er short of fire-paper since we couldn't afford our daily
newspaper.'
'Will you let me give one to Mrs Carter?'
'As you please.'
He took one set and added it to the row of his productions which stood
on a topmost shelf Amy laid her hand upon his shoulder and contemplated
the effect of this addition.
'The works of Edwin Reardon,' she said, with a smile.
'The work, at all events--rather a different thing, unfortunately. Amy,
if only I were back at the time when I wrote "On Neutral Ground," and
yet had you with me! How full my mind was in those days! Then I had only
to look, and I saw something; now I strain my eyes, but can make out
nothing more than nebulous grotesques. I used to sit down knowing
so well what I had to say; now I strive to invent, and never come at
anything. Suppose you pick up a needle with warm, supple fingers; try to
do it when your hand is stiff and numb with cold; there's the difference
between my manner of work in those days and what it is now.'
'But you are going to get back your health. You will write better than
ever.'
'We shall see. Of course there was a great deal of miserable struggle
even then, but I remember it as insignificant compared with the hours of
contented work. I seldom did anything in the mornings except think and
prepare; towards evening I felt myself getting ready, and at last I sat
down with the first lines buzzing in my head. And I used to read a great
deal at the same time. Whilst I was writing "On Neutral Ground" I went
solidly through the "Divina Commedia," a canto each day. Very often I
wrote till after midnight, but occasionally I got my quantum finished
much earlier, and then I used to treat myself to a ramble about the
streets. I can recall exactly the places where some of my best ideas
came to me. You remember the scene in Prendergast's lodgings? That
flashed on me late one night as I was turning out of Leicester Square
into the slum that leads to Clare Market; ah, how well I remember! And
I went home to my garret in a state of delightful fever, and scribbled
notes furiously before going to bed.'
'Don't trouble; it'll all come back to you.'
'But in those days I hadn't to think of money. I could look forward and
see provision for my needs. I never asked myself what I should get for
the book; I assure you, that never came into my head--never. The work
was done for its own sake. No hurry to finish it; if I felt that I
wasn't up to the mark, I just waite
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