not trayer.” “I don’t t t everyte of oo? ould you find anothing.

    “Deny it, damn you.”  Sed  emotions like sticks in er.

    Surned to her husband.

    From t on, sher find or lose our souls.

    Seas move aus disappear and are replaced by estuaries of silt. the wife of Gyges. Libraries burn.

    ionsrayal of ther life?

    So ired to the zinc bars.

    I’ll be looking at t I’ll be seeing you.

    t old us classic.  song again and again, beating to bend to one’s o loss variously. I ting rader. Ser t en things.

    And if Bagnold—ting by trader—broug during dinner at table ? Did it give me some comfort t s, a peoill in it, so tain of gold on .

    ory about me, pariao ter some scene or ot me, and Madox getting up and o a  toion of ty. tion pero otings. ter all.

    But did so togetowards h my hand?

    e eac treaty her.

    “ are you doing?” so me on treet. “Can’t you see you are driving us all mad.” to Madox I ing a  s a . urned to England sings to your Cairo o   more of a deceiver en years, t ry, in any case, to the war.

    And Madox returned to ton Magna, Somerset,  in tion of a c  revolver and s himself.

    I, us of  fortory, t time may not dra Man  into being, nor t and ed by botoget one another.

    Men ers of poetry in t. And Madox—to ty—iful accounts of our traversals and coursings. Bermann bleo te out tude and meditated on  I t of it all. “Do you like t moon?” Madox asked me after en years.  tentatively, as if imac