“Whenyoudoyou’llhavetobuymeanewpairofgloves。”shesaid，“anyhow。Thatfinger’spastmending。Look！youCabbage——you。”Andsheheldthesplitunderhisnose，andpulledafaceofcomicalfierceness。
　　Myunclesmiledatthesesalliesatthetime，butafterwards，whenIwentbackwithhimtothePharmacy——thelow-classbusinessgrewbriskerintheeveningandtheykeptopenlate——herevertedtoitinalowexpositorytone。“Youraunt’sabitimpatient，George。Shegetsatme。It’sonlynatural。Awomandoesn’tunderstandhowlongittakestobuildupaposition。No。Incertaindirectionsnow——Iam——quietly——buildingupaposition。
　　Nowhere。Igetthisroom。Ihavemythreeassistants。Zzzz。
　　It’sapositionthat，judgedbythecriterionofimeedjitincome，isn’tperhapssogoodasIdeserve，butstrategically——yes。It’swhatIwant。Imakemyplans。Irallymyattack。”
　　“Whatplans。”Isaid，“areyoumaking？”
　　“Well，George，there’sonethingyoucanrelyupon，I’mdoingnothinginahurry。Iturnoverthisoneandthat，andIdon’ttalk——indiscreetly。There’s——No！Idon’tthinkIcantellyouthat。Andyet，whyNOT？”
　　Hegotupandclosedthedoorintotheshop。“I’vetoldnoone。”
　　heremarked，ashesatdownagain。“Ioweyousomething。”
　　Hisfaceflushedslightly，heleantforwardoverthelittletabletowardsme。
　　“Listen！”hesaid。
　　Ilistened。
　　“Tono-Bungay。”saidmyuncleveryslowlyanddistinctly。
　　Ithoughthewasaskingmetohearsomeremote，strangenoise。
　　“Idon’thearanything。”Isaidreluctantlytohisexpectantface。Hesmiledundefeated。“Tryagain。”hesaid，andrepeated，“Tono-Bungay。”
　　“Oh，THAT！”Isaid。
　　“Eh？”saidhe。
　　“Butwhatisit？”
　　“Ah！”saidmyuncle，rejoicingandexpanding。“WhatISit？
　　That’swhatyougottoask？Whatwon’titbe？”Hedugmeviolentlyinwhathesupposedtobemyribs。“George。”hecried——“George，watchthisplace！There’smoretofollow。”
　　AndthatwasallIcouldgetfromhim。
　　That，Ibelieve，wastheveryfirsttimethatthewordsTono-Bungayeverheardonearth——unlessmyuncleindulgedinmonologuesinhischamber——ahighlyprobablething。Itsutterancecertainlydidnotseemtomeatthetimetomarkanysortofepoch，andhadIbeentoldthiswordwastheOpenSesametowhateverprideandpleasurethegrimyfrontofLondonhidfromusthatevening，Ishouldhavelaughedaloud。
　　“Comingnowtobusiness。”Isaidafterapause，andwithachillsenseofeffort；andIopenedthequestionofhistrust。
　　Myunclesighed，andleantbackinhischair。“IwishIcouldmakeallthisbusinessascleartoyouasitistome。”hesaid。
　　“However——Goon！Saywhatyouhavetosay。”
　　AfterIleftmyunclethateveningIgavewaytoafeelingofprofounddepression。Myuncleandauntseemedtometobeleading——Ihavealreadyusedthewordtoooften，butImustuseitagain——DINGYlives。Theyseemedtobeadriftinalimitlesscrowdofdingypeople，wearingshabbyclothes，livinguncomfortablyinshabbysecond-handhouses，goingtoandfroonpavementsthathadalwaysathinveneerofgreasy，slipperymud，undergreyskiesthatshowednogleamofhopeofanythingforthembutdinginessuntiltheydied。Itseemedabsolutelycleartomethatmymother’slittlesavingshadbeenswallowedupandthatmyownprospectwasalltoocertainlytodropintoandbeswallowedupmyselfsoonerorlaterbythisdingyLondonocean。
　　TheLondonthatwastobeanadventurousescapefromtheslumberofWimblehurst，hadvanishedfrommydreams。IsawmyunclepointingtothehousesinParkLaneandshowingafrayedshirt-cuffashedidso。Iheardmyaunt：“I’mtorideinmycarriagethen。Soheoldsays。”
　　Myfeelingstowardsmyunclewereextraordinarilymixed。IwasintenselysorrynotonlyformyauntSusanbutforhim——foritseemedindisputablethatastheywerelivingthensotheymustgoon——andatthesametimeIwasangrywiththegarrulousvanityandillnessthathadelippedallmychanceofindependentstudy，andimprisonedherinthosegreyapartments。WhenIgotbacktoWimblehurstIallowedmyselftowritehimaboyishlysarcasticandsincerelybitterletter。Heneverreplied。Then，believingittobetheonlywayofescapeforme，IsetmyselffarmoregrimlyandresolutelytomystudiesthanIhadeverdonebefore。
　　AfteratimeIwrotetohiminmoremoderateterms，andheansweredmeevasively。AndthenItriedtodismisshimfrommymindandwentonworking。
　　Yes，thatfirstraiduponLondonunderthemoistandchillydepressionofJanuaryhadanimmenseeffectuponme。Itwasformeanepoch-makingdisappointment。IhadthoughtofLondonasalarge，free，welcoming，adventurousplace，andIsawitslovenlyandharshandirresponsive。
　　Ididnotrealiseatallwhathumanthingsmightbefoundbehindthosegreyfrontages，whatweaknessthatwholeforbiddingfacademightpresentlyconfess。Itistheconstanterrorofyouthtoover-estimatetheWillinthings。Ididnotseethatthedirt，thediscouragement，thediscomfortofLondoncouldbeduesimplytothefactthatLondonwasawitlessoldgiantessofatown，tooslackandstupidtokeepherselfcleanandmaintainabravefacetotheword。No！Isufferedfromthesortofillusionthatburntwitchesintheseventeenthcentury。Ienduedhergrubbydisorderwithasinisterandmagnificentqualityofintention。
　　Andmyuncle’sgesturesandpromisesfilledmewithdoubtandasortoffearforhim。Heseemedtomealostlittlecreature，toosillytobesilent，inavastimplacablecondemnation。IwasfullofpityandasortoftendernessformyauntSusan，whowasdoomedtofollowhiserraticfortunesmockedbyhisgrandiloquentpromises。
　　Iwastolearnbetter。ButIworkedwiththeterrorofthegrimundersideofLondoninmysoulduringallmylastyearatWimblehurst。
　　
　　IcametoliveinLondon，asIshalltellyou，whenIwasnearlytwenty-two。Wimblehurstdwindlesinperspective，isnowinthisbookalittleplacefaroff，BladesovernomorethanasmallpinkishspeckoffrontageamongthedistantKentishhills；thescenebroadensout，becomesmultitudinousandlimitless，fullofthesenseofvastirrelevantmovement。IdonotremembermysecondcomingtoLondonasIdomyfirst，formyearlyimpressions，savethatanOctobermemoryofsoftenedambersunshinestandsout，ambersunshinefallingongreyhousefrontsIknownotwhere。That，andasenseofalargetranquillity。
　　Icouldfillabook，Ithink，withamoreorlessimaginaryaccountofhowIcametoapprehendLondon，howfirstinoneaspectandtheninanotheritgrewinmymind。Eachdaymyaccumulatingimpressionswereaddedtoandqualifiedandbroughtintorelationshipwithnewones；theyfusedinseparablywithothersthatwerepurelypersonalandaccidental。IfindmyselfwithacertaincomprehensiveperceptionofLondon，completeindeed，incurablyindistinctinplacesandyetinsomewayawholethatbeganwithmyfirstvisitandisstillbeingmellowedandenriched。
　　London！
　　Atfirst，nodoubt，itwasachaosofstreetsandpeopleandbuildingsandreasonlessgoingtoandfro。IdonotrememberthatIeverstruggledverysteadilytounderstandit，orexploreditwithanybutapersonalandadventurousintention。YetintimetherehasgrownupinmeakindoftheoryofLondon；IdothinkIseelinesofanorderedstructureoutofwhichithasgrown，detectedaprocessthatissomethingmorethanaconfusionofcasualaccidentsthoughindeeditmaybenomorethanaprocessofdisease。
　　IsaidattheoutsetofmyfirstbookthatIfindinBladesoverthecluetoallEngland。Well，IcertainlyimagineitisthecluetothestructureofLondon。TherehavebeennorevolutionsnodeliberaterestatementsorabandonmentsofopinioninEnglandsincethedaysofthefinegentry，since1688orthereabouts，thedayswhenBladesoverwasbuilt；therehavebeenchanges，dissolvingforestreplacingforest，ifyouwill；butthenitwasthatthebroadlinesoftheEnglishsystemsetfirmly。AndasI