Charles Snow: George Passant

George had half-risen from his chair as soon as he saw Eden: and now stayed in suspense, his hands on the arms of his chair, uncertain whether to offer it. But Eden, who was apologising to Martineau, did not notice him.

‘I’m sorry I’m so late, Howard,’ Eden said affably to Martineau. ‘My wife has some people in, and I couldn’t escape a hand of cards.’

The dome of his head was bald; his face was broad and open, and his lips easily flew up at the corners into an amiable smile. He was a few years older than his partner, and looked more their profession by all signs but one: he dressed in a more modern, informal mode. Tonight he was wearing a comfortable grey lounge suit which rode easily on his substantial figure. Talking to Martineau, he warmed a substantial seat before the fire.

George made a false start, and then said: ‘Wouldn’t you like to sit down, Mr Eden?’

At last Eden attended.

‘I don’t see why I should turn you out, Passant,’ he said. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t really want to leave the fire.’

But George was still half-standing, and Eden went on: ‘Still, if you insist on making yourself uncomfortable—’

Eden settled into George’s chair. Martineau said: ‘Will you be kind, George, and give Harry Eden a cup of coffee?’

Busily George set about the task. He lifted the big canister and filled a cup. The cup in hand, he turned to Eden: ‘Will that be all right, Mr Eden?’

‘Well, do you know, I think I’d like it white.’

George was in a hurry to apologise. He went to put the cup down on the table: Eden, thinking George was giving him the cup, held out a hand: George could not miss the inside of Eden’s forearm, and the coffee flew over Eden’s coat and the thigh of his trousers.

For an instant George stood immobile. He blushed from forehead to neck.

When he managed to say that he was sorry, Eden replied in an annoyed tone: ‘It was entirely my fault.’ He was vigorously rubbing himself with his handkerchief. Breaking out of his stupor, George tried to help, but Eden said: ‘I can look after it, Passant, I can look after it perfectly well.’

George went on his knees, and attempted to mop up the pool of coffee on the carpet: then Martineau made him sit down, and gave him a cigarette.

Actually, if it was anyone’s fault, it was Eden’s. But I knew that George could not believe it.

Martineau set us in conversation again. Eden joined in. After a few minutes, however, I noticed a glance pass between them: and it was Martineau who said to George: ‘I was very glad to see your friend Cotery tonight. How is he getting on, by the way, George?’

George had not spoken since he tried to dry Eden down. He hesitated, and said: ‘In many ways, he’s doing remarkably well. He’s just having to get over a certain amount of trouble in his firm. But—’

Eden looked at Martineau, and said: ‘Why, do you know, Passant, I meant to have a word with Howard about that very thing tonight. I didn’t expect to see you here, of course, but perhaps I might mention it now. We’re all friends within these four walls, aren’t we? As a matter of fact, Howard and I happened to be told that you were trying to steer this young man through some difficulties.’

Eden was trying to sound casual and friendly: he had taken the chance of speaking in front of Morcom and myself, who had originally been asked to Friday nights as friends of George’s. But George’s reply was edged with suspicion: I felt sure that he was more suspicious, more ready to be angry, because of the spilt cup.

‘I should like to know who happened to tell you, Mr Eden.’

‘I scarcely think we’re free to disclose that,’ said Eden.

‘If that is the case,’ said George, ‘at least I should like to be certain that you were given the correct version.’

‘Tell us, George, tell us,’ Martineau put in. Eden nodded his head. Hotly, succinctly, George told the story that I had heard several times by now: the story of the gift, the victimisation of Jack.

Martineau looked upset at the account of the boy’s infatuation, but Eden leant back in his chair with an acquiescent smile.

‘These things will happen,’ he said. ‘These things will happen.’

George finished by describing the penalties to Jack. ‘They are too serious for no one to raise a finger,’ said George.

‘So you are thinking of protesting on his behalf, are you?’

‘I am,’ said George.

‘As a matter of fact, we heard that you intended to take up the matter — through a committee at the School, is that right?’

‘Quite right.’

‘I don’t want to interfere, Passant.’ Eden gave a short smile, and brought his fingertips together. ‘But do you think that this is the most judicious way of going about it? You know, it might still be possible to patch up something behind the scenes.’

‘I’m afraid there’s no chance of that. It’s important to realise, Mr Eden,’ George said, ‘that Cotery has no influence whatever. I don’t mean that he hasn’t much influence: I mean that he has no single person to speak for him in the world.’

‘That is absolutely true,’ Morcom said quietly to Eden in a level, reasonable tone. ‘And Passant won’t like to bring this out himself, but it puts him in a difficult position: if he didn’t try to act, no one would.’

‘It’s very unfortunate for Cotery, of course,’ said Eden. ‘I quite see that. But you can’t consider, Morcom, can you, that Passant is going the right way about it? It only raises opposition when you try to rush people off their feet.’

‘I rather agree,’ said Morcom. ‘In fact, I told Passant my opinion a couple of nights ago. It was the same as yours.’

‘I’m glad of that,’ said Eden. ‘Because I know that Passant thinks that when we get older we like to take the course of least resistance. There’s something in it, I’m afraid, there’s something in it. But he can’t hold that against you. You see, Passant,’ he went on, ‘we’re all agreed that it’s very unfortunate for Cotery. That doesn’t mean, though, that we want to see you do something hasty. After all, there’s plenty of time. This is a bit of a setback for him, but he’s a bright young chap. With patience, he’s bound to make good in the end.’

‘He’s twenty,’ said George. ‘He’s just the age when a man is desperate without something ahead. You can’t tell a man to wait years at that age.’

‘That’s all very well,’ said Eden.

‘I can’t bring myself to recommend patience,’ said George, ‘when it’s someone else who has to exercise it.’

George was straining to keep his temper down, and Eden’s smile had become perfunctory.

‘So you intend to make a gesture,’ said Eden. ‘I’ve always found that most gestures do more harm than good.’

‘I’m afraid that I don’t regard this as a gesture,’ said George.

Eden frowned, paused, and went on: ‘There is another point, Passant. I didn’t particularly want to make it. And I don’t want to lay too much emphasis on it. But if you go ahead, it might conceivably raise some personal difficulties for Howard and myself — since we are, in a way, connected with you.’

‘They suggested this morning that you were responsible, I suppose?’ George cried.

‘I shouldn’t say that was actually suggested, should you, Howard?’ said Eden.

‘In any case,’ said George, ‘I consider they were using an intolerably unfair weapon in approaching you.’

‘I think perhaps they were,’ said Eden. ‘I think perhaps they were. But that doesn’t affect the fact.’

‘If we were all strictly fair, George,’ said Martineau, ‘not much information would get round, would it?’