She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. ” “And made you give up a political meeting,” she reminded him. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction. Even our coarseness. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something.
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