The Liar [antikvár]

One i Adrian checked the orchid at his buttonhole, inspected the spats at his feet, gave the lavender gloves a twitch, smoothed down his waistcoat, tucked the ebony Malacca-cane under his arm, swallowed twice and pushed wide the changing-room door. 'Ah, my dears,' he cried. 'Congratulations! Congratulations to you all! A triumph, an absolute triumph!' 'Well, what the fuck's he wearing now?' they snorted from the steamy end of the room. 'You're an arse and an idiot, Healey.' Burkiss threw a flannel onto the shiny top hat. Adrian reached up and took it between forefinger and thumb. 'If there is the slightest possibility, Burkiss, that this flannel has absorbed any of the juices that leak from within you, that it has mopped up a single droplet of your revolting pubescent greases, that it has tickled and frotted even one of the hideously mired corners of your disgusting body then I shall have a spasm. I'm sorry but I shall.' In spite of himself, Cartwright smiled. He moved