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Galsworthy, John, 1867-1933

"Five Tales"

We could make it ourselves. You are a
chook!"
A scent of hair, like hay, enveloped him, her lips bobbed against his
nose,--and there came a feeling in his heart as when he rolled the
first sip of a special wine against his palate. This little house was
a rumty-too affair, her mother was a humbug, the boy a cheeky young
rascal, but there was a warmth here he never felt in that big house
which had been his wife's and was now his holy daughter's. And once more
he rejoiced at his day's work, and the success of his breach of trust,
which put some little ground beneath these young feet, in a hard and
unscrupulous world. Phyllis whispered in his ear:
"Guardy, do look; he will stare at me like that. Isn't it awful--like a
boiled rabbit?"
Bob Pillin, attentive to Mrs. Larne, was gazing with all his might over
her shoulder at the girl. The young man was moonstruck, that was clear!
There was something almost touching in the stare of those puppy dog's
eyes. And he thought 'Young beggar--wish I were his age!' The utter
injustice of having an old and helpless body, when your desire for
enjoyment was as great as ever! They said a man was as old as he felt!
Fools! A man was as old as his legs and arms, and not a day younger.


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