His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. ‘You’d do the same. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. ” She sat quite still looking at him. Do look at this tragedy in mauve, who has just come in.
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