During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. . "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. Taking his new purchase under his arm, Jack proceeded to a small tavern in the same street, where, having ordered dinner, he went to a bed-room to attire himself. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia.
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