Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in
his room. He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear
thinking--strong coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made
concession to his peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world:
better to break any rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant.
She had even installed a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew
his morning and evening coffee.
So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he
found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private
oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as
he waited for the liquid to darken. Appeal--to--the--Bishop,
Appeal--to-the--Bishop, seemed to be the speech of the jetting
gurgitation under the glass lid.
He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi
even without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had
some sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering
and Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt
as to the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a
Bishop: was it “Very Reverend,” or “Right Reverend”? and which of these
indicated a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a
masculine frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:--