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Updated: May 20, 2025
Well, considering your experience, say docks." Lewisham's face flushed irregularly. He did not answer. He scowled and tugged at the still by no means ample moustache. "Compromise, you know," said Mr. Blendershin, watching him kindly. "Compromise." For the first time in his life Lewisham faced the necessity of telling a lie in cold blood.
Blendershin stared at Lewisham for a moment. "What's he done in the way of certificates?" asked Mr. Blendershin of the assistant. The assistant read a list of 'ologies and 'ographies. "Fifty resident," said Mr. Blendershin concisely "that's your figure. Sixty, if you're lucky." "What?" said Mr. Lewisham. "Not enough for you?" "Not nearly."
Some of these subjects There's commercial geography, for instance. What is commercial geography?" "Barilla," said the assistant, biting the end of his pen, and added pensively, "and blethers." "Fad," said Blendershin, "Just fad.
"You can get a Cambridge graduate for eighty resident and grateful," said Mr. Blendershin. "But I don't want a resident post," said Lewisham. "Precious few non-resident shops," said Mr. Blendershin. "Precious few. They want you for dormitory supervision and they're afraid of your taking pups outside."
"Well," said Blendershin, "your science may pull you through. But I tell you it's hard. Some grant-earning grammar school may want that. And that's about all, I think. Make a note of the address...." The assistant made a noise, something between a whistle and the word "Fee." Blendershin glanced at Lewisham and nodded doubtfully.
Maskelyne, Smith, and Thrums did a higher class of work than Blendershin, whose specialities were lower class private establishments and the cheaper sort of endowed schools. Indeed, so superior were Maskelyne, Smith, and Thrums that they enraged Lewisham by refusing at first to put him on their books.
"Not married by any chance?" said the assistant suddenly, after an attentive study of Lewisham's face. "Well er." Lewisham met Mr. Blendershin's eye. "Yes," he said. The assistant was briefly unprintable. "Lord! you'll have to keep that dark," said Mr. Blendershin. "But you have got a tough bit of hoeing before you. If I was you I'd go on and get my degree now you're so near it.
"There's shorthand, French, book-keeping, commercial geography, land measuring " "But I can't teach any of those things!" "Look here," said Blendershin, and paused. "Has your wife or you a private income?" "No," said Lewisham. "Well?" A pause of further moral descent, and a whack against an obstacle. "But they will find me out," said Lewisham. Blendershin smiled.
He glissaded from, the austere altitudes of his self-respect, and his next words were already disingenuous. "I won't promise to tell lies if I'm asked," he said aloud. "I can't do that." "Scratch it out," said Blendershin to the clerk. "You needn't mention it. Then you don't say you can teach drawing." "I can't," said Lewisham.
"Church of England. Every man in this country who has not dissented belongs to the Church of England. It'll be hard enough to get you anything without that." "But " said Mr. Lewisham. "It's lying." "Legal fiction," said Mr. Blendershin. "Everyone understands. If you don't do that, my dear chap, we can't do anything for you. It's Journalism, or London docks.
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