Crome YellowAlong this particular stretch of line no express had ever passed. All the trains—the few that there were—stopped at all the stations. Denis knew the names of those stations by heart. Bole, Tritton, Spavin Delawarr, Knipswich for Timpany, West Bowlby, and, finally, Camlet-on-the-Water. Camlet was where he always got out, leaving the train to creep indolently onward, goodness only knew whither, into the green heart of England. They were snorting out of West Bowlby now. It was the next station, thank Heaven. Denis took his chattels off the rack and piled them neatly in the corner opposite his own. A futile proceeding. But one must have something to do. When he had finished, he sank back into his seat and closed his eyes. It was extremely hot. Oh, this journey! It was two hours cut clean out of his life; two hours in which he might have done so much, so much—written the perfect poem, for example, or read the one illuminating book. Instead of which—his gorge rose at the smell of the dusty cushions against which he was leaning. Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes. Anything might be done in that time. Anything. Nothing. Oh, he had had hundreds of hours, and what had he done with them? Wasted them, spilt the precious minutes as though his reservoir were inexhaustible. Denis groaned in the spirit, condemned himself utterly with all his works. What right had he to sit in the sunshine, to occupy corner seats in third-class carriages, to be alive? None, none, none. Misery and a nameless nostalgic distress possessed him. He was twenty-three, and oh! so agonizingly conscious of the fact. The train came bumpingly to a halt. Here was Camlet at last. Denis jumped up, crammed his hat over his eyes, deranged his pile of baggage, leaned out of the window and shouted for a porter, seized a bag in either hand, and had to put them down again in order to open the door. When at last he had safely bundled himself and his baggage on to the platform, he ran up the train towards the van. |
Contents
Section 1 | |
Section 2 | |
Section 3 | |
Section 4 | |
Section 5 | |
Section 6 | |
Section 7 | |
Section 8 | |
Section 9 | |
Section 10 | |
Section 11 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
amusing Anne and Gombauld asked Barbecue-Smith beautiful began Bodiham Caesar Borgia Caligula Callamay Camlet canvas carminative chair CHAPTER consolations of philosophy Crome cubism dancing dark Denis followed Denis looked Denis's door emotions eyes face feet felt Filomena garden George Georgiana gesture hair hand Havelock Ellis head Henry Wimbush holiday hour Inspiration Intelligences iron mask Ivor Jenny Knockespotch Lady Lapith laughed laughter leaning light listen Lord Moleyn mind nature never night nodded noise opened painting pale parapet perhaps picture pince-nez pleasure poem Poggibonsi preached Priscilla red notebook repeated rest round Scogan seemed shoulder silence Sing Sir Ferdinando Sir Hercules smiled soul sound spirit stairs stood suddenly talk tell terrace there's things thought Timpany tower transcendentalist trees turned utterance voice walked window wondered words writing