"I shall tell her (the courtesan, not the laundress) how she may
organize the various forces latent in her and culminate in a power
which shall contain in essence the united responsibilities of church,
music-hall, and picture gallery." Mike turned over on his back and
roared with laughter. "Frank will be delighted. It will make the
fortune of the paper. Then I shall attack my subject in detail.
Dress, house, education, friends, female and male. Then the
money question. She must make a provision for the future.
Charming chapter there is to be written on the old age of the
courtesan--charities--ostentatious charities--charitable bazaars,
reception into the Roman Catholic faith."
"Shall I bring in your hot water, sir?" screamed the laundress.
"Yes, yes.... Shall my courtesan go on the stage? No, she shall be a
pure courtesan, she shall remain unsullied of any labour. She might
appear once on the boards;--no, no, she must remain a pure courtesan.
Charming subject! It will make a book. Charming opportunity for wit,
satire, fancy. I shall write the introductory letter after
breakfast."
Frank was in shoaling water, and could not pay his contributors; but
Mike could get blood out of a turnip, and Frank advanced him ten
pounds on the proposed articles. Frank counted on these articles to
whip up the circulation, and Mike promised to let him have four
within the week, and left the cottage at Henley, where Frank was
living, full of dreams of work. And every morning before he got out
of bed he considered and reconsidered his subject, finding always
more than one idea, and many a witty fancy; and every day after
breakfast the work undone hung like a sword between Hall and him as
they sat talking of their friends, of art, of women, of things that
did not interest them. They hung around each other, loth yet desirous
to part; they followed each other through the three rooms, buttoning
their braces and shirt-collars. And when conversation had worn itself
out, Mike accepted any pretext to postpone the day's work. He had to
fetch ink or cigarettes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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