them to love and understand
him
, and it occurred to him that this was true of most men. Men were banded together not simply as hunter gatherers but rather in sheer bafflement at the behaviour of women. Looking for a mother, they nevertheless longed to escape the commitment that such a search required, and tended to fall back on easier stereotypes, women of lesserimportance, who would not exact emotional tribute money. But if the love of any woman were not forthcoming, who could describe the hurt of a man who might find himself scorned, rejected, laughed at? And why did women make such a fuss about not being loved and understood? Surely they could see that it was far more serious for a man to be in this situation, for who could understand him if not a woman? At best a man had to fall back on the unspoken sympathy of other men, who would shrug their shoulders in comradely bewilderment. The doctor, thought Lewis, must understand him, and might, moreover, hold the key to this establishment. If he called every week he must know a good deal about the Harper ménage; he would certainly be able to tell how damaged Tissy really was, and when and in what circumstances she might be held to be cured. The doctor’s visit he saw as a kindness, a formality, for it was obvious at a glance that no cure might be undertaken unless the curtains of this red room were symbolically drawn apart and the full light of day admitted. He was thus reminded of his own part in this hypothetical cure and the inherent difficulty of his role. For this reason alone he would be glad to see the doctor.
The doctor, as if to fulfil Lewis’s expectations, entered like an old friend, a familiar, an habitué. Surely nothing less than friendship would explain the informality of his appearance, which was rumpled, untidy, unprofessional, thought Lewis, who had anticipated a dapper figure in a black coat and striped trousers. This man wore a creased grey suit with a white chalk stripe, the straining waistcoat of which bore the traces of a fall of cigarette ash. He wore, in addition, a grey overcoat, which seemed to be sliding off his shoulders, as if he had not entirely decided to put it on, and a grey Homburg hat pushed to the back of his head. He carried an attaché case which he put down beside one of the overstuffed armchairs, removed the coat and hat and hung them over the top of the door, to which he could reach quite easily. He was a tall man, but a tall man gone to seed, for there was a large rounded stomach beneath the chalk stripes. He had alsolost the original fresh colouring which might have gone with the intensely waved, now grizzled, hair. Formerly fair, the doctor had become empurpled: a heavy shadow of beard darkened the lower half of his face which was now equally divided into areas of red and blue. His most striking feature was his mouth, which was full, pouting, babyish; the lips, which were violet, had the thin sheen of grape skins. He looked tired to death.
‘Well, Thea,’ he said to Mrs Harper. ‘Well, Tissy. How’s our girl this week, then?’
‘Tea, Ralph?’ queried Mrs Harper. ‘I’ll make some fresh, if you like. This is a bit cool.’
‘No, leave it,’ he said. ‘I like it cool.’ He received a cup and saucer in a large fatty hand.
‘This is Mr Percy. A friend of Tissy’s. Dr Jago.’
‘Well, young man,’ said the doctor. ‘How do you come to be in this neck of the woods?’
‘I know Tissy from the library,’ he responded, thinking that he might state his business to this man and get something like a sensible hearing. ‘I was wondering if she could come out with me? Nothing too arduous, a walk in the park, perhaps. The weather is so gorgeous now. Would you like that, Tissy?’
‘Would you like that, Tissy?’ echoed the doctor in a fair imitation of Lewis’s eager voice. The doctor’s adherence to his cause, Lewis saw, was not to be taken for granted.
‘Well, I’m not sure,’ said Tissy, as Lewis had known
him
, and it occurred to him that this was true of most men. Men were banded together not simply as hunter gatherers but rather in sheer bafflement at the behaviour of women. Looking for a mother, they nevertheless longed to escape the commitment that such a search required, and tended to fall back on easier stereotypes, women of lesserimportance, who would not exact emotional tribute money. But if the love of any woman were not forthcoming, who could describe the hurt of a man who might find himself scorned, rejected, laughed at? And why did women make such a fuss about not being loved and understood? Surely they could see that it was far more serious for a man to be in this situation, for who could understand him if not a woman? At best a man had to fall back on the unspoken sympathy of other men, who would shrug their shoulders in comradely bewilderment. The doctor, thought Lewis, must understand him, and might, moreover, hold the key to this establishment. If he called every week he must know a good deal about the Harper ménage; he would certainly be able to tell how damaged Tissy really was, and when and in what circumstances she might be held to be cured. The doctor’s visit he saw as a kindness, a formality, for it was obvious at a glance that no cure might be undertaken unless the curtains of this red room were symbolically drawn apart and the full light of day admitted. He was thus reminded of his own part in this hypothetical cure and the inherent difficulty of his role. For this reason alone he would be glad to see the doctor.
The doctor, as if to fulfil Lewis’s expectations, entered like an old friend, a familiar, an habitué. Surely nothing less than friendship would explain the informality of his appearance, which was rumpled, untidy, unprofessional, thought Lewis, who had anticipated a dapper figure in a black coat and striped trousers. This man wore a creased grey suit with a white chalk stripe, the straining waistcoat of which bore the traces of a fall of cigarette ash. He wore, in addition, a grey overcoat, which seemed to be sliding off his shoulders, as if he had not entirely decided to put it on, and a grey Homburg hat pushed to the back of his head. He carried an attaché case which he put down beside one of the overstuffed armchairs, removed the coat and hat and hung them over the top of the door, to which he could reach quite easily. He was a tall man, but a tall man gone to seed, for there was a large rounded stomach beneath the chalk stripes. He had alsolost the original fresh colouring which might have gone with the intensely waved, now grizzled, hair. Formerly fair, the doctor had become empurpled: a heavy shadow of beard darkened the lower half of his face which was now equally divided into areas of red and blue. His most striking feature was his mouth, which was full, pouting, babyish; the lips, which were violet, had the thin sheen of grape skins. He looked tired to death.
‘Well, Thea,’ he said to Mrs Harper. ‘Well, Tissy. How’s our girl this week, then?’
‘Tea, Ralph?’ queried Mrs Harper. ‘I’ll make some fresh, if you like. This is a bit cool.’
‘No, leave it,’ he said. ‘I like it cool.’ He received a cup and saucer in a large fatty hand.
‘This is Mr Percy. A friend of Tissy’s. Dr Jago.’
‘Well, young man,’ said the doctor. ‘How do you come to be in this neck of the woods?’
‘I know Tissy from the library,’ he responded, thinking that he might state his business to this man and get something like a sensible hearing. ‘I was wondering if she could come out with me? Nothing too arduous, a walk in the park, perhaps. The weather is so gorgeous now. Would you like that, Tissy?’
‘Would you like that, Tissy?’ echoed the doctor in a fair imitation of Lewis’s eager voice. The doctor’s adherence to his cause, Lewis saw, was not to be taken for granted.
‘Well, I’m not sure,’ said Tissy, as Lewis had known
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