“Outcastyourself，GrishChunder！Youeatcow-beefeveryday。
　　Let’sthinkthethingoverTheboyremembershisincarnations。”
　　“Doesheknowthat？”saidGrishChunder，quietly，swingingh’slegsashesatonmytableHewasspeakinginEnglishnow。
　　“HedoesnotknowanythingWouldIspeaktoyouifhedid？Goon！”
　　“ThereisnogoingonatallIfyoutellthattoyourfriendstheywillsayyouaremadandputitinthepapersSuppose，now，youprosecuteforlibel。”
　　“Let’sleavethatoutofthequestionentirelyIsthereanychanceofhisbeingmadetospeak？”
　　“ThereisachanceOsh，yess！Butifhespokeitwouldmeanthatallthisworldwouldendnow-instanto-falldownonyourhead。
　　Thesethingsarenotallowed，youknowAsIsaid，thedoorisshut。”
　　“Notaghostofachance？”
　　“Howcantherebe？YouareaChristi-an，anditisforbiddentoeat，inyourbooks，oftheTreeofLife，orelseyouwouldneverdie。
　　Howshallyouallfeardeathifyouallknowwhatyourfrienddoesnotknowthatheknows？Iamafraidtobekicked，butIamnotafraidtodie，becauseIknowwhatIknowYouarenotafraidtobekicked，butyouareafraidtodieIfyouwerenot，byGod！youEnglishwouldbeallovertheshopinanhour，upsettingthebalancesofpower，andmakingcommotionsItwouldnotbegoodButnofearHewillrememberalittleandalittleless，andhewillcallitdreamsThenhewillforgetaltogetherWhenI
　　passedmyFirstArtsExaminationinCalcuttathatwasallinthecram-bookonWordsworthTrailingcloudsofglory，youknow。”
　　“Thisseemstobeanexceptiontotherule。”
　　“TherearenoexceptionstorulesSomearenotsohard-lookingasothers，buttheyareallthesamewhenyoutouchIfthisfriendofyourssaidso-and-soandso-and-so，indicatingthatherememberedallhislostlives，oronepieceofalostlife，hewouldnotbeinthebankanotherhourHewouldbewhatyoucalledsackbecausehewasmad，andtheywouldsendhimtoanasylumforlunaticsYoucanseethat，myfriend。”
　　“OfcourseIcan，butIwasn’tthinkingofhimHisnameneedneverap~pearinthestory。”
　　“Ah！IseeThatstorywillneverbewrittenYoucantry。”
　　“Iamgoingto。”
　　“Foryourowncreditandforthesakeofmoney，ofcourse？”
　　“NoForthesakeofwritingthestoryOnmyhonorthatwillbeall。”
　　“EventhenthereisnochanceYoucannotplaywiththeGodsItisaveryprettystorynowAstheysay，Letitgoonthat-ImeanatthatBequick；hewillnotlastlong。”
　　“Howdoyoumean？”
　　“WhatIsayHehasnever，sofar，thoughtaboutawoman。”
　　“Hasn’thethough！”IrememberedsomeofCharlie’sconfidences。
　　“ImeannowomanhasthoughtabouthimWhenthatcomes；
　　bus-hogya-allup’IknowTherearemillionsofwomenhere。
　　Housemaids，forin-stance。”
　　Iwincedatthethoughtofmystorybeingruinedbyahousemaid。
　　Andyetnothingwasmoreprobable。
　　GrishChundergrinned。
　　“Yes-alsoprettygirls-cousinsofhishouse，andperhapsnotofhishouseOnekissthathegivesbackagainandrememberswillcureallthisnonsenseorelse“-
　　“Orelsewhat？Rememberhedoesnotknowthatheknows。”
　　“IknowthatOrelse，ifnothinghappenshewillbecomeimmersedinthetradeandthefinancialspeculationsliketherest。
　　ItmustbesoYoucanseethatitmustbesoButthewomanwillcomefirst，Ithink。”
　　Therewasarapatthedoor，andCharliechargedinimpetuously。
　　Hehadbeenreleasedfromoffice，andbythelookinhiseyesI
　　couldseethathehadcomeoverforalongtalk；mostprobablywithpoemsinhispocketsCharlie’spoemswereverywearying，butsometimestheyledhimtotalkaboutthegalley。
　　GrishChunderlookedathimkeenlyforaminute。
　　“Ibegyourpardon。”Charliesaid，uneasily；“Ididn’tknowyouhadanyonewithyou。”
　　“Iamgoing。”saidGrishChunder。
　　Hedrewmeintothelobbyashedeparted。
　　“Thatisyourman。”hesaid，quickly“ItellyouhewillneverspeakallyouwishThatisrot-boshButhewouldbemostgoodtomaketoseethingsSupposenowwepretendthatitwasonlyplay“-IhadneverseenGrishChundersoexcited-“andpourtheink-poolintohishandEh，whatdoyouthink？ItellyouthathecouldseeanythingthatamancouldseeLetmegettheinkandthecamphorHeisaseerandhewilltellusverymanythings。”
　　“Hemaybeallyousay，butI’mnotgoingtotrusthimtoyourGodsanddevils。”
　　“ItwillnothurthimHewillonlyfeelalittlestupidanddullwhenhewakesupYouhaveseenboyslookintotheink-poolbefore。”
　　“ThatisthereasonwhyIamnotgoingtoseeitanymoreYou’dbettergo，GrishChunder。”
　　Hewent，declaringfardownthestaircasethatitwasthrowingawaymyonlychanceoflookingintothefuture。
　　Thisleftmeunmoved，forIwasconcernedforthepast，andnopeeringofhypnotizedboysintomirrorsandink-poolswouldhelpmedothatButIrecognizedGrishChunder’spointofviewandsympathizedwithit。
　　’~Whatabigblackbrutethatwas！”saidCharlie，whenIreturnedtohim“Well，lookhere，I’vejustdoneapoem；dilitinsteadofplayingdominoesafterlunchMayIreadit？”
　　“Letmereadittomyself。”
　　“ThenyoumisstheproperexpressionBesides，youalwaysmakemythingssoundasiftherhymeswereallwrong。
　　“Readitaloud，thenYou’reliketherestof’em。”
　　Charliemouthedmehispoem，anditwasnotmuchworsethantheaverageofhisversesHehadbeenreadinghisbookfaithfully，buthewasnotpleasedwhenItoldhimthatIpreferredmyLongfellowundilutedwithCharlie。
　　ThenwebegantogothroughtheMSlinebyline；Charlieparryingeveryobjectionandcorrectionwith：
　　“Yes，thatmaybebetter，butyoudon’tcatchwhatI’mdrivingat。”
　　Charliewas，inonewayatleast，verylikeonekindofpoet。
　　Therewasapencilscrawlatthebackofthepaperand“What’sthat？”Isaid。
　　“Ohthat’snotpoetry’tallIt’ssomerotIwrotelastnightbeforeI
　　wenttobedanditwastoomuchbothertohuntforrhymes；soI
　　madeitasortofablankverseinstead。”
　　HereisCharlie’s“blankverse“：
　　“Wepulledforyouwhenthewindwasagainstusandthesailswerelow。
　　Willyouneverletusgo？
　　Weatebreadandonionswhenyoutooktownsorranaboardquicklywhenyouwerebeatenbackbythefoe，Thecaptainswalkedupanddownthedeckinfairweathersingingsongs，butwewerebelow，Wefaintedwithourchinsontheoarsandyoudidnotseethatwewereidleforwestillswungtoandfro。
　　Willyouneverletusgo？
　　Thesaltmadetheoarhandleslikesharkskin；ourkneeswerecuttothebonewithsaltcracks；ourhairwasstucktoourforeheads；andourlipswerecuttoourgumsandyouwhippedusbecausewecouldnotrow。
　　Willyouneverletusgo？
　　Butinalittletimeweshallrunoutoftheportholesasthewaterrunsalongthroarblade，andthoughyoutelltheotherstorowafterusyouwillnevercatchustillyoucatchtheoar-threshandtieupthewindsinthebellyofthesailAho！
　　Willyouneverletusgo？”
　　“H’mWhat’soar-thresh，Charlie？”
　　“ThewaterwashedupbytheoarsThat’sthesortofsongtheymightsinginthegalley，y’knowAren’tyouevergoingtofinishthatstoryandgivemesomeoftheprofits？”
　　“ItdependsonyourselfIfyouhadonlytoldmemoreaboutyourherointhefirstinstanceitmighthavebeenfinishedbynow。
　　You’resohazyinyournotions。”
　　“Ionlywanttogiveyouthegeneralnotionofit-theknockingaboutfromplacetoplaceandthefightingandall“THEFINESTSTORYINTHEWORLD“183
　　~hatCan’tyoufillintherestyour-self？Maketheherosaveagirlonapirate-galleyandmarryherordosomething。”
　　’You’reareallyhelpfulcollaboratorIsupposetheherowentthroughsomefewadventuresbeforehemarried。”
　　“Wellthen，makehimaveryartfulcard-alowsortofman-asortofpoliticalmanwhowentaboutmakingtreatiesandbreakingthem-ablack-hairedchapwhohidbehindthemastwhenthefightingbegan。”
　　“Butyousaidtheotherdaythathewasred-haired。”
　　“Icouldn’thaveMakehimblack-hairedofcourseYou’venoimagination。”
　　SeeingthatIhadjustdiscoveredtheentireprinciplesuponwhichthehalf-memoryfalselycalledimaginationisbased，Ifeltentitledtolaugh，butforbore，forthesakeofthetale。
　　“You’rerightYou’rethemanwithimaginationAblack-hairedchapinadeckedship。”Isaid。
　　“No，anopenship-likeabigboat。”
　　Thiswasmaddening。
　　“Yourshiphasbeenbuiltanddesigned，closedanddeckedin；yousaidsoyourself。”Iprotested。
　　“No，no，notthatshipThatwasopen，orhalfdeckedbecauseByJoveyou’rerightYoumademethinkoftheheroasared-hairedchapOfcourseifhewerered，theshipwouldbeanopenonewithpaintedsails。”
　　Surely，Ithoughthewouldremembernowthathehadservedintwogalleysatleast-inathree-deckedGreekoneundertheblack-haired“politicalman。”andagaininaViking’sopensea-serpentundertheman“redasaredbear“whowenttoMarklandThedevilpromptedmetospeak。
　　“Why，’ofcourse，’Charlie？”saidI“Idon’tknowAreyoumakingfunofme？”
　　ThecurrentwasbrokenforthetimebeingItookupanotebookandpretendedtomakemanyentriesinit。
　　“It’sapleasuretoworkwithanimaginativechaplikeyourself。”I
　　saidafterapause“Thewaythatyou’vebroughtoutthecharacteroftheheroissimplywonderful。”
　　“Doyouthinkso？”heanswered，withapleasedflush“Ioftentellmyselfthatthere’smoreinmethanmym~thanpeoplethink。”
　　“There’sanenormousamountinyou。”
　　“Then，won’tyouletmesendanessayonTheWaysofBankClerkstoTit-Bits，andgettheguineaprize？”
　　“Thatwasn’texactlywhatImeant，oldfellow：perhapsitwouldbebettertowaitalittleandgoaheadwiththegalley-story。”
　　“Ah，butIsha’n’tgetthecreditofthatTit-BitswouldpublishmynameandaddressifIwinWhatareyougrinningat？Theywou’d。”
　　“IknowitSupposeyougoforawalkIwanttolookthroughmynotesaboutourstory。”
　　Nowthisreprehensibleyouthwholeftme，alittlehurtandputback，mightforaughtheorIknewhavebeenoneofthecrewoftheArgo-hadbeencertainlyslaveorcomradetoThorfinKarlsefneThereforehewasdeeplyinterestedinguineacompetitionsRememberingwhatGrishChunderhadsaidI
　　laughedaloudTheLordsofLifeandDeathwouldneverallowCharlieMearstospeakwithfullknowledgeofhispasts，andI
　　mustevenpieceoutwhathehadtoldmewithmyownpoorinventionswhileCharliewroteofthewaysofbank-clerks。
　　Igottogetherandplacedononefileallmynotes；andthenetresultwasnotcheeringIreadthemasecondtimeTherewasnothingthatmightnothavebeencompiledatsecond-handfromotherpeople’sbooks-except，perhaps，thestoryofthefightintheharborTheadventuresofaVikingbadbeenwrittenmanytimesbefore；thehistoryofaGreekgalley-slavewasnonewthing，andthoughIwroteboth，whocouldchallengeorconfirmtheaccuracyofmydetails？ImightaswelltellataleoftwothousandyearshenceTheLordsofLifeandDeathwereascunningasGrishChunderhadhintedTheywouldallownothingtoescapethatmighttroubleormakeeasythemindsofmenThoughIwasconvincedofthis，yetIcouldnotleavethetalealoneExaltationfollowedreaction，notonce，buttwentytimesinthenextfewweeksMymoodsvariedwiththeMarchsunlightandflyingcloudsBynightorinthebeautyofaspringmorningIperceivedthatIcouldwritethattaleandshiftcontinentstherebyInthewet，windyafternoons，Isawthatthetalemightindeedbewritten，butwouldbenothingmorethanafaked，false-varnished，sham-rustedpieceofWardourStreetworkattheendThenIblessedCharlieinmanyways-thoughitwasnofaultofhisHeseemedtobebusywithprizecompetitions，andIsawlessandlessofhimastheweekswentbyandtheearthcrackedandgrewripetospring，andthebudsswelledintheirsheathsHedidnotcaretoreadortalkofwhathehadread，andtherewasanewringofself-assertioninhisvoiceIhardlycaredtoremindhimofthegalleywhenwemet；