life and people second; only entering life to come back again, always . This new joy of going into life, the new beauty, on everything, was the certainty of coming back. …
She was forgetting something important to the day; the little volume of stories for her coat pocket. Anxiety at her probable lateness tried to invade her as she made her hurried search. She beat it back and departed indifferently, shutting the door of a seedy room in a cheap boardinghouse, neither hers nor another’s, a lodger’s passing abode, but holding a little table that was herself, alive with her life, and whose image sprang, set for the day, centrally into the background of her thoughts as she ran wondering if there were time for breakfast, down to the dining-room. St. Pancras clock struck nine as she poured out her tea. Mr. Shatov followed up his greeting with an immediate plunge into unfamiliar speech which she realized, in the midst of her wonderment over Mr. Lahitte’s presence at early breakfast, was addressed to herself. She responded absently, standing at the tea-tray with her toast.
“You do not take your fish? Ah, it is a pity. It is true it has stood since half-nine.”
“ Asseyez-vous, mademoiselle. I find; the breakfast hour; charming . At this hour one always is, or should be; gay.”
“Mps; if there is time; yes, Sunday breakfast.”
“Still you are gay. That is good. We will not allow philosophy; to darken; these most happy few moments.”
“There are certain limits to cheerfulness,” bellowed Mr. Shatov. They had had some mighty collision. She glanced round.
“None; within the purview of my modest intelligence; none. Always would I rather be; a cheerful coal-heaver; than a philosopher who is learned, dull, and more depressing than the bise du nord .”