ld, with a numbed feeling all
over. Quite suddenly he hadn't the energy, he hadn't the heart to stand
this gaiety and bright movement any longer; it confused him. He wanted
to stand still, to wave it away with his stick, to say, "Be off with
you!" Suddenly it was a terrible effort to greet as usual--tipping his
wide-awake with his stick--all the people whom he knew, the friends,
acquaintances, shopkeepers, postmen, drivers. But the gay glance that
went with the gesture, the kindly twinkle that seemed to say, "I'm a
match and more for any of you"--that old Mr. Neave could not manage
at all. He stumped along, lifting his knees high as if he were walking
through air that had somehow grown heavy and solid like water. And the
homeward-looking crowd hurried by, the trams clanked, the light carts
clattered, the big swinging cabs bowled along with that reckless,
defiant indifference that one knows only in dreams...

It had been a day like other days at the office. Nothing special had
happened. Harold hadn't come back from lunch until close on four. Where
had he been? What had he been up to? He wasn't going to let his father
know. Old Mr. Neave had happened to be in the vestibule, saying good-bye
to a caller, when Harold sauntered in, perfectly turned out as usual,
cool, suave, smiling that peculiar little half-smile that women found so
fascinating.

Ah, Harold was too handsome, too handsome by far; that had been the
trouble all along. No man had a right to such eyes, such lashes, and
such lips; it was uncanny. As for his mother, his sisters, and the
servants, it was not too much to say they made a young god of him; they
worshipped Harold, they forgave him everything; and he had needed some
forgiving ever since the time when he was thirteen and he had stolen
his mother's purse, taken the money, and hidden the purse in the cook's
bedroom. Old Mr. Neave struck sharply with his stick upon the pavement
edge. But it wasn't only his family who spoiled Harold, he reflected,
it was everybody; he had only to look and to smile, and down they went
before him. So perhaps it wasn't to be wondered at that he expected the
office to carry on the tradition. H'm, h'm! But it couldn't be done. No
business--not even a successful, established, big paying concern--could
be played with. A man had either to put his whole heart and soul into
it, or it went all to pieces before his eyes...

And then Charlotte and the girls were always at him to make th