'I adore him,' Sally told me, repeatedly and very solemnly, whenever we were alone together. She was intensely earnest
in believing this. It was like a dogma in a newly adopted
religious creed; Sally adores Clive. It is a very solemn undertaking to adore a millionaire. Sally's features began to assume,
with increasing frequency, the rapt expression of the theatrical nun. And indeed, when Clive, with his charming vague-
ness, gave a particularly flagrant professional beggar a
47
twenty-mark note, we would exchange- glances of genuine
awe. The waste of so much good money affected us both like
something inspired, a kind of miracle.
C. Isherwood, Goodbye to Berlin (1939), 64
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