"You can get a Cambridge graduate for eighty resident--and grateful," said Mr. Blendershin. "But I don't want a resident post," said Lewisham. "Precious few non-resident shops," said Mr. Blendershin. "Precious few. They want you for dormitory supervision--and they're afraid of your taking pups outside." "Not married by any chance?" said the assistant suddenly, after an attentive study of Lewisham's face. "Well--er." Lewisham met Mr. Blendershin's eye. "Yes," he said. The assistant was briefly unprintable. "Lord! you'll have to keep that dark," said Mr. Blendershin. "But you have got a tough bit of hoeing before you. If I was you I'd go on and get my degree now you're so near it. You'll stand a better chance." Pause. "The fact is," said Lewisham slowly and looking at his boot toes, "I must be doing _something_ while I am getting my degree." The assistant, whistled softly. "Might get you a visiting job, perhaps," said Mr. Blendershin speculatively. "Just read me those items again, Binks." He listened attentively. "Objects to religious teaching!--Eh?" He stopped the reading by a gesture, "That's nonsense. You can't have everything, you know. Scratch that out. You won't get a place in any middle-class school in England if you object to religious teaching. It's the mothers--bless 'em! Say nothing about it. Don't believe--who does? There's hundreds like you, you know--hundreds. Parsons--all sorts. Say nothing about it--" "But if I'm asked?" "Church of England. Every man in this country who has not dissented belongs to the Church of England. It'll be hard enough to get you anything without that." "But--" said Mr. Lewisham. "It's lying." "Legal fiction," said Mr. Blendershin. "Everyone understands. If you don't do that, my dear chap, we can't do anything for you. It's Journalism, or London docks. Well, considering your experience,--say docks." Lewisham's face flushed irregularly. He did not answer. He scowled and tugged at the still by no means ample moustache. "Compromise, you know," said Mr. Blendershin, watching him kindly. "Compromise." For the first time in his life Lewisham faced the necessity of telling a lie in cold blood. He glissaded from the austere altitudes of his self-respect and his next words were already disingenuous. "I won't promise to tell lies if I'm asked," he said aloud. "I can't do that." "Scratch it out," said Blendershin to the clerk. "You needn't mention it. Then you don't say you can teach drawing." "I can't," said Lewisham. "You just give out the copies," said Blendershin, "and take care they don't see you draw, you know." "But that's not teaching drawing--" "It's what's understood by it in _this_ country," said Blendershin. "Don't you go corrupting your mind with pedagogueries. They're the ruin of assistants. Put down drawing. Then there's shorthand--" "Here, I say!" said Lewisham. "There's shorthand, French, book-keeping, commercial geography, land measuring--"