To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. . She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. Mike was showing his territorial instincts, brought out by the fact that he was drunk. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me.
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