It was extremely late when we left the Chadds, and it is an
extremely long and tiresome journey from Shepherd's Bush to
Lambeth. This may be our excuse for the fact that we (for I was
stopping the night with Grant) got down to breakfast next day at a
time inexpressibly criminal, a time, in point of fact, close upon
noon. Even to that belated meal we came in a very lounging and
leisurely fashion. Grant, in particular, seemed so dreamy at table
that he scarcely saw the pile of letters by his plate, and I doubt
if he would have opened any of them if there had not lain on the
top that one thing which has succeeded amid modern carelessness in
being really urgent and coercive--a telegram. This he opened with
the same heavy distraction with which he broke his egg and drank
his tea. When he read it he did not stir a hair or say a word, but
something, I know not what, made me feel that the motionless figure
had been pulled together suddenly as strings are tightened on a
slack guitar. Though he said nothing and did not move, I knew that
he had been for an instant cleared and sharpened with a shock of
cold water. It was scarcely any surprise to me when a man who had
drifted sullenly to his seat and fallen into it, kicked it away
like a cur from under him and came round to me in two strides.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148