She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. Possessed of you, I shall have a treasure such as kings could not boast.
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