The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(75)

‘Oh! no, sir; you did me a service. I don’t want to put you about, telling falsehoods for me.’

‘It won’t worry me a bit, Mrs Bicket. I can lie to the urnteenth when there’s no harm in it. The great thing for you is to get away sharp. Are there many other pictures of you?’

‘Oh! yes, a lot – not that you’d recognize them, I think, they’re so square and funny.’

‘Ah! well – Aubrey Greene has got you to the life!’

‘Yes; it’s like me all over, Tony says.’

‘Quite. Well, I’ll speak to Aubrey, I shall be seeing him at lunch. Here’s the ten pounds! That’s agreed then? You came to me today – see? Say you had a brain-wave. I quite understand the whole thing. You’d do a lot for him; and he’d do a lot for you. It’s all right – don’t cry!’

Victorine swallowed violently. Her hand in the worn glove returned his squeeze.

‘I’d tell him tonight, if I were you,’ said Michael, ‘and I’ll get ready.’

When she had gone he thought: ‘Hope Bicket won’t think I received value for that sixty pounds!’ And, pressing his bell, he resumed the stabbing of his blotting-paper.

‘Yes, Mr Mont?’

‘Now let’s get on with it, Miss Perren.

‘DEAR SIR JAMES FOGGART, – We have given the utmost consideration to your very interesting – er – production. While we are of opinion that the views so well expressed on the present condition of Britain in relation to the rest of the world are of great value to all – er – thinking persons, we do not feel that there are enough – er – thinking persons to make it possible to publish the book, except at a loss. The – er – thesis that Britain should now look for salvation through adjustment of markets, population, supply and demand, within the Empire, put with such exceedingly plain speech, will, we are afraid, get the goat of all the political parties; nor do we feel that your plan of emigrating boys and girls in large quantities before they are spoiled by British town life, can do otherwise than irritate a working-class which knows nothing of conditions outside its own country, and is notably averse to giving its children a chance in any other.’

‘Am I to put that, Mr Mont?’

‘Yes; but tone it in a bit. Er –

‘Finally, your view that the land should be used to grow food is so very unusual in these days, that we feel your book would have a hostile Press except from the Old Guard and the Die-hard, and a few folk with vision.’

‘Yes, Mr Mont?’

‘“In a period of veering – er – transitions” – keep that, Miss Perren – “and the airy unreality of hopes that have gone up the spout” – almost keep that – “any scheme that looks forward and defers harvest for twenty years, must be extraordinarily unpopular. For all these reasons you will see how necessary it is for you to – er – seek another publisher. In short, we are not taking any.

‘ “With – er –” what you like – “dear Sir James Foggart,

‘ “We are your obedient servants,

DANBY AND WINTER.” ’

‘When you’ve translated that, Miss Perren, bring it in, and I’ll sign it.’

‘Yes. Only, Mr Mont – I thought you were a Socialist. This almost seems – forgive my asking?’

‘Miss Perren, it’s struck me lately that labels are “off”. How can a man be anything at a time when everything’s in the air? Look at the Liberals. They can’t see the situation whole because of Free Trade; nor can the Labour Party because of their Capital levy; nor can the Tories because of Protection; they’re all hag-ridden by catch-words! Old Sir James Foggart’s jolly well right, but nobody’s going to listen to him. His book will be waste paper if anybody ever publishes it. The world’s unreal just now, Miss Perren; and of all countries we’re the most unreal.’

‘Why, Mr Mont?’

‘Why? Because with the most stickfast of all the national temperaments, we’re holding on to what’s gone more bust for us than for any other country. Anyway, Mr Danby shouldn’t have left the letter to me, if he didn’t mean me to enjoy myself. Oh! and while we’re about it – I’ve got to refuse Harold Master’s new book. It’s a mistake, but they won’t have it.’

‘Why not, Mr Mont? The Sobbing Turtle was such a success!’

‘Well, in this new thing Master’s got hold of an idea which absolutely forces him to say something. Winter says those who hailed The Sobbing Turtle as such a work of art, are certain to be down on this for that; and Mr Danby calls the book an outrage on human nature. So there’s nothing for it. Let’s have a shot: