1. ” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. 195 < 24 > A CITY IN GREECE, 589 B. I wanted something alive. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. . ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. . Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. “There’s endless reasons, no doubt, why we shouldn’t,” he said. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh.
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