Moreover, my existence as a day-boy in London had been so unhappy;
that I was prepared to welcome any change, so at most I felt only a
vague unease as to the future.
After I had glanced at my papers, I sat back and stared at my eldest
brother, who had been told off to see me safely to school. At that
time I did not like him because he seemed to me unduly insistent on
his rights and I could not help wondering at the tactlessness of the
grown-up people in choosing him as my travelling companion. With any
one else this journey might have been a joyous affair but there were
incidents between us that neither of us would forget, so that I
could find nothing better than an awkward politeness with which to
meet his strained amiability. He feigned an intense interest in his
magazine while I looked out of window, with one finger in my
waistcoat pocket, scratching the comfortable milled edges of my
money. When I saw little farm-houses, forgotten in the green dimples
of the Kentish hills, I thought that it would be nice to live there
with a room full of story-books, away from the discomforts and
difficulties of life. Like a cat, I wanted to dream somewhere where
I would not be trodden on, somewhere where I would be neglected by
friends and foes alike. This was my normal desire, but side by side
with my craving for peace I was aware of a new and interesting
emotion that suggested the possibility of a life even more
agreeable. The excitement of packing my box with provender like a
sailor who was going on a long voyage, the unwonted thrill of having
a large sum of money concealed about my person, and above all the
imaginative yarns of my elder brother, had fired me with the thought
of adventure.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52