He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. " "Do you call ten guineas easy terms?" cried Wood, with a look of dismay. After he had endured this torture for an hour, at a sign from Wild another hundred weight was added. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth.
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