At the instigation of his publisher he had discarded the
baptismal Augustus and taken the front name of Mark.
"Women like a name that suggests some one strong and silent, able but
unwilling to answer questions. Augustus merely suggests idle splendour,
but such a name as Mark Mellowkent, besides being alliterative, conjures
up a vision of some one strong and beautiful and good, a sort of blend of
Georges Carpentier and the Reverend What's-his-name."
One morning in December Augustus sat in his writing-room, at work on the
third chapter of his eighth novel. He had described at some length, for
the benefit of those who could not imagine it, what a rectory garden
looks like in July; he was now engaged in describing at greater length
the feelings of a young girl, daughter of a long line of rectors and
archdeacons, when she discovers for the first time that the postman is
attractive.
"Their eyes met, for a brief moment, as he handed her two circulars and
the fat wrapper-bound bulk of the _East Essex News_. Their eyes met, for
the merest fraction of a second, yet nothing could ever be quite the same
again. Cost what it might she felt that she must speak, must break the
intolerable, unreal silence that had fallen on them.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155