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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Where's your nerve. Where's your nerve?" He was saying to himself. He strode off suddenly, full of bitter determination not to turn round again. He tried to occupy his mind with plans. Let's see, what should he do? First he'd go to his room and look up old Henslowe and Walters. Then he would go to see Genevieve.
He broke out laughing again, his chunky body rolling about on the chair. "What are they?" "Three of them have sworn to slay Sinbad, and four of them have sworn to slay me.... But that's too complicated to tell at lunch time.... Eighth: there are the lady relievers, Sinbad's specialty. Ninth: there's Sinbad...." "Shut up, Heinz, you're getting me maudlin," spluttered Henslowe.
Outside the house where he was quartered Andrews met the new top sergeant, a lean man with spectacles and a little mustache of the color and texture of a scrubbing brush. "Here's a letter for you," the top sergeant said. "Better look at the new K. P. list I've just posted." The letter was from Henslowe.
He turned to Henslowe, who smiled knowingly. "There's a mission in Russia at this minute making peace with Lenin." "A goddam outrage!" cried Heineman, knocking a bottle off the table. The lanky man picked up the pieces patiently, without comment. "The new era is opening, men, I swear it is..." began Aubrey. "The old order is dissolving.
Henslowe stopped and turned as he heard the steps behind him. Six months' self-murdering had left ghastly traces. He was many degrees nearer the brute than he had been even when Robert made his ineffectual visit. But at this actual moment Robert's practised eye for every English parish clergyman becomes dismally expert in the pathology of drunkenness saw that there was no fight in him.
"I wonder how many people they are good for, those circus parades of yours," said Andrews. "Where are you going to spend the night?" said Henslowe. "I don't know.... I suppose I can find a hotel or something." "Why don't you come with me and see Berthe; she probably has friends." "I want to wander about alone, not that I scorn Berthe's friends," said Andrews...."But I am so greedy for solitude."
Honestly I don't think I've ever been happier in my life.... D'you know, Henslowe, there's something in you that is afraid to be happy." "Don't be morbid.... There's only one real evil in the world: being somewhere without being able to get away;... I ordered beer. This is the only place in Paris where it's fit to drink."
In the square, flaring violet arclights were flickering on, lighting up their net-covered globes that hung like harsh moons above the pavement. Henslowe sat down on a chair beside Andrews. "How's Sinbad?" "Sinbad, old boy, is functioning.... Aren't yon frozen?" "How do you mean, Henslowe?" "Overheated, you chump, sitting out here in polar weather."
They had been laid before the Squire of course, but the Squire had his own ideas and wasn't just easy to manage. 'Seen him yet, sir? Henslowe wound up jauntily, every line of his flushed countenance, the full lips under the fair beard, and the light prominent eyes, expressing a triumph he hardly cared to conceal.
He took the letter he had just received from the squire as a text, made a good-humoured defence of his own proceedings, described his attempt to move Henslowe, and the reluctance of his appeal from the man to the master. The few things he allowed himself to say about Henslowe were in perfect temper, though by no means without an edge.
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