!*6 ANGEL PAVEMENT

whether on clothes, drink, tobacco, or amusement, was
conjured out of his pocket by the richest and most art-
ful advertising managers. Perhaps that is why his suits
bagged so soon, his shoes soaked up the rain, his cigar-
ettes shredded and split, and his amusements failed to
amuse.

When he had done with the newspaper, he took from

the mantelpiece (and he could do this without getting up

from the bed) the latest issue of a twopenny periodical

that was devoted to the films, though more especially

to the film actors with the longest eyelashes and the

actresses with the largest eyes. He spent the next half

hour staring at the photographs in this paper and

reading its scrappy paragraphs, not with any particular

enthusiasm. Turgis was not really a film enthusiast. He

knew nothing about camera angles and "cutting" and

all the intricacies of crowd work, and never in his life

had he seriously compared one film with another. He

could laugh at the comic men with the rest, but he did

not fully appreciate the clowning on the screen, simply

because he had not a very strong sense of humour. No,

what drew him to the films was the fact that he and

they had a common enthusiasm, they had both a

passionate interest in sex. In those dim sensuous

palaces, filled with throbbing music and shifting

coloured lights, Turgis the lover entered his dream

kingdom. You could say that the money he paid at their

doors was silver tribute to Aphrodite, to whose worship

the Phoenicians of the Californian coast have built more

temples than ever the old Phoenicians of Cyprus did;

and for a few moments, as he sat in the steep darkened

galleries, Turgis would be shaken and then intoxicated

by the golden presence of the goddess as she flashed