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Updated: May 29, 2025
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.
The sunlight beating in through broken blinds, and broken blinds keeping out the sun until Edith can compel herself to attend to another day. Yet the vision does not give me much pain. I think of her as an artist without the slightest artistic power." "The artistic temperament " began Appleplex. "No, not that." Eeldrop snatched away the opportunity.
Eeldrop and Appleplex rented two small rooms in a disreputable part of town. Here they sometimes came at nightfall, here they sometimes slept, and after they had slept, they cooked oatmeal and departed in the morning for destinations unknown to each other. They sometimes slept, more often they talked, or looked out of the window. They had chosen the rooms and the neighborhood with great care.
Yet it had the advantage of more riotous neighborhoods near by, and Eeldrop and Appleplex commanded from their windows the entrance of a police station across the way. This alone possessed an irresistible appeal in their eyes.
Eeldrop, at the window, welcomed the smoky smell of lilac, the gramaphones, the choir of the Baptist chapel, and the sight of three small girls playing cards on the steps of the police station. "On such a night as this," said Eeldrop, "I often think of Scheherazade, and wonder what has become of her."
Appleplex, who had the gift of an extraordinary address with the lower classes of both sexes, questioned the onlookers, and usually extracted full and inconsistent histories: Eeldrop preserved a more passive demeanor, listened to the conversation of the people among themselves, registered in his mind their oaths, their redundance of phrase, their various manners of spitting, and the cries of the victim from the hall of justice within.
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