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Updated: April 30, 2025
Griffiths, published a small volume of verse, and was accepted in several circles known to us. And now, as I still insist, she has disappeared from society altogether." "The memory of Scheherazade," said Appleplex, "is to me that of Bird's custard and prunes in a Bloomsbury boarding house. It is not my intention to represent Edith as merely disreputable. Neither is she a tragic figure.
There are evil neighborhoods of noise and evil neighborhoods of silence, and Eeldrop and Appleplex preferred the latter, as being the more evil. It was a shady street, its windows were heavily curtained; and over it hung the cloud of a respectability which has something to conceal.
As it is Saturday night, I shall return to my suburb. Tomorrow will be spent in that garden...." "I shall pay my call on Mrs. Howexden," murmured Appleplex.
"And hence also," continued Appleplex, catching up the thread, "Edith is the least detached of all persons, since to be detached is to be detached from one's self, to stand by and criticise coldly one's own passions and vicissitudes. But in Edith the critic is coaching the combatant." "Edith is not unhappy." "She is dissatisfied, perhaps." "But again I say, she is not tragic: she is too rational.
Appleplex rose without speaking and turned to the files which contained the documents for his "Survey of Contemporary Society." He removed the file marked London from between the files Barcelona and Boston where it had been misplaced, and turned over the papers rapidly.
There was a common motive which led Eeldrop and Appleplex thus to separate themselves from time to time, from the fields of their daily employments and their ordinarily social activities.
When Wolstrip married, I am sure he said to himself: 'Now I am consummating the union of two of the best families in Philadelphia." "The question is," said Appleplex, "what is to be our philosophy. This must be settled at once. Mrs. Howexden recommends me to read Bergson. He writes very entertainingly on the structure of the eye of the frog." "Not at all," interrupted his friend.
'Not pleasure, but fulness of life... to burn ever with a hard gem-like flame, those were her words. What curiosity and passion for experience! Perhaps that flame has burnt itself out by now." "You ought to inform yourself better," said Appleplex severely, "Edith dines sometimes with Mrs. Howexden, who tells me that her passion for experience has taken her to a Russian pianist in Bayswater.
"Our philosophy is quite irrelevant. The essential is, that our philosophy should spring from our point of view and not return upon itself to explain our point of view. A philosophy about intuition is somewhat less likely to be intuitive than any other. We must avoid having a platform." "But at least," said Appleplex, "we are..." "Individualists. No!! nor anti-intellectualists.
Sufficient that we should find simple labels, and not further exploit them. I am, I confess to you, in private life, a bank-clerk...." "And should, according to your own view, have a wife, three children, and a vegetable garden in a suburb," said Appleplex. "Such is precisely the case," returned Eeldrop, "but I had not thought it necessary to mention this biographical detail.
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