The Hypocrite

of the same day he went to the Temple, but found Sturtevant's door shut, and he received no answer to his

for you at the

.

ar and got the l

le Te

e sailing over the siren-haunted Mediterranean. I enclose a ten-pound note in t

juncture. As a matter of fact, you may be quite sure that Ringwood won't make any move; but st

will pay for bread and butter. You might even

annot but admire this my last move. To you, I am

nt Stur

swore under his breath for a minute or two, but his quick wit soon grasped the humour of the situation. T

unds of the house. He heard Mrs. Ebbage shouting angrily at her children, while in the distance a tinkling piano spun out "

and onions floa

mily lived below him. Opposite the window, some four yards away, was the straight wall of the next house, while below he looked down into a deep yard into which the back door opened. It was entirel

he fire, in which a crack down the middle was repaired by a strip of paper gilded to match the frame. The walls were decorated with a black japanned pipe-rack

enceforth he belonged to this world of Mrs. Ebbage, this Vauxhall-Bridge-Road world. After another lazy half-hour he got up and dressed, calling for the landlady when he was ready. The woma

ge 'ad one before 'e went out. 'E's a pliceman

d Gobion, amused to see her making the

d the window, breaking off her conversation to shout at one of the children in the yard. "Leave

d. 'Cummere,' I sez, 'call yourself a man? Cummere if you want to knock anyone about. I could make a better yuman man than you, art of a lump o' coal.' Ah, 'e isn't what 'Olmes was, my first man.

nd." He made friends with the husband-a big, black-haired man, stolid and obscene in his conversation, and they used to go to the public-house at the corner for a "drop of S

Mrs. Ebbage's nieces-giggling shop girls-would come in from College Street, and he would sit, with no tie and a dirty shirt, making vulgar love to "Trot" and "Fanny," while Ebbage read the football Star, and his wi

ge morbid insensibility, he revelled in the manners of the vulgarest class in London. "Human nature is much of a muchness," h

then one evening-somewhat of t

The dancing flames lit up the unmade bed, the remains of a chop, a heap of c

when he became conscious of a banjo playing a comic song: "And her golden hair was hanging down her back." Gradually th

t principal boy, how bright and young it was!... Then a moment's hush, and the sharp-strung chords, when the orchestra dashed madly into the song, "Oh, Flo, 'twas very wrong, you know!" How all the men had roared at the girl's conscious wink. From the first he had posed, but in those early terms he had been innocent of great wrong ... and now?... The twang stopped with a little penultimate flourish before the final chord. The trams in the road rattled past. Mrs. Ebbage shouted in the kitchen, opi

f evil, that settled round him like a cloud. He had fed his appet

rge, gross old man, with heavy pouches under the eyes, with unstea

nd would come in and smoke a pipe with him." They went into a room much the sa

er Belper, though I no longer have a cure of souls. Will you h

be surprised at anything. This leering old sa

t live here for no reason." He spoke with a wagging of his heavy jaw, with

I suppose we're a sh

nce a vicar! I am now a moral object-lesson. I used to live by ser

-Oxf

o of us. Mrs. Ebbage ought

been with

rate incompetence left; enoug

really does d

for gin I should long since

floated up fr

ughing water,'"

are p

the minor poet. I am the

was a pretty fellow in my time," he said, licking the chops of remotest

ss. "What do you do w

sleep, slee

eer

ed pain. I used to try and philosophise, but I can't think now. I don't bel

e an attempt to eat one's own soul,

gross imprint of vice showing more sharply for the contrast, and suggesting s

le, japing at society. Mr. Belper was ribald and cynical. Nothing could shock ei

er night they sat till they were too befuddled to talk, each in turn providing the necessary amount of gin f

ly, and the torture of inso

eminiscent, and sitting on the bed, rambled of the past,

a low public-house on the evening of the Derby. "'Er face was like a bit of liver after the

e told how clever she had been at crochet work, and what a small foot she had. She showed Gobion a tiny white shoe the

and I've gone and soiled the shoe. Por

at futile arrogation of gaiety-"We're goin' to 'ave a bit of supper. Ebbage said as '

, "let us eat, drink, and

delight. Gobion in his loneliness sat and became one of them,

he had not far to go, as the public-house he frequented was just round the corner. He chatted wit

else ca

e Mellow

e Old 6d

cious 4-

hless 6d.

a man in evening dres

said. "I don't se

as S

ter Belper came in. The light shone on him, and he looked more Silenus-like than ever. "Beg pardon," he said, "thought you were a

looking round the room, "have you c

ulder, and Gobion drew ne

ome beastly newspaper scandal, but I knew of course that you'd rather die than do anything like that. I've been horribly afraid for you. You see, I couldn't find out whe

Gobion, "I'm finis

e Ship Street rooms you made me put my hands between yours and swear to be your man? Well, it wasn't a joke-to me. Don't you

ly. He seemed to change the mean aspect o

first thing in the morning to take Gobion away. They parted at t

fell like a log on to the floor, lying there mot

ly packed a small bag, h

ing, and old Mr. Belper lay in a drunken sleep on t

I've come to say g

s it come

es

er. I'm glad we've met. I, ahem, I-er"-he coughed-"I congratulate you." He passed

ey shook hands. "Good-bye," h

gure, and watched Gobion's slim form disap