James Scavanger had first met the woman who would become his wife on a Thursday afternoon at the Tomb of the Unknown Celebrity, where she did the floors. As she had approached him through the crowds, pushing her wide mop, he had whispered a batrachian whisper she couldn't fail to hear. Hoarse with abstract rapture he had whispered: 'I have a serpent of delight!' It was a rare lyric moment for James, who was a pure scientist. Phyllis had responded by quoting Virginia Woolf, although she did not know it. Not stopping her mop, she had said: 'Something always has to be done next.' 'Meet me,' croaked James, 'at the Bureau of Birth, Death and Matrimony. Half-past nine next Saturday morning.' To sum up he added: 'We'll get married.'

LRB 17 June 1982 | PDF Download