He groped her buttocks. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Give me the keys and the light. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. In the middle there was a gate. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life. Well-born, welleducated; those are the lads that pay in full. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. "There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slipping a piece of money into his hand. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed.
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