And Bowden's broad and rather Simian back was bent urgently over his spade.
To Sorrell those winter months were full of a steady encouragement. He had good food and a clean bed; he was not overworked; and Kit was happy with Mrs. Garland, and not too unhappy at the town school. Moreover, his job interested him; he was working for a man who was keen on detail and who appreciated thoroughness. Also, the human relationship seemed to matter more and more, and Thomas Roland and his second porter reached a pleasant and solid understanding. Roland talked to Sorrell more than he talked to any of the others, and always it seemed to Sorrell that their words went below the surface into the human realities beneath.
"After all," as Roland said, "a man must have a job, and it is the job that matters. Not so much what it is,—but how a man does it. That's how it strikes me."
He made Sorrell feel that he respected him and the work he did.
"An objective, sir."
"Of course. The nice people who want to flatten out all the social hills and bring us all down to a sort of boardschool playground! No good."
The work went on, the internal economy of the Pelican being so arranged that the casual few upon the road could be accommodated while the alterations were being carried out.
Roland was spending a great deal of money, and Sorrell appreciated the effect that was being produced. Those sumptuously pleasant rooms, the great chairs and richly coloured rugs, the clean paint and paper, those rows of pleasant bedrooms all so fresh and cosy, the sleekness of the garden, the beautiful cleanness of the freshly appointed kitchen, the bathrooms and pantries—white tiled and white enamelled, the linen, the table silver, the hundred and one nice details!
But was the Pelican going to pay? Had not Roland the musician and artist overwhelmed Roland the hotel keeper?
The problem worried Sorrell not a little. He had begun to identify himself so thoroughly with the Pelican and all that the Pelican stood for.
