Chapter XLII

           

           IdidnotknowwhyStricklandhadsuddenlyofferedtoshowthemtome.Iwelcomedtheopportunity.Aman’sworkrevealshim.Insocialintercoursehegivesyouthesurfacethathewishestheworldtoaccept,andyoucanonlygainatrueknowledgeofhimbyinferencesfromlittleactions,ofwhichheisunconscious,andfromfleetingexpressions,whichcrosshisfaceunknowntohim.Sometimespeoplecarrytosuchperfectionthemasktheyhaveassumedthatinduecoursetheyactuallybecomethepersontheyseem.Butinhisbookorhispicturetherealmandelivershimselfdefenceless.Hispretentiousnesswillonlyexposehisvacuity.Thelathepaintedtolooklikeironisseentobebutalathe.Noaffectationofpeculiaritycanconcealacommonplacemind.Totheacuteobservernoonecanproducethemostcasualworkwithoutdisclosingtheinnermostsecretsofhissoul.

           AsIwalkeduptheendlessstairsofthehouseinwhichStricklandlived,IconfessthatIwasalittleexcited.ItseemedtomethatIwasonthethresholdofasurprisingadventure.Ilookedabouttheroomwithcuriosity.ItwasevensmallerandmorebarethanIrememberedit.Iwonderedwhatthosefriendsofminewouldsaywhodemandedvaststudios,andvowedtheycouldnotworkunlessalltheconditionsweretotheirliking.

           "You’dbetterstandthere,"hesaid,pointingtoaspotfromwhich,presumably,hefanciedIcouldseetobestadvantagewhathehadtoshowme.

           "Youdon’twantmetotalk,Isuppose,"Isaid.

           "No,blastyou;Iwantyoutoholdyourtongue.

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