’” “What did he say?” “What does any one say to an invitation to dinner point-blank? One tries to collect one’s wits. They fell in a diapason of smashes. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. We dine at seven-thirty. Not so Gosse. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. I cannot do it, David.
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