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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Whatever the reason may have been I know that I felt suddenly outside the whole business and most awfully depressed. I think Miss Monogue felt exactly the same. By the time the wine was on the table all I wanted was to get right away. It was almost as though I had been looking on at something that I was ashamed to see.
After all, he was leaving the best friends that he had ever had, the only home that he had ever really known. Mrs. Brockett, Norah Monogue, Robin, the Signor.... Seven years is a long time and one gets fond of a place. He closed his bedroom door softly behind him. The little room had been very much to him during all these years, and that view over the London roofs would never be forgotten by him.
Sometimes, as he sat at his deal table, fighting with a growing sense of disillusionment that was like nothing so much as a child's first discovery that its beautiful doll is stuffed with straw, he would wish passionately, vehemently for the return of those days when he had sat in his little bedroom writing "Reuben Hallard" with Norah Monogue, and dear Mr.
It was almost, as he told himself furiously, as though they knew that he was going; Norah Monogue was the only person who chattered and laughed in a natural way; he was rather relieved that after all she seemed to care so little. He found that he couldn't eat.
Zanti, Herr Gottfried, Mrs. Brockett, then Brockett's with its strange kind-hearted company the dining-room, the marble pillars, the green curtains Norah Monogue! Not only did it seem another lifetime when he had been there but also inevitably, one was threatened with never getting back. Bucket Lane was another world from its grimy windows one looked upon every tragedy that life had to offer.
Everything that he had ever done or been his sentiments, his grossnesses, his restraints and his rebellions were now concerned in this pursuit. No other human being Stephen, Norah Monogue, Bobby, Alice now had any interest for him. His reviews were written he knew not how, the editions of "Reuben Hallard" might run into the gross for all he cared, "The Stone House" lay neglected.
Brockett is disturbed and Mrs. Lazarus is less chirpy than usual. Peter comes to dinner with a smile the book therefore has gone well and even Mrs. Monogue is a little less selfish than ordinary. The Signor now gazed round the little room as though he might find there the secret of so great an achievement.
Lazarus and little Robin and Miss Monogue as well as myself." She stopped and pulled out her handkerchief and blew her nose. "I dare say you're a famous man," she went on, "with your books and your marriage and the rest of it, but that doesn't alter your old friends being your old friends and it never will.
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