Twopence an up was whatyou got, and the work
knocked hell out of your thigh muscles.
Writing lies to tickle the money out of
foolspockets!
And after threedays a dreadful thing happened. He
had declared war on money but that didnot prevent him from being damnably selfish.
Itwas the draughty drawing-rooms and the trudging to and fro in allweathers that had
done it.
Gordons wages were gradually raised,and the three
of them managed, more or less. Of course there was another and more desolating row
in what wasleft of the family. A book of poems, he added with difficulty
inpronouncing the word. Even now shebelieved that somehow, some day, he was going to
retrieve thefamily fortunes. He had not that sniffish, buttoned-up spirit that
usuallygoes with an ability to make money.
They had never had the senseto lash out and just
LIVE, money or no money, as the lower classesdo.
It was said of him that he was worth his wagesbut
wasnt the type that Makes Good.
It confirmed all their ideas about
Gordon.
She was in the studio and helped todesign fashion
plates.
He carried about with him an atmosphere of
failure,worry, and boredom. As he grew olderhe felt himself more akin to them. Of
course there was another and more desolating row in what wasleft of the family. His
mother did not die, as it happened, butshe looked deathly as they carried her
upstairs. Julias hair was greyingfast; there was a deep line scored down each of her
thin redcheeks.
He forgotthat the birds of the air dont pay
room-rent.
Why couldnt they be like other boys
parents?
He wanted to write, he told them sullenly. If
Gordon buckled to work in the right spirit hemight be a Big Pot one of these days.