Chapter 13 Thirteen

I lived with Mrs. Hudson for nearly two years before seeing the Driffields again.My life was very regular back then.I was in the hospital all day, and I walked back to Vincent Square around six in the afternoon.When passing Lambeth Bridge I bought a copy of The Star and read it back to supper time.After dinner I read carefully for an hour or two which would increase my intellectual level, for I was then a young man of high drive, determination, and hard work.After reading the book, I started writing novels and screenplays until I went to bed.I don't know why one afternoon in late June of that year I happened to leave the hospital a little earlier than usual and wanted to walk down Warhol Bridge Road.I like the noisy hustle and bustle of the street; there's an air of sleazy conviviality, pleasantly exciting;I was immersed in the daydream and wandered away, when I suddenly heard someone call my name unexpectedly.I stopped to look, and was surprised to see Mrs. Driffield standing there, smiling at me.

Don't you recognize me?she cried. Yes, Mrs. Driffield. Although I am a grown man, I still feel as flushed as I was when I was sixteen.I am so sorry.With my unfortunate Victorian notions of honesty in my head, I was appalled at the way the Driffields had smuggled away with a lot of debt in Blackstead.I find this really dishonorable.I thought they must be so ashamed, and I was deeply ashamed of them, that I was not a little surprised that Mrs Driffield should speak to a man who knew of their shame.If I had seen her approaching first, I would have turned my face away and pretended not to see it; I was prudent to think that she would not be seen by me, so as not to be embarrassed; but she held out her hand and seemed very happy to meet me. shake hands.

I'm so glad to meet an acquaintance from Blacktown.She said, you know we were in a hurry. She laughed, and I laughed too; she laughed like a child, and I thought I was smiling forcedly. I heard it was quite a mess when they found out we were gone.I thought Ted would laugh a lot when he heard that.What did your uncle say? I recovered quickly; I didn't want her to think that I, like everyone else, didn't understand their jokes. Oh, you know what kind of guy he is, he's very reserved. That's right, that's what's wrong with Heishan Town.They need to wake up.She gave me a friendly look, you've grown much taller than the last time I saw you.Ah!You have a beard all over your mouth.

Yes, I said as I twirled my short beard, which I have grown for a long time. How time flies, doesn't it?Four years ago you were a kid, now you're a man. As I should, I replied with a touch of arrogance, I was almost twenty-one years old. I looked at Mrs. Driffield.She wore a small hat with feathers and a light gray dress with wide sleeves in the shape of a leg of lamb and a long skirt.I think she looks very dashing.I always thought she had a nice face, but now for the first time I noticed she was pretty.Her eyes were bluer than I remembered, and her skin was as white as ivory. Did you know we live nearby.she says.

I also live nearby. We live on Lynpass Road.We've lived there almost all the time since we left Blacktown. Oh, and I've also lived in Vincent Square for almost two years. I know you are in London.George.Kemp told me.I often wonder where you live.Now you come with me to our house.Ted must be very happy to see you. also good.I said. As we walked along, she told me that Driffield was now the literary editor of a weekly magazine; his latest book was selling better than any of his previous ones, and he expected a considerable advance on the next book.She seemed to know all the latest happenings in Black House, and I couldn't help thinking of the suspicion that Lord George had helped the Driffields get away.I guess Lord George wrote to them from time to time.As we walked, I noticed that men passing us sometimes gave Mrs. Driffield a few glances, and it occurred to me that they must think her pretty, too.I walked up swaggeringly.

Lympas Road is a long, wide, straight street that runs parallel to Warhol Bridge Road.The stucco houses there all looked the same, the exterior paint was dull, but the structure was solid, with wide porches.I suppose the houses were built for the great men of the City of London, but the street has long since fallen into disrepair, and perhaps it has never attracted suitable tenants; with an air that reminds you of those who have lived through the good times and still wallow in them with grandeur, talking of the social prominence of their youth.Mrs. Driffield lived in a dark red house, and Mrs Driffield ushered me into a narrow, dark hall, opened a door, and said:

Come in, I'll tell Ted you're coming. She went down the hall and I went into their living room.The Driffields rented the basement and ground floor of the house, and the landlady lived upstairs.The room I entered was furnished with what looked as though it had been scavenged from an auction house.There were thick velvet curtains with broad tassels, covered with hoops and tufts of floral decorations; there was a gold suite, upholstered in yellow brocade, with many buttons.In the middle of the room is a thick and large cushion.There were gold display cabinets containing a great collection of bric-a-brac, china, ivory figures, wood carvings, several Indian bronzes; on the walls were large oil paintings of Scottish glens, stags, and game drives. attendant.Presently Mrs. Driffield came in with her husband, who greeted me warmly.He wore a worn alpaca jacket and gray trousers; he had shaved off his long beard and now had only a mustache and a small tuft on his chin.For the first time I noticed how small his stature was; but he looked grander than ever.His appearance was a little out of the ordinary, which I thought was more what I would expect a writer to be.

Hey, what do you think of our new house?He asked, looks rich, doesn't it?I think it inspires confidence. He glanced around with satisfaction. Ted had a little study in the back where he could write.We also have a dining room in the basement.Mrs. Driffield said that our landlady, Miss Cowley, had been the companion of a noble lady who, when she died, left her all her furniture.You see every piece of furniture is very nice, doesn't it?It can be seen that they are all things from the upper class. Rosie fell in love with the place as soon as we saw it.Driffield said. You too, Ted. It is a change that we have lived so long in poverty, and that we now have all the luxuries and comforts we can expect.Learn to learn morality.Madame Pompadour [Note: Mistress of King Louis XV of France. ] and the like.

When I was leaving, they kindly invited me to visit their house again.They seemed to be at home every Saturday afternoon, and all kinds of people I wanted to see were in the habit of visiting them at this time.