VIII

           

           Allday,sincethelatereluctantdawn,therainhadcomedownintorrents.ItstreamedagainstDarrow’shigh-perchedwindows,reducedtheirvastprospectofroofsandchimneystoablackoilyhuddle,andfilledtheroomwiththedrabtwilightofanundergroundaquarium.

           Thestreamsdescendedwiththeregularityofathirdday’srain,whentrimmingandshufflingareover,andtheweatherhassettleddowntodoitsworst.Therewerenovariationsofrhythm,nolyricalupsanddowns:thegreylinesstreakingthepaneswereasdenseanduniformasapageofunparagraphednarrative.

           GeorgeDarrowhaddrawnhisarmchairtothefire.Thetime-tablehehadbeenstudyinglayonthefloor,andhesatstaringwithdullacquiescenceintotheboundlessblurofrain,whichaffectedhimlikeavastprojectionofhisownstateofmind.Thenhiseyestravelledslowlyabouttheroom.

           Itwasexactlytendayssincehishurriedunpackinghadstrewnitwiththecontentsofhisportmanteaux.Hisbrushesandrazorswerespreadoutontheblotchedmarbleofthechestofdrawers.Astackofnewspapershadaccumulatedonthecentretableunderthe“electrolier”,andhalfadozenpapernovelslayonthemantelpieceamongcigar-casesandtoiletbottles;butthesetracesofhispassagehadmadenomarkonthefeaturelessdulnessoftheroom,itslookofbeingthemakeshiftsettingofinnumerabletransientcollocations.

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