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〃You see；〃 he went on to explain； 〃Bailey's wanting in the
essentials。〃
〃What essentials？〃 said I。
〃Oh！ he'd be like a nasty oily efficient little machine for some
merely subordinate necessity among all my delicate stuff。 He'd do
all we wanted no doubt in the way of money and powersand he'd do
it wrong and mess the place for ever。 Hands all black； you know。
He's just a means。 Just a very aggressive and unmanageable means。
This isn't a plumber's job。 。 。 。〃
I stuck to my argument。
〃I don't LIKE him；〃 said the official conclusively； and it seemed to
me at the time he was just blind prejudice speaking。 。 。 。
I came nearer the truth of the matter as I came to realise that our
philosophies differed profoundly。 That isn't a very curable
difference；once people have grown up。 Theirs was a philosophy
devoid of FINESSE。 Temperamentally the Baileys were specialised；
concentrated； accurate； while I am urged either by some Inner force
or some entirely assimilated influence in my training； always to
round off and shadow my outlines。 I hate them hard。 I would
sacrifice detail to modelling always； and the Baileys； it seemed to
me； loved a world as flat and metallic as Sidney Cooper's cows。 If
they had the universe in hand I know they would take down all the
trees and put up stamped tin green shades and sunlight accumulators。
Altiora thought trees hopelessly irregular and sea cliffs a great
mistake。 。 。 。 I got things clearer as time went on。 Though it
was an Hegelian mess of which I had partaken at Codger's table by
way of a philosophical training； my sympathies have always been
Pragmatist。 I belong almost by nature to that school of Pragmatism
that； following the medieval Nominalists； bases itself upon a denial
of the reality of classes； and of the validity of general laws。 The
Baileys classified everything。 They were； in the scholastic sense
which so oddly contradicts the modern use of the word—〃Realists。〃
They believed classes were REAL and independent of their
individuals。 This is the common habit of all so…called educated
people who have no metaphysical aptitude and no metaphysical
training。 It leads them to a progressive misunderstanding of the
world。 It was a favourite trick of Altiora's to speak of everybody
as a 〃type〃； she saw men as samples moving； her dining…room became a
chamber of representatives。 It gave a tremendously scientific air
to many of their generalisations； using 〃scientific〃 in its
nineteenth…century uncritical Herbert Spencer sense； an air that
only began to disappear when you thought them over again in terms of
actuality and the people one knew。 。 。 。
At the Baileys' one always seemed to be getting one's hands on the
very strings that guided the world。 You heard legislation projected
to affect this 〃type〃 and that； statistics marched by you with sin
and shame and injustice and misery reduced to quite manageable
percentages； you found men who were to frame or amend bills in grave
and intimate exchange with Bailey's omniscience； you heard Altiora
canvassing approaching resignations and possible appointments that
might make or mar a revolution in administrative methods； and doing
it with a vigorous directness that manifestly swayed the decision；
and you felt you were in a sort of signal box with levers all about
you； and the world outside there； albeit a little dark and
mysterious beyond the window； running on its lines in ready
obedience to these unhesitating lights； true and steady to trim
termini。
And then with all this administrative fizzle； this pseudo…scientific
administrative chatter； dying away in your head； out you went into
the limitless grimy chaos of London streets and squares； roads and
avenues lined with teeming houses； each larger than the Chambers
Street house and at least equally alive； you saw the chaotic clamour
of hoardings； the jumble of traffic； the coming and going of
mysterious myriads； you heard the rumble of traffic like the noise
of a torrent； a vague incessant murmur of cries and voices； wanton
crimes and accidents bawled at you from the placards； imperative
unaccountable fashions swaggered triumphant in dazzling windows of
the shops； and you found yourself swaying back to the opposite
conviction that the huge formless spirit of the world it was that
held the strings and danced the puppets on the Bailey stage。 。 。 。
Under the lamps you were jostled by people like my Staffordshire
uncle out for a spree； you saw shy youths conversing with
prostitutes； you passed young lovers pairing with an entire
disregard of the social suitability of the 〃types〃 they might blend
or create； you saw men leaning drunken against lamp…posts whom you
knew for the 〃type〃 that will charge with fixed bayonets into the
face of death； and you found yourself unable to imagine little
Bailey achieving either drunkenness or the careless defiance of
annihilation。 You realised that quite a lot of types were
underrepresented in Chambers Street； that feral and obscure and
altogether monstrous forces must be at work； as yet altogether
unassimilated by those neat administrative reorganisations。
5
Altiora； I remember； preluded Margaret's reappearance by announcing
her as a 〃new type。〃
I was accustomed to go early to the Baileys' dinners in those days；
for a preliminary gossip with Altiora in front of her drawing…room
fire。 One got her alone； and that early arrival was a little sign
of appreciation she valued。 She had every woman's need of followers
and servants。
〃I'm going to send you down to…night；〃 she said； 〃with a very
interesting type indeedone of the new generation of serious gals。
Middle…class originand quite well off。 Rich in fact。 Her step…
father was a solicitor and something of an ENTREPRENEUR towards the
end； I fancyin the Black Country。 There was a little brother
died； and she's lost her mother quite recently。 Quite on her own；
so to speak。 She's never been out into society very much； and
doesn't seem really very anxious to go。 。 。 。 Not exactly an
intellectual person； you know； but quiet； and great force of
character。 Came up to London on her own and came to ussomeone had
told her we were the sort of people to advise herto ask what to
do。 I'm sure she'll interest you。〃
〃What CAN people of that sort do？〃 I asked。 〃Is she capable of
investigation？〃
Altiora compressed her lips and shook her head。 She always did
shake her head when you asked that of anyone。
〃Of course what she ought to do；〃 said Altiora； with her silk dress
pulled back from her knee before the fire； and with a lift of her
voice towards a chuckle at her daring way of putting things； 〃is to
marry a member of Parliament and see he does his work。 。 。 。
Perhaps she will。 It's a very exceptional gal who can do anything
by herselfquite exceptional。 The more serious they arewithout
being exceptionalthe more we want them to marry。〃
Her exposition was truncated by the entry of the type in question。
〃Well！〃 cried Altiora turning； and with a high note of welcome；
〃HERE you are！〃
Margaret had gained in dignity and prettiness by the lapse of five
years； and she was now very beautifully and richly and simply
dressed。 Her fair hair had been done in some way that made it seem
softer and more abundant than it was in my memory； and a gleam of
purple velvet…set diamonds showed amidst its mist of little golden
and brown lines。 Her dress was of white and violet； the last trace
of mourning for her mother； and confessed the gracious droop of her
tall and slender body。 She did not suggest Staffordshire at all；
and I was puzzled for a moment to think where I had met her。 Her
sweetly shaped mouth with the slight obliquity of the lip and the
little kink in her brow were extraordi