She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. ’ The lady’s face came round, a puzzled frown on her brow. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More.
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