Sentence The Twohundredandfifteenth
The nictitate had started with one eye, but as he drove it spread to the other, and he noticed in the mirror that blood was still running down his forehead and into his eyes; he swiped it with the back of a hand which helped a little, but he felt his mind was getting addled, because he kept forgetting to change gear and at one point he drove straight through a red light – he wasn't bothered about that for he knew no officers would dare pull him over, he would be absolved of any minor moving traffic offences – He was the law here, after all; was he going into the city, or doing a mauka? the Pentlands
 
seemed to be looming over him and they had been behind him before, indeed the whole world seemed to be tilted and if it went much further the car and himself would fall off and his vision was getting blurred, maybe he should go into the Steading for a drink to sober himself up, no, that was the wrong way round, maybe a black toffee, and then he was aware of the car slowly veering off the road and suddenly he was in the middle of a field – how the fuck did he get here, he should be near his house by now, but instead a cow was staring at him and the world seemed to be turning rosy, no matter how much he swiped his eyes, maybe it was inside his head and he thought that if he just shut his eyes for a few moments he could stop thinking altogether and . . . . .