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The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
30
Some
of
my
abodes
I
have
utterly
forgotten;
for
one
reason
or
another,
I
was
always
moving--an
easy
matter
when
all
my
possessions
lay
in
one
small
trunk.
Sometimes
the
people
of
the
house
were
intolerable.
In
those
days
I
was
not
fastidious,
and
I
seldom
had
any
but
the
slightest
intercourse
with
those
who
dwelt
under
the
same
roof,
yet
it
happened
now
and
then
that
I
was
driven
away
by
human
proximity
which
passed
my
endurance.
In
other
cases
I
had
to
flee
from
pestilential
conditions.
How
I
escaped
mortal
illness
in
some
of
those
places
(miserably
fed
as
I
always
was,
and
always
over-working
myself)
is
a
great
mystery.
The
worst
that
befell
me
was
a
slight
attack
of
diphtheria--traceable,
I
imagine,
to
the
existence
of
a
dust-bin
under
the
staircase.
When
I
spoke
of
the
matter
to
my
landlady,
she
was
at
first
astonished,
then
wrathful,
and
my
departure
was
expedited
with
many
insults.
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