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"That I have an abode seems to amaze you." "It does. You're such a detached sort. You rise so above the mundane things that clutter up life, that it is pretty much of a shock to realize that you use tooth powder and carry a latchkey. It's hard to reconcile Chopin and George Sand probably to those famous raw-meat sandwiches they loved to eat at midnight.
But English fair-play doesn't stand transplantation to Australia, except in patches of suitable soil. For instance, when bar-loafer meets pimp, at £1 a side, then comes the raw-meat business.
On the farther side of the bed, Desmond, in gauze vest, and belted trousers, mopped his forehead, and drew a long breath. Then, measuring out a tablespoonful of raw-meat soup, he slipped a hand under the dark head on the pillow. "Lenox, dear chap, drink this, will you?" he said, speaking as persuasively as a mother to a child. Lenox obeyed automatically.
We expected to have raw-meat sandwiches, at the very least, but the Savage Woman gave us Suchong and deviled-chicken sandwiches and pink cakes and Nabiscos, and told us how well her son was doing in his Old French course at Columbia. So we got lower and lower in our minds, and we decided we had to go down to Chinatown for dinner. We went, too!
Well, that's about the way I feel about you hemmed in by dull reality such as this." "I like raw-meat sandwiches," she said. "Me too." They laughed. She took up a sheaf of manuscript. "If it doesn't bore you too much, I'm going to read it straight through." "Oh, I forgot; the play, of course." She looked up at him as if over spectacles. "What else?" "You say it has been the rounds?" "Yes.
Afterward I shot the beast, and Nobs had a feast while I dressed, for he had become quite a raw-meat eater during our numerous hunting expeditions, upon which we always gave him a portion of the kill. Whitely and Olson were up and dressed when we returned, and we all sat down to a good breakfast.
Pea-soupers and lime-juicers are strangers off shipboard. They'd never have spotted you, though, without the bundle. There's no raw-meat tint about you; you're tanned like a native. Buy a blue jumper and get a cabbage-tree up in place of that cap, and you'd pass muster as a Sydney-sider born and bred. 'A cabbage-tree? 'Hat straw. Get a second-hand one if you can: they're more appreciated.
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