4. An Unten Novel

    Sucself to make one’s eyes slide above to t  t look, almost a symbol of iny . Life’s  it, never, to , cease to be a life’s like t, it seems. Five faces opposite—five mature faces—and trange, t to conceal it! Marks of reticence are on all t, eyes so ultify ries in a pocket book; a fourtares at te; and terrible t t s all. S life. A my poor, unfortunate !

    As if sed slig and sigo apologise and at time to say to me, “If only you kne life again. “But I do knoly, glancing at times for manners’ sake. “I knoerday officially us Paris—Signor Nitti, talian Prime Minister—a passenger train at Doncaster rain. . .’ e all knoimes kno end .” My eyes  over tco to my great reservoir of life. “take inued, “birt Circular, ts of birds, Leonardo da Vinci, t of living—oake ed, “it’s all in times!” Again e il, like a top exed  settled on her neck.

    times ection against suc otercourse. t to do against life o fold t it made a perfect square, crisp, to life. to my eyes as if searc of courage at t to clay. ced all illusion.

    So tled to Sussex. But  see t travellers , one by one, till, save for togetation. e dreform and stopped. as o leave us? I prayed bot t  stay. At t instant emptuously, like a t open t us alone.

    ttle foralked of stations and  Eastbourne, and time of year, e. But at last looking from taying a’s t—” Aastroper–in–laterness of one eel, and speaking, not to me, but to tered, “nonsense, s’s ed as terer’s shop–window.

    “O coion. t t