DEADLOCK
THE WORK OF
DOROTHY M. RICHARDSON
“In the ordinary novel, the novelist standson the banks of the river of life chroniclinghow and when people arise, and how it is thatthings happen to them. But Miriam (thecentral figure of Dorothy Richardson’s work)pulls us with her into the yielding water.”—Nation.
“The style grows upon one with familiarity;it is continually illumined by passages ofbrilliant insight, and its half-subconsciousrevelation of personality is wonderfully attractive.”—DailyTelegraph.
POINTED ROOFS
BACKWATER
HONEYCOMB
THE TUNNEL
INTERIM
DEADLOCK
REVOLVING LIGHTS
(in preparation)
DUCKWORTH & CO.
3 HENRIETTA STREET, LONDON, W.C.
DEADLOCK
BY
DOROTHY M. RICHARDSON
LONDON
DUCKWORTH & CO.
3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN
First Published 1921
CHAPTER I
Miriam ran upstairs narrowly ahead of herthoughts. In the small enclosure of herroom they surged about her, gathering power fromthe familiar objects silently waiting to share herastounded contemplation of the fresh material.She swept joyfully about the room ducking anddoubling to avoid arrest until she should havediscovered some engrossing occupation. But inthe instant’s pause at each eagerly opened drawerand cupboard, her mind threw up images. It wasuseless. There was no escape up here. Peltedfrom within and without, she paused in laughterwith clasped restraining hands ..... the rest ofthe evening must be spent with people ... thenearest; the Baileys; she would go down intothe dining-room and be charming with the Baileysuntil to-morrow’s busy thoughtless hours were insight. Half-way downstairs she remembered thatthe forms waiting below, for so long unnoticed andunpondered, might be surprised, perhaps affrontedby her sudden interested reappearance. She rushedon. She could break through that barrier. Mrs.Bailey’s quiet withholding dignity would end indelight over a shared gay acknowledgment that herhouse was looking up.
She opened the dining-room door, facing in advancethe family gathered at needlework under thegaslight, an island group in the waste of dreary increasingshabbiness .... she would ask some question,apologising for disturbing them. The roomseemed empty; the gas was turned dismally low.Only one light was on, the once new, drearily hopefulincandescent burner. Its broken mantle shed aghastly bluish-white glare over the dead fern in thecentre of the table and left the further parts of theroom in obscurity. But there was someone there;a man, sitting perched on the sofa-head, and beyondhim someone sitting on the sofa. She came forwardinto silence. They made no movement; boarders,people she di