Волны

           ShallIrescuethatfly;shallIletthespidereatit?"Heisshadedwithinnumerableperplexities,orhewouldgowiththemtoplaycricket,andwouldlieinthegrass,watchingthesky,andwouldstartwhentheballwashit.Buttheywouldforgivehim;forhewouldtellthemastory.’

           ’Theyhavebowledoff,’saidBernard,’andIamtoolatetogowiththem.Thehorridlittleboys,whoarealsosobeautiful,whomyouandLouis,Neville,envysodeeply,havebowledoffwiththeirheadsallturnedthesameway.ButIamunawareoftheseprofounddistinctions.Myfingersslipoverthekeyboardwithoutknowingwhichisblackandwhichwhite.Archiemakeseasilyahundred;Ibyaflukemakesometimesfifteen.Butwhatisthedifferencebetweenus?Waitthough,Neville;letmetalk.Thebubblesarerisinglikethesilverbubblesfromthefloorofasaucepan;imageontopofimage.Icannotsitdowntomybook,likeLouis,withferocioustenacity.Imustopenthelittletrap-doorandletouttheselinkedphrasesinwhichIruntogetherwhateverhappens,sothatinsteadofincoherencethereisperceivedawanderingthread,lightlyjoiningonethingtoanother.Iwilltellyouthestoryofthedoctor.

           ’WhenDrCranelurchesthroughtheswing-doorsafterprayersheisconvinced,itseems,ofhisimmensesuperiority;andindeedNeville,wecannotdenythathisdepartureleavesusnotonlywithasenseofrelief,butalsowithasenseofsomethingremoved,likeatooth.Nowletusfollowhimasheheavesthroughtheswing-doortohisownapartments.Letusimaginehiminhisprivateroomoverthestablesundressing.

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