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’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. ‘Come on, Hilary. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. ” His eyes were squeezed shut. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. ’ Pottiswick sucked at his teeth through the gaps. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. The modern parts of the book were inspired by my worldview of high school as pure, unadulterated Hell.
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