1915 (1979)
“In the luggage room at Central station, dumping his bags, he thought of a momentous act to suit his circumstances — a lightning trip to Cremorne Point to say hello to Frances Reilly. He had two hours to kill, why not? But he bought a pie and a cup of tea and leaned on the counter, numbly alone, denying the warming impulse to go. By the time he finished he had reduced the thought by ridicule. Months ago at the theatre she had ignored him. He did not exist.
On arrival that night he had nervously ...scanned the audience, knowing she would be there, but then the flute and drum began, the lights dipped, and the curtain split open: and Walter had gasped (as Buck the English master said he would) at those walls of pastel brick, the arbour of velvet roses, and stiff clouds floating across a fabric sky. The stage world was soft as a cushion: people when they sneaked on were gentle, their feet made no noise — only a whisper now and then, and a timbery thud when they leapt: the land of Illyria had been all female, and it instructed him.MoreLess
On arrival that night he had nervously ...scanned the audience, knowing she would be there, but then the flute and drum began, the lights dipped, and the curtain split open: and Walter had gasped (as Buck the English master said he would) at those walls of pastel brick, the arbour of velvet roses, and stiff clouds floating across a fabric sky. The stage world was soft as a cushion: people when they sneaked on were gentle, their feet made no noise — only a whisper now and then, and a timbery thud when they leapt: the land of Illyria had been all female, and it instructed him.MoreLess
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