It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. ” “It’s very good to be alive. But I'll tell you about him some other time. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out.
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