copying out the question. Then they take out their little rulers and rule lines under it.”
I think Milton succeeded very well in justifying the ways of God to man by making Satan such a horrible person, though Shelley said that Milton was of the Devil’s party without knowing it. On the other hand it is probably impossible to justify the ways of God to man because if you believe in God then he can do anything he likes anyway, and if you don’t there’s no point trying to justify Him. “Paradise Lost” is an epic poem in blank verse, which is another clever way of justifying the ways of God to man because if it rhymed it would seem too pat. My tutor Professor Swallow seduced me in his office last February, if I don’t pass this exam I will tell everybody. John Milton was the greatest English poet after Shakespeare. He knew many languages and nearly wrote “Paradise Lost” in Latin in which case nobody would be able to read it today. He locked the door and made me lie on the floor so nobody could see us through the window. I banged my head on the wastepaper bin. He also considered writing his epic poem about King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, which is a pity he didn’t as it would have made a more exciting story.
“How did you get hold of this?” Morris asked, as he skimmed through the script.
“Someone in the Department sent it to me, anonymously. I suspect it was Rupert Sutcliffe. He was first marker on the paper. It was a resit, in September, a couple of years ago. The girl had failed in June. Sutcliffe and some of the other senior members of staff confronted Philip with it.”
“And?”
“Oh, he admitted he’d had the girl on his office carpet, like she said—and that rather nice Indian you burned a hole in with your cigar, do you remember?” Hilary’s tone was casual, even flippant, but it seemed to Morris that it concealed a deep hurt. “He claimed that she seduced him started unbuttoning her blouse in the middle of a consultation. As if he couldn’t have just told her to do it up again. The girl didn’t take it any further, fortunately. She left shortly afterwards—her family went abroad.”
“Is that all?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is that the only time Philip has cheated on you?”
“How do I know? It’s the only time he’s been caught. But nobody I discussed it with seemed particularly surprised. And when I go to Department do’s I get a look that I can only describe as pitying.” They were both silent for a few moments. Then Morris said: “Hilary, are you trying to tell me that you’re unhappy?”
“I suppose I am.”
After another pause, Morris said: “If Désirée were sitting here now, she’d tell you to forget Philip, make your own life. Get yourself a job, find another guy.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
“I took a postgraduate certificate of education course a few years ago,” said Hilary, “and as soon as I finished it, they started closing down schools in the city because of the falling birthrate. So there are no jobs. I do a little tutoring for the Open University, but it’s not a career. As to lovers, it’s definitely too late. You were my first and last, Morris.”
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Don’t be nervous, I’m not going to drag you upstairs for a trip down memory lane…”
“Too bad,” said Morris gallantly, but with a certain relief.
“For one thing, Philip will be back soon… No, I made my bed ten years ago, and I must lie in it, cold and lumpy as it often seems.”
“How d’you mean?”
“Well, you know, when the four of us were… carrying on. Philip wanted a separation, but I begged him to come back home, give our marriage another chance, go back to being where we were before, a reasonably contented married couple. I was weak. If I’d said, to hell with you, do what you like, I daresay he would have come crawling back with his tail between his legs inside a year. But because I
I think Milton succeeded very well in justifying the ways of God to man by making Satan such a horrible person, though Shelley said that Milton was of the Devil’s party without knowing it. On the other hand it is probably impossible to justify the ways of God to man because if you believe in God then he can do anything he likes anyway, and if you don’t there’s no point trying to justify Him. “Paradise Lost” is an epic poem in blank verse, which is another clever way of justifying the ways of God to man because if it rhymed it would seem too pat. My tutor Professor Swallow seduced me in his office last February, if I don’t pass this exam I will tell everybody. John Milton was the greatest English poet after Shakespeare. He knew many languages and nearly wrote “Paradise Lost” in Latin in which case nobody would be able to read it today. He locked the door and made me lie on the floor so nobody could see us through the window. I banged my head on the wastepaper bin. He also considered writing his epic poem about King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, which is a pity he didn’t as it would have made a more exciting story.
“How did you get hold of this?” Morris asked, as he skimmed through the script.
“Someone in the Department sent it to me, anonymously. I suspect it was Rupert Sutcliffe. He was first marker on the paper. It was a resit, in September, a couple of years ago. The girl had failed in June. Sutcliffe and some of the other senior members of staff confronted Philip with it.”
“And?”
“Oh, he admitted he’d had the girl on his office carpet, like she said—and that rather nice Indian you burned a hole in with your cigar, do you remember?” Hilary’s tone was casual, even flippant, but it seemed to Morris that it concealed a deep hurt. “He claimed that she seduced him started unbuttoning her blouse in the middle of a consultation. As if he couldn’t have just told her to do it up again. The girl didn’t take it any further, fortunately. She left shortly afterwards—her family went abroad.”
“Is that all?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is that the only time Philip has cheated on you?”
“How do I know? It’s the only time he’s been caught. But nobody I discussed it with seemed particularly surprised. And when I go to Department do’s I get a look that I can only describe as pitying.” They were both silent for a few moments. Then Morris said: “Hilary, are you trying to tell me that you’re unhappy?”
“I suppose I am.”
After another pause, Morris said: “If Désirée were sitting here now, she’d tell you to forget Philip, make your own life. Get yourself a job, find another guy.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
“I took a postgraduate certificate of education course a few years ago,” said Hilary, “and as soon as I finished it, they started closing down schools in the city because of the falling birthrate. So there are no jobs. I do a little tutoring for the Open University, but it’s not a career. As to lovers, it’s definitely too late. You were my first and last, Morris.”
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Don’t be nervous, I’m not going to drag you upstairs for a trip down memory lane…”
“Too bad,” said Morris gallantly, but with a certain relief.
“For one thing, Philip will be back soon… No, I made my bed ten years ago, and I must lie in it, cold and lumpy as it often seems.”
“How d’you mean?”
“Well, you know, when the four of us were… carrying on. Philip wanted a separation, but I begged him to come back home, give our marriage another chance, go back to being where we were before, a reasonably contented married couple. I was weak. If I’d said, to hell with you, do what you like, I daresay he would have come crawling back with his tail between his legs inside a year. But because I
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