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From: | Jock Pearson |
Subject: | [Hurdfr-paris] ecstatic |
Date: | Tue, 19 Sep 2006 23:01:14 -0400 |
In Dinnys bag was a letter just received. I like to
think its up to me to pull him out of it.
I think, said Dinny, you ought to tell me more.
Thomas Cooks would change it,perhaps, or at least tell her where to get Belgian
money.
And she decided to consult the butler,
Blore.
The Press would surely take it up on
thoselines.
No, its the blokes who get swelled head that
makethe trouble. After that, unless we hear from you, it will be forsale. Theyre the
kind of young person who still make one believe inhistory.
By now Walter must haveread the diary; had perhaps
already made up his mind on the case!
Give mydear love to Hubert and tell him alls
well.
Then, remembering the needed touchof nonchalance,
she leaned back and crossed her knees.
It was drizzling now andshe took a cab back to
Mount Street.
Blore, remind me to write about that sheep-dog
puppy. She looked at themanxiously, seeking for signs of heartiness.
She felt ratherbreathless, but kept her eyebrows
slightly raised and her eyelidshalf closed.
To go to bed with ones whole soul in a state of
upheaval! That was your mother; shes a gentle creature, Dinny. There are others if
he doesnt offervalue. After this warmth and comfort, she set her face again towards
MountStreet.
She moved slowly down the train,looking into each
carriage. They say I take to it like a duck to water.
And, looking round, she saw Jean in the doorway of
acompartment.
We must get Walter to do this from alow motive, and
feel it to be a high one. If you will come to the Foreign Office atten minutes to
six, we might go round together.
Neither, frombeginning to end of that half-hour,
touched on feeling.
Thediarys in print, Dinny, and old Blythes writing
that preface.
Jean looked into the distance so that Dinny could
almost feel thecub coming round the corner.
When their faces are mostly white they have a kind
of divinemadness, have you noticed, Dinny?
Whatever they were up to was better than being up
to nothing, likeherself!
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