The noise was raucous. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her.
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