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Updated: May 9, 2025
"And you, my gallant Conseil, you suffered a great deal." "Not too much, to be candid with master. I was lacking a few throatfuls of air, but I would have gotten by. Besides, when I saw master fainting, it left me without the slightest desire to breathe. It took my breath away, in a manner of . . ." Confounded by this lapse into banality, Conseil left his sentence hanging.
He was a fresh, stoutish young Englishman in khaki, Julia's husband, Robert Cunningham, a lieutenant about to be demobilised, when he would become a sculptor once more. He drank red wine in large throatfuls, and his eyes grew a little moist. The room was hot and subdued, everyone was silent. "I say," said Robert suddenly, from the rear "anybody have a drink? Don't you find it rather hot?"
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