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Updated: June 15, 2025
Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, though absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other way. "Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early to-night." "A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to read, you know." He was using the word 'read' in the examination sense.
The table showed, as Mr. Haim's nervousness had shown, that the importance of the occasion had been realized. It was an obviously elaborate table. The repast was ready in every detail; the teapot was under the cosy; the cover was over the hot crumpets; Mrs. Haim alone lacked. "Where's missus?" asked George lightly. Mr. Haim had not come into the room. "I don't know," said Mr. Prince.
Haim's achievement was to marry a charwoman, still the achievement impressed. And the shabby man with the lined, common face was looking back at the whole of his life there was something positively formidable in that alone. He was at the end; George was at the beginning, and George felt callow and deferential. The sensation of callowness at once heightened his resolve to succeed.
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