” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. His body had been maimed many times. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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