CHAPTER II

pinesswithMissHilberyattheirfirstmeeting.HelookedcriticallyatJoan,andwishedthatshedidnotlooksoprovincialorsuburbaninherhighgreendresswiththefadedtrimming,sopatient,andalmostresigned.HebegantowishtotellherabouttheHilberysinordertoabusethem,forintheminiaturebattlewhichsooftenragesbetweentwoquicklyfollowingimpressionsoflife,thelifeoftheHilberyswasgettingthebetterofthelifeoftheDenhamsinhismind,andhewantedtoassurehimselfthattherewassomequalityinwhichJoaninfinitelysurpassedMissHilbery.Heshouldhavefeltthathisownsisterwasmoreoriginal,andhadgreatervitalitythanMissHilberyhadbuthismainimpressionofKatharinenowwasofapersonofgreatvitalityandcomposureandatthemomenthecouldnotperceivewhatpoordearJoanhadgainedfromthefactthatshewasthegranddaughterofamanwhokeptashop,andherselfearnedherownliving.Theinfinitedrearinessandsordidnessoftheirlifeoppressedhiminspiteofhisfundamentalbeliefthat,asafamily,theyweresomehowremarkable. “Shallyoutalktomother?”Joaninquired.“Because,yousee,thething’sgottobesettled,onewayoranother.CharlesmustwritetoUncleJohnifhe’sgoingthere.” Ralphsighedimpatiently. “Isupposeitdoesn’tmuchmattereitherway,”heexclaimed.“He’sdoomedtomiseryinthelongrun.” AslightflushcameintoJoan’scheek. “Youknowyou’retalkingnonsense,”shesaid.“Itdoesn’thurtanyonetohavetoearntheirownliving.I’mverygladIhavetoearnmine.” Ralphwaspleasedthatsheshouldfeelthis,andwishedhertocontinue,buthewenton,perverselyenough. “Isn’tthatonlybecauseyou’veforgottenhowtoenjoyyourself?Youneverhavetimeforanythingdecent—” “Asforinstance?” “Well,goingforwalks,ormusic,orbooks,orseeinginterestingpeople.Youneverdoanythingthat’sreallyworthdoinganymorethanIdo.” “Ialwaysthinkyoucouldmakethisroommuchnicer,ifyouliked,”sheobserved. “WhatdoesitmatterwhatsortofroomIhavewhenI’mforcedtospendallthebestyearsofmylifedrawingupdeedsinanoffice?” “Yousaidtwodaysagothatyoufoundthelawsointeresting.” “Soitisifonecouldaffordtoknowanythingaboutit.” (“That’sHerbertonlyjustgoingtobednow,”Joaninterposed,asadooronthelandingslammedvigorously.“Andthenhewon’tgetupinthemorning.”) Ralphlookedattheceiling,andshuthislipscloselytogether.Why,hewondered,couldJoanneverforonemomentdetachhermindfromthedetailsofdomesticlife?Itseemedtohimthatshewasgettingmoreandmoreenmeshedinthem,andcapableofshorterandlessfrequentflightsintotheouterworld,andyetshewasonlythirty-three. “D’youeverpaycallsnow?”heaskedabruptly. “Idon’toftenhavethetime.Whydoyouask?” “Itmightbeagoodthing,togettoknownewpeople,that’sall.” “PoorRalph!”saidJoansuddenly,withasmile.“Youthinkyoursister’sgettingveryoldandverydull—that’sit,isn’tit?” “Idon’tthinkanythingofthekind,”hesaidstoutly,butheflushed.“Butyouleadadog’slife,Joan.Whenyou’renotworkinginanoffice,you’reworryingovertherestofus.AndI’mnotmuchgoodtoyou,I’mafraid.” Joanrose,andstoodforamomentwarmingherhands,and,apparently,meditatingastowhethersheshouldsayanythingmoreornot.Afeelingofgreatintimacyunitedthebrotherandsister,andthesemicircularlinesabovetheireyebrowsdisappeared.No,therewasnothingmoretobesaidoneitherside.Joanbrushedherbrother’sheadwithherhandasshepassedhim,murmuredgoodnight,andlefttheroom.ForsomeminutesaftershehadgoneRalphlayquiescent,restinghisheadonhishand,butgraduallyhiseyesfilledwiththought,andthelinereappearedonhisbrow,asthepleasantimpressionofcompanionshipandancientsympathywaned,andhewaslefttothinkonalone. Afteratimeheopenedhisbook,andreadonsteadily,glancingonceortwiceathiswatch,asifhehadsethimselfatasktobeaccomplishedinacertainmeasureoftime.Nowandthenheheardvoicesinthehouse,andtheclosingofbedroomdoors,whichshowedthatthebuilding,atthetopofwhichhesat,wasinhabitedineveryoneofitscells.Whenmidnightstruck,Ralphshuthisbook,andwithacandleinhishand,descendedtothegroundfloor,toascertainthatalllightswereextinctandalldoorslocked.Itwasathreadbare,well-wornhousethathethusexamined,asiftheinmateshadgrazeddownallluxurianceandplentytothevergeofdecencyandinthenight,bereftoflife,bareplacesandancientblemisheswereunpleasantlyvisible.KatharineHilbery,hethought,wouldcondemnitoff-hand.