Sentence The Threehundredandtenth
“I admire ze vay you write with a complete absence of gongorism,” said Ludmilla to Allan Massie, after he had signed her copy of End Games in Bordeaux and dedicated it with a literary flourish, to Commissar Ludmilla Lermontova, come to the Brave Borderlands from the Steppes of Russia with snow on her boots, which made her laugh, and say, “any snow on them is fallen from your own skies, sweet auteur, meine kleine schatz,” and the incumbent Writer in Residence at The Ship Inn had a twinkle in his eye when one of the Hoochie-Coochie girls brought the 'Today's Special' nosh to their table and while they munched, all three, Allan, Ludmilla and Chrysanthemum, the interstitials between them became as insignificant as the space between two lovers lips when they meet in a kiss, as words fell over words, all three speaking between mouthfuls and sometimes even with their mouths full, so much had they each to say, for Allan had his own theories concerning the disappearance of Aunty Crist's two nieces and the MI5 Agent, one of his own drinking buddies, Tavish Dalwhinnie, as, having seen the Lermontov Manuscript now in Cristobal's hands and being aware of Jasmine Juniper-Green's quantum collision theory, which though pooh-poohed by the cynics and Believers, for whom it seemed too far-fetched, but perhaps, in truth, because it could explain so many of life's mysteries such as 'ghosts' 'apparitions' 'visitations' and the ultimate sacred cow: 'the resurrection', being as scientifically possible without any recourse to Divine Intervention; but “I don't know,” mused the auteur as he glanced from one of his dining companions to the other, “if alternative universes are a comforting or disappointing concept – if I am only conscious in one, what is the comfort of the existence of others? I mean, if you two delightful girls go off hand in hand in the moonlight in this Universe, what possible benefit to me is there in knowing that in another we three go off hand in hand together?” and though Chrysanthemum simply pouted, her brows crumpled in thought, it was Ludmilla who replied: “I can assure you, Alain, that in every Universe possible, this sweet and adorable creature, Rubenesque and voluptuous as she is, will always be just as much a
Lesbian as I am, and you can take it from me, that so far as Men are concerned, it is a case of: You Can Look, But Do Not Touch!”
“I admire ze vay you write with a complete absence of gongorism,” said Ludmilla to Allan Massie, after he had signed her copy of End Games in Bordeaux and dedicated it with a literary flourish, to Commissar Ludmilla Lermontova, come to the Brave Borderlands from the Steppes of Russia with snow on her boots, which made her laugh, and say, “any snow on them is fallen from your own skies, sweet auteur, meine kleine schatz,” and the incumbent Writer in Residence at The Ship Inn had a twinkle in his eye when one of the Hoochie-Coochie girls brought the 'Today's Special' nosh to their table and while they munched, all three, Allan, Ludmilla and Chrysanthemum, the interstitials between them became as insignificant as the space between two lovers lips when they meet in a kiss, as words fell over words, all three speaking between mouthfuls and sometimes even with their mouths full, so much had they each to say, for Allan had his own theories concerning the disappearance of Aunty Crist's two nieces and the MI5 Agent, one of his own drinking buddies, Tavish Dalwhinnie, as, having seen the Lermontov Manuscript now in Cristobal's hands and being aware of Jasmine Juniper-Green's quantum collision theory, which though pooh-poohed by the cynics and Believers, for whom it seemed too far-fetched, but perhaps, in truth, because it could explain so many of life's mysteries such as 'ghosts' 'apparitions' 'visitations' and the ultimate sacred cow: 'the resurrection', being as scientifically possible without any recourse to Divine Intervention; but “I don't know,” mused the auteur as he glanced from one of his dining companions to the other, “if alternative universes are a comforting or disappointing concept – if I am only conscious in one, what is the comfort of the existence of others? I mean, if you two delightful girls go off hand in hand in the moonlight in this Universe, what possible benefit to me is there in knowing that in another we three go off hand in hand together?” and though Chrysanthemum simply pouted, her brows crumpled in thought, it was Ludmilla who replied: “I can assure you, Alain, that in every Universe possible, this sweet and adorable creature, Rubenesque and voluptuous as she is, will always be just as much a Lesbian as I am, and you can take it from me, that so far as Men are concerned, it is a case of: You Can Look, But Do Not Touch!”
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