adore

[Jane Lott <mm...@boehme-weihs.net>]

Of the first bottle of Asti, Gordon drank three glasses,Ravelston two, and Rosemary one.
He said with a sort of philosophic interest:Look at the Neon lights!
The barmaid hauled the beer-handle three times hurriedly.
Gordon looked properly drunk, Ravelston thought.
Still, its presence gave him moralsupport. The flimsy luscious fiver and the five clean pound notes slidrustling under the brass rail. People were leaping aside to avoid the jetof beer. Helooked from Dora to Gordon, from Gordon to Barbara. He paused for breath, and felt alittle sickish.
English is good enough for me, said the taximan. Not that you were expectedto dress at Modiglianis. But you couldnt do much on this weak stuff. Ravelston had got him out on to the pavement by this time.
He had wanted to come here, but he was no sooner herethan he wanted to escape. Look here, Gordon, its time you were in bed.
These things are so much easier when youvegot a little money to spend.
He was worrying already about themoney this dinner was going to cost Gordon.
The windows were almost dark,but the sound of singing, boozy and dreary, trickled from within. Thegrocer had taken the cork out for him and put it in loosely again.
And then withstartling suddenness Ravelstons face cleared.