As for Rickman, he had no feeling that he could have put into words, beyond owning in his heart that he was hurt.  He had never before had any occasion for such a confession; he felt it to be humiliating both to Jewdwine and himself.  Sometimes, in moments of depression he had suspected that it was Jewdwine’s coldness that preserved his incorruptibility; but he had so sincere a desire for purity in their relations, that he had submitted without resentment to the freezing process that ensured it.  He had in reserve his expectation of the day when, by some superlative achievement, he would take that soul, hitherto invincible, by storm.  But now, in his inmost heart he owned that he was hurt.

Jewdwine changed the subject.

CHAPTER LII

When Jewdwine changed the subject, it was to intimate that his friend might now expect a salary rising steadily with the fortunes of Metropolis.

That promise to marry Flossie in the autumn had made Rickman very uneasy on this head.  The sources of his income had been hitherto uncertain; for The Planet might at any moment cease to be, and only indomitable hope could say that The Museion would be long for this world.

The amount of his income, too, depended on conditions which were, to some extent, beyond his own control.  It had never sunk below a hundred and fifty, and had never risen above three hundred, even in the years when he wrote more articles than poems.  Whereas, if he wrote more poems than articles, two hundred was the highest figure it had yet attained.  And supposing the poems came and the articles didn’t?  For in these things he was in the hands of the god.  Therefore he had long been a prey to devastating anxiety.  But he hoped great things from the transformation of The Museion.  It certainly promised him a larger and more certain revenue in the future, almost justifying his marriage in the autumn.  It had been expressly understood that his promise to Flossie was to be fulfilled only if possible.  But meanwhile he had got to make it possible, for Flossie (in spite of her promise) kept the terror of her wine-merchant perpetually dangling above his head.  He had visited Messrs. Vassell & Hawkins’ detestable establishment; and it made him shudder to think of his pretty Beaver shut up in a little mahogany cage, with her bright eyes peeping sad and shy through the brass netting, and her dear little nostrils sniffing the villainous alcoholic air.

But as the time approached and their marriage grew every day more certain and more near, the joy and excitement of the bridegroom were mingled with an inexplicable terror and misgiving.  He had been disagreeably impressed by the manner of Flossie’s insistence on his poverty.  He had not missed the fine contempt conveyed by all her references to his profession, which she not unjustly regarded as the cause of the poverty.  He was well aware that