2. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. People were passing in the street below. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. It was the moment for smiles. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. Let me see now. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside.
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