Free England Made Me by Graham Greene

tossed in the narrow bunks of liners, when he had waited in fear of the hand plucking at the sheet, of the man in white drill from the office coming on board with the customs. But the years had trained him to be thankful for the moment, not to look forward. Now at this instant I am alone in the cubicle, now at this instant I am happy in my bunk, now for the moment only I am with Kate, with a friend. He pushed the door of the great sliding cupboard and disclosed a dense forest of suits.
    â€˜Like a second-hand clothes shop,’ he said. ‘Does he buy them wholesale?’ He began to count them, but when he reached twenty he stopped. ‘The cloth’s good, but the pattern – This red stripe’s a bit loud, don’t you think? And the ties. He seems to have plenty, but the colour –’ They dangled row upon row like bright dead tropical fish. ‘I wouldn’t be seen in one of them,’ Anthony said. ‘The trouble is these foreigners don’t know how to dress. Don’t you help him choose?’
    â€˜No, he has a special buyer.’
    â€˜There’s the job for me,’ Anthony said. ‘What a commission one could draw! But doesn’t he see the cloth before it’s bought?’
    â€˜He won’t even have a fitting,’ Kate said. ‘He hasn’t had his measurements taken for two years. The suits come up in loads like this. Once every six months.’
    â€˜But why?’
    â€˜Of course he always bought ready-made clothes before he was rich. I don’t suppose he ever went to a tailor. I believe he’s afraid of them.’ She hesitated. ‘He’s a shy man. He hasn’t many interests.’
    â€˜What a jest,’ Anthony said, ‘to take him in hand. First of all we’d get rid of those ties.’
    â€˜No,’ Kate said suddenly, ‘no.’ She stood in the doorway between the two rooms, she dissociated herself carefully from his easy intimate stroll of inspection. He noticed that her lips needed making-up; they were too pale; they did not match her dress. He thought: Is he one of these old boys who disapprove of paint and powder? What right has he to dictate to her? and continued in a quick rage of jealousy: ‘We’d clean out all this stuff.’
    â€˜Leave him alone.’
    His anger went as quickly as it came; he listened to her voice raised in Krogh’s defence with melancholy as if someone he had known well many years ago had failed to recognize him in the street, had passed on through another world of consciousness in which they had no memories in common. Kate, standing beside his bed while the cracked bell rang for tea, Kate in the crowded hall saying: ‘You will miss the train. You must go now.’ Kate borrowing money for him, Kate planning, Kate deciding: he wondered how far these memories were excluded by Krogh on this occasion, Krogh on that. He looked at the suits, at the ties, at the steel and the glass of the bed; he noticed for the first time her platinum watch, her expensive ear-studs.
    â€˜Oh,’ he said, ‘he’ll do without me. I shall be asking for my fare home tomorrow.’
    â€˜He’ll have to take you,’ Kate said.
    â€˜Because you love him?’
    â€˜No,’ she said, ‘because I love you.’
    â€˜Dear thing,’ Anthony said, ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you. Blood must be thicker than water after all. How you’d hate me if I weren’t your brother.’
    â€˜It’s not true,’ she said.
    â€˜Think: the cheap lodgings, the pawnbrokers, the jobs I lose, the dreadful friends I’d bring home to share the convivial kipper. No, no, old thing, you’ve risen in the world. You don’t know what’s meant by love when you say you love me.’ He laughed at her serious attention. ‘It’s just family affection, Kate darling.’
    â€˜No,’ she said, ‘I love you. I’ll