quot;rated on my reflection, I  lovely being. Je suis un autre. Dizzied, drunk on t a personality urned from to make some brilliant point to my companion -- and my ne, stammered: ten years old again.

    quot;I ran, stumbling, back to table, to ily into Dapples reets ato peelings t so enricurning, saw me.

    quot; Susan, sea c and came close to me, so close t I could count trils. her rheumy eyes filled, overflowed.

    quot; But you be not my Susan! s live to be as old as you! And s, selfisears on Dapples tail, for my mot last recognised my true identity and I perceived a glimmer of hope.

    quot;Jason, my knee.quot;

    at once and began to massage ing a momentary s of ache and imperial.

    quot; Mot  remark I remember addressing to ed; tasted wh.

    quot;S me tfully, rolling a corner of o a probe and cleaning ing my life.

    quot; If you picture tory, constipated, straining, toffee-nosed bastards ic, she said.

    quot; t LEVELLERS.

    quot;It ion. I rus into to return, repeating them.

    quot;Jason, ter!quot;

    ed trumpet. t last alloself to collapse, almost y of muffled applause. ty ense t it seemed to y of a deformity, so far  from tled one anot mumbling.

    As if recollecting vague, soft, fragrant, long-ago to o t;Atocks of great men. You can stop massaging.quot;

    anotte at t seeteel-rimmed spectacles over  table wals pooled redly.

    quot;Jason,quot; s; me? Jason?quot;

    ed, toes of  curling and uncurli