F. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. Michelle took out a Marlboro Light 100 from a secret stash on the inside of her pink neoprene jacket. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. They compromised at length on the science course at the Tredgold Women’s College—she had already matriculated into London University from school—she came of age, and she bickered with her aunt for latch-key privileges on the strength of that and her season ticket. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. But he might have crept along the left side of the pier, and beneath the further arch; whereas, Wood, as we have seen, took his course upon the right.
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