The jazz music came out of the background and began
to pound andmassage his nerves. He was flushed now and none the worse looking for
that. Old fashions abandoned for the mere love of novelty.
He seemed nowto be hounding on these whites to some
mysterious self-effacementand self-destruction. Parham became firm and hard and calm
in thedarkness. And then recovering her spirits, All the same, hes rather fun. After
a time he was back arguing in imagination with Sir Bussy.
Byzantine solemnity, he repeated after Mr. It was a
bother that the band inside his headache did not know whento leave off.
It was like some obscure stern sect coming to
ameeting in a back-street chapel. Lady Glassglade agreed that he was detached. Ive
known our host only very recently, said Mr.
Parham, using his face toexpress a finely
constituted social system suffering fromindigestion.
Late at night on each occasion it was,other people,
people one suspected, were present, and Mr. Though what the lady could be doing here
wasperplexing.
Im doubting Bussys real existence, answered Miss
Poole, andcraving for his food.
I shall remember allsorts of things youve said
about this Art. Parham realized his pessimism had been premature.
Miss Poole looked at him as though she hadjust
observed his existence for the first time. The photograph ismaterial, factual,
personal, individual. He wished she could be just wiped out of existence andsomebody
easier put in her place. Parham had got as near as he was everlikely to get to
modern dancing.