Chapter 36 Chapter Thirty-Six

A few days later Philip went to London.The curate advised him to live at Barnes, and Philip wrote there and took a flat at fourteen shillings a week.It was evening when he got there.The landlady was a strange old woman, short and wizened, with deep and dense wrinkles on her face.She prepared a light meal for Philip.The sideboard and a square table occupy most of the living room, a sofa covered with horsehair is placed against the wall, and an armchair with a white cover on the back and a spring seat is placed next to the fireplace. Broken, so put a hard pad on it. After the light meal Philip unpacked and put away his books, then sat down to read, but could not bring himself to do so.The quiet street made him a little uneasy, he felt strangely deserted.

The next morning he got up early, put on his tuxedo and top hat.It was the same hat he had worn when he was studying at school, and he was so distraught that he decided to go to a department store on the way to the office to buy a new one.After buying the hat, he realized that it was still early, so he walked along the river.The offices of Mr. Herbert Carter & Co. were in a side street off Court Street, and Philip was obliged to ask passers-by for directions.He found that passers-by were always looking at him, and once he took off his hat to see if he had left the label on it by mistake.When he arrived at the office, he raised his hand and knocked on the door, but no one answered.He looked at his watch and found that it was only half past nine, thinking that he had come too early.He turned and walked away, came back ten minutes later, and this time a young boy came out to answer the door.The laborer had a long nose, was full of acne, and spoke with a Scottish accent.Philip asked about Mr. Herbert Carter.He hasn't come to work yet.

"When is he coming here?" "Between ten and ten-thirty." "Shall I wait here?" said Philip. "What do you want?" asked the handyman. Philip was a little embarrassed, and he tried to hide his inner panic with a teasing tone. "Well, if you have no objection, I will work at your firm." "Oh, you're a new trainee? Please come in. Mr. Goodworthy will be here in a moment." Philip entered the office, noticing as he went that the orderly - he was about Philip's age, and claimed to be a junior clerk - was looking at his feet; Hidden foot behind the other foot.He raised his eyes and looked around the office. The light in the room was dim and untidy, and it was only illuminated by the few rays of light that came in from the skylight in the roof.There are three rows of desks in the room, with high stools in front of them.On the mantelpiece stood a sordid engraving of a scene from a boxing match.At this time, the clerks came to work one after another.They glanced at Philip and quietly asked the servant (whom Philip knew was McDougal) what he was doing.At this time, a whistle sounded in the ear, and McDougall stood up.

"Mr. Goodworthy is here. He's in charge here. Shall I go and tell him you're here?" "Well, please excuse me," said Philip. Qin Gong went out, and turned back in after a while. "Come this way, please?" Philip followed him down the passage into another small room, which was empty and unfurnished.With his back to the fireplace, stood a thin and small man, much shorter than the average height, but with a big head, hanging loosely on his body, his appearance was surprisingly ugly.His facial features are open and flat, a pair of gray eyes are bulging out, his sparse yellow hair is reddish, his face is unshaven, and where there should be beards and hairs, there is no hair.His skin was pale and yellowish.He held out his hand to Philip, and at the same time grinned, showing a mouthful of decayed teeth.When he spoke, there was a bit of timidity in his condescending demeanor, as if he knew that he was an insignificant character, but he wanted to put on an extraordinary posture.He said he hoped Philip would love it, and that there was a lot of tedium in it, of course, but it was interesting once you got used to it.After all, it's a business that makes money, and that's the main thing, isn't it?With that weird look of arrogance and timidity mixed together, he laughed.

"Mr. Carter will be here soon," he said. "He's sometimes a little late on Monday mornings. I'll call you when he comes. I've got to do something for you right now. Have you learned anything about book-keeping or accounting?" "No," replied Philip. "I don't think you have learned it. The lessons that are very useful in business are never taught to students in school." He pondered for a moment. "I think I can find you something to do." He went into the next room and came out after a while, holding in his hand a large cardboard box filled with a large mess of letters.He told Philip to sort the letters first, and then put them in alphabetical order of the writers' surnames.

"Let me show you to the room where the trainees work. There's a nice fellow there called Watson, the son of Watson, the owner of Watson Craig Thompson's - brewers, you know. He's a professional. He's going to be an apprentice with us for a year." Mr. Goodworthy led Philip through the dingy office--six to eight clerks were now employed there--and asked after entering the narrow space which was separated from the great room by a glass panel. from.They saw Watson leaning back in his chair and reading The Sportsman.He was a well-built, heavyset young man, well dressed.He looked up as Mr Goodworthy entered the room.He called the supervisor by his first name to show that his status was different.The supervisor didn't think much of his pretentious intimacy, and called him Mr. Watson unequivocally, but Watson didn't think it was an accusation, but regarded this address as a compliment to his own gentlemanly style. a compliment.

"I think they have taken Rigoletto down," he said to Philip when they were alone. "Really?" replied Philip, who knew nothing about Marseilles. Looking at Watson's gorgeous clothes, he couldn't help but be in awe.His tail-coat was well fitted, and in the center of his large cravat was artfully fastened a precious brooch.On the mantel-piece lay his top hat, thin and fat, fashionable and shiny.Philip could not help feeling ashamed.Watson began to talk of hunting--what a fool to waste his time in such a ghostly place, and he could only hunt once on a Saturday--and then changed the subject to shooting, and invited letters from all over the country. Snowflakes from all over the world were flying towards him, how exciting, but of course he had no choice but to politely decline Luo one by one.He's so useless, but fortunately, he won't suffer for too long. He only intends to spend a year in this hellish place, and then enter the business world.At that time, he can shoot four days a week and participate in shooting competitions everywhere.

"You're going to stay here for five years, aren't you?" he said, waving one arm around the small room. "I suppose so," said Philip. "We will meet again in the future. As you know, Tokat is in charge of our company's accounting." Philip could be said to have been overwhelmed by the condescension of the young gentleman.In Blackstable the brewing business was treated with a certain contempt, if not sarcasm, and the clergyman often made jokes about the brewing business.But now Philip found that the Watson in front of him was such an important and imposing character, which was quite unexpected.He had been educated at Winchester and Oxford, and it was impossible not to be impressed by his repeated references in the course of conversation.When he learned about the twists and turns of Philip's education, he put on an attitude of having been in the sea.

"Of course, if a person has never been to a public school, he would think that kind of school is one of the best schools in the world, wouldn't he?" Philip asked about the others in the office. "Oh, I don't bother with them," said Watson. "Carter's not a bad old chap. We have him over for dinner every now and then. The rest of us are just a bunch of shit." After all, he immersed himself in the business at hand, and Philip also started to sort out the letters.Presently Mr. Goodworthy came in to say that Mr. Carter had arrived.He showed Philip into a large room next to his own office.There was a big desk, two big armchairs, a Turkish rug on the floor, and lots of sports pictures on the walls.Mr. Carter, sitting at his desk, rose to shake Philip's hand when he saw them come in.He looked like a soldier in a frock coat, with a waxed beard and short, neat gray hair.He lived in Enfield, was a sports fan, and pursued the taste of country life.He was an officer in the Hertfordshire Yeomanry and President of the Conservative Society.A local tycoon said that no one would treat him as a Londoner, and when he heard about it, he felt that he had spent most of his life in vain.He chatted casually with Philip, in an amiable manner.Mr. Goodworthy will not do him wrong.Watson was a nice fellow, a real gentleman, and a good hunter—did Philip hunt?What a pity, it's a gentleman's pastime.Now he rarely has the opportunity to go hunting, it must be left to his son to enjoy it.His son had gone to Cambridge, and had gone to Rugby--the excellent Rugby school, which turned out excellent pupils.In a year or two his son would be here as a trainee, and then Philip would have company, and Philip would like his son, for he was a very good hunter.He hoped that Philip would continue to improve and fall in love with the work here.He was going to give business lessons to the apprentices, and Philip must not miss it. Their profession was booming, and they had to look for and recruit insightful people.Well, well, Mr. Goodworthy is there, and if Philip wants to know anything else, Mr. Goodworthy will tell him.How is his calligraphy?Ah, well, Mr. Goodworthy will arrange.

Philip could not but be overwhelmed by this free and elegant gentlemanly demeanor: in East Anglia, people know who is a gentleman and who is not, but the gentleman has always been tacit about this.