the women said so, and male callers told the son of the house he was a lucky dog. He laughed, they laughed, and having ignored her at first he took to paying her attentions.
Now Maurice, though he did not know it, had become an at-tractive young man. Much exercise had tamed his clumsiness. He was heavy but alert, and his face seemed following the ex-ample of his body. Mrs Hall put it down to his moustache— "Maurice's moustache will be the making of him"—a remark more profound than she realized. Certainly the little black line of it did pull his face together, and show up his teeth when he smiled, and his clothes suited him also: by Durham's advice he kept to flannel trousers, even on Sunday.
He turned his smile on Miss Olcott—it seemed the proper thing to do. She responded. He put his muscles at her service by taking her out in his new side-car. He sprawled at her feet. Find-ing she smoked, he persuaded her to stop behind with him in the dining-room and to look between his eyes. Blue vapour quivered and shredded and built dissolving walls, and Maurice's thoughts voyaged with it, to vanish as soon as a window was opened for fresh air. He saw that she was pleased, and his family, servants and all, intrigued; he determined to go further.
Something went wrong at once. Maurice paid her compli-ments, said that her hair etc. was ripping. She tried to stop him, but he was insensitive, and did not know that he had annoyed her. He had read that girls always pretended to stop men who complimented them. He haunted her. When she excused herself from riding with him on the last day he played the domineering male. She was his guest, she came, and having taken her to some scenery that he considered romantic he pressed her little hand between his own.
It was not that Miss Olcott objected to having her hand pressed. Others had done it and Maurice could have done it had he guessed how. But she knew something was wrong. His touch revolted her. It was a corpse's. Springing up she cried, "Mr Hall, don't be silly. I meandon't be silly. I am not saying it to make you sillier."
"Miss Olcott—Gladys—I'd rather die than offend—" growled the boy, trying to keep it up.
"I must go back by train," she said, crying a little. "I must, I'm awfully sorry." She arrived home before him with a sensible little story about a headache and dust in her eyes, but his family also knew that something had gone wrong.
Except for this episode the vac passed pleasantly. Maurice did some reading, following his friend's advice rather than his tutor's, and he asserted in one or two ways his belief that he was grown up. At his instigation his mother dismissed the Howells who had long paralyzed the outdoor department, and set up a motor-car instead of a carriage. Everyone was impressed, in-cluding the Howells. He also called upon his father's old partner. He had inherited some business aptitude and some money, and it was settled that when he left Cambridge he should enter the firm as an unauthorized clerk; Hill and Hall, Stock Brokers. Maurice was stepping into the niche that England had prepared for him.
莫瑞斯回家后，总是念叨德拉姆，直到全家人都把他有个朋友的事铭刻在心中。艾达想象着他或许是一位德拉姆小姐的哥哥，不过，她记得那位小姐是独生女。霍尔太太则把德拉姆和一位姓坎伯兰（译注：德拉姆是英格兰东北部一郡。坎伯兰是英格兰西北部一郡。）的大学教师混淆起来了。莫瑞斯深受伤害。受伤害的强烈感情激起了另一种感情。心灵深处，他对家中的女眷感到不快。迄今他和她们的关系虽然平凡却是稳定的。但是无论谁竟然把对他来说比全世界还重要的友人的姓名搞错，在他看来简直是不可饶恕的。一切东西的主要内容都被家庭生活抽掉了。
他的无神论也遭到同样的下场。任何人都没像他所料想的那样把他的话当真。凭借年轻人的任性，他将母亲拉到一边，说他今后也尊重母亲和妹妹们的宗教偏见，然而他本人的良心再也不容许他进教堂了。她说，这真是天大的不幸。
“最亲爱的妈妈，我知道这会让您心烦意乱。我天生就是这样一个人，您说服不了我。”
“你那可怜的爸爸一向是进教堂的。”
“我不是我爸爸。”
“莫瑞，莫瑞，你怎么能这么说话呢。”
“喏，哥哥确实不是爸爸，”吉蒂照例出言不逊，“一点儿不假。妈妈，您过来吧。”////網//
“吉蒂，亲爱的，你呀，”霍尔太太大声说。她感到应该对儿子的言论表示不以为然，却又不愿意跟他摊牌。“我们在谈一个深奥的问题。而且你也完全错了，因为莫瑞斯简直就像是他爸爸，巴里大夫这么说过。”
“喏，巴里大夫本人也不进教堂呀。”莫瑞斯说。这一家人说话一向是东拉西扯，他也受了影响。
“他是一位无比聪明的绅士。”霍尔太太斩钉截铁地说，“巴里太太也一样。”
母亲的口误使艾达和吉蒂笑得前仰后合。一想到巴里太太居然成了一位绅士，她们就笑个不停，莫瑞斯的无神论被抛到脑后了。在星期日，复活节这一天，他没有领圣餐。他原以为会像德拉姆那样会引起一番争吵，然而任何人都没有理会，因为在郊外，人们对基督教已经不再重视了。这令他反感透了，他用新的眼光看待社会。世人道貌岸然，看上去能体贴旁人的感情，难道骨子里竟对什么都漠不关心吗？
他经常给德拉姆写信——一封封长信，试图细腻地表达感情的荫翳。德拉姆把这看得无足