按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
inclinations on the subject of potatoes。 His expressive action would be
hopelessly lost upon her； and what could he do？ No man could say； 'Mr
F。's Aunt； will you permit me？' Every man retired from the spoon； as
Clennam did； cowed and baffled。
There was mutton； a steak； and an apple…pie……nothing in the remotest
way connected with ganders……and the dinner went on like a disenchanted
feast； as it truly was。 Once upon a time Clennam had sat at that table
taking no heed of anything but Flora； now the principal heed he took
of Flora was to observe； against his will； that she was very fond of
porter； that she bined a great deal of sherry with sentiment； and
that if she were a little overgrown； it was upon substantial grounds。
The last of the Patriarchs had always been a mighty eater； and he
disposed of an immense quantity of solid food with the benignity of a
good soul who was feeding some one else。 Mr Pancks； who was always in a
hurry； and who referred at intervals to a little dirty notebook which he
kept beside him （perhaps containing the names of the defaulters he meant
to look up by way of dessert）； took in his victuals much as if he were
coaling； with a good deal of noise； a good deal of dropping about； and a
puff and a snort occasionally； as if he were nearly ready to steam away。
All through dinner； Flora bined her present appetite for eating and
drinking with her past appetite for romantic love； in a way that made
Clennam afraid to lift his eyes from his plate； since he could not
look towards her without receiving some glance of mysterious meaning or
warning； as if they were engaged in a plot。 Mr F。's Aunt sat silently
defying him with an aspect of the greatest bitterness； until the removal
of the cloth and the appearance of the decanters； when she originated
another observation……struck into the conversation like a clock； without
consulting anybody。
Flora had just said； 'Mr Clennam； will you give me a glass of port for
Mr F。's Aunt？'
'The Monument near London Bridge；' that lady instantly proclaimed； 'was
put up arter the Great Fire of London； and the Great Fire of London was
not the fire in which your uncle George's workshops was burned down。'
Mr Pancks； with his former courage； said； 'Indeed； ma'am？ All right！'
But appearing to be incensed by imaginary contradiction； or other
ill…usage； Mr F。's Aunt； instead of relapsing into silence； made the
following additional proclamation：
'I hate a fool！'
She imparted to this sentiment； in itself almost Solomonic； so extremely
injurious and personal a character by levelling it straight at the
visitor's head； that it became necessary to lead Mr F。's Aunt from
the room。 This was quietly done by Flora； Mr F。's Aunt offering no
resistance； but inquiring on her way out； 'What he e there for；
then？' with implacable animosity。
When Flora returned； she explained that her legacy was a clever
old lady； but was sometimes a little singular； and 'took
dislikes'……peculiarities of which Flora seemed to be proud rather than
otherwise。 As Flora's good nature shone in the case； Clennam had no
fault to find with the old lady for eliciting it； now that he was
relieved from the terrors of her presence； and they took a glass or
two of wine in peace。 Foreseeing then that the Pancks would shortly get
under weigh； and that the Patriarch would go to sleep； he pleaded the
necessity of visiting his mother； and asked Mr Pancks in which direction
he was going？
'Citywards； sir；' said Pancks。 'Shall we walk together？' said Arthur。
'Quite agreeable；' said Pancks。
Meanwhile Flora was murmuring in rapid snatches for his ear； that there
was a time and that the past was a yawning gulf however and that a
golden chain no longer bound him and that she revered the memory of the
late Mr F。 and that she should be at home to…morrow at half…past one
and that the decrees of Fate were beyond recall and that she considered
nothing so improbable as that he ever walked on the north…west side of
Gray's…Inn Gardens at exactly four o'clock in the afternoon。 He tried
at parting to give his hand in frankness to the existing Flora……not the
vanished Flora； or the mermaid……but Flora wouldn't have it； couldn't
have it； was wholly destitute of the power of separating herself and him
from their bygone characters。 He left the house miserably enough； and
so much more light…headed than ever； that if it had not been his good
fortune to be towed away； he might； for the first quarter of an hour；
have drifted anywhere。
When he began to e to himself； in the cooler air and the absence of
Flora； he found Pancks at full speed； cropping such scanty pasturage of
nails as he could find； and snorting at intervals。 These； in conjunction
with one hand in his pocket and his roughened hat hind side before； were
evidently the conditions under which he reflected。
'A fresh night！' said Arthur。
'Yes； it's pretty fresh；' assented Pancks。 'As a stranger you feel the
climate more than I do； I dare say。 Indeed I haven't got time to feel
it。'
'You lead such a busy life？'
'Yes； I have always some of 'em to look up； or something to look after。
But I like business；' said Pancks； getting on a little faster。 'What's a
man made for？'
'For nothing else？' said Clennam。
Pancks put the counter question； 'What else？' It packed up； in the
smallest pass； a weight that had rested on Clennam's life； and he
made no answer。
'That's what I ask our weekly tenants；' said Pancks。 'Some of 'em will
pull long faces to me； and say； Poor as you see us； master； we're always
grinding； drudging； toiling； every minute we're awake。
I say to them； What else are you made for？ It shuts them up。 They
haven't a word to answer。 What else are you made for？ That clinches it。'
'Ah dear； dear； dear！' sighed Clennam。
'Here am I；' said Pancks； pursuing his argument with the weekly tenant。
'What else do you suppose I think I am made for？ Nothing。
Rattle me out of bed early； set me going； give me as short a time as you
like to bolt my meals in； and keep me at it。 Keep me always at it； and
I'll keep you always at it； you keep somebody else always at it。 There
you are with the Whole Duty of Man in a mercial country。'
When they had walked a little further in silence； Clennam said： 'Have
you no taste for anything； Mr Pancks？'
'What's taste？' drily retorted Pancks。
'Let us say inclination。'
'I have an inclination to get money； sir；' said Pancks； 'if you will
show me how。' He blew off that sound again； and it occurred to his
panion for the first time that it was his way of laughing。 He was a
singular man in all respects； he might not have been quite in earnest；
but that the short； hard； rapid manner in which he shot out these
cinders of principles； as if it were done by mechanical revolvency；
seemed irreconcilable with banter。
'You are no great reader； I suppose？' said Clennam。
'Never read anything but letters and accounts。 Never collect anything
but advertisements relative to next of kin。 If that's a taste； I have
got that。 You're not of the Clennams of Cornwall； Mr Clennam？'
'Not that I ever heard of。' 'I know you're not。 I asked your mother；
sir。 She ha