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conscientious ass！ And yetthe whole thing was absurd！ She was so
young！ God knew he would be glad to be out of it。 If he stayed he
was afraid that he would play the fool。 But the memory of her words：
〃You have been very sweet to me！〃 would not leave him； nor the
memory of her face； so puzzled； and reproachful。 Yes； if he stayed
he would play the fool！ He would be asking her to marry a man double
her age； of no position but that which he had carved for himself； and
without a rap。 And he would be asking her in such a way that she
might possibly have some little difficulty in refusing。 He would be
letting himself go。 And she was only twentyfor all her woman…of…
the…world air； a child！ No！ He would be useful to her； if possible；
this once； and then clear out！
CHAPTER XXI
When Miltoun left Valleys House he walked in the direction of
Westminster。 During the five days that he had been back in London he
had not yet entered the House of Commons。 After the seclusion of his
illness； he still felt a yearning； almost painful； towards the
movement and stir of the town。 Everything he heard and saw made an
intensely vivid impression。 The lions in Trafalgar Square； the great
buildings of Whitehall； filled him with a sort of exultation。 He was
like a man； who； after a long sea voyage； first catches sight of
land； and stands straining his eyes； hardly breathing； taking in one
by one the lost features of that face。 He walked on to Westminster
Bridge； and going to an embrasure in the very centre； looked back
towards the towers。
It was said that the love of those towers passed into the blood。 It
was said that he who had sat beneath them could never again be quite
the same。 Miltoun knew that it was truedesperately true； of
himself。 In person he had sat there but three weeks； but in soul he
seemed to have been sitting there hundreds of years。 And now he
would sit there no more！ An almost frantic desire to free himself
from this coil rose up within him。 To be held a prisoner by that
most secret of all his instincts； the instinct for authority！ To be
unable to wield authority because to wield authority was to insult
authority。 God！ It was hard！ He turned his back on the towers； and
sought distraction in the faces of the passers…by。
Each of these； he knew； had his struggle to keep self…respect！ Or
was it that they were unconscious of struggle or of self…respect； and
just let things drift？ They looked like that； most of them！ And all
his inherent contempt for the average or common welled up as he
watched them。 Yes； they looked like that！ Ironically； the sight of
those from whom he had desired the comfort of compromise； served
instead to stimulate that part of him which refused to let him
compromise。 They looked soft； soggy； without pride or will； as
though they knew that life was too much for them； and had shamefully
accepted the fact。 They so obviously needed to be told what they
might do； and which way they should； go； they would accept orders as
they accepted their work； or pleasures： And the thought that he was
now debarred from the right to give them orders； rankled in him
furiously。 They； in their turn； glanced casually at his tall figure
leaning against the parapet； not knowing how their fate was trembling
in the balance。 His thin； sallow face； and hungry eyes gave one or
two of them perhaps a feeling of interest or discomfort； but to most
he was assuredly no more than any other man or woman in the hurly…
burly。 That dark figure of conscious power struggling in the fetters
of its own belief in power； was a piece of sculpture they had neither
time nor wish to understand； having no taste for tragedyfor
witnessing the human spirit driven to the wall。
It was five o'clock before Miltoun left the Bridge； and passed； like
an exile； before the gates of Church and State； on his way to his
uncle's Club。 He stopped to telegraph to Audrey the time he would be
coming to…morrow afternoon； and on leaving the Post…Office； noticed
in the window of the adjoining shop some reproductions of old Italian
masterpieces； amongst them one of Botticelli's 'Birth of Venus。' He
had never seen that picture； and； remembering that she had told him
it was her favourite； he stopped to look at it。 Averagely well
versed in such matters； as became one of his caste； Miltoun had not
the power of letting a work of art insidiously steal the private self
from his soul； and replace it with the self of all the world； and he
examined this far…famed presentment of the heathen goddess with
aloofness； even irritation。 The drawing of the body seemed to him
crude； the whole picture a little flat and Early； he did not like the
figure of the Flora。 The golden serenity； and tenderness； of which
she had spoken； left him cold。 Then he found himself looking at the
face； and slowly； but with uncanny certainty； began to feel that he
was looking at the face of Audrey herself。 The hair was golden and
different； the eyes grey and different； the mouth a little fuller；
yetit was her face； the same oval shape； the same far…apart； arched
brows； the same strangely tender； elusive spirit。 And； as though
offended； he turned and walked on。 In the window of that little shop
was the effigy of her for whom he had bartered away his lifethe
incarnation of passive and entwining love； that gentle creature； who
had given herself to him so utterly； for whom love； and the flowers；
and trees； and birds； music； the sky； and the quick…flowing streams；
were all…sufficing； and who； like the goddess in the picture； seemed
wondering at her own existence。 He had a sudden glimpse of
understanding； strange indeed in one who had so little power of
seeing into others' hearts： Ought she ever to have been born into a
world like this？ But the flash of insight yielded quickly to that
sickening consciousness of his own position； which never left him
now。 Whatever else he did； he must get rid of that malaise！ But
what could he do in that coming life？ Write books？ What sort of
books could he write？ Only such as expressed his views of
citizenship； his political and social beliefs。 As well remain
sitting and speaking beneath those towers！ He could never join the
happy band of artists； those soft and indeterminate spirits； for whom
barriers had no meaning； content…to understand； interpret； and
create。 What should he be doing in that galley？ The thought was
inconceivable。 A career at the Baryes； he might take that up； but
to what end？ To become a judge！ As well continue to sit beneath
those towers！ Too late for diplomacy。 Too late for the Army；
besides； he had not the faintest taste for military glory。 Bury
himself in the country like Uncle Dennis； and administer one of his
father's estates？ It would be death。 Go amongst the poor？ For a
moment he thought he had found a new vocation。 But in what capacity
to order their lives； when he himself could not order his own； or；
as a mere conduit pipe for money； when he believed that charity was
rotting the nation to its core？ At the head of every avenue stood an
angel or devil with drawn sword。 And then there came to h