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“She isn’t here yet,” Edmund said, swallowing a mouthful.

“I wonder what she’ll be wearing,” Albert said. He was a trim, dapper young man, who affected a monocle.

“Awfully hot, isn’t it?” Edmund said.

“If she wears anything like last year I’ll simply fall at her feet.”

They looked at …

What had our relationship meant to Jacques? And what sort of person was he really? I was mistaken when I thought that his marriage showed him in his true colours and that after a period of youthful romanticism he was going to settle down calmly and become the bourgeois he had always been at heart. …

[...] Another thing that impressed me about them was that they had a fairly precise idea of the sort of books they wanted to write. I had gone on fatuously declaring that I ‘would tell all’; it was at once too much and too little. I was alarmed to discover that the novel sets countless problems who…

Apart from a few minor differences, I found a great resemblance between his attitude and my own. There was nothing worldly in his ambitions. He reproved me for making use of religious vocabulary, but he, too, was really seeking ‘salvation’ in literature; books brought into this deplorably non-essen…

He certainly had no intention of leading the life of a professional liteiary man; he detested formalities and literary hierarchies, literary ‘movements’, careers, the rights and duties of the man of letters, and all the stuffy pompousness of life. He couldn’t reconcile himself to the idea of having…