He moaned in excitement as his lips wrapped around the peak of her right breast. “Well, no,” she answered. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences.
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