Not indiscreet, Goldthorpe soon became aware
that he had better talk as little as possible of the work which absorbed
his energies. He had enough liberality and sense of humour to understand
and enjoy his landlord's conversation, and the simple goodness of the man
inspired him with no little respect. Thus they got along together
remarkably well. Mr. Spicer never ceased to feel himself honoured by the
presence under his roof of one who--as he was wont to say--wielded the pen.
The tradition of Grub Street was for him a living fact. He thought of all
authors as struggling with poverty, and continued to cite
eighteenth-century examples by way of encouraging Goldthorpe and animating
his zeal. Whilst the young man was at work Mr. Spicer moved about the house
with soundless footsteps. When invited into his tenant's room he had a
reverential demeanour, and the sight of manuscript on the bare deal table
caused him to subdue his voice.
The weeks went by, and Goldthorpe's novel steadily progressed. In London he
had only two or three acquaintances, and from them he held aloof, lest
necessity or temptation should lead to his spending money which he could
not spare. The few letters which he received were addressed to a
post-office--impossible to shock the nerves of a postman by requesting him
to deliver correspondence at this dead house, of which the front door had
not been opened for years.
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