Farwell brought himself up with a jerk. He was thinking of Victoria too often. As he was a man who faced facts he told himself quite plainly that he did not intend to fall in love with her. He did not feel capable of love; he hated most people, but did not believe that a good hater was a good lover.
"Clever, of course," he muttered, "but no woman is everlastingly clever.
I won"t risk finding her out."
The shape at his side moved. It was an old man, filthy, clad in blackened rags, with a matted beard. Farwell glanced at him and turned away.
"I"d have you poisoned if I could," he thought. Then he returned to Victoria. Was she worth educating? And supposing she was educated, what then? She would become discontented, instead of brutalised. The latter was the happier state. Or she would fall in love with him, when he would give her short shrift. What a pity. A tiny wave of sentiment flowed into Farwell"s soul.
"Clever, clever," he thought, "a little house, babies, roses, a fox terrier."
"Gov"nor," croaked a hoa.r.s.e voice beside him.
Farwell turned quickly. The shape was alive, then, curse it.
"Well, what d"you want?"
"Give us a copper, gov"nor, I"m an old man, can"t work. S"elp me, Gawd, gov"nor, "aven"t "ad a bite. . . ."
"That"ll do, you fool," snarled Farwell, "why the h.e.l.l don"t you go and get it in gaol?"
"Yer don"t mean that, gov"nor, do yer?" whined the old man, "I always kep my self respectable; "ere, look at these "ere testimonials, gov"nor, . . ." He drew from his coat a disgusting object, a bundle of papers tied together with string.
"I don"t want to see them," said Farwell. "I wouldn"t employ you if I could. Why don"t you go to the workhouse?"
The old man almost bridled.
"Why? Because you"re a stuck up. D"you hear? You"re proud of being poor.
That"s about as vulgar as bragging because you"re rich. If you and all the likes of you went into the House, you"d reform the system in a week.
Understand?"
The old man"s eyes were fixed on the speaker, uncomprehending.
"Better still, go and throw any bit of dirt you pick up at a policeman,"
continued Farwell. "See he gets it in the mouth. You get locked up.
Suppose a million of the likes of you do the same, what d"you think happens?"
"I dunno," said the old man.
"Well, your penal system is bust. If you offend the law you"re a criminal. But what"s the law? the opinion of the majority. If the majority goes against the law, then the minority becomes criminal. The world"s upside down." Farwell smiled. "The world"s upside down," he said softly, licking his lips.
"Give us a copper for a bed, guv"nor," said the old man dully.
"What"s the good of a bed to you?" exploded Farwell. "Why don"t you have a drink?"
"I"m a teetotaller, guv"nor; always kep" myself respectable."
"Respectable! You"re earning the wages of respectability, that is death," said Farwell with a wolfish laugh. "Why, man, can"t you see you"ve been on the wrong tack? We don"t want any more of you respectables. We want pirates, vampires. We want all this society of yours rotted by internal canker, so that we can build a new one. But we must rot it first. We aren"t going to work on a sow"s ear."
"Give us a copper, guv"nor," moaned the old man.
Farwell took out sixpence and laid it on the seat. "Now then," he said, "you can have this if you"ll swear to blow it in drink."
"I will, s"elp me Gawd," said the old man eagerly.
Farwell pushed the coin towards him.
"Take it, teetotaller," he sneered, "your respectable system of bribery has bought you for sixpence. Now let me see you go into that pub."
The old man clutched the sixpence and staggered to his feet. Farwell watched the swing doors of the public bar at the end of the pa.s.sage close behind him. Then he got up and walked away; it was about time to go to Moorgate Street.
As he entered the smoking-room, Victoria blushed. The man moved her, stimulated her. When she saw him she felt like a body meeting a soul. He sat down at his usual place. Victoria brought him his tea, and laid it before him without a word. Nelly, lolling in another corner, kicked the ground, looking away insolently from the elaborate wink of one of the scullions.
"Here, read these," said Farwell, pushing two of the books across the table. Victoria picked them up.
"_Looking Backwards?_" she said. "Oh, I don"t want to do that. It"s forward I want to go."
"A laudable sentiment," sneered Farwell, "the theory of every Sunday School in the country, and the practice of none. However, you"ll find it fairly soul-filling as an unintelligent antic.i.p.ation. Personally I prefer the other. _Demos_ is good stuff, for Gissing went through the fire."
Victoria quickly walked away. Farwell looked surprised for a second, then saw the manageress on the stairs.
"Faugh," he muttered, "if the world"s a stage I"m playing the part of a low intriguer."
He sipped his tea meditatively. In a few minutes Victoria returned.
"Thank you," she whispered. "It"s good of you. You"re teaching me to live."
Farwell looked at her critically.
"I don"t see much good in that," he said, "unless you"ve got something to live for. One of our philosophers says you live either for experience or the race. I recommend the former to myself, and to you nothing."
"Why shouldn"t I live for anything?" she asked.
"Because life"s too dear. And its pleasures are not white but piebald."
"I understand," said Victoria, "but I must live."
"_Je n"en vois pas la necessite_," quoted Farwell smiling. "Never mind what that means," he added, "I"m only a pessimist."
The next few weeks seemed to create in Victoria a new personality. Her reading was so carefully selected that every line told. Farwell knew the hundred best books for a working girl; he had a large library composed mostly of battered copies squeezed out of his daily bread. Victoria"s was the appet.i.te of a gorgon. In another month she had absorbed _Odd Women_, _An Enemy of the People_, _The_ _Doll"s House_, _Alton Locke_, and a translation of _Germinal_. Every night she read with an intensity which made her forget that March chilled her to the bone; poring over the book, her eyes a few inches from the candle, she soaked in rebellion. When the cold nipped too close into her she would get up and wrap herself in the horsecloth and read with savage application, rushing to the core of the thought. She was no student, so she would skip a hard word. Besides, in those moods, when the spirit bounds in the body like a caged bird, words are felt, not understood.
Betty was still hovering round her, a gentle presence. She knew what was going on and was frightened. A new Victoria was rising before her, a woman very charming still, but extraordinary, incomprehensible. Often Victoria would snub her savagely, then take her hand as they stood together at the counter bawling for food and drink. And as Victoria grew hard and strong, Betty worshipped her more as she would have worshipped a strong man.
Yet Betty was not happy. Victoria lived now in a state of excitement and hunger for solitude. She took no interest in things that Betty could understand. Their Sunday walks had been ruthlessly cut now and then, for the fury was upon Victoria when eating the fruits of the tree. When they were together now Victoria was preoccupied; she no longer listened to the club gossip, nor did she ask to be told once more the story of Betty"s early days.
"Do you know you"re sweated?" she said suddenly one day.
Betty"s eyes opened round and blue.
"Sweated," she said. "I thought only people in the East End were sweated."