Волны

           WhatmalevolentyetsearchinglightwouldLouisthrowuponthisdwindlingautumnevening,uponthischina-smashingandtrollingofhunting-songs,uponNeville,Byronandourlifehere?Histhinlipsaresomewhatpursed;hischeeksarepale;heporesinanofficeoversomeobscurecommercialdocument."Myfather,abankeratBrisbane"--beingashamedofhimhealwaystalksofhim--failed.Sohesitsinanoffice,Louisthebestscholarintheschool.ButIseekingcontrastsoftenfeelhiseyeonus,hislaughingeye,hiswildeye,addingusuplikeinsignificantitemsinsomegrandtotalwhichheisforeverpursuinginhisoffice.Andoneday,takingafinepenanddippingitinredink,theadditionwillbecomplete;ourtotalwillbeknown;butitwillnotbeenough.

           ’Bang!Theyhavethrownachairnowagainstthewall.Wearedamnedthen.Mycaseisdubioustoo.AmInotindulginginunwarrantedemotions?Yes,asIleanoutofthewindowanddropmycigarettesothatittwirlslightlytotheground,IfeelLouiswatchingevenmycigarette.AndLouissays,"Thatmeanssomething.Butwhat?"’

           ’Peoplegoonpassing,’saidLouis.Theypassthewindowofthiseating-shopincessantly.Motor-cars,vans,motor-omnibuses;andagainmotor-omnibuses,vans,motor-cars--theypassthewindow.InthebackgroundIperceiveshopsandhouses;alsothegreyspiresofacitychurch.Intheforegroundareglassshelvessetwithplatesofbunsandhamsandwiches.Allissomewhatobscuredbysteamfromatea-urn.