code; it is commended not only by the world but even by those very men who are thus repulsed. How different for a man! He has no such accumulated depth of armour; and the more delicate, the more gallant, the more “honourable” he is the less he is able to withstand even a remote advance. He must not wound: and in this case there is little inclination to wound.
‘When a face you have never seen without pleasure, that has never looked at you without a spontaneous smile, remains cold, unmoving, even inimical, at your approach, you are strangely cast down: you see another being and you are another being yourself. Yet life with Mrs W can be no party of pleasure; and magnanimity calls for understanding. For the moment it calls in vain. There are depths of barbarity, possibilities I did not suspect. Plain common sense calls for a disengagement.
‘JA is uneasy, discontented with himself, discontented with Sophia’s reluctance - coyness is no word to use for that dear sweet pure affectionate young woman’s hesitation. Speaks of wincing fillies and their nonsense: he has never been able to bear frustration. This in part is what Diana Villiers means by his immaturity. If he did but know it the evident mutual liking between him and DV is in fact good for his suit. Sophia is perhaps the most respectable girl I have known, but she is after all a woman. JA is not percipient in these matters. Yet on the other hand he is beginning to look at me with some doubt. This is the first time there has been any reserve in our friendship; it is painful to me and I believe to him. I cannot bring myself to look upon him with anything but affection; but when I think of the possibilities, the physical possibilities I say, why then -’DV insists upon my inviting her to Melbury to play billiards: she plays well, of course - can give either of us twenty in a hundred. Her insistence is accompanied by an ignoble bullying and an ignoble pretty pretty cajolery, to which I yield, both of us knowing exactly what we are about. This talk of friendship deceives neither of us; and yet it does exist, even on her side, I believe. My position would be the most humiliating in the world but for the fact that she is not so clever as she thinks: her theory is excellent, but she has not the control of her pride or her other passions to carry it into effect. She is cynical, but not nearly cynical enough, whatever she may say. If she were, I should not be obsessed. Quo me rapis? Quo indeed. My whole conduct, meekness, mansuetude, voluntary abasement, astonishes me.
‘Quaere: is the passionate intensity of my feeling for Catalan independence the cause of my virile resurrection or its effect? There is a direct relationship, I am sure. Bartolomeu’s report should reach England in three days if the wind holds.’
‘Stephen, Stephen, Stephen!’ Jack’s voice came along the corridor, growing louder and ending in a roar as he thrust his head into the room. ‘Oh, there you are. I was afraid you had gone off to your stoats again. The carrier has brought you an ape.’
‘What sort of an ape?’ asked Stephen.
‘A damned ill-?conditioned sort of an ape. It had a can of ale at every pot-?house on the road, and it is reeling drunk. It has been offering itself to Babbington.’
‘Then it is Dr Lloyd’s lewd mangabey. He believes it to be suffering from the furor uterinus, and we are to open it together when I return.’
Jack looked at his watch. ‘What do you say to a hand of cards before we go?’
‘With all my heart.’
Piquet was their game. The cards flew fast, shuffled, cut, and dealt again: they had played together so long that each knew the other’s style through and through. Jack’s was a cunning alternation of risking everything for the triumphant point of eight, and of a steady, orthodox defence, fighting for every last trick. Stephen’s was based upon Hoyle, Laplace, the theory of probabilities, and his knowledge of Jack’s character.
‘A point of five,’ said Jack.
‘Not good.’
‘A quart.’
‘To what?’
‘The knave.’
‘Not good.’
‘Three queens.’
‘Not good.’
They played. ‘The rest are mine,’ said Stephen, as the singleton king fell to his ace. ‘Ten for cards, and capot. We must stop. Five guineas, if you please; you shall have your revenge in London.’
‘If I had not thrown away my hearts,’ said Jack, ‘I should have had you on toast. What amazing cards you have held these last few weeks, Stephen.’
‘Skill enters into this game.’
‘It is luck, all luck! You have the most amazing luck with cards. I should be sorry, was you in love with anyone.’
The pause lasted no more than a second before the door opened and the horses were reported alongside, but its effect hung about them for miles as they trotted through the cold drizzle along the London road.
However, the rain stopped while they were eating their dinner at the Bleeding Heart, their half-?way point, a cheerful sun came out, and they saw the first swallow of the year, a blue curve skimming over the horse-?pond at Edenbridge. Long before they walked into Thacker’s, the naval coffeehouse, they were far back in their old easy ways, talking without the least constraint about the sea, the service, the possibility of migrant birds navigating by the stars at night, of an Italian violin that Jack was tempted to buy, and of the renewal of teeth in elephants.
‘Aubrey, so it is!’ cried Captain Fowler, rising from his shadowy box in the far end of the room. ‘We were just talking about you. Andrews was here until five minutes ago, telling us about your ball in the country - in Sussex. He said it was the finest thing - girls by the dozen, fine women, such a ball! He told us all about it. Pray,’ he said, looking arch, ‘are we to congratulate you?’
‘Not - not exactly, sir, thank you very much however. Perhaps a little later, if all goes well.’
‘Clap on, clap on! Else you will regret it when you are old - damnably mouldy a hundred years hence. Am not I right, Doctor? How do you do? Am I not right? If only he will clap on, we may see him a grandfather yet. My grandson has six teeth! Six teeth in his head already!’
