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all roads lead to calvary-第5部分
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〃I want to prove to myself;〃 she explained; 〃that I am capable of earning my own living。 I am going down into the market…place。 If I'm no good; if I can't take care of even one poor woman; I'll come back and ask you to keep me。〃 She was sitting on the arm of his chair; and laughing; she drew his head towards her and pressed it against her。 〃If I succeed; if I am strong enough to fight the world for myself and win; that will mean I am strong enough and clever enough to help others。〃
〃I am only at the end of a journey when you need me;〃 he had answered; and they had kissed。 And next morning she returned to her own life。
CHAPTER III
It was at Madge Singleton's rooms that the details of Joan's entry into journalistic London were arranged。 〃The Coming of Beauty;〃 was Flora Lessing's phrase for designating the event。 Flora Lessing; known among her associates as 〃Flossie;〃 was the girl who at Cambridge had accidentally stumbled upon the explanation of Joan's influence。 In appearance she was of the Fluffy Ruffles type; with childish innocent eyes; and the 〃unruly curls〃 beloved of the Family Herald novelist。 At the first; these latter had been the result of a habit of late rising and consequent hurried toilet operations; but on the discovery that for the purposes of her profession they possessed a market value they had been sedulously cultivated。 Editors of the old order had ridiculed the idea of her being of any use to them; when two years previously she had; by combination of cheek and patience; forced herself into their sanctum; had patted her paternally upon her generally ungloved hand; and told her to go back home and get some honest; worthy young man to love and cherish her。
It was Carleton of the Daily Dispatch group who had first divined her possibilities。 With a swift glance on his way through; he had picked her out from a line of depressed…looking men and women ranged against the wall of the dark entrance passage; and with a snap of his fingers had beckoned to her to follow him。 Striding in front of her up to his room; he had pointed to a chair and had left her sitting there for three…quarters of an hour; while he held discussion with a stream of subordinates; managers and editors of departments; who entered and departed one after another; evidently in prearranged order。 All of them spoke rapidly; without ever digressing by a single word from the point; giving her the impression of their speeches having been rehearsed beforehand。
Carleton himself never interrupted them。 Indeed; one might have thought he was not listening; so engrossed he appeared to be in the pile of letters and telegrams that lay waiting for him on his desk。 When they had finished he would ask them questions; still with his attention fixed apparently upon the paper in his hand。 Then; looking up for the first time; he would run off curt instructions; much in the tone of a Commander…in…Chief giving orders for an immediate assault; and; finishing abruptly; return to his correspondence。 When the last; as it transpired; had closed the door behind him; he swung his chair round and faced her。
〃What have you been doing?〃 he asked her。
〃Wasting my time and money hanging about newspaper offices; listening to silly talk from old fossils;〃 she told him。
〃And having learned that respectable journalism has no use for brains; you come to me;〃 he answered her。 〃What do you think you can do?〃
〃Anything that can be done with a pen and ink;〃 she told him。
〃Interviewing?〃 he suggested。
〃I've always been considered good at asking awkward questions;〃 she assured him。
He glanced at the clock。 〃I'll give you five minutes;〃 he said。 〃Interview me。〃
She moved to a chair beside the desk; and; opening her bag; took out a writing…block。
〃What are your principles?〃 she asked him。 〃Have you got any?〃
He looked at her sharply across the corner of the desk。
〃I mean;〃 she continued; 〃to what fundamental rule of conduct do you attribute your success?〃
She leant forward; fixing her eyes on him。 〃Don't tell me;〃 she persisted; 〃that you had none。 That life is all just mere blind chance。 Think of the young men who are hanging on your answer。 Won't you send them a message?〃
〃Yes;〃 he answered musingly。 〃It's your baby face that does the trick。 In the ordinary way I should have known you were pulling my leg; and have shown you the door。 As it was; I felt half inclined for the moment to reply with some damned silly platitude that would have set all Fleet Street laughing at me。 Why do my 'principles' interest you?〃
〃As a matter of fact they don't;〃 she explained。 〃But it's what people talk about whenever they discuss you。〃
〃What do they say?〃 he demanded。
〃Your friends; that you never had any。 And your enemies; that they are always the latest;〃 she informed him。
〃You'll do;〃 he answered with a laugh。 〃With nine men out of ten that speech would have ended your chances。 You sized me up at a glance; and knew it would only interest me。 And your instinct is right;〃 he added。 〃What people are saying: always go straight for that。〃
He gave her a commission then and there for a heart to heart talk with a gentleman whom the editor of the Home News Department of the Daily Dispatch would have referred to as a 〃Leading Literary Luminary;〃 and who had just invented a new world in two volumes。 She had asked him childish questions and had listened with wide… open eyes while he; sitting over against her; and smiling benevolently; had laid bare to her all the seeming intricacies of creation; and had explained to her in simple language the necessary alterations and improvements he was hoping to bring about in human nature。 He had the sensation that his hair must be standing on end the next morning after having read in cold print what he had said。 Expanding oneself before the admiring gaze of innocent simplicity and addressing the easily amused ear of an unsympathetic public are not the same thing。 He ought to have thought of that。
It consoled him; later; that he was not the only victim。 The Daily Dispatch became famous for its piquant interviews; especially with elderly celebrities of the masculine gender。
〃It's dirty work;〃 Flossie confided one day to Madge Singleton。 〃I trade on my silly face。 Don't see that I'm much different to any of these poor devils。〃 They were walking home in the evening from a theatre。 〃If I hadn't been stony broke I'd never have taken it up。 I shall get out of it as soon as I can afford to。〃
〃I should make it a bit sooner than that;〃 suggested the elder woman。 〃One can't always stop oneself just where one wants to when sliding down a slope。 It has a knack of getting steeper and steeper as one goes on。〃
Madge had asked Joan to come a little earlier so that they could have a chat together before the others arrived。
〃I've only asked a few;〃 she explained; as she led Joan into the restful white…panelled sitting…room that looked out upon the gardens。 Madge shared a set of chambers in Gray's Inn with her brother who was an actor。 〃But I have chosen them with care。〃
Joan murmured her thanks。
〃I haven't asked any men;〃 she added; as she fixed Joan in an easy chair before the fire。 〃I was afraid of its introducing the wrong element。〃
〃Tell me;〃 asked Joan; 〃am I likely to meet with much of that sort of thing?〃
〃Oh; about as much as there always is wherever men and women work together;〃 answered Madge。 〃It's a nuisance; but it has to be faced。〃
〃Nature appears to have only one idea in her head;〃 she continued after a pause; 〃so far as we men and women are concerned。 She's been kinder to the lower animals。〃
〃Man has more interests;〃 Joan argued; 〃a thousand other allurements to distract him; we must cultivate his finer instincts。〃
〃It doesn't seem to answer;〃 grumbled Madge。 〃One is always told it is the artistthe brain worker; the very men who have these fine instincts; who are the most sexual。〃
She made a little impatient movement with her hands that was characteristic of her。 〃Personally; I like men;〃 she went on。 〃It is so splendid the way they enjoy life: just like a dog does; whether it's wet or fine。 We are always blinking up at the clouds and worrying about our hat。 It would be so nice to be able to have friendship with them。
〃I don't mean that it's all their fault;〃 she continued。 〃We do all we can to attract themthe way we dress。 Who was it said that to every woman every man is a potential lover。 We can't get it out of our minds。 It's there even when we don't know it。 We will never succeed in civilizing Nature。〃
〃We won't despair of her;〃 laughed Joan。 〃She's creeping up; poor lady; as Whistler said of her。 We have passed the phase when everything she did was right in our childish eyes。 Now we dare to criticize her。 That shows we are growing up。 She will learn from us; later on。 She's a dear old thing; at heart。〃
〃She's been kind enough to you;〃 replied Madge; somewhat irrelevantly。 There was a note of irritation in her tone。 〃I suppose you know you are supremely beautiful。 You seem so indifferent to it; I wonder sometimes if you do。〃
〃I'm not indifferent to it;〃 answered Joan。 〃I'm reckoning on it to help me。〃
〃Why not?〃 she continued; with a flash of defiance; though Madge had not spoken。 〃It is a weapon like any otherknowledge; intellect; courage。 God has given me beauty。 I shall use it in His service。〃
They formed a curious physical contrast; these two women in this moment。 Joan; radiant; serene; sat upright in her chair; her head slightly thrown back; her fine hands clasping one another so strongly that the delicate muscles could be traced beneath the smooth white skin。 Madge; with puckered brows; leant forward in a crouching attitude; her thin nervous hands stretched out towards the fire。
〃How does one know when one is serving God?〃 she asked after a pause; apparently rather of herself than of Joan。 〃It seems so difficult。〃
〃One feels it;〃 explained Joan。
〃Yes; but didn't they all feel it;〃 Madge suggested。 She still seemed to be arguing with herself rather than with Joan。 〃Nietzsche。 I have been reading him。 They are forming a Nietzsche Society to give lectures about himpropagate
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