Produced by Al Haines
Publishers
New York
First and Second Printings before publication
1. Dissolution 2. Eight Closed Doors 3. Which Develops an Idea 4. Sitting on the Floor 5. Experiences of a Vagrant 6. Concerning a Tie 7. The Night of the 27th 8. Introducing a Lady 9. An Invitation to Stay 10. Nerves 11. Outlining a Programme 12. Pineapple 13. Harrison Smith 14. "Off the Beaten Track" 15. Tea and Tears 16. A Hyphen 17. A Doubtful Ally 18. Holding Out 19. At the Chestnuts 20. A Little Housebreaking 21. The Cornish Riviera 22. Plain Sailing 23. An Encounter 24. Rival Factions 25. Mr. Bolt Drops In 26. Among Allies 27. A Knotted Kerchief 28. Sand 29. Individual Resource 30. The True Auriole 31. A Way Out 32. The Appointed Hour 33. A Smash Up 34. The Finishing Straight
At a pawnshop in the Gray's Inn Road, Richard Frencham Altar disposedof the last of his worldly goods. Four suits from a tailor in SavilleRow, two pairs of shoes in brown and patent by a craftsman of JermynStreet, some odds and ends of hosiery, a set of dressing table brusheswith black monograms on ivory and the gold cigarette case Doreen hadgiven him on the day of their engagement. In consideration for whichhe departed with a sum of twenty-seven pounds sixteen shillings in histrousers pockets. At his rooms in Golden Square he settled his accountwith the landlady, a luxury that reduced his wealth by a matter ofnineteen pounds. Of the eight pounds sixteen shillings remaining, fiveguineas were placed on one side for the tobacconist who had suppliedhim with Gold Flake and the margin transferred to another pocket forthe purpose of one final engagement with the habit of high living.After that—well time would show. It was futile to speculate upon thefuture. He had the clothes he stood up in, the brain and tissue heavenhad provided him with and a spirit unawed by adversity. Many men havestarted life with less.
A neighbouring clock chimed the hour. Too early to dine—besides therewere things to be done first. From a highly decorated vase that stoodupon a particularly restless over-mantel, he drew a small packet ofletters and untied the tape that circled them. They were written in acareless sprawling hand, with lots of ink and little thought. Theywere very full of 'darlings' and 'dearests' and 'how much do you loveme's.' They were very, very rapturous—they were very, very silly.They had made him very happy when first he read them because sillinessand sincerity are often partners, but now he knew better—now they madehim laugh. Not a very cheerful laugh perhaps—a little cynical maybebut on the whole tolerant and forbearing.
He put a match to the first and lit the others in succession one by oneuntil a charred chain of memories stretched across the tiling of thegrate. The last 'Doreen' straggled scarlet across a black and twistingpage, whitened, greyed and disappeared.
"And I'll grow a beard and forget all about you,"