§ 6
The young man’s room was bookish and rather untidy, and Susan had been killing toys on the carpet—a china-headed doll and something or other of yellow painted wood appeared to be the chief victims. The doll had bled sawdust profusely. Dark curtains were drawn and a green-shaded electric light threw all the apartment into darkness except the floor. There was a gas-fire with a gas-ring on which a boiling kettle steamed like an excited volcano; there was a deal table on which was a big pile of letters address to “Aunt Suzannah” c/o Editor of Wilkins’ Weekly, and there was a large untidy desk on which was another litter of letters evidently receiving attention, and in the midst of the desk a writing-pad, on which reposed a squeezable tube of liquid glue and a half-mended toy. The glue oozed upon the face sheet of the writing-pad beneath these words, written in a beautifully neat handwriting:
UPS AND DOWNS
A Pedestrian Novel
BY ROBERT ROOTHING
CHAPTER THE FIRST
WHICH INTRODUCES OUR HERO
Beyond that the novel did not seem to have progressed.
With the dexterity of long-established usage Bobby made tea and produced plum-bread and butter. Meanwhile he kept a wary eye on Susan who had sat down by the waste-paper basket and was tearing up paper, and attended to the remarks and attitudes of his remarkable visitor.
Sargon already liked this young man enormously. It was extremely reassuring and encouraging to meet such kindly acceptance and understanding after the chill and doubt and ugliness of the previous hour’s experiences. And it was nice and refreshing to have tea. A sort of grey insecurity, a threat of suppression that had come over his mind, vanished in this genial atmosphere. The shrivelled incognito expanded. The hidden mystery beneath it grew rich and full once more. This young man—he seemed ready to believe anything. Sargon walked up and down with his hands behind his back as if in the profoundest meditation. He would have muttered a few phrases in Sumerian, but for some reason he had quite forgotten that forgotten tongue.
“And so you write books?” he said regally.
“Not books,” Bobby answered over his shoulder; he was now toasting a circle of plum-bread. “Not books yet. But—it is ridiculous, isn’t it?—I am a bit of a poet and all that sort of thing, and a journalist of sorts. Just answers to correspondents—laborious, but a living.” He indicated the piles of letters on the deal table. “As for books—I have as a matter of fact started a novel—it’s on that desk—but that’s only in the last few days. And it’s so difficult to get a lot of time to oneself to really let oneself go with it.”
“Inspiration,” said Sargon understandingly.
“Well, one must let oneself go a bit, I suppose; particularly at first. But there’s always something one must do cropping up to prevent it.”
“With me also.”
“No doubt.”
“That is why,” said Sargon, “I am withdrawing into this solitude. To collect my forces. In Sumeria it was always the practice, before any great undertaking, to go out into the wilderness for a certain tale of days.”
“If I go out into the wilderness I get so lonely in the evenings,” said Bobby. “Ssh! That was the front door.”
He went out upon the staircase and stood listening.
“Mrs. Richman,” Sargon heard him call.
“S’me,” said a lady’s voice.
“Here’s a lodger for the second-floor front.”
“I bin to the pictures,” said the voice outside. “Mary and Doug—a fair treat.”
A corpulent lady in a black bonnet appeared breathing heavily. She panted a few obvious questions and Bobby hovered helpfully at Sargon’s elbow to prevent him making any mistakes. “He’ll pay in advance,” said Bobby.
“That’s awright,” said Mrs. Richman. “When will he move in?”
“He’s getting his luggage right away,” said Bobby.
“I suppose it’s all right,” said Mrs. Richman.
“I know his people. At least I know about them. I’ve been in his part of the country. You can be quite sure he’s all right,” said Bobby.
“Well, if you say so,” said Mrs. Richman. “’Ope you’ll be comfortable, Mr.——”
“Mr. Sargon.”
“Mr. Sargon.”
And after a few rather vague comments on the weather Mrs. Richman withdrew. “And now,” said Bobby, “I’ll just unload Susan on her and come with you for that bag. It’s extraordinary how people lose their way in London at times.”