“Now don’t go wasting shame on me, Caroline. The fact is—nobody ever expects me to be in anything but a shameful condition. Think what a disappointment I must be when I am sober! What more embarrassing to a sober community than the return of the prodigal son?”... He laughed sadly, then seriousness came back to him. “But what I want to say is this: I hear you want money.... Well, I can lend you a loan.... I can’t get it to-day because—well, you see, it’s rather a ridiculous position—the fact is, I’m not quite aggressively sober—and my landlady has strict orders not to give me any money unless I am able to count a handful of small change without leaning for support on a physical basis.... Rather acute, I think—isn’t it?... But I’ll make a note of it for to-morrow. I’ll tie a knot on my handkerchief—hic——” (He fumbled for his handkerchief with drunken awkwardness.) “No!—you tie a knot on my handkerchief.”
He held it out, and she took it to humour the poor fellow.
“Andrew,” she said, “do go and rest awhile in Anthony’s room. There’s a comfortable armchair for you.”
“No,” he said peevishly, “I don’t want to rest. I’m always resting. Andrew Blotte is tired of Andrew Blotte....” His mood suddenly changed; a light came into his eyes: “Yes,” said he, “I will promise to rest—if you’ll promise to take my loan.”
Caroline shook her head.
Lovegood went over to him:
“Come, Blotte,” said he.
Andrew Blotte shook his head:
“No,” said he. “I mustn’t rest.... I’ve promised to take a poem before gaslight to the editor of that new literary review—forget his name, but his address is on one of my cuffs—somewhere....” He chuckled, as at some reminiscence: “He said he wanted a sonnet of two or three pages or so, but I told him it couldn’t be done—even Will Shakespeare couldn’t do it.... But he wasn’t to be put off.” He dug Lovegood in his tightly buttoned ribs: “He said I might choose my own subject!... But I told him—hic—he must mean a madr’gal.... We became quite friendly. For an illiterate person he was almost poetical. He confessed he had known love. Even editors have not always been bald. But—it is time to come and see the almonds bloom.”
He took Lovegood’s arm and made for the door. As they strode out together he turned and kissed his fingers to them all.