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It was strange to be hated! the emotion was too extreme; yet he hated Bosinney, that Buccaneer, that prowling vagabond, that night-wanderer. For in his thoughts Soames always saw him lying in wait wandering. Ah, but he must be in very low water! Young Burkitt, the architect, had seen him coming out of a third-rate restaurant, looking terribly down in the mouth!
And turning away from her, he sat down in his accustomed chair on the other side of the hearth. They sat in silence. And Soames thought: 'Why is all this? Why should I suffer so? What have I done? It is not my fault!
Bellby's breezy recapitulation of the facts, he growled, and said: "I know all that;" and coming round the corner at Winifred, smothered the words: "We want to get him back, don't we, Mrs. Dartie?" Soames interposed sharply: "My sister's position, of course, is intolerable." Dreamer growled. "Exactly.
But even if the last is gone, don't take a cab; walk. When you get to Globe Road, pass down on the left-hand side, and, if necessary, right to the end. Make sure you are not followed, then walk back again. You will receive a signal from an open door. Come right in. Good-by." Soames replaced the receiver on the hook, uttering a long-drawn sigh of relief.
"Usually Milton." He looked at me. "It was Milton," he certificatively added, "who converted me to diabolism." "Diabolism? Oh, yes? Really?" said I, with that vague discomfort and that intense desire to be polite which one feels when a man speaks of his own religion. "You worship the devil?" Soames shook his head. "It's not exactly worship," he qualified, sipping his absinthe.
To Soames she was a puzzle. He was almost deceived by this careless gaiety. Almost because he did not fail to mark her eyes often fixed on nothing, and the film of light shining from her bedroom window late at night. What was she thinking and brooding over into small hours when she ought to have been asleep?
They waited. The children stayed in the ship. After a very long time the children appeared again. The girls' faces were tear-streaked. They brought small possessions and placed them neatly in the snow. They went back for more. "At a guess," said Soames, "that super-radar of theirs has shown them a 'copter on the way. They know they can't stay here.
Her father had turned from his picture, and was staring at his feet. He looked very grey. 'He has nice small feet, she thought, catching his eye, at once averted from her. "You're my only comfort," said Soames suddenly, "and you go on like this." Fleur's heart began to beat. "Like what, dear?" Again Soames gave her a look which, but for the affection in it, might have been called furtive.
"It seems to me," continued Sowerby, "that Limehouse is about the last place in the world a man like Soames would think of hiding in." "It isn't where he'll be THINKING of hiding," snapped Dunbar, turning his fierce eyes upon the last speaker. "You can't seem to get the idea out of your head, Sowerby, that Soames is an independent agent. He ISN'T an independent agent.
That fellow Soames, for instance, would have a fit if you tried to borrow a tenner from him, or, if he didn't have a fit, he looked at you with his cursed supercilious smile, as if you were a lost soul because you were in want of money.
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