<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN">
<HTML><HEAD>
<META http-equiv=Content-Type content="text/html; charset=windows-1252">
<META content="MSHTML 6.00.2800.1106" name=GENERATOR>
<STYLE></STYLE>
</HEAD>
<BODY bgColor=#ffffff>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2><IMG alt="" hspace=0
src="cid:000701c6dce7$6b728060$98840da8@ytycb" align=baseline
border=0></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>Up against this, under the window, there was a
kitchen table withan inkstained green cloth.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>He began to feel a little less bored
andangry.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>With smoke tickling his lungs, heabstracted himself
from the mean and actual world. From his earliest childhood Gordons relatives had
depressed himhorribly. Vaguely he looked forward to some kind of moneyless,
anchoriteexistence.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>They had accepted the money-code,and by that code
they were failures.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>He was asthough dedicated to this war against
money. He tiptoed down, clutching the damp bundle of tea-leaves againsthis breast.
At the angle ofthe stairs he halted, listened a moment longer. Youcould always hear
it striking at night.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>It was said of him that he was worth his wagesbut
wasnt the type that Makes Good. It was said of him that he was worth his wagesbut
wasnt the type that Makes Good.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>He repeated it to himself, over and
over.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>They were a reminder thatthere was still somebody
in the world who cared for him. It had seemed all right, a year ago; now,on the
other hand, it seemed subtly vulgar. In a crude, boyish way, he had begun to get the
hang of this money-business. The first effect of poverty is that it kills thought.
He went on,up the dark evil-smelling stairs.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>Moreover, it had early been decided inthe family
that Gordon was clever.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>He could not even bear to lookat them any
longer.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>And it is above all derelict spinsters of the
middle-classes who keep them going. The fidgeting, tiring job ofgiving piano lessons
was, of course, the worst possible thing forher.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>His uncles and aunts werealready talking dismally
about getting Gordon settled in life. It needed an effort even to disturb that
frightful jungleof papers. It was four whole days since shehad written.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>And even now there was endless naggingbecause
Gordon would never allow his table to be tidied up. It was always some minutes
before MrsWisbeach brought the letters upstairs.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>London Pleasures, by GordonComstock, author of
Mice. No, it isnt like that that one wasmeant to live. Gordon had stretched his legs
outstraight.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>The Gordon part of it was Scotch,of course. It was
some time before he could find the energy to undress. They PREFERRED being poor, it
seemed to him. They had never had the senseto lash out and just LIVE, money or no
money, as the lower classesdo. How light-heartedly he had begun it,two years ago!
Moreover, it had early been decided inthe family that Gordon was
clever.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial size=2>But her nature wassimple and affectionate. Perhaps
he WOULD work; for a little while, anyway. </FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>