himself, otherwise he'd have to spend the rest of his life knuckling
under to them. He could get a cheaper glory if he chose to try for it;
but a cheaper glory wouldn't satisfy him. That was why he decided to make
for the highest point he could reach in the beginning, so that his very
fallings-off would be glorious and would pay him as no gradual working up
and up could possibly be made to pay. Besides, he wanted his glory and
his pay quick. He couldn't afford to wait a month longer than his third
novel. As for the different quality in the glory it would be years
before anybody but himself could tell the difference, and by the time
they spotted him he'd be at another game. A game in which he defied
anybody to catch him out.

He'd be writing plays.

All this he told me, sitting in an arm-chair in my rooms, with his feet
up on another chair, and smiling, smiling with one side of his mouth
while with the other he smoked innumerable cigarettes. I can see his blue
eyes twinkle still, through the cigarette smoke that obscured him. That
night he had got down to solid business.

It was quite clear that Jevons's business was the business of the
speculator who loves the excitement of the risks he takes. I remember
exhorting him to prudence. I said: "This isn't art, it's speculation.
You're taking considerable risks, my friend."

He took his cigarette out of his mouth, dispersed the smoke, and looked
at me very straight and without a twinkle.

"I've got to make money," he said, "and to make it soon. I should be
taking worse risks if I didn't."

It's marvellous how he has pulled it off. Just as he said, dates and all.
For he named the dates for each stage of his advance.

That was in March; about a week before Easter, nineteen-six.

* * * * *

The next day I went up to Hampstead towards teatime, to see how Viola was
getting on. I didn't expect to see Jevons there, for he'd left. He told
me in a burst of confidence he'd had to. He couldn't stand it. It was
getting too risky. He was living now in rooms in Bernard Street, not far
from mine.

At Hampstead I was told that Miss Thesiger was out. She had gone for a
walk on the Heath with Mr. Jevons, but they were coming in at half-past
four for tea. If I'd step upstairs into the sitting-room I'd find her
brother, Captain Thesiger, waiting there.

I stepped upstairs and found Captain Thesiger. I was glad to find him,
for I don't mind owning that