all roads lead to calvary-第6章

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〃I　want　to　prove　to　myself；〃　she　explained；　〃that　I　am　capable　of　earning　my　own　living。　　I　am　going　down　into　the　market…place。　　If　I'm　no　good；　if　I　can't　take　care　of　even　one　poor　woman；　I'll　come　back　and　ask　you　to　keep　me。〃　　She　was　sitting　on　the　arm　of　his　chair；　and　laughing；　she　drew　his　head　towards　her　and　pressed　it　against　her。　　〃If　I　succeed；　if　I　am　strong　enough　to　fight　the　world　for　myself　and　win；　that　will　mean　I　am　strong　enough　and　clever　enough　to　help　others。〃

〃I　am　only　at　the　end　of　a　journey　when　you　need　me；〃　he　had　answered；　and　they　had　kissed。　　And　next　morning　she　returned　to　her　own　life。



CHAPTER　III



It　was　at　Madge　Singleton's　rooms　that　the　details　of　Joan's　entry　into　journalistic　London　were　arranged。　　〃The　Coming　of　Beauty；〃　was　Flora　Lessing's　phrase　for　designating　the　event。　　Flora　Lessing；　known　among　her　associates　as　〃Flossie；〃　was　the　girl　who　at　Cambridge　had　accidentally　stumbled　upon　the　explanation　of　Joan's　influence。　　In　appearance　she　was　of　the　Fluffy　Ruffles　type；　with　childish　innocent　eyes；　and　the　〃unruly　curls〃　beloved　of　the　Family　Herald　novelist。　　At　the　first；　these　latter　had　been　the　result　of　a　habit　of　late　rising　and　consequent　hurried　toilet　operations；　but　on　the　discovery　that　for　the　purposes　of　her　profession　they　possessed　a　market　value　they　had　been　sedulously　cultivated。　　Editors　of　the　old　order　had　ridiculed　the　idea　of　her　being　of　any　use　to　them；　when　two　years　previously　she　had；　by　combination　of　cheek　and　patience；　forced　herself　into　their　sanctum；　had　patted　her　paternally　upon　her　generally　ungloved　hand；　and　told　her　to　go　back　home　and　get　some　honest；　worthy　young　man　to　love　and　cherish　her。

It　was　Carleton　of　the　Daily　Dispatch　group　who　had　first　divined　her　possibilities。　　With　a　swift　glance　on　his　way　through；　he　had　picked　her　out　from　a　line　of　depressed…looking　men　and　women　ranged　against　the　wall　of　the　dark　entrance　passage；　and　with　a　snap　of　his　fingers　had　beckoned　to　her　to　follow　him。　　Striding　in　front　of　her　up　to　his　room；　he　had　pointed　to　a　chair　and　had　left　her　sitting　there　for　three…quarters　of　an　hour；　while　he　held　discussion　with　a　stream　of　subordinates；　managers　and　editors　of　departments；　who　entered　and　departed　one　after　another；　evidently　in　prearranged　order。　　All　of　them　spoke　rapidly；　without　ever　digressing　by　a　single　word　from　the　point；　giving　her　the　impression　of　their　speeches　having　been　rehearsed　beforehand。

Carleton　himself　never　interrupted　them。　　Indeed；　one　might　have　thought　he　was　not　listening；　so　engrossed　he　appeared　to　be　in　the　pile　of　letters　and　telegrams　that　lay　waiting　for　him　on　his　desk。　When　they　had　finished　he　would　ask　them　questions；　still　with　his　attention　fixed　apparently　upon　the　paper　in　his　hand。　　Then；　looking　up　for　the　first　time；　he　would　run　off　curt　instructions；　much　in　the　tone　of　a　Commander…in…Chief　giving　orders　for　an　immediate　assault；　and；　finishing　abruptly；　return　to　his　correspondence。　　When　the　last；　as　it　transpired；　had　closed　the　door　behind　him；　he　swung　his　chair　round　and　faced　her。

〃What　have　you　been　doing？〃　he　asked　her。

〃Wasting　my　time　and　money　hanging　about　newspaper　offices；　listening　to　silly　talk　from　old　fossils；〃　she　told　him。

〃And　having　learned　that　respectable　journalism　has　no　use　for　brains；　you　come　to　me；〃　he　answered　her。　　〃What　do　you　think　you　can　do？〃

〃Anything　that　can　be　done　with　a　pen　and　ink；〃　she　told　him。

〃Interviewing？〃　he　suggested。

〃I've　always　been　considered　good　at　asking　awkward　questions；〃　she　assured　him。

He　glanced　at　the　clock。　　〃I'll　give　you　five　minutes；〃　he　said。　〃Interview　me。〃

She　moved　to　a　chair　beside　the　desk；　and；　opening　her　bag；　took　out　a　writing…block。

〃What　are　your　principles？〃　she　asked　him。　　〃Have　you　got　any？〃

He　looked　at　her　sharply　across　the　corner　of　the　desk。

〃I　mean；〃　she　continued；　〃to　what　fundamental　rule　of　conduct　do　you　attribute　your　success？〃

She　leant　forward；　fixing　her　eyes　on　him。　　〃Don't　tell　me；〃　she　persisted；　〃that　you　had　none。　　That　life　is　all　just　mere　blind　chance。　　Think　of　the　young　men　who　are　hanging　on　your　answer。　Won't　you　send　them　a　message？〃

〃Yes；〃　he　answered　musingly。　　〃It's　your　baby　face　that　does　the　trick。　　In　the　ordinary　way　I　should　have　known　you　were　pulling　my　leg；　and　have　shown　you　the　door。　　As　it　was；　I　felt　half　inclined　for　the　moment　to　reply　with　some　damned　silly　platitude　that　would　have　set　all　Fleet　Street　laughing　at　me。　　Why　do　my　'principles'　interest　you？〃

〃As　a　matter　of　fact　they　don't；〃　she　explained。　　〃But　it's　what　people　talk　about　whenever　they　discuss　you。〃

〃What　do　they　say？〃　he　demanded。

〃Your　friends；　that　you　never　had　any。　　And　your　enemies；　that　they　are　always　the　latest；〃　she　informed　him。

〃You'll　do；〃　he　answered　with　a　laugh。　　〃With　nine　men　out　of　ten　that　speech　would　have　ended　your　chances。　　You　sized　me　up　at　a　glance；　and　knew　it　would　only　interest　me。　　And　your　instinct　is　right；〃　he　added。　　〃What　people　are　saying：　　always　go　straight　for　that。〃

He　gave　her　a　commission　then　and　there　for　a　heart　to　heart　talk　with　a　gentleman　whom　the　editor　of　the　Home　News　Department　of　the　Daily　Dispatch　would　have　referred　to　as　a　〃Leading　Literary　Luminary；〃　and　who　had　just　invented　a　new　world　in　two　volumes。　She　had　asked　him　childish　questions　and　had　listened　with　wide…　open　eyes　while　he；　sitting　over　against　her；　and　smiling　benevolently；　had　laid　bare　to　her　all　the　seeming　intricacies　of　creation；　and　had　explained　to　her　in　simple　language　the　necessary　alterations　and　improvements　he　was　hoping　to　bring　about　in　human　nature。　　He　had　the　sensation　that　his　hair　must　be　standing　on　end　the　next　morning　after　having　read　in　cold　print　what　he　had　said。　Expanding　oneself　before　the　admiring　gaze　of　innocent　simplicity　and　addressing　the　easily　amused　ear　of　an　unsympathetic　public　are　not　the　same　thing。　　He　ought　to　have　thought　of　that。

It　consoled　him；　later；　that　he　was　not　the　only　victim。　　The　Daily　Dispatch　became　famous　for　its　piquant　interviews；　especially　with　elderly　celebrities　of　the　masculine　gender。

〃It's　dirty　work；〃　Flossie　confided　one　day　to　Madge　Singleton。　　〃I　trade　on　my　silly　face。　　Don't　see　that　I'm　much　different　to　any　of　these　poor　devils。〃　　They　were　walking　home　in　the　evening　from　a　theatre。　　〃If　I　hadn't　been　stony　broke　I'd　never　have　taken　it　up。　　I　shall　get　out　of　it　as　soon　as　I　can　afford　to。〃

〃I　should　make　it　a　bit　sooner　than　that；〃　suggested　the　elder　woman。　　〃One　can't　always　stop　oneself　just　where　one　wants　to　when　sliding　down　a　slope。　　It　has　a　knack　of　getting　steeper　and　steeper　as　one　goes　on。〃

Madge　had　asked　Joan　to　come　a　little　earlier　so　that　they　could　have　a　chat　together　before　the　others　arrived。

〃I've　only　asked　a　few；〃　she　explained；　as　she　led　Joan　into　the　restful　white…panelled　sitting…room　that　looked　out　upon　the　gardens。　　Madge　shared　a　set　of　chambers　in　Gray's　Inn　with　her　brother　who　was　an　actor。　　〃But　I　have　chosen　them　with　care。〃

Joan　murmured　her　thanks。

〃I　haven't　asked　any　men；〃　she　added；　as　she　fixed　Joan　in　an　easy　chair　before　the　fire。　　〃I　was　afraid　of　its　introducing　the　wrong　element。〃

〃Tell　me；〃　asked　Joan；　〃am　I　likely　to　meet　with　much　of　that　sort　of　thing？〃

〃Oh；　about　as　much　as　there　always　is　wherever　men　and　women　work　together；〃　answered　Madge。　　〃It's　a　nuisance；　but　it　has　to　be　faced。〃

〃Nature　appears　to　have　only　one　idea　in　her　head；〃　she　continued　after　a　pause；　〃so　far　as　we　men　and　women　are　concerned。　　She's　been　kinder　to　the　lower　animals。〃

〃Man　has　more　interests；〃　Joan　argued；　〃a　thousand　other　allurements　to　distract　him；　we　must　cultivate　his　finer　instincts。〃

〃It　doesn't　seem　to　answer；〃　grumbled　Madge。　　〃One　is　always　told　it　is　the　artistthe　brain　worker；　the　very　men　who　have　these　fine　instincts；　who　are　the　most　sexual。〃

She　made　a　little　impatient　movement　with　her　hands　that　was　characteristic　of　her。　　〃Personally；　I　like　men；〃　she　went　on。　　〃It　is　so　splendid　the　way　they　enjoy　life：　　just　like　a　dog　does；　whether　it's　wet　or　fine。　　We　are　always　blinking　up　at　the