In the afternoon the weather cleared somewhat. Edwin, vaguely blissful,
but with nothing to occupy him save reflection, sat in the lounge
drinking tea at a Moorish table. An old Jew, who was likewise drinking
tea at a Moorish table, had engaged him in conversation and was relating
the history of a burglary in which he had lost from his flat in Bolton
Street, Piccadilly, nineteen gold cigarette-cases and thirty-seven
jewelled scarf-pins, tokens of esteem and regard offered to him by
friends and colleagues at various crises of his life. The lounge was
crowded, but not with tea-drinkers. Despite the horrid dismalness of
the morning, hope had sent down from London trains full of people whose
determination was to live and to see life in a grandiose manner. And
all about the lounge of the Royal Sussex were groups of elegant youngish
men and flaxen, uneasily stylish women, inviting the assistance of
flattered waiters to decide what liqueurs they should have next. Edwin
was humanly trying to publish in nonchalant gestures the scorn which he
really felt for these nincompoops, but whose free expression was
hindered by a layer of envy.
The hall-porter appeared, and his eye ranged like a condor's over the
field until it discovered Edwin, whom he approached with a mien of joy
and handed to him a letter.
Edwin took the letter with an air of custom, as if he was anxious to
convince the company that his stay at the Royal Sussex was frequently
punctuated by the arrival of special missives.
"Who brought this?" he asked.
"An oldish man, sir," said the porter, and bowed and departed.
The handwriting was hers. Probably the broker's man had offered to
bring the letter. In the short colloquy with him in the morning, Edwin
had liked the slatternly, coarse fellow. The bailiff could not,
unauthorised, accept cheques, but his tone in suggesting an immediate
visit to his employers had shown that he had bowels, that he sympathised
with the difficulties of careless tenants in a harsh world of landlords.
It was Hilda who, furnished with notes and cheque, had gone, in Edwin's
cab, to placate the higher powers. She had preferred to go herself, and
to go alone. Edwin had not insisted. He had so mastered her that he
could afford to yield to her in trifles.
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