By Lawrence Durrell
The British overseas place of work is a undying establishment. Antrobus is the embodiment of every little thing that makes it what it truly is. His stories of diplomatic misadventure, followed via memorable and witty drawings, make a set to cherish, for so long as the overseas place of work holds sway over far-flung British pursuits. 'Whatever wars there is and no matter what crises, there'll nonetheless, please heaven, be the diplomatic corps, with its protocol and formalities and a box of humour which i haven't noticeable higher used than in those stories.' John Betjeman
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Extra info for Antrobus Complete
It had taken her years to worm her way into Little Hyssop’s good graces, and she didn’t have the patience now for the subterfuge. But the most troublesome aspect was if Deb contacted her—or even, miracle of miracles, returned the bloody necklace—she wouldn’t know it. She might be on the run for the next six months. The candle wavered as she heaved a sigh. She would think better on a full stomach. But when she reached the top of the steps that led down to the kitchen, she nearly tumbled straight down when she heard the laughter.
He bent over and began to lick the raspberries and whipped cream from her belly. She tried to lie still—she did, really, but when the tip of his tongue circled her navel, then dipped in, she jumped. Apparently finished with her stomach, he scooped more from the bowl and rubbed a dollop of pink on one nipple, then stood back to admire his handiwork. “This is outrageous! ” “I quite agree. ” He decorated the other breast as well, heaping a mound of raspberry-streaked cream on her aureole. Charlotte knew her nipples were stiff with cold and decadence.
That’s the hole in their grand security scheme. As if men can control themselves and their tallywags until dark. Of course, most of the Janes respect the gentlemen who’ve set them up here and don’t dally unless that’s what their gentlemen want them to do so they can watch. ” Mrs. Kelly put the tart down on a linen napkin. “I suppose I can’t really blame her. She saw her chance to catch a husband. Lord knows, Sir Michael might never marry again, and he’s sure not to marry a whore. ” Bread stuck in Charlotte’s throat.