“You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him. "Wasn't he in some way connected with the Jacobite plots?" "He was," replied Thames. . It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him.
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