And save by a suit of clothes, he never gave ocular proof that he
had money to waste. He could not. It was impossible for him to compete
with even the more modest of the bloods and the blades. To keep a
satisfactory straight crease down the middle of each leg of his trousers
was all he could accomplish with the money regularly at his disposal.
The town was wafting for him to do something decisive in the matter of
what it called "the stuff."
Thus Ruth Earp was the first to introduce him to the higher intimate
civilisations, the refinements lurking behind the foul walls of Bursley.
"Sugar?" she questioned, her head on one side, her arm uplifted, her
sleeve drooping, and a bit of sugar caught like a white mouse between
the claws of the tongs.
Nobody before had ever said "Sugar?" to him like that. His mother never
said "Sugar?" to him. His mother was aware that he liked three pieces,
but she would not give him more than two. "Sugar?" in that slightly
weak, imploring voice seemed to be charged with a significance at once
tremendous and elusive.
"Yes, please."
"Another?"
And the "Another?" was even more delicious.
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