” He hesitated, and went off at a tangent. But I never betray an old customer. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. One gets drawn into things. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots.
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