Complete Plays of John Galsworthy
Chapter 122 : RUTH. It would be the saving of him.c.o.kESON. Well, I'll do what I can, but I�

RUTH. It would be the saving of him.

c.o.kESON. Well, I'll do what I can, but I'm not sanguine. Now tell him that I don't want him till I see how things are. Leave your address? [Repeating her] 83 Mullingar Street? [He notes it on blotting-paper] Good-morning.

RUTH. Thank you.

She moves towards the door, turns as if to speak, but does not, and goes away.

c.o.kESON. [Wiping his head and forehead with a large white cotton handkerchief] What a business! [Then looking amongst his papers, he sounds his bell. SWEEDLE answers it]

c.o.kESON. Was that young Richards coming here to-day after the clerk's place?

SWEEDLE. Yes.

c.o.kESON. Well, keep him in the air; I don't want to see him yet.

SWEEDLE. What shall I tell him, sir?

c.o.kESON. [With asperity] invent something. Use your brains. Don't stump him off altogether.

SWEEDLE. Shall I tell him that we've got illness, sir?

c.o.kESON. No! Nothing untrue. Say I'm not here to-day.

SWEEDLE. Yes, sir. Keep him hankering?

c.o.kESON. Exactly. And look here. You remember Falder? I may be having him round to see me. Now, treat him like you'd have him treat you in a similar position.

SWEEDLE. I naturally should do.

c.o.kESON. That's right. When a man's down never hit 'im. 'Tisn't necessary. Give him a hand up. That's a metaphor I recommend to you in life. It's sound policy.

SWEEDLE. Do you think the governors will take him on again, sir?

c.o.kESON. Can't say anything about that. [At the sound of some one having entered the outer office] Who's there?

SWEEDLE. [Going to the door and looking] It's Falder, sir.

c.o.kESON. [Vexed] Dear me! That's very naughty of her. Tell him to call again. I don't want----

He breaks off as FALDER comes in. FALDER is thin, pale, older, his eyes have grown more restless. His clothes are very worn and loose.

SWEEDLE, nodding cheerfully, withdraws.

c.o.kESON. Glad to see you. You're rather previous. [Trying to keep things pleasant] Shake hands! She's striking while the iron's hot.

[He wipes his forehead] I don't blame her. She's anxious.

FALDER timidly takes c.o.kESON's hand and glances towards the partners' door.

c.o.kESON. No--not yet! Sit down! [FALDER sits in the chair at the aide of c.o.kESON's table, on which he places his cap] Now you are here I'd like you to give me a little account of yourself. [Looking at him over his spectacles] How's your health?

FALDER. I'm alive, Mr. c.o.keson.

c.o.kESON. [Preoccupied] I'm glad to hear that. About this matter.

I don't like doing anything out of the ordinary; it's not my habit.

I'm a plain man, and I want everything smooth and straight. But I promised your friend to speak to the partners, and I always keep my word.

FALDER. I just want a chance, Mr. c.o.keson. I've paid for that job a thousand times and more. I have, sir. No one knows. They say I weighed more when I came out than when I went in. They couldn't weigh me here [he touches his head] or here [he touches--his heart, and gives a sort of laugh]. Till last night I'd have thought there was nothing in here at all.

c.o.kESON. [Concerned] You've not got heart disease?

FALDER. Oh! they pa.s.sed me sound enough.

c.o.kESON. But they got you a place, didn't they?

FALSER. Yes; very good people, knew all about it--very kind to me.

I thought I was going to get on first rate. But one day, all of a sudden, the other clerks got wind of it.... I couldn't stick it, Mr.

c.o.kESON, I couldn't, sir.

c.o.kESON. Easy, my dear fellow, easy!

FALDER. I had one small job after that, but it didn't last.

c.o.kESON. How was that?

FALDER. It's no good deceiving you, Mr. c.o.keson. The fact is, I seem to be struggling against a thing that's all round me. I can't explain it: it's as if I was in a net; as fast as I cut it here, it grows up there. I didn't act as I ought to have, about references; but what are you to do? You must have them. And that made me afraid, and I left. In fact, I'm--I'm afraid all the time now.

He bows his head and leans dejectedly silent over the table.

c.o.kESON. I feel for you--I do really. Aren't your sisters going to do anything for you?

FALDER. One's in consumption. And the other----

c.o.kESON. Ye...es. She told me her husband wasn't quite pleased with you.

FALDER. When I went there--they were at supper--my sister wanted to give me a kiss--I know. But he just looked at her, and said: "What have you come for?" Well, I pocketed my pride and I said: "Aren't you going to give me your hand, Jim? Cis is, I know," I said. "Look here!" he said, "that's all very well, but we'd better come to an understanding. I've been expecting you, and I've made up my mind.

I'll give you fifteen pounds to go to Canada with." "I see," I said--"good riddance! No, thanks; keep your fifteen pounds."

Friends.h.i.+p's a queer thing when you've been where I have.

c.o.kESON. I understand. Will you take the fifteen pound from me?

[Fl.u.s.tered, as FALDER regards him with a queer smile] Quite without prejudice; I meant it kindly.

FALDER. I'm not allowed to leave the country.

c.o.kESON. Oh! ye...es--ticket-of-leave? You aren't looking the thing.

FALDER. I've slept in the Park three nights this week. The dawns aren't all poetry there. But meeting her--I feel a different man this morning. I've often thought the being fond of hers the best thing about me; it's sacred, somehow--and yet it did for me. That's queer, isn't it?

c.o.kESON. I'm sure we're all very sorry for you.