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Updated: June 9, 2025
Tressiter was always far too busy and too helpless to be of any real assistance. On this foggy afternoon, Peter, arriving at Brockett's after much difficulty and hesitation, found Robin Tressiter, on Miss Monogue's landing, with his head fastened between the railings that overlooked the hall below.
He was abruptly conscious of Miss Monogue's voice behind him. "I've read a quarter of the book, Peter." He wondered as he turned to her how it could be possible to regard two women so differently.
"Just as you please " she said. He climbed on to the omnibus that was to stumble with him down Piccadilly with a. hideous, numbing sense of being under the hand of Fate. Why, at this moment, in all time, should this letter of Norah Monogue's have made its unhappy appearance?
"I'm sure you'll get on," she said. "You look so strong and confident and happy. I envy you your strength one can do so much if one's got that." He felt almost ashamed of his rough suit, his ragged build. "Well, I've always been in the country," he said, a little apologetically. "I expect London will change that." Then there came across the room Mrs. Monogue's sharp voice. "Norah! Norah!
Never again would Life be so utterly over as it had been two months ago never again would he be so single-hearted in his reserved adoption of it as he had been those days ago, at Norah Monogue's side. He saw that always, through everything that boy, Peter Westcott had been in the way.
Every now and again the heavy curtains blew forward in the wind and the gas flared. There was no conversation, and the wind could be heard driving the rain past the windows. Peter, that evening, took the manuscript of "Reuben Hallard" into Miss Monogue's room. Since her mother died Norah Monogue had had a bed sitting-room to herself.
Why should he imagine that he was able to write? Of course it was all crude, worthless stuff. He looked at the dingy white pillars and heavy green curtains with a kind of despair ... of course it was all bad. He had been hypnotised by the thing for the time being. Then he caught Norah Monogue's eyes and smiled. He would show it to her, and she would tell him what it was worth. Poor Mrs.
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