Above the Dark Circus

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Hugh Walpole

Above the Dark Circus

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I considered the meal. Could I have enough for half a crown? Or would I not, once I had started, be driven by my appetite into a whale of a meal and then be arrested for nonpayment?

On the other hand, would not the cool and cleanliness about my neck, the freshness of the shampoo...? My whole body trembled as I felt the firm hands of the barber pressing into my scalp, the soft foamy luxury of the soap, the touch of the cold water after the hot.... Two rival sensuousnesses–my last, perhaps. Or my first–which way was I to go?

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