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From: | Elliot George |
Subject: | [Fenfire-dev] illustrative pitiful |
Date: | Fri, 15 Sep 2006 15:56:31 +0300 |
![]() Why, its virtually winter already, andthe worst
possible time of year to travel about in. His eyes almost jumped out of his head
when I said it, Mary.
Well, Im positive he thought me a contemporary, if
not just of oldB. And the people here are all sorosy and sturdy that they dont
understand any one being pale andthin.
It was as if he said to himself, once didnt count.
Why, yes, of course, as far as thats concerned, said Mary, who hadnot interrupted by
a word.
Mother sat by the fire in the twilight, her hands
folded placidly inher lap.
His greatcoat hung a ton-weight on his shoulders.
He was greeted with bows and bobs and touchedforelocks. He returned the smile,
accepted the cakes,but otherwise, finding no point of contact, sat
silent.
Their very luggage,rough, makeshift, colonial,
formed a butt for ridicule. I declare to you the verycushions are damp.
Besides, it might evenimprove under my hands
But because I wish to go out into the world and
stand on myown feet . And then he would fall to musing on the subject of wisdom
inborn andacquired. It was between nine and ten oclock, the hour of day at which
thelittle town was liveliest. I spoke without reflection but, upon my soul, it does
look rather likethe finger of Providence. There, also, to the deep notes of
hisbigger bell and his insistent: To all whom it may concern!
Living inthe colony, too, one learnt to make up
ones mind quickly.
It made me feel I must be beginningto look a very
old man.
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