Quotation from: The Secret Agent

Written by: Joseph Conrad


For he was difficult to dispose of, that boy. He was delicate and, in a
frail way, good-looking too, except for the vacant droop of his lower
lip. Under our excellent system of compulsory education he had learned
to read and write, notwithstanding the unfavourable aspect of the lower
lip. But as errand-boy he did not turn out a great success. He forgot
his messages; he was easily diverted from the straight path of duty by
the attractions of stray cats and dogs, which he followed down narrow
alleys into unsavoury courts; by the comedies of the streets, which he
contemplated open-mouthed, to the detriment of his employer's interests;
or by the dramas of fallen horses, whose pathos and violence induced him
sometimes to shriek pierceingly in a crowd, which disliked to be
disturbed by sounds of distress in its quiet enjoyment of the national
spectacle. When led away by a grave and protecting policeman, it would
often become apparent that poor Stevie had forgotten his address--at
least for a time. A brusque question caused him to stutter to the point
of suffocation. When startled by anything perplexing he used to squint
horribly. However, he never had any fits (which was encouraging); and
before the natural outbursts of impatience on the part of his father he
could always, in his childhood's days, run for protection behind the
short skirts of his sister Winnie. On the other hand, he might have been
suspected of hiding a fund of reckless naughtiness. When he had reached
the age of fourteen a friend of his late father, an agent for a foreign
preserved milk firm, having given him an opening as office-boy, he was
discovered one foggy afternoon, in his chief's absence, busy letting off
fireworks on the staircase. He touched off in quick succession a set of
fierce rockets, angry catherine wheels, loudly exploding squibs--and the
matter might have turned out very serious. An awful panic spread through
the whole building. Wild-eyed, choking clerks stampeded through the
passages full of smoke, silk hats and elderly business men could be seen
rolling independently down the stairs. Stevie did not seem to derive any
personal gratification from what he had done. His motives for this
stroke of originality were difficult to discover. It was only later on
that Winnie obtained from him a misty and confused confession. It seems
that two other office-boys in the building had worked upon his feelings
by tales of injustice and oppression till they had wrought his compassion
to the pitch of that frenzy. But his father's friend, of course,
dismissed him summarily as likely to ruin his business. After that
altruistic exploit Stevie was put to help wash the dishes in the basement
kitchen, and to black the boots of the gentlemen patronising the
Belgravian mansion. There was obviously no future in such work. The
gentlemen tipped him a shilling now and then. Mr Verloc showed himself
the most generous of lodgers. But altogether all that did not amount to
much either in the way of gain or prospects; so that when Winnie
announced her engagement to Mr Verloc her mother could not help
wondering, with a sigh and a glance towards the scullery, what would
become of poor Stephen now.

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