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From: | Phil Weber |
Subject: | plus sign hands-on |
Date: | Sat, 26 Aug 2006 16:12:24 +0200 |
Yourenot going to kick me out now, are
you?
Its kind of you to have me here, missus, Gursey
began at last ina servile voice.
The sun was just setting behind the blunt peak of
Black Mountain. After a long while the door opened alittle and Mrs Darvall looked
out.
You wouldnt be hard on an old man,would you? Not
what Idcall a mate, he said, but I knew him once. If he could notget away from here
what had he to live for? Once so proud and defiant, he would be grateful now ifthey
let him stay and clean out the pigsties. Wasnt it,perhaps, just the memory of
ordeals and difficulties endured andovercome?
And it began to dawn on her as plainly absurd that
eithercould make him play such a dangerous game.
Youtold me youd stick a knife in him some day, and
I think you willif you get a chance. She glanced sideways at him and his head
drooped, like a dogsexpecting to be kicked. Now she askedherself what Gursey
expected to get from all this. All at once she had become a broken,
bedraggled,humiliated old woman. He hadseen him when he came to tell Emma, and the
bewildered look of theman had touched him.
Their conflict had now reached the point where it
would be settledonce and for all, she knew.
He must be made into a man of high estate. Its so
simple you wouldnt believe me, hesaid.
He was thirty-nine, past the half-way mark of his
life. But his mood wasless of pity for the Darvalls than superstitious dread for
himself.
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