’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. . Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow.
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