The nature of that promising idea Munden never learnt.  His next letter from Shergold came in about ten days; it informed him very briefly that the writer was ‘about to be married,’ and that in less than a week he would have started with his wife on a voyage round the world.  Harvey did not reply; indeed, the letter contained no address.

One day in November he was accosted at the club by his familiar bore.

‘So your friend Shergold is dead?’

‘Dead?  I know nothing of it.’

’Really?  They talked of it last night at Lady Teasdale’s.  He died a few days ago, at Calcutta.  Dysentery, or something of that kind.  His wife cabled to some one or other.’

THE SALT OF THE EARTH

Strong and silent the tide of Thames flowed upward, and over it swept the morning tide of humanity.  Through white autumnal mist yellow sunbeams flitted from shore to shore.  The dome, the spires, the river frontages slowly unveiled and brightened:  there was hope of a fair day.

Not that it much concerned this throng of men and women hastening to their labour.  From near and far, by the league-long highways of South London, hither they converged each morning, and joined the procession across the bridge; their task was the same to-day as yesterday, regardless of gleam or gloom.  Many had walked such a distance that they plodded wearily, looking neither to right nor left.  The more vigorous strode briskly on, elbowing their way, or nimbly skipping into the road to gain advance; yet these also had a fixed gaze, preoccupied or vacant, seldom cheerful.  Here and there a couple of friends conversed; girls, with bag or parcel and a book for the dinner hour, chattered and laughed; but for the most part lips were mute amid the clang and roar of heavy-laden wheels.

It was the march of those who combat hunger with delicate hands:  at the pen’s point, or from behind the breastwork of a counter, or trusting to bare wits pressed daily on the grindstone.  Their chief advantage over the sinewy class beneath them lay in the privilege of spending more than they could afford on house and clothing; with rare exceptions they had no hope, no chance, of reaching independence; enough if they upheld the threadbare standard of respectability, and bequeathed it to their children as a solitary heirloom.  The oldest looked the poorest, and naturally so; amid the tramp of multiplying feet, their steps had begun to lag when speed was more than ever necessary; they saw newcomers outstrip them, and trudged under an increasing load.