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"Don't want to put the accent on the City, do we?" said Shoesmith, who had a feeling for county families, and Naylor supported him by a murmur of approval.
In print he was given the name Jasper Petulengro Petulengro being Gypsy for shoesmith and as Jasper Petulengro he is now one of the most unforgetable of heroes; the name is the man, and for many Englishmen his form and character have probably created quite a new value for the name of Jasper. Well, Jasper Petulengro lives.
Then it was, or later, we talked of Shoesmith, and what her life might be with him. "He's good," she said; "he's kindly. He's everything but magic. He's the very image of the decent, sober, honourable life. You can't say a thing against him or I except that something something in his imagination, something in the tone of his voice fails for me. Why don't I love him? he's a better man than you!
It must have been in my house afterwards that Shoesmith became noticeable. He seemed trying to say something vague and difficult that he didn't get said at all on that occasion. "We could do immense things with a weekly," he repeated, echoing Neal, I think.
The party had no one else, all the young men were formally or informally with us; Esmeer would have office, Lord Tarvrille, I... and very probably there would be something for Shoesmith. "And for my own part," I said, "I count on backing on the Liberal side. For the last two years we've been forcing competition in constructive legislation between the parties.
"Something like MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE or LONGMANS'; LONGMANS' is better because it has a whole page, not columns. It makes no end of difference to one's effects." "What effects?" asked Shoesmith abruptly. "Oh! a pause or a white line or anything. You've got to write closer for a double column. It's nuggetty. You can't get a swing on your prose." I had discussed this thoroughly with Britten.
"If the fellows are going to write " began Britten. "We ought to keep off fine writing," said Shoesmith. "It's cheek. I vote we don't have any." "We sha'n't get any," said Cossington, and then as an olive branch to me, "unless Remington does a bit. Or Britten. But it's no good making too much space for it." "We ought to be very careful about the writing," said Shoesmith.
At last we talked it out to the practical pitch, and Crupp and Shoesmith, and I and Gane, made our definite agreement together.... I emerged from enormous silences upon Margaret one evening. She was just back from the display of some new musicians at the Hartsteins. I remember she wore a dress of golden satin, very rich-looking and splendid.
"Master," she said, "it isn't all sex and stuff between us?" "No!" "I can't give up the work. Our work's my life." We came upon another long pause. "No one will believe we've ceased to be lovers if we simply do," she said. "We shouldn't." "We've got to do something more parting than that." I nodded, and again we paused. She was coming to something. "I could marry Shoesmith," she said abruptly.
"I could do that all right," said Shoesmith, brightening and manifestly becoming pregnant with judgments. "One great thing about a magazine of this sort," said Cossington, "is to mention just as many names as you can in each number. It keeps the interest alive. Chaps will turn it over looking for their own little bit. Then it all lights up for them." "Do you want any reports of matches?"
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