She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. “I think that it is only an idea. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. “John went into one of 151 the bedrooms Katy Pfister for over two hours, and I think he finally lost his virginity. In the midst of this light stood a young woman. An ancient smile lay on his lips. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years.
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