Chapter 13 Part IV, verses 55-56

Alan Montagu appeared in front of the huge black door of 49 Berkeley Square with a new look. His hair had been under that thick, foul-smelling crude oil shampoo for almost three weeks, and it never came back.He reluctantly had his hair cut to within an eighth of an inch of his scalp in Abadan, and every now and then he would run to the mirror in the vain hope that it would grow back quickly so that he wouldn't make a fool of himself when he got back.His beard and beard were of course shaved, and, while he had wished for the beard to grow back, he found that he preferred himself clean-shaven.Also, he showers three times a day until his skin finally loses that black layer.He trimmed his nails with a knife until they looked almost white and clean.He also used borrowed money—everything is borrowed these days—to buy a suit of clothes, and now only hopes that European fashion hasn’t left him far behind.

His efforts met with modest success.Now he's clean enough.His hair is short, but the military cut makes him look younger and more attractive.His clothes were new and fitted, though never up to Savile Row parade standards.He picked up the huge brass knocker and knocked it down. He had never been so nervous in his life. The door opened.Behind the door stood a butler, tall and solemn as a column of marble. "gentlemen?" "I'm... my name is Ellen Montagu... I'm looking for—" Allen's nervousness spread to his mouth.In fact he found it difficult to find the right words, let alone get the words out.He felt that he must be swaying like a leaf in the wind, although in fact he did not move at all.

"Ellen Montagu came to see Miss Dunlop. Yes, sir. If you will follow—" The butler turned around and led Allen through the long, cold hallway to the living room, when suddenly there was a little confusion.Running feet, women's shoes tapping the ground in a fast pace, skirts galloping.Allen turned to the stairs leading upstairs.It's Lottie.He barely had time to see her face before she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips pressed against his. "Oh, Ellen, dear, dear, dearest Ellen, my love," she said after the need for oxygen forced them apart, "my dearest, my best, bravest, most beloved oil merchants."

"Lottie, my dear, my God, what do you..." ＊＊ Slowly and sweetly, they reintroduce themselves as they sit in that dreary old-fashioned living room. Allen talked about Persia, the months of exploration, the sale of the land rights, the return to Persia, the first oil well that dried up, and the slight pain of the second well.He didn't say a word about his cholera and later malaria. "My dear, you are brave. How's the weather over there? Isn't it terrible?" "No, not at all. In winter it's cold, in summer it's a bit too warm, but not uncomfortable. In spring it's very comfortable."

"Oh, dear, I can't believe a word of what you're saying now. Papa was best friends with old Charlie Greenaway, and he says it's a dreadful climate over there." "Well, sometimes it's hard." "pig." For the first ten minutes, Lottie is like a rare bird in the jungle: wonderful, but also very strange.Her beauty is very dazzling.Her hair was the color of a Persian sunset: crimson and gold, like a sunset seen through a cloud of dust.She wore a simple green blouse, but the skirt was shorter than any decent girl Ellen had ever seen, just above her calf.But it didn't take long for the shock of novelty she brought to wear off.When she laughed, her nose wrinkled just as he remembered it.There is a small white scar on her right eyebrow.She was exactly as he remembered her: completely different and yet exactly the same.

They discussed all the most important topics in turn.Ellen's hair ("It's horrible, honey. You look like a sergeant"); Shaved beard ("Don't even think about growing it back. It feels like kissing a hairbrush"); His clothes ("The trousers are ridiculous, dear. Your legs look like two thin pencils. We'll go get you some flannel trousers tomorrow morning").Then, of course, comes Lottie's life. "Parties, honey, lots of parties. Mum and Dad are getting more and more dissatisfied with me being a nurse. You know, I like this job, but in their opinion, if I'm buried in bandages all day, I won't even get married. I can't get married. Of course, I'm not intimidated by them, but some of my best soldier friends either died or went home, and that's when I realized I wasn't needed there anymore. So I went home. Dad kept throwing me at parties, hoping I'd marry one of the boring urbanites around him. I couldn't tell him I wouldn't even want to marry a banker, Because what I really want to marry is a burly oilman."

Allen swallowed, "Lottie, honey, can I ask you a question?" "What a stupid thing to say. Besides, you've already asked a question." "The night we met each other. In Piccadilly. You were with your friends. We said hello and you invited me to have a drink with you." "yes?" Alan swallowed again, then licked his lips, "Listen, I think about that meeting every night in Persia...I can't see that you still have love for me...you seem so far away, so Easy...it's like—” "You're an idiot. What am I supposed to do? I didn't know you'd dig oil, did I? I had a quick thought and decided the best thing to do was to pretend I'd forgotten about you. I figured you'd be the best Possibly forget about me. And I personally think I acted pretty well. That's just pretending, not forgetting you."

Allen smiled and stroked her arm.Her hair, which hung over her arms, was also auburn.It would take a lifetime to fully understand her, and he hoped that he could have such a lifetime... "Oh dear, I forgot," she interrupted his thoughts, "Daddy's at home too, in his study. He can't wait to see you. Oil's all the rage, obviously. It's all the rage at the London Meat Market For a while. Oh, and I thought it might be a good time to tell him you desire to marry me." ＊＊ This meeting was completely different from the last one. "Montague, dear fellow! Excellent! This news is excellent! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, sir. May I take this as your consent?" "My consent? I don't think you need my consent." "Just last time, sir, you... weren't so enthusiastic." "I don't understand what you mean, oil is coming out of the ground whether I agree or not. Probably better agree, right?" "I see. Oil... yes, I'm actually discussing another subject that is much more important to me. Your daughter, sir, she and I have been in love for a long time, and—" "My God, man, of course, of course, you can't find a better husband, of course you have to marry her. The sooner the better." Egham Dunlop turned to the pile of papers on the desk.The world map still hangs on the wall behind him, though with slightly fewer pushpins than before.Dunlop was still going strong, but Allen noticed that he was a little older than when they last met.They're all old, even Lottie is...

"Actually," the banker interrupted Alan, "I'm working on some numbers. How many do you think you need?" "What, sir?" "How much? Is a million enough, or more?" Alan's face turned red, "I didn't think... I didn't plan to ask for a penny, sir. Although my funds may be a little short at the moment, I can be sure that the wealth I have recently acquired should be able to make you daughter lives in—” "No, no, no! God! You sure can make Lottie live like a princess, but she's hardly likely to spend a million, is she? How much does the company need, man, company? Oil stocks now Getting fired up. If you want to raise money, now is the time. Like I said, I don't think you can raise a million without much trouble. Two million might be hard, but I don't think it's impossible... "

＊＊ Allen immediately returned to Lottie and told her the good news.At this time, Allen was too happy to be happy.He didn't even know Lottie remembered him when he came into the room.He was in a state of ecstasy, like champagne in the air.But, while in the midst of the champagne, he still had a question to ask. "Lottie, honey, how do you know all this? I mean, I didn't tell anybody I got oil. I didn't tell anybody I was coming here. But you know about the oil , and everything looks so...well, as expected." Lottie threw back her head and laughed. "'He made the grass grow for the beasts to eat. He made the vegetables grow for the man.'" "what?" "Don't interrupt. I'm not done yet. He makes the grass and the plants come forth, so 'the oil smoothes the face.'" Psalm 104, verse 15.You don't know, what an atheist old goat. " "Hymn 104...Reynolds! Reynolds sent it to you...you and him...you two have been allies all along. I can't believe it!" "Well, I'm not going to let you stride into the Persian desert without knowing what happened to you there, will I? I asked Charlie Greenaway if he knew anyone who could keep an eye on you for me, and he Said one of his best guys just resigned and left with you. Actually, he was very angry about it. So I went to George. At first I thought he looked very menacing, but he turned out to be a cute guy. He Write to me every month and address to a friend of mine so you don't get suspicious. He tells me about you and you - dear, dear fellow - write me countless letters Letter that was never sent. Of course, if you dug oil, I wanted to know first, so there was that telegram. Personally I don't know why he didn't choose the number 114 of hymn Verses 7 and 8: 'You will shake, O earth, because you will see the face of the Lord, the face of the God of Jacob; he will turn the rock into a pool of water, and the solid rock into a fountain.' But neither of you Will know, Mr. Goat." "He didn't mention it, I guess...he didn't say a word..." "You got cholera? Yes, of course he said. And you got malaria. I told Charlie Greenaway that if his bloody doctors made you pass out from some horrible little mosquitoes, I'd Go shoot 'em all. The doctors, I mean. I don't think I can shoot those mosquitoes." "Oh, dear, dear! He shouldn't have told you." "No!" Lottie's tone suddenly changed.Her voice suddenly became powerful, even as hard as steel. "If we're going to get married, then we're going to be married well. That means I have to know everything, including the bad things. Especially the bad things." Her voice softened again, and she put a hand on his arm , "I don't get hit easily, you know." "Yes," added another love in Alan's heart, "you are an unusual woman. I am very lucky." He kisses her. On that ecstatic evening, there was one last important ceremony.Lottie pointed out to Ellen that, technically, he had completely forgotten to ask her if she would marry him, and, "Besides, I might say no. I hope you can talk it over with me, you know." Allen got down on one knee and took her hand. "Dear Lottie," he said, "will you make me the happiest man in the world...?" Lawyers did what lawyers could do. They argue, they justify, they delay things.Tom's lawyer told him he was sure to win.He babbled on about irregularities in mortgage paperwork, about expiry date laws, about widows being protected in this sunny state, about ipsis dipsis and locus fatuus.Tom's lawyer promises to win the case, only to lose it. Walter Farris signed contracts with "No Oil Well" Lazrael and others, and they all turned to work for him. "No Oil Well" and others sympathized with him.They liked Tom better than Tom and Farris, but they had to follow the money.They are sorry, but firm. Tom tries to salvage something.After all, he was the one who drilled the well.The rig and equipment were his, though he had bought them by promise and pleading.But he lost.He lost everything.It turned out that he had more debt than he owned, and he was going to be declared bankrupt, but none of his creditors were going after him because they knew he didn't have the money. On the last day of the last stupid trial, all Tom had left was the clothes he was wearing, a small white dog with a bacon spot, and two dollars and a half. He staggered into the sunlight and became a beggar. There are now more than 400 oil wells on Signal Mountain, and 400 oil producing wells.The United States has had oil development booms before, but nothing like Signal Mountain. Take the cemetery, for example.Everyone agrees that drilling a well under a cemetery is highly immoral: it's sacrilege and insult.It's blasphemy, but it's also un-American stupidity in terms of money, and it doesn't seem like there's much respect for the dead to be afloat in an extremely profitable oil sea.So those closest relatives got together and built oil wells around the sacred site, slanting their drill pipes into the ground below the cemetery.Tom saw a guy sell his Aunt Flo shares.He said it was his aunt lying in the ground, so that must be his oil, and anyone who wanted a share would have to buy his share of Flo.Everyone in the world seems to be making money from Signal Hill. Everyone except Tom. He sat down on the steps in front of the courthouse with tears in his eyes.He tried to figure out what to do next.He felt like he had lost all motivation.He has struggled through these chaotic and difficult years.war.prison.All the betrayals and poverty and hardships.And now he failed.Flat out.He felt as if he didn't have the strength to get up and start over. The little thing, the faithful soul in her little body, put her head gently but persistently between Tom's arms, and pressed her face to his, licking his mouth and eyes .Just then he heard a voice, a woman's voice, hoarse and with a Central European accent. "Tom?" said the voice. "Is that you?"