“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
