Twopence Coloured Read Online Free PDF

black was of no consequence, and an object of mere commiseration. As for the young man who had arrived last, he, by the sheer force of his character, businesslike attaché-case-snapping and unconcerned reading, was a kind of Conqueror, who had dominated all save the original founder, Jackie, whose sanctions he could not obliterate, but only share, as an Alexander might have flirted on equal terms with the gods and mysteries of Egypt. Whether this young man, who was now rapidly reading the Life of Francis Place, was aware that he had thus swept all but one before him and come to hold this position, is doubtful. Probably , indeed, he had no idea that he was in this train at all. Possibly none of the others had, either. But these fine shades of personality and prestige were existent, nevertheless.
    A very pleasant calm had settled upon this gathering, then, and it appeared that — in spite of the numerous and now rather more apprehensive countenances that bobbed themselves with panic-stricken explorative glances into the window frame — that these five were going to have it to themselves . Doubtless, in fact, they were already preening themselves upon their good fortune at the very moment at which fate singled them out for the vicious trap it had in store for them.
    However that may have been, it was within one minute before the train departed, that, with the suddenness of an accident, and with Jovian uproar, there entered a thick smell of gin, and a stamping of feet, and a great lurching and shouting and plunging and throaty growling — all creating a mist of terror and surprise, which, after a moment, cleared away, and revealed to the sight but two individuals of a low class of life engaged in argument and thick verbosity.
    And the first and loudest of these individuals was a thin, seedy object of about thirty, wearing a decaying blue suit and begrimed collar and shirt. And the second and softerof these individuals was a grey bearded and stupefied old gentleman of about sixty, wearing a decayed rain-coat which reached his ankles and no collar at all (though an excellent brass stud). And the first of these individuals was smoking a yellowed tenth of a cigarette (which was in the process of choking him), and addressed the second individual, with not very filiar jocosity, as “Dad”: and the second of these individuals was carrying a newspaper-wrapped bundle under his arm, and addressed the first individual, with dreamy paternal sentiment, as “Son.”
    From what depths of the sea-side town these individuals had arisen, and to what depths of the metropolis for which they were so buoyantly bound, they would again descend, are unanswerable questions, but they manifestly had the better of dull care so far as the immediate journey and interim were concerned. Son, in fact, was at this moment standing up in the centre of the compartment and entreating the other, whom he named his “Pore Old Parent”, to Kiss him Good-night — which was a silly, maudlin, and (it is to be feared) revealing thing to be doing at such a time of day in a railway compartment. Nor did the deep and insecure embrace that followed speak any better of their mutual condition — in spite of a weak protest from Dad to the effect that his offshoot was Acting like one of They Frogs — by which he, in his sturdy Englishry, intended to cast disparagement upon the French.
    It is impossible to say whether poor Jackie at first realized what was the original inspiration of the joy elevating this couple at the moment, but from the beginning she sensed dimly that there was something overstressed in their jocularity — that there was something, in fact, “the matter” with these two. It was not, however, until she had observed one of the old ladies, in the corner farthest from her, suddenly to arise, seize her suitcase, and vanish precipitately, that the full truth struck home.
    Now it has been demonstrated how foolish a girl like Jackie was, how unhabituated to