Where the Blue Begins | Page 3

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WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS
by Christopher Morley

TO FELIX and TOTO

"I am not free-- And it may be Life is too tight around my shins; For,

unlike you, I can't break through A truant where the blue begins. "Out
of the very element Of bondage, that here holds me pent, I'll make my
furious sonnet: I'll turn my noose To tightrope use And madly dance
upon it. "So I will take My leash, and make A wilder and more subtle
fleeing And I shall be More escapading and more free Than you have
ever dreamed of being!"
CHAPTER ONE
Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little house in
the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine Estates.
He lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. He came
of a respectable family, who had always conducted themselves calmly
and without too much argument. They had bequeathed him just enough
income to live on cheerfully, without display but without having to do
addition and subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up the
paper lest Fuji (the butler) should see it.
It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that he
got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not attempt
to explain it.
He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were
surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the
country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about
getting home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married
members creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep
that night at the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When
he felt like it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he
went to town to the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid
the fatigue of the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel
each time, so that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of
fun.
But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of
1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little
house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by

strange whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and
did not know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained
in the household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was
alone, he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine.
Fuji would lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down
to the dining room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served
by candle-light. As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in
the armchair by the hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read the
paper. But as soon as the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing always
kicked oft his dinner suit and stiff shirt, and lay down on the hearth-rug.
But he did not sleep. He would watch the wings of flame gilding the
dark throat of the chimney, and his mind seemed drawn upward on that
rush of light, up into the pure chill air where the moon was riding
among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the darkness he heard chiming
voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he was walking on his
little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds were channels of
ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep