-a-sovereign in alms without being able to fling it back to the
secret donor; scramble for half-pence whenever the chance offered, and
keep them, use them for lodging money, in spite of one's intense inner
aversion....

Could I not regain the half-sovereign in some way or another? To go
back to the landlady and try to get it from her would be of no use.
There must be some way, if I were to consider--if I were only to exert
myself right well, and consider it over. It was not, in this case,
great God, sufficient to consider in just an ordinary way! I must
consider so that it penetrated my whole sentient being; consider and
find some way to procure this half-sovereign. And I set to, to consider
the answer to this problem.

It might be about four o'clock; in a few hours' time I could perhaps
meet the manager of the theatre; if only I had my drama completed.

I take out my MSS. there where I am sitting, and resolve, with might
and main, to finish the last few scenes. I think until I sweat, and
re-read from the beginning, but make no progress. No bosh! I say--no
obstinacy, now! and I write away at my drama--write down everything
that strikes me, just to get finished quickly and be able to go away. I
tried to persuade myself that a new supreme moment had seized me; I
lied right royally to myself, deceived myself knowingly, and wrote on,
as if I had no need to seek for words.

That is capital! That is really a find! whispered I, interpolatingly;
only just write it down! Halt! they sound questionable; they contrast
rather strongly with the speeches in the first scenes; not a trace of
the Middle Ages shone through the monk's words. I break my pencil
between my teeth, jump to my feet, tear my manuscript in two, tear each
page in two, fling my hat down in the street and trample upon it. I am
lost! I whisper to myself. Ladies and gentlemen, I am lost! I utter no
more than these few words as long as I stand there, and tramp upon my
hat.

A policeman is standing a few steps away, watching me. He is standing
in the middle of the street, and he only pays attention to me. As I
lift my head, our eyes meet. Maybe he has been standing there for a
long time watching me. I pick up my hat, put it on, and go over to him.

"Do you know what time it is?" I ask. He pauses a bit as he hauls out
his watch, and never takes his eyes off me the whole time.

"About four," he replies.

"Accurately," I say, "about four, perfectly accurate. You