It was not merely astounding--it
flabbergasted. He had always felt that there was something
fundamentally wrong in the social fabric, and he had long had a
preoccupation to the effect that it was his business, his, to take a
share in finding out what was wrong and in discovering and applying a
cure. This preoccupation had worried him, scarcely perceptibly, like
the delicate oncoming of neuralgia. There must be something wrong when
a member of one class would behave to a member of another class as
Mrs. Braiding behaved to him--without protest from him.
"Mrs. Braiding!" he called out.
"Yes, sir." She almost ran back into the drawing-room.
"When shall you be seeing your husband?" At least he would remind her
that she had a husband.
"I haven't an idea, sir."
"Well, when you do, tell him that I want to speak to him; and you can
tell him I shall pay you half his wages in addition to your own."
Her gratitude filled him with secret fury.
He said to himself:
"Futile--these grand gestures about wages."
Chapter 8
BOOTS
In the very small hall G.J. gazed at himself in the mirror that was
nearly as large as the bathroom door, to which it was attached, and
which it ingeniously masked.
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