England -- Fiction; Experimental fiction; Psychological fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
Miss Jinny Carslake, pale, freckled, morbid, came into the room.
"Oh Jinny, here's a friend. Flanders. An Englishman. Wealthy. Highly
connected. Go on, Flanders...."
Jacob said nothing.
"It's THAT--that's not right," said Jinny Carslake.
"No," said Cruttendon decidedly. "Can't be done."
He took the canvas off the chair and stood it on the floor with its back
to them.
"Sit down, ladies and gentlemen. Miss Carslake comes from your part of
the world, Flanders. From Devonshire. Oh, I thought you said Devonshire.
Very well. She's a daughter of the church too. The black sheep of the
family. Her mother writes her such letters. I say--have you one about
you? It's generally Sundays they come. Sort of church-bell effect, you
know."
"Have you met all the painter men?" said Jinny. "Was Mallinson drunk? If
you go to his studio he'll give you one of his pictures. I say, Teddy...."
"Half a jiff," said Cruttendon. "What's the season of the year?" He
looked out of the window.
"We take a day off on Sundays, Flanders."
"Will he ..." said Jinny, looking at Jacob. "You ..."
"Yes, he'll come with us," said Cruttendon.
And then, here is Versailles. Jinny stood on the stone rim and leant
over the pond, clasped by Cruttendon's arms or she would have fallen in.
"There! There!" she cried. "Right up to the top!" Some sluggish,
sloping-shouldered fish had floated up from the depths to nip her
crumbs. "You look," she said, jumping down. And then the dazzling white
water, rough and throttled, shot up into the air. The fountain spread
itself. Through it came the sound of military music far away. All the
water was puckered with drops. A blue air-ball gently bumped the
surface. How all the nurses and children and old men and young crowded
to the edge, leant over and waved their sticks! The little girl ran
stretching her arms towards her air-ball, but it sank beneath the
fountain.
Edward Cruttendon, Jinny Carslake, and Jacob Flanders walked in a row
along the yellow gravel path; got on to the grass; so passed under the
trees; and came out at the summer-house where Marie Antoinette used to
drink chocolate. In went Edward and Jinny, but Jacob waited outside,
sitting on the handle of his walking-stick. Out they came again.
"Well?" said Cruttendon, smiling at Jacob.
Jinny waited; Edward waited; and both looked at Jacob.
"Well?" said Jacob, smiling and pressing both hands on his stick.
"Come along," he decided; and started off. The others followed him,
smiling.
And then they went to the little cafe in the by-street where people sit
drinking coffee, watching the soldiers, meditatively knocking ashes into
trays.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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