Волны

           Andwhatarephrases?Theyhaveleftmeverylittletolayonthetable,besideSusan’shand;totakefrommypocket,withNeville’scredentials.Iamnotanauthorityonlaw,ormedicine,orfinance.Iamwrappedroundwithphrases,likedampstraw;Iglow,phosphorescent.AndeachofyoufeelswhenIspeak,"Iamlitup.Iamglowing."Thelittleboysusedtofeel"That’sagoodone,that’sagoodone",asthephrasesbubbledupfrommylipsundertheelmtreesintheplaying-fields.Theytoobubbledup;theyalsoescapedwithmyphrases.ButIpineinsolitude.Solitudeismyundoing.

           ’IpassfromhousetohouselikethefriarsintheMiddleAgeswhocozenedthewivesandgirlswithbeadsandballads.Iamatraveller,apedlar,payingformylodgingwithaballad;Iamanindiscriminate,aneasilypleasedguest;oftenputtingupinthebestroominafour-poster;thenlyinginabarnonahaystack.Idon’tmindthefleasandfindnofaultwithsilkeither.Iamverytolerant.Iamnotamoralist.Ihavetoogreatasenseoftheshortnessoflifeanditstemptationstoruleredlines.YetIamnotsoindiscriminateasyouthink,judgingme--asyoujudgeme--frommyfluency.Ihavealittledaggerofcontemptandseverityhiddenupmysleeve.ButIamapttobedeflected.Imakestories.Itwistuptoysoutofanything.Agirlsitsatacottagedoor;sheiswaiting;forwhom?Seduced,ornotseduced?Theheadmasterseestheholeinthecarpet.Hesighs.Hiswife,drawingherfingersthroughthewavesofherstillabundanthair,reflects--etcetera.