John eased off. Ann Veronica intervened a little in the novelist discussion with a defence of Esmond and a denial that the Egoist was obscure, and when she spoke every one else stopped talking and listened. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please.
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