Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

VIII

           

           TheonefixedpointinhisimmediatefuturewasthathisleavewasoverandthathemustbebackathispostinLondonthenextmorning.Withintwenty-fourhourshewouldagainbeinadaylightworldofrecognizedactivities,himselfabusy,responsible,relativelynecessaryfactorinthebigwhirringsocialandofficialmachine.Thatfixedobligationwasthefacthecouldthinkofwiththeleastdiscomfort,yetforsomeunaccountablereasonitwastheoneonwhichhefounditmostdifficulttofixhisthoughts.Wheneverhedidso,theroomjerkedhimbackintothecircleofitsinsistentassociations.Itwasextraordinarywithwhatamicroscopicminutenessofloathinghehateditall:thegrimycarpetandwallpaper,theblackmarblemantel-piece,theclockwithagiltallegoryunderadustybell,thehigh-bolsteredbrown-counterpanedbed,theframedcardofprintedrulesundertheelectriclightswitch,andthedoorofcommunicationwiththenextroom.Hehatedthedoormostofall...

           Attheoutset,hehadfeltnospecialsenseofresponsibility.Hewassatisfiedthathehadstrucktherightnote,andconvincedofhispowerofsustainingit.Thewholeincidenthadsomehowseemed,inspiteofitsvulgarsettinganditsinevitableprosaicpropinquities,tobeenactingitselfinsomeunmappedregionoutsidethepaleoftheusual.Itwasnotlikeanythingthathadeverhappenedtohimbefore,orinwhichhehadeverpicturedhimselfaslikelytobeinvolved;butthat,atfirst,hadseemednoargumentagainsthisfitnesstodealwithit.

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