Wants to go out. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Let her wait.
Has the fidgets. Electric. Thunder in the air. Was washing at her ear
with her back to the fire too.

He felt heavy, full: then a gentle loosening of his bowels. He stood up,
undoing the waistband of his trousers. The cat mewed to him.

--Miaow! he said in answer. Wait till I'm ready.

Heaviness: hot day coming. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the
landing.

A paper. He liked to read at stool. Hope no ape comes knocking just as
I'm.

In the tabledrawer he found an old number of TITBITS. He folded it under
his armpit, went to the door and opened it. The cat went up in soft
bounds. Ah, wanted to go upstairs, curl up in a ball on the bed.

Listening, he heard her voice:

--Come, come, pussy. Come.

He went out through the backdoor into the garden: stood to listen towards
the next garden. No sound. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. The maid
was in the garden. Fine morning.

He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the wall. Make
a summerhouse here. Scarlet runners. Virginia creepers. Want to manure
the whole place over, scabby soil. A coat of liver of sulphur. All soil