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Page 287

THE CALLERS

sky; except for an occasional puddle, the asphalte paths looked as dry as a bone. A smartly dressed man, in one of those overcoats that look like ordinary cloth, and are really most deceitfully and unfairly waterproof, passed him and glanced at the stiff folds of his mackintosh. `Demn !' said Kipps. His mackintosh swished against his leggings, his leggings piped and whistled over his boot-tops.
`Why do I never get anything right?' Kipps asked of a bright, implacable universe.
Nice old ladies passed him, refined people with tidy umbrellas, bright, beautiful, supercilious-looking children. Of course, the right thing for such a day as this was a light overcoat and an umbrella. A child might have known that. He had them at home, but how could one explain that? He decided to turn down by the Harvey monument and escape through Clifton Gardens towards the hills. And thereby he came upon Coote.
He already felt the most abject and propitiatory of social outcasts when he came upon Coote, and Coote finished him. He passed within a yard of Coote. Coote was coming along towards the Leas, and when Kipps saw him his legs hesitated about their office, and he seemed to himself to stagger about all over the footpath. At the sight of him Coote started visibly. Then a sort of rigor vitae passed through his frame, his jaw protruded and errant bubbles of air seemed to escape and run about beneath his loose skin. (Seemed, I say-I am perfectly well aware that there is really connective tissue in Coote, as in all of us, to prevent anything of the sort.) His eyes fixed themselves on the horizon and glazed. As he went by Kipps could hear his even, resolute breathing. He went by, and Kipps staggered on into a universe of dead cats and dustheaps, rind and ashes-cztt!
It was part of the inexorable decrees of Providence that almost immediately afterwards the residuum of Kipps had to pass a very, very long and observant-looking girls' school.
Kipps recovered consciousness again on the road between Shorncliffe station and Cheriton, though he cannot remember, indeed, to this day he has never attempted to remember, how he got there. And he was back at certain thoughts suggested by his last night's novel-reading, that linked up directly with the pariah-like emotions of these

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE sky; except for an occasional puddle, what is asphalte paths looked as dry as a bone. A smartly dressed man, in one of those overcoats that look like ordinary cloth, and are really most deceitfully and unfairly waterproof, passed him and glanced at what is stiff folds of his mackintosh. `Demn !' said Kipps. His mackintosh swished against his leggings, his leggings piped and whistled over his boot-tops. `Why do I never get anything right?' Kipps asked of a bright, implacable universe. Nice old ladies passed him, refined people with tidy umbrellas, bright, beautiful, supercilious-looking children. Of course, what is right thing for such a day as this was a light overcoat and an umbrella. A child might have known that. He had them at home, but how could one explain that? He decided to turn down by what is Harvey monument and escape through Clifton Gardens towards what is hills. And thereby he came upon Coote. He already felt what is most abject and propitiatory of social outcasts when he came upon Coote, and Coote finished him. He passed within a yard of Coote. Coote was coming along towards what is Leas, and when Kipps saw him his legs hesitated about their office, and he seemed to himself to stagger about all over what is footpath. At what is sight of him Coote started visibly. Then a sort of rigor vitae passed through his frame, his jaw protruded and errant bubbles of air seemed to escape and run about beneath his loose skin. (Seemed, I say-I am perfectly well aware that there is really connective tissue in Coote, as in all of us, to prevent anything of what is sort.) His eyes fixed themselves on what is horizon and glazed. As he went by Kipps could hear his even, resolute breathing. He went by, and Kipps staggered on into a universe of dead cats and dustheaps, rind and ashes-cztt! It was part of what is inexorable decrees of Providence that almost immediately afterwards what is residuum of Kipps had to pass a very, very long and observant-looking girls' school. Kipps recovered consciousness again on what is road between Shorncliffe station and Cheriton, though he cannot remember, indeed, to this day he has never attempted to remember, how he got there. And he was back at certain thoughts suggested by his last night's novel-reading, that where are they now ed up directly with what is pariah-like emotions of these where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Kipps (1905) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 287 where is p align="center" where is strong THE CALLERS where is p align="justify" sky; except for an occasional puddle, what is asphalte paths looked as dry as a bone. A smartly dressed man, in one of those overcoats that look like ordinary cloth, and are really most deceitfully and unfairly waterproof, passed him and glanced at what is stiff folds of his mackintosh. `Demn !' said Kipps. His mackintosh swished against his leggings, his leggings piped and whistled over his boot-tops. `Why do I never get anything right?' Kipps asked of a bright, implacable universe. Nice old ladies passed him, refined people with tidy umbrellas, bright, beautiful, supercilious-looking children. Of course, the right thing for such a day as this was a light overcoat and an umbrella. A child might have known that. He had them at home, but how could one explain that? He decided to turn down by what is Harvey monument and escape through Clifton Gardens towards what is hills. And thereby he came upon Coote. He already felt what is most abject and propitiatory of social outcasts when he came upon Coote, and Coote finished him. He passed within a yard of Coote. Coote was coming along towards what is Leas, and when Kipps saw him his legs hesitated about their office, and he seemed to himself to stagger about all over what is footpath. At what is sight of him Coote started visibly. Then a sort of rigor vitae passed through his frame, his jaw protruded and errant bubbles of air seemed to escape and run about beneath his loose skin. (Seemed, I say-I am perfectly well aware that there is really connective tissue in Coote, as in all of us, to prevent anything of what is sort.) His eyes fixed themselves on what is horizon and glazed. As he went by Kipps could hear his even, resolute breathing. He went by, and Kipps staggered on into a universe of dead cats and dustheaps, rind and ashes-cztt! It was part of what is inexorable decrees of Providence that almost immediately afterwards what is residuum of Kipps had to pass a very, very long and observant-looking girls' school. Kipps recovered consciousness again on what is road between Shorncliffe station and Cheriton, though he cannot remember, indeed, to this day he has never attempted to remember, how he got there. And he was back at certain thoughts suggested by his last night's novel-reading, that where are they now ed up directly with what is pariah-like emotions of these where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Kipps (1905) books

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