Kathleen

MP3 Audio CD. KATHLEEN




I


The Scorpions were to meet at eight o'clock and before that hour Kenneth
Forbes had to finish the first chapter of a serial story. The literary
society, named in accordance with the grotesque whim of Oxford
undergraduates, consisted of eight members, and it was proposed that
each one should contribute a chapter. Forbes was of a fertile wit, and
he had been nominated the first operator. He had been allowed the whole
Christmas vacation to prepare his opening chapter; which was why on this
first Sunday of term while the rest of Merton College was at dinner in
hall, he sat at his desk desperately driving his pen across the paper.

Forbes's room in Fellows' Quad was one of those that had housed Queen
Henrietta Maria in 1643, and though Forbes's own tastes were nondescript
the chamber still had something of an air. The dark wood panelling might
well have done honour to a royal lodger, and a motion-picture producer
would have coveted it as a background for Mary Pickford. It was
unspoiled by pictures: two or three political maps of Europe, sketchily
drawn with coloured crayons, were pinned up here and there. The room was
a typical Oxford apartment: dark, a little faded, but redeemed by the
grate of glowing coals. Behind the chimney two recessed seats looked out
over the college gardens; long red curtains were drawn to shut out the
winter draughts. It was the true English January--driving squalls of
rain, dampness, and devastating chill. The east wind brought the booming
toll from Magdalen tower very distinctly to the ear, closely followed by
the tinny chime in Fellows' Quad. It was half past seven.