England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
The signs were lit above the theatres; traffic was scanty, the streets
a long dawdle of what vehicles and humans were about. He came to
Leicester Square and sat down on a bench. The lights all round him
brightened slowly under the dusk--theatre lights, street lamps. And the
pity of things smote him, sitting there. So much of everything; and
one got so little of anything! Adding figures up all day, going home
to Alice--that was life! Well, it wasn’t so bad when Alice was nice
to him. But--crikey!--what one missed! That book about the South Sea
Islands--places, peoples, sights, sounds, scents, all over the world!
Four pound ten a week, a wife, a baby! Well, you couldn’t have things
both ways--but had he got them either way? Not with the Alice on the
landing!
Ah! Well! Poor Alice; jolly hard on her to miss her holiday! But she
might have given him the chance to tell her that he would pawn his
bicycle. Or was it all a bad dream? Had he ever really been in the
police court, seen them herding those girls to prison--girls who did
what they did because--well, like himself, they had missed too much.
They’d catch a fresh lot to-night. What a fool he’d been to pay that
fine!
‘Glad I didn’t go into that girl’s house, anyway,’ he thought. ‘I would
have felt a scum!’ The only decent thing about it all had been her
look when she said: “Ow! thank you!” That gave him a little feeling of
warmth even now; and then--it, too, chilled away. Nothing for it! When
he had done sitting there, he must go home! If Alice had thought him a
wrong-un before, what would she think when he returned? Well, there it
was! The milk was spilt! But he did wish she hadn’t got such a virtue
on her.
The sky deepened and darkened, the lights stared white; the square
garden with its flower-beds seemed all cut out and stiff--like scenery
on a stage. Must go back and ‘stick’ it! No good to worry!
He got up from the bench, and gave himself a shake. His eyes, turned
towards the lights of the Alhambra, were round, candid, decent, like
the eyes of a baby.
1922.
CONSCIENCE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account