Jack London

Martin Eden Jack London

The one opened the door with a latch-key and went in, followed by a young fellow whoawkwardly removed his cap. He wore rough clothes that smacked of the sea, and he wasmanifestly out of place in the spacious hall in which he found himself. He did not knowwhat to do with his cap, and was stuffing it into his coat pocket when the other took it fromhim. The act was done quietly and naturally, and the awkward young fellow appreciatedit. "He understands," was his thought. "He'll see me through all right."He walked at the other's heels with a swing to his shoulders, and his legs spreadunwittingly, as if the level floors were tilting up and sinking down to the heave and lunge ofthe sea. The wide rooms seemed too narrow for his rolling gait, and to himself he was interror lest his broad shoulders should collide with the doorways or sweep the bric-a-bracfrom the low mantel. He recoiled from side to side between the various objects andmultiplied the hazards that in reality lodged only in his mind. Between a grand piano and acentre-table piled high with books was space for a half a dozen to walk abreast, yet heessayed it with trepidation. His heavy arms hung loosely at his sides. He did not knowwhat to do with those arms and hands, and when, to his excited vision, one arm seemedliable to brush against the books on the table, he lurched away like a frightened horse, barely missing the piano stool. He watched the easy walk of the other in front of him, andfor the first time realized that his walk was different from that of other men. Heexperienced a momentary pang of shame that he should walk so uncouthly. The sweatburst through the skin of his forehead in tiny beads, and he paused and mopped hisbronzed face with his handkerchief."Hold on, Arthur, my boy," he said, attempting to mask his anxiety with facetiousutterance. "This is too much all at once for yours truly. Give me a chance to get mynerve. You know I didn't want to come, an' I guess your fam'ly ain't hankerin' to see meneither.""That's all right," was the reassuring answer. "You mustn't be frightened at us. We're justhomely people-Hello, there's a letter for me."He stepped back to the table, tore open the envelope, and began to read, giving the strangeran opportunity to recover himself. And the stranger understood and appreciated. His wasthe gift of sympathy, understanding; and beneath his alarmed exterior that sympatheticprocess went on. He mopped his forehead dry and glanced about him with a controlledface, though in the eyes there was an expression such as wild animals betray when theyfear the trap