MARTIN EDEN

by Jack London

CHAPTER I

The one opened the door with a latch-key and went in, followed by a

young fellow who awkwardly removed his cap. He wore rough clothes

that smacked of the sea, and he was manifestly out of place in the

spacious hall in which he found himself. He did not know what to

do with his cap, and was stuffing it into his coat pocket when the

other took it from him. The act was done quietly and naturally,

and the awkward young fellow appreciated it. "He understands," was

his thought. "He'll see me through all right."

He walked at the other's heels with a swing to his shoulders, and

his legs spread unwittingly, as if the level floors were tilting up

and sinking down to the heave and lunge of the sea. The wide rooms

seemed too narrow for his rolling gait, and to himself he was in

terror lest his broad shoulders should collide with the doorways or

sweep the bric-a-brac from the low mantel. He recoiled from side

to side between the various objects and multiplied the hazards that

in reality lodged only in his mind. Between a grand piano and a

centre-table piled high with books was space for a half a dozen to

walk abreast, yet he essayed it with trepidation. His heavy arms

hung loosely at his sides. He did not know what to do with those

arms and hands, and when, to his excited vision, one arm seemed

liable to brush against the books on the table, he lurched away

like a frightened horse, barely missing the piano stool. He

watched the easy walk of the other in front of him, and for the

first time realized that his walk was different from that of other

men. He experienced a momentary pang of shame that he should walk

so uncouthly. The sweat burst through the skin of his forehead in

tiny beads, and he paused and mopped his bronzed face with his

handkerchief.

"Hold on, Arthur, my boy," he said, attempting to mask his anxiety

with facetious utterance. "This is too much all at once for yours

truly. Give me a chance to get my nerve. You know I didn't want

to come, an' I guess your fam'ly ain't hankerin' to see me

neither."