Jonathan Ball



Certain People (Edith Wharton)

There’s no wireless in the desert, sir; not like London. But perhaps she had only stopped to push back a strand of hair as she passed in front of a mirror.

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. His respectful tone tempered the slight irony.

The smooth slippery floor of the hall seemed to Nora to extend away in front of her for miles. Fastidiously he wiped a trail of grease from his linen sleeve. And the minutes were slipping by, and upstairs the man she loved was lying. Loyally, Christopher always pretended that she didn’t; talked of her indulgently as poor Jenny. It was odd to have feared so defenseless an adversary.

The silence, the remoteness, the illimitable air!

I ’ope that Perrier’ll turn up tomorrow, sir. He IS interested in tree moving, isn’t he? The water is sure to be boiling, because the nurses’ tea is just being taken up. He sent me such an interesting collection of pamphlets about tree moving.

The man, who was young and muscular, with a lean Bedouin face, stopped and looked at him. There’s no wireless in the desert, sir; not like London.

The noontide is upon us and our half waking has turned to fuller day, and we must part. And not a single old reliable among them? She started up and pushed her way out of the train.

Christopher is so devoted to his friends. But when he’s here he needs me for himself; and when he’s away he needs me to watch over the others.