PAUL KELVER By Jerome K. Jerome (Jerome Klapka), 1859-1927 Transcriber's Note: Items in [brackets] are editorial comments added in proofing. Italicized text is delimited by _underscores_. The pound (currency) symbol has been replaced by the word “pound”. CONTENTS. PROLOGUE BOOK I I. PAUL, ARRIVED IN A STRANGE LAND, LEARNS MANY THINGS, AND GOES TO MEET THE MAN IN GREY II. IN WHICH PAUL MAKES ACQUAINTANCE OF THE MAN WITH THE UGLY MOUTH III. HOW GOOD LUCK KNOCKED AT THE DOOR OF THE MAN IN GREY IV. PAUL, FALLING IN WITH A GOODLY COMPANY OF PILGRIMS, LEARNS OF THEM THE ROAD THAT HE MUST TRAVEL, AND MEETS THE PRINCESS OF THE GOLDEN LOCKS V. IN WHICH THERE COMES BY ONE BENT UPON PURSUING HIS OWN WAY VI. OF THE SHADOW THAT CAME BETWEEN THE MAN IN GREY AND THE LADY OF THE LOVE-LIT EYES VII. OF THE PASSING OF THE SHADOW VIII. HOW THE MAN IN GREY MADE READY FOR HIS GOING IX. OF THE FASHIONING OF PAUL X. IN WHICH PAUL IS SHIPWRECKED, AND CAST INTO DEEP WATERS BOOK II. I. DESCRIBES THE DESERT ISLAND TO WHICH PAUL WAS DRIFTED II. PAUL, ESCAPING FROM HIS SOLITUDE, FALLS INTO STRANGE COMPANY, AND BECOMES CAPTIVE TO ONE OF HAUGHTY MIEN III. GOOD FRIENDS SHOW PAUL THE ROAD TO FREEDOM. BUT BEFORE SETTING OUT, HE WILL GO A-VISITING IV. LEADS TO A MEETING V. HOW ON A SWEET GREY MORNING THE FUTURE CAME TO PAUL VI. OF THE GLORY AND GOODNESS AND THE EVIL THAT GO TO THE MAKING OF LOVE VII. HOW PAUL SET FORTH UPON A QUEST VIII. AND HOW CAME BACK AGAIN IX. THE PRINCESS OF THE GOLDEN LOCKS SENDS PAUL A RING X. PAUL FINDS HIS WAY PAUL KELVER PROLOGUE. IN WHICH THE AUTHOR SEEKS TO CAST THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THIS STORY UPON ANOTHER. At the corner of a long, straight, brick-built street in the far East End of London--one of those lifeless streets, made of two drab walls upon which the level lines, formed by the precisely even window-sills and doorsteps, stretch in weary perspective from end to end, suggesting petrified diagrams proving dead problems--stands a house that ever draws me to it; so that often, when least conscious of my footsteps, I awake to find myself hurrying through noisy, crowded thoroughfares, where flaring naphtha lamps illumine fierce, patient, leaden-coloured faces; through dim-lit, empty streets, where monstrous shadows come and go upon the close-drawn blinds; through narrow, noisome streets, where the gutters swarm with children, and each ever-open doorway vomits riot; past reeking corners, and across waste places, till at last I reach the dreary goal of my memory-driven desire, and, coming to a halt beside the broken railings, find rest.