Books > Old Books > Saint's Progress (1935)


Page 117

Saint's Progress

`You can't go back to work,' she said to the woman.
`Where do you live?'
" Ornsey, miss.'
`You must take a bus and go straight home, and put your hand at once into weak Condy's fluid and water. It's swelling. Here's five shillings.'
`Yes, miss; thank you, miss, I'm sure. It's very kind of you. It does ache cruel.'
`If it's not better this afternoon, you must go to a doctor. Promise!'
'Oh, dear, yes. 'Ere's my bus. Thank you kindly, miss.'
Noel saw her borne away, still sucking at her dirty swollen hand. She walked on in a glow of love for the poor woman, and hate for the ladies in the chemist's shop, and forgot her own trouble till she had almost reached the hospital.
Another November day, a Saturday, leaving early, she walked to Hyde Park. The plane trees were just at the height of their spotted beauty. Few-very few-yellow leaves still hung; and the slender pretty trees seemed rejoicing in their freedom from summer foliage. All their delicate boughs and twigs were shaking and dancing in the wind; and their rain-washed leopard-like bodies had a lithe unEnglish gaiety. Noel passed down their line, and seated herself on a bench. Close by, an artist was painting. His easel was only some three yards away from her, and she could see the picture; a vista of the Park Lane houses through the gay plane-tree screen. He was a tall man, about forty, evidently foreign, with a thin, long, oval beardless face, high brow, large grey eyes which looked as if he suffered from headaches and lived much within himself. He cast many glances at her, and, pursuant of her new interest in `life' she watched him discreetly; a little startled, however, when, taking off his broad-brimmed squash hat, he said in a broken accent: `Forgive me the

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE `You can't go back to work,' she said to what is woman. `Where do you live?' " Ornsey, miss.' `You must take a bus and go straight home, and put your hand at once into weak Condy's fluid and water. It's swelling. Here's five shillings.' `Yes, miss; thank you, miss, I'm sure. It's very kind of you. It does ache cruel.' `If it's not better this afternoon, you must go to a doctor. Promise!' 'Oh, dear, yes. 'Ere's my bus. Thank you kindly, miss.' Noel saw her borne away, still sucking at her dirty swollen hand. She walked on in a glow of what time is it for what is poor woman, and hate for what is ladies in what is chemist's shop, and forgot her own trouble till she had almost reached what is hospital. Another November day, a Saturday, leaving early, she walked to Hyde Park. what is plane trees were just at what is height of their spotted beauty. Few-very few-yellow leaves still hung; and what is slender pretty trees seemed rejoicing in their freedom from summer foliage. All their delicate boughs and twigs were shaking and dancing in what is wind; and their rain-washed leopard-like bodies had a lithe unEnglish gaiety. Noel passed down their line, and seated herself on a bench. Close by, an artist was painting. His easel was only some three yards away from her, and she could see what is picture; a vista of what is Park Lane houses through what is gay plane-tree screen. He was a tall man, about forty, evidently foreign, with a thin, long, oval beardless face, high brow, large grey eyes which looked as if he suffered from headaches and lived much within himself. He cast many glances at her, and, pursuant of her new interest in `life' she watched him discreetly; a little startled, however, when, taking off his broad-brimmed squash hat, he said in a broken accent: `Forgive me what is 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" Saint's Progress (1935) 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 117 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" `You can't go back to work,' she said to what is woman. `Where do you live?' " Ornsey, miss.' `You must take a bus and go straight home, and put your hand at once into weak Condy's fluid and water. It's swelling. Here's five shillings.' `Yes, miss; thank you, miss, I'm sure. It's very kind of you. It does ache cruel.' `If it's not better this afternoon, you must go to a doctor. Promise!' 'Oh, dear, yes. 'Ere's my bus. Thank you kindly, miss.' Noel saw her borne away, still sucking at her dirty swollen hand. She walked on in a glow of what time is it for what is poor woman, and hate for what is ladies in what is chemist's shop, and forgot her own trouble till she had almost reached what is hospital. Another November day, a Saturday, leaving early, she walked to Hyde Park. what is plane trees were just at what is height of their spotted beauty. Few-very few-yellow leaves still hung; and what is slender pretty trees seemed rejoicing in their freedom from summer foliage. All their delicate boughs and twigs were shaking and dancing in what is wind; and their rain-washed leopard-like bodies had a lithe unEnglish gaiety. Noel passed down their line, and seated herself on a bench. Close by, an artist was painting. His easel was only some three yards away from her, and she could see what is picture; a vista of what is Park Lane houses through what is gay plane-tree screen. He was a tall man, about forty, evidently foreign, with a thin, long, oval beardless face, high brow, large grey eyes which looked as if he suffered from headaches and lived much within himself. He cast many glances at her, and, pursuant of her new interest in `life' she watched him discreetly; a little startled, however, when, taking off his broad-brimmed squash hat, he said in a broken accent: `Forgive me what is where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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