He had a smile on his face, amischievous and
surreptitious smile. I suppose amillion or two people are interested in this
honeymoon.
All meals were sent up to the two lovers,the Worlds
Pet Lovers, for that was what they were. Fatter, too, but DoraSorrell had always
been a solid creature. Sorrell had never had his photo in the papers. I shant be
able to prevent people coming into the garden to stareat you, he said. Nogusts of
noise causing that little flame to waver. You get half the world tumbling over
itself to seea little woman whose naturalness is not a pose. Sorrell sat staring at
the fire, as though to pluck inspirationfrom the glow of it. Do you want to be
introduced to my second? The public knows what it wants, said the fat man
arrogantly. Both had asense of humour, and an ironical appreciation of fame as it
hadbefallen themselves. What are you, the Mail, or the Express, or the Grocers
Journal? Yet his dread of disaster made him work the harder. We had our coffee
downhere, and she played Debussy to us.
What are you, the Mail, or the Express, or the
Grocers Journal?
He provided them with a luncheonbasket when they
went picnicking.
Snobbery is the footstool at thefeet of
reverence.
Roland rang up the Police Inspector at Winstonbury.
The Winstonbury Evening Argus began the great game of headlines.
All meals were sent up to the two lovers,the Worlds
Pet Lovers, for that was what they were.
Scott turned on him with an excited laugh. Those
bold, clear eyes, the nosebroadening slightly at the nostrils, the luscious yet
shrewd mouth!
Roland says that I may have three or fourtulips. We
want to get away from the confounded reporters and theircameras.
Charged their people much the same prices too. They
gazed steadily into each others eyes. His selfand its affairs were obscured by his
human involvement in themornings tragedy.
Sorrell guessed that certain unwelcomed commercial
travellers hadbeen talking.
It was their very simplicity, theirvital sense of
fun that had made them beloved. She has done something more than that, said Sorrell,
she hasblown up my boy.
He was putting coal on the lounge fire when he
heard awomans voice behind him. He moved towave the intruder away, and recognized
his son. Roland, who was writing letters at his desk, found Scott leaning inat his
window. We ought to be full for six months, and half full forthe other six
months.
Inthe old days he had often though of her as a ship
cleaving lifewith her bosom. The Winstonbury Evening Argus began the great game of
headlines. If we cant pose before otherpeople, we have to pose before ourselves. One
ought togo out for the generous success.