George Gissing

THE CROWN OF LIFE


CHAPTER I


Amid the throng of suburban arrivals volleyed forth from Waterloo
Station on a May morning in the year '86, moved a slim, dark,
absent-looking young man of one-and-twenty, whose name was Piers
Otway. In regard to costume--blameless silk hat, and dark morning
coat with lighter trousers--the City would not have disowned him,
but he had not the City countenance. The rush for omnibus seats left
him unconcerned; clear of the railway station, he walked at a
moderate pace, his eyes mostly on the ground; he crossed the
foot-bridge to Charing Cross, and steadily made his way into the
Haymarket, where his progress was arrested by a picture shop.

A window hung with engravings, mostly after pictures of the day;
some of them very large, and attractive to a passing glance. One or
two admirable landscapes offered solace to the street-wearied
imagination, but upon these Piers Otway did not fix his eye; it was
drawn irresistibly to the faces and forms of beautiful women set
forth with varied allurement. Some great lady of the passing time
lounged in exquisite array amid luxurious furniture lightly
suggested; the faint smile of her flattered loveliness hovered about
the gazer; the subtle perfume of her presence touched his nerves;
the greys of her complexion transmuted themselves through the
current of his blood into life's carnation; whilst he dreamed upon