case came to Lady Harman's attention. Mrs. Pembrose seized the occasion for weeding on a courageous16 scale, and Miss Alice Burnet and three of her dearest friends were invited to vacate their rooms "pending17 redecoration".
With only too much plausibility18 the threatened young women interpreted this as an expulsion, and declined to remove their boxes and personal belongings19. Miss Babs Wheeler thereupon entered the Bloomsbury Hostel, and in the teeth of three express prohibitions21 from Mrs. Pembrose, went a little up the staircase and addressed a confused meeting in the central hall. There was loud and continuous cheering for Lady Harman at intervals22 during this incident. Thereupon Mrs. Pembrose demanded sweeping dismissals, not only from the Hostels but the shops as an alternative to her resignation, and Lady Harman found herself more perplexed24 than ever....
Georgina Sawbridge had contrived25 to mingle26 herself in an entirely27 characteristic way in these troubles by listening for a brief period to an abstract of her sister's perplexities, then demanding to be made Director-General of the whole affair, refusing to believe this simple step impossible and retiring in great dudgeon to begin a series of letters of even more than sisterly bitterness. And Mr. Brumley when consulted had become dangerously sentimental28. Under these circumstances Lady Harman's visit to Saint Paul's had much of the quality of a flight.
It was with an unwonted sense of refuge that she came from the sombre stress and roar of London without into the large hushed spaces of the cathedral. The door closed behind her—and all things changed. Here was meaning, coherence29, unity30. Here instead of a pelting31 confusion of movements and motives32 was a quiet concentration upon the little focus of light about the choir33, the gentle complete dominance of a voice intoning. She slipped along the aisle34 and into the nave35 and made her way to a seat. How good this was! Outside she had felt large, awkwardly responsible, accessible to missiles, a distressed36 conspicuous37 thing; within this living peace she suddenly became no more than one of a tranquil38 hushed community of small black-clad Lenten people; she found a chair and knelt and felt she vanished even from her own consciousness....
How beautiful was this place! She looked up presently at the great shadowy arcs far above her, so easy, so gracious that it seemed they had not so much been built by men as shaped by circling flights of angels. The service, a little clustering advance of voices unsustained by any organ, mingled39 in her mind with the many-pointed glow of candles. And then into this great dome40 of worship and beauty, like a bed of voices breaking into flower, like a springtime breeze of sound, came Allegri's Miserere....
Her spirit clung to this mood of refuge. It seemed as though the disorderly, pugnacious41, misunderstanding universe had opened and shown her luminous42 mysteries. She had a sense of penetration43. All that conflict, that jar of purposes and motives, was merely superficial; she had left it behind her. For a time she had no sense of effort in keeping hold of this, only of attainment44, she drifted happily upon the sweet sustaining sounds, and then—then the music ceased. She came back into herself. Close to her a seated man stirred and sighed. She tried to get back her hold upon that revelation but it had gone. Inexorably, opaque45, impenetrable doors closed softly on her moment of vision....
All about her was the stir of departure.
She walked out slowly into the cold March daylight, to the leaden greys, the hurrying black shapes, the chaotic46 afternoon traffic of London. She paused on the steps, still but half reawakened. A passing omnibus obtruded47 the familiar inscription48, "International Stores for Staminal Bread."
3
As her motor car, with a swift smoothness, carried her along the Embankment towards the lattice bar of Charing50 Cross bridge and the remoter towers of the Houses of Parliament, grey now and unsubstantial against the bright western sky, her mind came back slowly to her particular issues in life. But they were no longer the big exasperatingly51 important things that had seemed to hold her life by a hundred painful hooks before she went into the cathedral. They were small still under this dome of evening, small even by the measure of the grey buildings to the right of her and the warm lit river to her left, by the measure of the clustering dark barges52, the teeming53 trams, the streaming crowds of people, the note of the human process that sounds so loud there. She felt small even to herself, for the touch of beauty saves us from our own personalities54, makes Gods of us to our own littleness. She passed under the railway bridge at Charing Cross, watched the square cluster of Westminster's pinnacles55 rise above her until they were out of sight overhead, ran up the little incline and round into Parliament Square, and was presently out on the riverside embankment again with the great chimneys of Chelsea smoking athwart the evening gold. And thence with a sudden effect of skies shut and curtains drawn56 she came by devious57 ways to the Fulham Road and the crowding traffic of Putney Bridge and Putney High Street and so home.
Snagsby, assisted by a new under-butler, a lean white-faced young man with red hair, received her ceremoniously and hovered58 serviceably about her. On the hall table lay three or four visiting cards of no importance, some circulars and two letters. She threw the circulars into the basket placed for them and opened her first letter. It was from Georgina; it was on several sheets and it began, "I still cannot believe that you refuse to give me the opportunity the director-generalship of your hostels means to me. It is not as if you yourself had either the time or the abilities necessary for them yourself; you haven't, and there is something almost dog-in-the-manger-ish to my mind in the way in which you will not give me my chance, the chance I have always been longing20 for——"
At this point Lady Harman put down this letter for subsequent perusal59 and took its companion, which was addressed in an unfamiliar60 hand. It was from Alice Burnet and it was written in that sprawling61 hand and diffused62 style natural to a not very well educated person with a complicated story to tell in a state of unusual emotion. But the gist63 was in the first few sentences which announced that Alice had been evicted64 from the hostel. "I found my things on the pavement," wrote Alice.
"Mrs. Pembrose, my lady, came here this afternoon," he said, when he had secured her attention.
"Came here."
"She asked for you, my lady, and when I told her you were not at 'ome, she asked if she might see Sir Isaac."
"And did she?"
"Sir Isaac saw her, my lady. They 'ad tea in the study."
She took her two letters and turned to the staircase. They were still in her hand when presently she came into her husband's study. "I don't want a light," he said, as she put out her hand to the electric switch. His voice had a note of discontent, but he was sitting in the armchair against the window so that she could not see his features.
"How are you feeling this afternoon?" she asked.
"I'm feeling all right," he answered testily66. He seemed to dislike inquiries67 after his health almost as much as he disliked neglect.
She came and stood by him and looked out from the dusk of the room into the garden darkening under a red-barred sky. "There is fresh trouble between Mrs. Pembrose and the girls," she said.
"She's been telling me about it."
"She's been here?"
"Pretty nearly an hour," said Sir Isaac.
Lady Harman tried to imagine that hour's interview on the spur of the moment and failed. She came to her immediate68 business. "I think," she said, "that she has been—high-handed...."
"You would," said Sir Isaac after an interval.
His tone was hostile, so hostile that it startled her.
"Don't you?"
He shook his head. "My idees and your idees—or anyhow the idees you've got hold of—somewhere—somehow——I don't know where you get your idees. We haven't got the same idees, anyhow. You got to keep order in these places—anyhow...."
She perceived that she was in face of a prepared position. "I don't think," she threw out, "that she does keep order. She represses—and irritates. She gets an idea that certain girls are against her...."
"And you get an idea she's against certain girls...."
"Practically she expels them. She has in fact just turned one out into the street."
"You got to expel 'em. You got to. You can't run these places on sugar and water. There's a sort of girl, a sort of man, who makes trouble. There's a sort makes strikes, makes mischief69, gets up grievances70. You got to get rid of 'em somehow. You got to be practical somewhere. You can't go running these places on a lot of littry idees and all that. It's no good."
The phrase "littry idees" held Lady Harman's attention for a moment. But she could not follow it up to its implications, because she wanted to get on with the issue she had in hand.
"I want to be consulted about these expulsions. Girl after girl has been sent away——"
"She knows her business," he said.
He seemed to feel the need of a justification73. "They shouldn't make trouble."
On that they rested for a little while in silence. She began to realize with a gathering74 emotion that this matter was far more crucial than she had supposed. She had been thinking only of the reinstatement of Alice Burnet, she hadn't yet estimated just what that overriding75 of Mrs. Pembrose might involve.
"I don't want to have any girl go until I have looked into her case. It's——It's vital."
"She says she can't run the show unless she has some power."
Neither spoke76 for some seconds. She had the feeling of hopeless vexation that might come to a child that has wandered into a trap. "I thought," she began. "These hostels——"
She stopped short.
Sir Isaac's hand tightened77 on the arm of his chair. "I started 'em to please you," he said. "I didn't start 'em to please your friends."
She turned her eyes quickly to his grey up-looking face.
"I didn't start them for you and that chap Brumley to play about with," he amplified78. "And now you know about it, Elly."
The thing had found her unprepared. "As if——" she said at last.
"As if!" he mocked.
She stood quite still staring blankly at this unmanageable situation. He was the first to break silence. He lifted one hand and dropped it again with a dead impact on the arm of his chair. "I got the things," he said, "and there they are. Anyhow,—they got to be run in a proper way."
She made no immediate answer. She was seeking desperately79 for phrases that escaped her. "Do you think," she began at last. "Do you really think——?"
He stared out of the window. He answered in tones of excessive reasonableness: "I didn't start these hostels to be run by you and your—friend." He gave the sentence the quality of an ultimatum80, an irreducible minimum.
"He's my friend," she explained, "only—because he does work—for the hostels."
Sir Isaac seemed for a moment to attempt to consider that. Then he relapsed upon his predetermined attitude. "God!" he exclaimed, "but I have been a fool!"
"I care more for those hostels than I care for anything—anything else in the world," she told him. "I want them to work—I want them to succeed.... And then——"
He listened in sceptical silence.
"Mr. Brumley is nothing to me but a helper. He——How can you imagine, Isaac——? I! How can you dare? To suggest——!"
"Very well," said Sir Isaac and reflected and made his old familiar sound with his teeth. "Run the hostels without him, Elly," he propounded82. "Then I'll believe."
She perceived that suddenly she was faced by a test or a bargain. In the background of her mind the figure of Mr. Brumley, as she had seen him last, in brown and with a tie rather to one side, protested vainly. She did what she could for him on the spur of the moment. "But," she said, "he's so helpful. He's so—harmless."
"That's as may be," said Sir Isaac and breathed heavily.
"How can one suddenly turn on a friend?"
"I don't see that you ever wanted a friend," said Sir Isaac.
"He's been so good. It isn't reasonable, Isaac. When anyone has—slaved."
"I don't say he isn't a good sort of chap," said Sir Isaac, with that same note of almost superhuman rationality, "only—he isn't going to run my hostels."
"But what do you mean, Isaac?"
"I mean you got to choose."
He waited as if he expected her to speak and then went on.
"What it comes to is this, Elly, I'm about sick of that chap. I'm sick of him." He paused for a moment because his breath was short. "If you go on with the hostels he's—Phew—got to mizzle. Then—I don't mind—if you want that girl Burnet brought back in triumph.... It'll make Mrs. Pembrose chuck the whole blessed show, you know, but I say—I don't mind.... Only in that case, I don't want to see or hear—or hear about—Phew—or hear about your Mr. Brumley again. And I don't want you to, either.... I'm being pretty reasonable and pretty patient over this, with people—people—talking right and left. Still,—there's a limit.... You've been going on—if I didn't know you were an innocent—in a way ... I don't want to talk about that. There you are, Elly."
It seemed to her that she had always expected this to happen. But however much she had expected it to happen she was still quite unprepared with any course of action. She wanted with an equal want of limitation to keep both Mr. Brumley and her hostels.
"But Isaac," she said. "What do you suspect? What do you think? This friendship has been going on——How can I end it suddenly?"
"Don't you be too innocent, Elly. You know and I know perfectly83 well what there is between men and women. I don't make out I know—anything I don't know. I don't pretend you are anything but straight. Only——"
He suddenly gave way to his irritation. His self-control vanished. "Damn it!" he cried, and his panting breath quickened; "the thing's got to end. As if I didn't understand! As if I didn't understand!"
She would have protested again but his voice held her. "It's got to end. It's got to end. Of course you haven't done anything, of course you don't know anything or think of anything.... Only here I am ill.... You wouldn't be sorry if I got worse.... You can wait; you can.... All right! All right! And there you stand, irritating me—arguing. You know—it chokes me.... Got to end, I tell you.... Got to end...."
He beat at the arms of his chair and then put a hand to his throat.
"Go away," he cried to her. "Go to hell!"
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1
hostel
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| n.（学生）宿舍，招待所 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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hostels
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| n.旅舍，招待所( hostel的名词复数 )；青年宿舍 | |
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impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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9
contingents
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| （志趣相投、尤指来自同一地方的）一组与会者( contingent的名词复数 )； 代表团； （军队的）分遣队； 小分队 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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13
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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17
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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18
plausibility
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| n. 似有道理, 能言善辩 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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prohibitions
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| 禁令，禁律( prohibition的名词复数 )； 禁酒； 禁例 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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coherence
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| n.紧凑；连贯；一致性 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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pugnacious
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| adj.好斗的 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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obtruded
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| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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50
charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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exasperatingly
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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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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pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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56
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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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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perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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62
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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evicted
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| v.（依法从房屋里或土地上）驱逐，赶出( evict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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68
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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71
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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72
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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73
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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75
overriding
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| a.最主要的 | |
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76
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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77
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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78
amplified
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| 放大，扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 )； 增强； 详述 | |
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79
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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80
ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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81
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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82
propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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