“Shut up, you little faggot. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. He sucked at her neck, biting her hard, leaving red marks that disappeared as soon as he made them.
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