The Listener
“S. Eliot: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” Alexander Damon sat down in the comfortable armchair near the window of his room in the city’s most modem and most expensive hotel. He was a tall, thin man of considerable elegance and grace of movement, in his middle forties, with brilliant blue eyes, smooth dark hair, and well-bred features. He looked at his watch. It was only half-past four. He had driven five hundred miles today and was proud of it. At this rate he would reach Reno the day af...ter tomorrow — and begin the boring business once again of waiting six weeks for a divorce. He was not a gambler and disliked gambling not on principle but because a man of his particular temperament found no interest in gambling. Gambling, even as a recreation, demanded at least a minimum of attention, and when he had leisure it was necessary for him to employ it in a more disastrous way. Three wives: Sue, Ellen, and Moira. Boring, pointless women. He had liked Moira more than the others, Moira with her red hair and quick but gentle disposition, her light brown eyes and white skin.MoreLess
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