John William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to Ulysses

John William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to UlyssesJohn William Waterhouse BoreasJohn William Waterhouse Ariadne
WE FINISHED THE FIELD, he said, with a hint of triumph. ALL STACKED IN STOOKS, OR POSSIBLY THE OTHER-WAY AROUND. He clutched at his skull again.
AARCH.
Miss Flitworth disappeared into the scullery. There was the creaking of a pump. She returned with a damp flannel and a glass of water.
THERE’S A NEWT IN IT!
coming.’
WILL IT SPOIL MY HARVEST?
‘No. It’ll dry out after.’
HOW IS THE CHILD?
Bill Door unfolded his palm. Miss Flitworth raised her eyebrows. The golden glass was there, the top bulb almost empty. But it simmered in and out of vision.
‘How come you’ve got it? It’s upstairs! She was holding it like,’ - she floundered - ‘like someone fresh,’ said Miss Flitworth,* fishing the amphibian out and releasing it on the flagstones, where it scuttled away into a crack. Bill Door tried to stand up.NOW I ALMOST KNOW WHY SOME PEOPLE WISH TO DIE. he said. I HAD HEARD OF PAIN AND MISERY BUT I HAD NOT HITHERTO FULLY UNDERSTOOD WHAT THEY MEANT.Miss Flitworth peered through the dusty window. The clouds that had been piling up all afternoon towered over the hills, grey with a menacing hint of yellow. The heat pressed down like a vice.‘There’s a big storm