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From: | Rosalie Rodriguez |
Subject: | [Dnarchitect-devel] scale obnoxiously |
Date: | Wed, 20 Sep 2006 07:13:53 +0300 |
Something had happened to all three of them. It
seemed so right, so natural only a minute ago; nowit seemed merely squalid and ugly.
Youll find it in Lempriere, he said obscurely. Presently she stopped him and swung
him round to face her. What else is thereto talk about nowadays? They were still
talking in a rather futile way aboutShakespeare.
When he reached the Hampstead Road he had to wait
on the kerb tolet a stream of cars go past. But he could do nothing of the kind; the
scene hadleft him lumpish and awkward. He recoiled from the thought; he fled back
intohis drunkenness as into a refuge. It is like bathing for a second time on a
summerday. Another hour and theearly dusk would have fallen.
They talked about the bloodiness ofmodern life and
the bloodiness of modern books.
His fathands made a gesture, picturing cascades of
foam. Another hour and theearly dusk would have fallen.
It was almost the first thing he hadthought of when
the cheque came.
English is good enough for me, said the taximan.
Youll have to pay for your own bus fares, and my busfares, and your tea and Lord
knows what. Tell me whenyoull write, so that I can have your letter to look forward
to.
But there you are,you see, thats what money can do.
She did notunderstand him; on the other hand, she forgave him everything. A moment
ago hewould have compromised on Burgundy.
He was quite sober when they got to Modiglianis.
Ravelston had got to have dinner with HIM tonight. Gordon mightnt care for
Modiglianis, heeuphemistically said.
We must settle what were going to drink first, he
said.
A blue-clad chauffeur sat at the wheel, upright,
immobile, like somescornful statue. His grimeye looked askance at Gordons
clothes.
It is like bathing for a second time on a
summerday.
They hadpalled up in the bar where Gordon was
having his quick ones. It was seven oclock when they took the train back to London.
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