Edwin was dashed. His faith in humanity was dashed. These elders were
not sincere. And as Mrs Hamps continued to embroider the original
theme of her exhortation about the Bible, Edwin looked at her
stealthily, and the doubt crossed his mind whether that majestic and
vital woman was ever sincere about anything, even to herself--whether
the whole of her daily existence, from her getting-up to her down-lying,
was not a grandiose pretence.
Not that he had the least desire to cling to the Bible class, even as an
alternative to the shop! No! He was much relieved to be rid of the
Bible class. What overset him was the crude illogicality of the new
decree, and the shameless tacit admission of previous insincerity.
Two hours later, as he stood idly at the window of his bedroom, watching
the gas lamps of Trafalgar Road wax brighter in the last glooms of
twilight, he was still occupied with the sham and the unreason and the
lack of scruple suddenly revealed in the life of the elder generation.
Unconsciously imitating a trick of his father's when annoyed but calm,
he nodded his head several times, and with his tongue against his teeth
made the noise which in writing is represented by `tut-tut.' Yet
somehow he had always known that it would be so. At bottom, he was only
pretending to himself to be shocked and outraged.
His plans were no further advanced; indeed they were put back, for this
Saturday afternoon vigil in the shop would be in some sort a symbolic
temporary defeat for him. Why had he not spoken out clearly? Why was
he always like a baby in presence of his father? The future was all
askew for him. He had forgotten his tremendous serious resolves. The
touch of the half-sovereign in his pocket, however, was comforting in a
universe of discomfort.