for the empty creatures he wanted them to think he was. No, they too had insides. "But, O Lord, not such an in-side as mine." As soon as he thought about other people as real, Maurice became modest and conscious of sin: in all creation there could be no one as vile as himself: no wonder he pre-tended to be a piece of cardboard; if known as he was, he would be hounded out of the world. God, being altogether too large an order, did not worry him: he could not conceive of any censure being more terrific than, say, Joey Fetherstonhaugh's, who kept in the rooms below, or of any Hell as bitter as Coventry.
Shortly after this discovery he went to lunch with Mr Corn-wallis, the Dean.
There were two other guests, Chapman and a B.A. from Trin-ity, a relative of the Dean's, by name Risley. Risley was dark,
tall and affected. He made an exaggerated gesture when intro-duced, and when he spoke, which was continually, he used strong yet unmanly superlatives. Chapman caught Maurice's eye and distended his nostrils, inviting him to side against die newcomer. Maurice thought he would wait a bit first. His dis-inclination to give pain was increasing, and besides he was not sure that he loathed Risley, though no doubt he ought to, and in a minute should. So Chapman ventured alone. Finding Risley adored music, he began to run it down, saying, "I don't go in for being superior," and so on.
"I do!"
"Oh, do you! In that case I beg your pardon."
"Come along, Chapman, you are in need of food," called Mr Cornwallis, and promised himself some amusement at lunch.
" 'Spect Mr Risley isn't. I've put him off with my low talk."
They sat down, and Risley turned with a titter to Maurice and said, "I simplycant think of any reply to that"; in each of his sentences he accented one word violently. "It is so humili-ating. 'No' won't do. 'Yes' won't do. Whatis to be done?"
"What about saving nothing?" said the Dean.
"To say nothing? Horrible. You must be mad."
"Are you always talking, may one ask?" inquired Chapman.
Risley said he was.
"Never get tired of it?"
"Never."
"Ever tire other people?"
"Never."
"Odd that."
"Do not suggest I've tired you. Untrue, untrue, you're beam-ing."
"It's not at you if I am," said Chapman, who was hot-temp-ered.
Maurice and the Dean laughed.
"I come to a standstill again. How amazing are the difficulties of conversation."
"You seem to carry on better than most of us can," remarked Maurice. He had not spoken before, and his voice, which was low but very gruff, made Risley shiver.
"Naturally. It is my forte. It is the only thing I care about, conversation."
"Is that serious?"
"Everything I say is serious." And somehow Maurice knew this was true. It had struck him at once that Risley was serious. "And are you serious?"
"Don't sk me."
"Then talk until you become so."
"Rubbish," growled the Dean.④④文④檔④共④享④與④在④線④閱④讀④
Chapman laughed tempestuously.
"Rubbish?" He questioned Maurice, who, when he grasped the point, was understood to reply that deeds are more impor-tant than words.
"What is the difference? Wordsare deeds. Do you mean to say that these five minutes in Cornwallis's rooms have done nothing for you? Will youever forget you have met me, for in-stance?"
Chapman grunted.
"Rut he will not, nor will you. And then I am told we ought to be doing something."
The Dean came to the rescue of the two Sunningtonians. He said to his young cousin, "You're unsound about memory. You confuse what's important with what's impressive. No doubt Chapman and Hall always will remember they've met you—"
"And forget this is a cutlet. Quite so."
"Rut the cutlet does some good to them, and you none."
"Obscurantist!"
"This is just like a book," said Chapman. "Eh, Hall?"
"I mean," said Risley, "oh how clearly I mean that the cutlet influences your subconscious lives, and I your conscious, and so I am not only more impressive than the cutlet but more impor-tant. Your Dean here, who dwells in Medieval Darkness and wishes you to do the same, pret