CHAPTER XX

,doubtless,wasalreadyhardatworkhelpingthepeopleofEngland,asMr.Clactonputit,tothinkrightly“generatingandstimulating,”thosewerehiswords.Shewasstrikingablowagainsttheenemy,nodoubt,whodidn’tletthegrassgrowbeneaththeirfeet.Mr.Clacton’swordsrepeatedthemselvesaccuratelyinherbrain.Shepushedthepaperswearilyovertothefarthersideofthetable.Itwasnouse,thoughsomethingorotherhadhappenedtoherbrain—achangeoffocussothatnearthingswereindistinctagain.Thesamethinghadhappenedtoheroncebefore,sheremembered,aftershehadmetRalphinthegardensofLincoln’sInnFieldsshehadspentthewholeofacommitteemeetinginthinkingaboutsparrowsandcolors,until,almostattheendofthemeeting,heroldconvictionshadallcomebacktoher.Buttheyhadonlycomeback,shethoughtwithscornatherfeebleness,becauseshewantedtousethemtofightagainstRalph.Theyweren’t,rightlyspeaking,convictionsatall.Shecouldnotseetheworlddividedintoseparatecompartmentsofgoodpeopleandbadpeople,anymorethanshecouldbelievesoimplicitlyintherightnessofherownthoughtastowishtobringthepopulationoftheBritishIslesintoagreementwithit.Shelookedatthelemon-coloredleaflet,andthoughtalmostenviouslyofthefaithwhichcouldfindcomfortintheissueofsuchdocumentsforherselfshewouldbecontenttoremainsilentforeverifashareofpersonalhappinessweregrantedher.ShereadMr.Clacton’sstatementwithacuriousdivisionofjudgment,notingitsweakandpompousverbosityontheonehand,and,atthesametime,feelingthatfaith,faithinanillusion,perhaps,but,atanyrate,faithinsomething,wasofallgiftsthemosttobeenvied.Anillusionitwas,nodoubt.Shelookedcuriouslyroundheratthefurnitureoftheoffice,atthemachineryinwhichshehadtakensomuchpride,andmarveledtothinkthatoncethecopying-presses,thecard-index,thefilesofdocuments,hadallbeenshrouded,wrappedinsomemistwhichgavethemaunityandageneraldignityandpurposeindependentlyoftheirseparatesignificance.Theuglycumbersomenessofthefurniturealoneimpressedhernow.Herattitudehadbecomeverylaxanddespondentwhenthetypewriterstoppedinthenextroom.Maryimmediatelydrewuptothetable,laidhandsonanunopenedenvelope,andadoptedanexpressionwhichmighthideherstateofmindfromMrs.Seal.SomeinstinctofdecencyrequiredthatsheshouldnotallowMrs.Sealtoseeherface.Shadinghereyeswithherfingers,shewatchedMrs.Sealpulloutonedrawerafteranotherinhersearchforsomeenvelopeorleaflet.Shewastemptedtodropherfingersandexclaim: “Dositdown,Sally,andtellmehowyoumanageit—howyoumanage,thatis,tobustleaboutwithperfectconfidenceinthenecessityofyourownactivities,whichtomeseemasfutileasthebuzzingofabelatedblue-bottle.”Shesaidnothingofthekind,however,andthepresenceofindustrywhichshepreservedsolongasMrs.Sealwasintheroomservedtosetherbraininmotion,sothatshedispatchedhermorning’sworkmuchasusual.Atoneo’clockshewassurprisedtofindhowefficientlyshehaddealtwiththemorning.AssheputherhatonshedeterminedtolunchatashopintheStrand,soastosetthatotherpieceofmechanism,herbody,intoaction.Withabrainworkingandabodyworkingonecouldkeepstepwiththecrowdandneverbefoundoutforthehollowmachine,lackingtheessentialthing,thatonewasconsciousofbeing. SheconsideredhercaseasshewalkeddowntheCharingCrossRoad.Sheputtoherselfaseriesofquestions.Wouldshemind,forexample,ifthewheelsofthatmotor-omnibuspassedoverherandcrushedhertodeath?No,notintheleastoranadventurewiththatdisagreeable-lookingmanhangingabouttheentranceoftheTubestation?Noshecouldnotconceivefearorexcitement.Didsufferinginanyformappallher?No,sufferingwasneithergoodnorbad.Andthisessentialthing?Intheeyesofeverysinglepersonshedetectedaflameasifasparkinthebrainignitedspontaneouslyatcontactwiththethingstheymetanddrovethemon.Theyoungwomenlookingintothemilliners’windowshadthatlookintheireyesandelderlymenturningoverbooksinthesecond-handbook-shops,andeagerlywaitingtohearwhatthepricewas—theverylowestprice—theyhadit,too.Butshecarednothingatallforclothesorformoneyeither.Bookssheshrankfrom,fortheywereconnectedtoocloselywithRalph.Shekeptonherwayresolutelythroughthecrowdofpeople,amongwhomshewassomuchofanalien,feelingthemcleaveandgivewaybefor