“Frank Rankin as chief celebrant unpacked a half-dozen bats, an assortment of shuttlecocks, and the long poles and badminton net. It is wonderful, thought Moller as he sprawled under the mango tree with the others, to see the technical mind on holiday, the town’s medical practitioner acting just like any ordinary person, smacking a badminton pellet backwards and forwards to other gods all disporting like himself, being human and lovable and decent fellows, and keeping well within their social cl...ass. He nibbled the thick white end of a grass stalk and lay flat on his back with his eyes closed. He wondered why they bothered to ask him to their little afternoons, and he wondered why he bothered accepting invitations that so patently bored him. Perhaps the fact that Lilian had been away five months now drew on him the self-conscious charity of his neighbours. ‘Me betters,’ he told himself, and giggled with eyes still shut under the dark green shadows of the leaves; whereupon he found his stomach prodded in provocative and playful fashion by a feminine foot and a hard shallow voice as bright as benzedrine saying girlishly, ‘Penny?’ He recognised Ruth Lunbeck’s kittenish tones, the chromatic tonguing of the threadbare thought from a mistress of the suburban phrase.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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