Manning, “I know. " He did not pause to consider how she had learned that he had imagination; he comprehended only the direct challenge. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. It is easy enough to sing these little chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to succeed on the stage. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation.
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