eat Italy, its dark scorched flesh, hand-▓modelled spring soil, dedica●ted vines.I felt that Melissa ▓would never understand this.I should have to pr●etend I had

lost the money.I did not see ▓at first the great car which she had abandoned i▓n the street with its engine running.● She came into the shop with swift and res▓olute s

uddenness and said, with the ▓air of authority that Lesbian●s, or women with money, assume with the ob▓viously indigent: ‘What did you mean b▓y your remark about the antinomia

n natur●e of irony’ — or some such sally whic●h I have forgotten.Unable to disenta

ngle m●yself from Italy I looked up boorishly and sa▓w her leaning down at me from the mir▓rors on three sides of the room,▓ her dark thrilling face full ▓of a troubled, arrogant reserve.I had o▓f course forgotten what I had sai●d about

irony or anything else for that m●atter, and I told her so with an ind●ifference that was not assumed▓.She heaved a short sigh, as if of ●natural relief, and sitting down opposite me l▓it a French caporal and with sho●rt decisive insp

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