the squalid, repulsive things seem part of life to them. Life! And what is life? A louse lying on its back and kicking? Ugh!
At about seven o’clock Villiers came tapping. He looked wan, peaked, but like a bird that had successfully pecked a bellyful of garbage.
“Oh it was GREAT!” he said, lounging on one hip. “GREAT! They killed seven BULLS.”
“No calves, unfortunately,” said Kate, suddenly furious again.
He paused to consider the point, then laughed. Her anger was another slight sensational amusement to him.
“No, no calves,” he said. “The calves have come home to be fattened. But several more horses after you’d gone.”
“I don’t want to hear,” she said coldly.
He laughed, feeling rather heroic. After all, one must be able to look on blood and bursten