CHAPTER TEN
關燈
小
中
大
ettle.
"ByGod,it'sbad,"saidBramham.
Fannydroppedontothefloor,claspedherhandsroundherknees,andlookedathim,herbeautifuleyes—yes,beauty,flyingthroughtheroom,shonethereforasecond.Fanny'seyesseemedtoquestion,tocommiserate,tobe,forasecond,loveitself.Butsheexaggerated.Bramhamnoticednothing.Andwhenthekettleboiled,upshescrambled,morelikeacoltorapuppythanalovingwoman.
NowJacobwalkedovertothewindowandstoodwithhishandsinhispockets.Mr.Springettoppositecameout,lookedathisshopwindow,andwentinagain.Thechildrendriftedpast,eyeingthepinksticksofsweetstuff.Pickford'svanswungdownthestreet.Asmallboytwirledfromarope.Jacobturnedaway.Twominuteslaterheopenedthefrontdoor,andwalkedoffinthedirectionofHolborn.
FannyElmertookdownhercloakfromthehook.NickBramhamunpinnedhisdrawingandrolleditunderhisarm.Theyturnedoutthelightsandsetoffdownthestreet,holdingontheirwaythroughallthepeople,motorcars,omnibuses,carts,untiltheyreachedLeicesterSquare,fiveminutesbeforeJacobreachedit,forhiswaywasslightlylonger,andhehadbeenstoppedbyablockinHolbornwaitingtoseetheKingdriveby,sothatNickandFannywerealreadyleaningoverthebarrierinthepromenadeattheEmpirewhenJacobpushedthroughtheswingdoorsandtookhisplacebesidethem.
"Hullo,nevernoticedyou,"saidNick,fiveminuteslater.
"Bloodyrot,"saidJacob.
"MissElmer,"saidNick.
Jacobtookhispipeoutofhismouthveryawkwardly.
Veryawkwardhewas.Andwhentheysatuponaplushsofaandletthesmokegoupbetweenthemandthestage,andheardfaroffthehigh-pitchedvoicesandthejollyorchestrabreakinginopportunelyhewasstillawkward,onlyFannythought:"Whatabeautifulvoice!"Shethoughthowlittlehesaidyethowfirmitwas.Shethoughthowyoungmenaredignifiedandaloof,andhowunconscioustheyare,andhowquietlyonemightsitbesideJacobandlookathim.Andhowchildlikehewouldbe,comeintiredofanevening,shethought,andhowmajesticalittleoverbearingperhaps"ButIwouldn'tgiveway,"shethought.Hegotupandleantoverthebarrier.Thesmokehungabouthim.
Andforeverthebeautyofyoungmenseemstobesetinsmoke,howeverlustilytheychasefootballs,ordrivecricketballs,dance,run,orstridealongroads.Possiblytheyaresoontoloseit.Possiblytheylookintotheeyesoffarawayheroes,andtaketheirstationamongushalfcontemptuously,shethought(vibratinglikeafiddle-string,tobeplayedonandsnapped).Anyhow,theylovesilence,andspeakbeautifully,eachwordfallinglikeadiscnewcut,notahubble-bubbleofsmallsmoothcoinssuchasgirlsuseandtheymovedecidedly,asiftheyknewhowlongtostayandwhentogo—oh,butMr.Flanderswasonlygonetogetaprogramme.
"Thedancerscomerightattheend,"hesaid,comingbacktothem.
Andisn'titpleasant,Fannywentonthinking,howyoungmenbringoutlotsofsilvercoinsfromtheirtrouserpockets,andlookatthem,insteadofhavingjustsomanyinapurse?
Thenthereshewasherself,whirlingacrossthestageinwhiteflounces,andthemusicwasthedanceandflingofherownsoul,andthewholemachinery,rockandgearoftheworldwasspunsmoothlyintothoseswifteddiesandfalls,shefelt,asshestoodrigidleaningoverthebarriertwofeetfromJacobFlanders.
Herscrewed-upblackglovedroppedtothefloor.WhenJacobgaveither,shestartedangrily.Forneverwasthereamoreirrationalpassion.AndJacobwasafraidofherforamoment—soviolent,sodangerousisitwhenyoungwomenstandrigidgraspthebarrierfal
