Read Online The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark - Free Book Online

of body and mind, complete composure whatever the social scene. Elegant dress, immaculate . . . Oh, Christ," she said, "I'm tired of picking crumbs of meat out of the shepherd's pie, picking with a fork to get the little bits of meat separated from the little bits of potato. You don't know what it's like trying to eat enough to live on and at the same time avoid fats and carbohydrates."
        Nicholas kissed her tenderly. He felt there might be a sweetness in Jane, after all, for nothing reveals a secret sweetness so much as a personal point of misery bursting out of a phlegmatic creature.
        Jane said, "I've got to feed my brain."
        He said he would try to get her a pair of nylon stockings from the American with whom he worked. Her legs were bare and dark-haired. There and then he gave her six clothing coupons out of his coupon book. He said she could have his next week's egg. She said, "You need your egg for your brain."
        "I have breakfast at the American canteen," he said. "We have eggs there, and orange juice."
        She said she would take his egg. The egg-ration was one a week at this time, it was the beginning of the hardest period of food-rationing, since the liberated countries had now to be supplied. Nicholas had a gas-ring in his bed-sitting room on which he cooked his supper when he was at home and remembered about supper. He said, "You can have all my tea, I drink coffee. I get it from the Americans."
        She said she would be glad of his tea. The tea-ration was two ounces one week and three ounces the next, alternately. Tea was useful for bartering purposes. She felt she would really have to take the author's side, where Nicholas was concerned, and somehow hoodwink George. Nicholas was a true artist and had some feelings. George was only a publisher. She would have to put Nicholas wise to George's fault-finding technique of business.
        "Let's go down," Nicholas said.
        The door opened and Rudi Bittesch stood watching them for a moment. Rudi was always sober.
        "Rudi!" said Jane with unusual enthusiasm. She was glad to be seen to know somebody in this milieu who had not been introduced by Nicholas. It was a way of showing that she belonged to it.
        "Well, well," Rudi said. "How are you doing these days, Nick, by the way?"
        Nicholas said he was on loan to the Americans.
        Rudi laughed like a cynical uncle and said, himself he too could have worked for the Americans if he had wanted to sell out.
        "Sell out what?" Nicholas said.
        "My integrity to work only for peace," said Rudi. "By the way, come and join the party and forget it."
        On the way down he said to Nicholas, "You're publishing a book with Throvis-Mew? I hear this news by Jane."
        Jane said quickly, in case Rudi should reveal that he had already seen the book, "It's a sort of anarchist book."
        Rudi said to Nicholas, "You still like anarchism, by the way?"
        "But not anarchists by and large, by the way," Nicholas said.
     
    "How has he died, by the way?" said Rudi.
        "He was martyred, they say," said Jane.
        "In Haiti? How is this?"
        "I don't know much, except what I get from the news sources. Reuters says a local rising. Associated News has a bit that's just come in ... I was thinking of that manuscript _The Sabbath Notebooks__."
        "I have it still. If he is famous by his death, I find it. How has he died ... ?"
        "I can't hear you, it's a rotten line ... I say I can't hear, Rudi ..."
        "How has he died ... by what means?"
        "It will be worth a lot of money, Rudi."
        "I find it. This line is bad by the way, can you hear me? How has he died ... ?"
        "... a hut . . ."
        "I can't hear . . ."
        ". . . in a valley . . ."
        "Speak loud."
        "... in a clump of palms . . . deserted ... it was market day, everyone had gone to market."
        "I find it.