Some Do Not . . ._ A Novel - Ford Madox Ford [35]
Tietjens wandered slowly up the course, found his ball, made his shot with care and found that the ball deviated several feet less to the right of a straight line than he had expected. He tried the shot again, obtained the same result and tabulated his observations in his notebook. He sauntered slowly back towards the club-house. He was content.
He felt himself to be content for the first time in four months. His pulse beat calmly; the heat of the sun all over him appeared to be a beneficent flood. On the flanks of the older and larger sandhills he observed the minute herbage, mixed with little purple aromatic plants. To these the constant nibbling of sheep had imparted a protective tininess. He wandered, content, round the sand-hills to the small, silted harbour mouth. After reflecting for some time on the wave-curves in the sloping mud of the water sides, he had a long conversation, mostly in signs, with a Finn who hung over the side of a tarred, stump-masted, battered vessel that had a gaping, splintered hole where the anchor should have hung. She came from Archangel; was of several hundred tons burthen, was knocked together anyhow, of soft wood, for about ninety pounds, and launched, sink or swim, in the timber trade. Beside her, taut, glistening with brasswork, was a new fishing boat, just built here for the Lowestoft fleet. Ascertaining her price from a man who was finishing her painting, Tietjens reckoned that you could have built three of the Archangel timber ships for the cost of that boat, and that the Archangel vessel would earn about twice as much per hour per ton....
It was in that way his mind worked when he was fit: it picked up little pieces of definite, workmanlike information. When it had enough it classified them: not for any purpose, but because to know things was agreeable and gave a feeling of strength, of having in reserve something that the other fellow would not suspect...He passed a long, quiet, abstracted afternoon.
In the dressing-room he found the General, among lockers, old coats and stoneware washing-basins set in scrubbed wood. The General leaned back against a row of these things.
'You are the ruddy limit!' he exclaimed.
Tietjens said:
'Where's Macmaster?'
The General said he had sent Macmaster off with Sandbach in the two-seater. Macmaster had to dress before going up to Mountby. He added: 'The ruddy limit!' again.
Because I knocked the bobbie over?' Tietjens asked. 'He liked it.'
The General said:
'Knocked the bobble over...I didn't see that.'
'He didn't want to catch the girls,' Tietjens said, 'you could see him--oh, yearning not to.'
'I don't want to know anything about that,' the General said. 'I shall hear enough about it from Paul Sandbach. Give the bobbie a quid and let's hear no more of it. I'm a magistrate.'
'Then what have I done?' Tietjens said. 'I helped those girls to get off. You didn't want to catch them; Waterhouse didn't, the policeman didn't. No one did except the swine. Then what's the matter?'
'Damn it all!' the General said, 'don't you remember that you're a young married man?'
With the respect for the General's superior age and achievements, Tietjens stopped himself laughing.
'If you're really serious, sir,' he said, 'I always remember it very carefully. I don't suppose you're suggesting that I've ever shown want of respect for Sylvia.'
The General shook his head.
'I don't know,' he said. 'And, damn it all, I'm worried. I'm...Hang it all, I'm your father's oldest friend.' The General looked indeed worn and saddened in the light of the sand-drifted, ground-glass windows. He said: 'Was that skirt a...a friend of yours? Had you arranged it with her?'
Tietjens said:
'Wouldn't it be better, sir, if you said what you had on your mind?...'
The old General blushed a little.
'I don't like to,' he said straightforwardly. 'You brilliant fellow...I only want, my dear boy, to hint that...'
Tietjens said, a little more stiffly:
'I'd prefer you to get it out, sir...I acknowledge your right as my father's oldest friend.'
'Then,' the General burst out, 'who was the skirt you were lolloping up Pall Mall with? On the last day they Trooped the Colour?...I didn't see her myself...Was it this same one? Paul said she looked like a cook maid.'