She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. I'm ready to bear it all. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream.
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