Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
290
Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
188
Still,
he
had
a
craving
for
more.
Few
though
his
hours
were,
he
hoped
the
next
two
would
pass
quickly.
And,
though
he
knew
Mr.
Druce
could
be
trusted
to
send
the
bottle
round
to
his
rooms
immediately,
he
preferred
to
carry
it
away
with
him.
He
slipped
it
into
the
breast-pocket
of
his
coat,
almost
heedless
of
the
slight
extrusion
it
made
there.
Just
as
he
was
about
to
cross
the
High
again,
on
his
way
home,
a
butcher’s
cart
dashed
down
the
slope,
recklessly
driven.
He
stepped
well
back
on
the
pavement,
and
smiled
a
sardonic
smile.
He
looked
to
right
and
to
left,
carefully
gauging
the
traffic.
Some
time
elapsed
before
he
deemed
the
road
clear
enough
for
transit.
Safely
across,
he
encountered
a
figure
that
seemed
to
loom
up
out
of
the
dim
past.
Oover!
Was
it
but
yesternight
that
Oover
dined
with
him?
With
the
sensation
of
a
man
groping
among
archives,
he
began
to
apologise
to
the
Rhodes
Scholar
for
having
left
him
so
abruptly
at
the
Junta.
Then,
presto!--as
though
those
musty
archives
were
changed
to
a
crisp
morning
paper
agog
with
terrific
head-lines--he
remembered
the
awful
resolve
of
Oover,
and
of
all
young
Oxford.
“Of
course,”
he
asked,
with
a
lightness
that
hardly
hid
his
dread
of
the
answer,
“you
have
dismissed
the
notion
you
were
toying
with
when
I
left
you?”
Oover’s
face,
like
his
nature,
was
as
sensitive
as
it
was
massive,
and
it
instantly
expressed
his
pain
at
the
doubt
cast
on
his
high
seriousness.
“Duke,”
he
asked,
“d’you
take
me
for
a
skunk?”
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
