Nevertheless, somewhere at the back of the courta
bored reporter had pricked up his ears. He loathed books and had not yet grasped
thatthere was money to be made out of them. The pay, headded with a measuring,
sidelong glance, was thirty shillings aweek. Already he had thatunmistakable, seedy,
lounging look of a man who is out of work. He looked up at Gordon with a kind of
nosy malice.
It had dragged him downward with strange
suddenness.
Gordon swore and rolled sluggishly off the
bed.
He seemed to know with perfect certainty thathis
job was lost.
Between whilesthere was nothing to do except
read.
Mrs Beaver, the charwoman,had also seen through
Gordon.
She had come here swearing toherself that she would
not cry. How easy it ought to be, since there are so fewcompetitors! He compromised:
Where are you going to live, anyway?
He never shaved more than three times a week
nowadays, and onlywashed the parts that showed.
Mrs Beaver brought the Telegraph and the Herald. In
less than a week hisappearance had deteriorated strangely. It had dragged him
downward with strange suddenness. It was only toplease Ravelston that he had even
been pretending to look for work. The bare floorboards hadnever been stained but
were dark with dirt.
You will pay five pounds or go to prison for
fourteen days. He still made some pretence ofsearching for work, but he only did it
to save his face.
And chiefly he was anxious to get it overwith as
little fuss and effort as possible. Down a neighbouringstreet the cry of the
coal-man echoed mournfully.
It wasnt the kind of thing you could keep dark.
Gordon had never been sofamous before and never would be again. Flaxmans wife had
forgiven him,and he was back at Peckham, in aspidistral bliss. The children of
theneighbourhood used to shout Blackie! Gordon saw that his drunkenness was going to
be used as a weaponagainst him.
There was no TROUBLEabout a job like this; no room
for ambition, no effort, no hope.
I likes all my lodgers tofeel comfortable-like.
When he got to theother room he found that the visitor was Rosemary.
But in the end he let himself be
persuaded.
WithRosemary it didnt matter so much, but Julia
would be ashamed andmiserable.
Heknew by profound instinct that Mr McKechnie would
have heard abouthis arrest.
Mrs Beaver brought the Telegraph and the
Herald.
Even Flaxmanhad sent a line to wish him luck. It
was all bound up in his mind with the thought of beingUNDER GROUND.