Books > Old Books > Midnight Tales (1946)


Page 51

THE TOOL

said to myself, `let me make certain of a date from which to reckon.' I was positive that I had started on my holiday on Monday, the 22nd. For further information there was the return half of my ticket stamped with the date. On Monday I slept at Dunsley; Tuesday at this same inn at Chedsholme, Wednesday at Rapmoor, Thursday at Frankstone Edge, and Friday at Gorton. Each day, as I looked back, seemed well filled; my recollection of each was clearly defined. And yet somewhere there was a gap of twenty-four hours about which I knew nothing.
I have always been absent-minded-ludicrously so, my friends might say-it is, in fact, a trait in my character that has on more than one occasion put me into an embarrassing situation; but here was something of a nature completely different. In vain I groped about in my memory in search for even the shadow of an explanation. The week came back to me as no sequence of indistinguishable grey days, but the clearest of well-ordered processions. But was it really Sunday? Could the whole thing be a hoax, explicable as the result of some absurd wager? In default of a better the hypothesis was worth testing. I made a pretence of finishing the meal and, taking my hat from the stand, hurried out of the house. I walked in the direction of the church, but as I approached the building my heart sank within me. I passed half a dozen young fellows hanging about the churchyard gate, waiting to walk back home with their girls. `It's been a dreary Sunday,' I said, and one stopped in the act of lighting a cigarette to agree. I stood in the porch to listen. They were singing Bishop Ken's evening hymn. Then came the thin piping voice of the priest, asking for defence against the perils and dangers of the night.
Under a feeling of almost unbearable depression, I made my way back to the inn and its empty parlour.
`After all,' I said to myself, `there's nothing that I can do. Other men before now have lost their memory. I should be thankful for regaining it so quickly, and that no harm has been done. No good, at any rate, can result from my pondering over the thing.' But in spite of my resolution I found it

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE said to myself, `let me make certain of a date from which to reckon.' I was positive that I had started on my holiday on Monday, what is 22nd. For further information there was what is return half of my ticket stamped with what is date. On Monday I slept at Dunsley; Tuesday at this same inn at Chedsholme, Wednesday at Rapmoor, Thursday at Frankstone Edge, and Friday at Gorton. Each day, as I looked back, seemed well filled; my recollection of each was clearly defined. And yet somewhere there was a gap of twenty-four hours about which I knew nothing. I have always been absent-minded-ludicrously so, my friends might say-it is, in fact, a trait in my character that has on more than one occasion put me into an embarrassing situation; but here was something of a nature completely different. In vain I groped about in my memory in search for even what is shadow of an explanation. what is week came back to me as no sequence of indistinguishable grey days, but what is clearest of well-ordered processions. But was it really Sunday? Could what is whole thing be a hoax, explicable as what is result of some absurd wager? In default of a better what is hypothesis was worth testing. I made a pretence of finishing what is meal and, taking my hat from what is stand, hurried out of what is house. I walked in what is direction of what is church, but as I approached what is building my heart sank within me. I passed half a dozen young fellows hanging about what is churchyard gate, waiting to walk back home with their girls. `It's been a dreary Sunday,' I said, and one stopped in what is act of lighting a cigarette to agree. I stood in what is porch to listen. They were singing Bishop Ken's evening hymn. Then came what is thin piping voice of what is priest, asking for defence against what is perils and dangers of what is night. Under a feeling of almost unbearable depression, I made my way back to what is inn and its empty parlour. `After all,' I said to myself, `there's nothing that I can do. Other men before now have lost their memory. I should be thankful for regaining it so quickly, and that no harm has been done. No good, at any rate, can result from my pondering over what is thing.' But in spite of my resolution I found it 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" Midnight Tales (1946) 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 51 where is p align="center" where is strong THE TOOL where is p align="justify" said to myself, `let me make certain of a date from which to reckon.' I was positive that I had started on my holiday on Monday, what is 22nd. For further information there was what is return half of my ticket stamped with what is date. On Monday I slept at Dunsley; Tuesday at this same inn at Chedsholme, Wednesday at Rapmoor, Thursday at Frankstone Edge, and Friday at Gorton. Each day, as I looked back, seemed well filled; my recollection of each was clearly defined. And yet somewhere there was a gap of twenty-four hours about which I knew nothing. I have always been absent-minded-ludicrously so, my friends might say-it is, in fact, a trait in my character that has on more than one occasion put me into an embarrassing situation; but here was something of a nature completely different. In vain I groped about in my memory in search for even what is shadow of an explanation. The week came back to me as no sequence of indistinguishable grey days, but what is clearest of well-ordered processions. But was it really Sunday? Could what is whole thing be a hoax, explicable as what is result of some absurd wager? In default of a better what is hypothesis was worth testing. I made a pretence of finishing what is meal and, taking my hat from what is stand, hurried out of what is house. I walked in the direction of what is church, but as I approached what is building my heart sank within me. I passed half a dozen young fellows hanging about what is churchyard gate, waiting to walk back home with their girls. `It's been a dreary Sunday,' I said, and one stopped in what is act of lighting a cigarette to agree. I stood in what is porch to listen. They were singing Bishop Ken's evening hymn. Then came what is thin piping voice of what is priest, asking for defence against what is perils and dangers of what is night. Under a feeling of almost unbearable depression, I made my way back to what is inn and its empty parlour. `After all,' I said to myself, `there's nothing that I can do. Other men before now have lost their memory. I should be thankful for regaining it so quickly, and that no harm has been done. No good, at any rate, can result from my pondering over what is thing.' But in spite of my resolution I found it where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Midnight Tales (1946) books

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