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Page 205

Saint's Progress

`No, Mr. Pierson; 'e 'as not.'
There was no expression on her face; perfectly blank it was. Pierson had a mad longing to say: `For God's sake, woman, speak out what's in your mind; tell me what you think of me and my daughter. Never mind my cloth!' But he could no more say it than the woman could tell him what was in her mind. And with a`Good morning' he passed on. No man or woman would tell him anything, unless, perhaps, they were drunk. He came to a publichouse, and for a moment even hesitated before it, but the thought of insult aimed at Noel stopped him, and he passed that too. And then reality made itself known to him. Though he had come out to hear what they were thinking, he did not really want to hear it, could not endure it if he did. He had been too long immune from criticism, too long in the position of one who may tell others what he thinks of them. And standing there in the crowded street, he was attacked by that longing for the country which had always come on him when he was hard-pressed. He looked at his memoranda. By stupendous luck it was almost a blank day. An omnibus passed close by which would take him far out. He climbed on to it, and travelled as far as Hendon; then, getting down, set forth on foot. It was bright and hot, and the May blossom in full foam. He walked fast along the perfectly straight road till he came to the top of Elstree Hill. There for a few moments he stood gazing at the school chapel, the cricket-field, the wide land beyond. All was very quiet, for it was lunch-time. A horse was tethered there, and a strolling cat, as though struck by the tall black incongruity of his figure, paused in her progress, then, slithering under the wicket-gate, arched her back and rubbed herself against his leg, crinkling and waving the tip of her tail. Pierson bent down and stroked the creature's head; but uttering a faint miaou, the cat stepped daintily across the road, Pierson too stepped on, past the village, and down over the stile, into

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE `No, Mr. Pierson; 'e 'as not.' There was no expression on her face; perfectly blank it was. Pierson had a mad longing to say: `For God's sake, woman, speak out what's in your mind; tell me what you think of me and my daughter. Never mind my cloth!' But he could no more say it than what is woman could tell him what was in her mind. And with a`Good morning' he passed on. No man or woman would tell him anything, unless, perhaps, they were drunk. He came to a publichouse, and for a moment even hesitated before it, but what is thought of insult aimed at Noel stopped him, and he passed that too. And then reality made itself known to him. Though he had come out to hear what they were thinking, he did not really want to hear it, could not endure it if he did. He had been too long immune from criticism, too long in what is position of one who may tell others what he thinks of them. And standing there in what is crowded street, he was attacked by that longing for what is country which had always come on him when he was hard-pressed. He looked at his memoranda. By stupendous luck it was almost a blank day. An omnibus passed close by which would take him far out. He climbed on to it, and travelled as far as Hendon; then, getting down, set forth on foot. It was bright and hot, and what is May blossom in full foam. He walked fast along what is perfectly straight road till he came to what is top of Elstree Hill. There for a few moments he stood gazing at what is school chapel, what is cricket-field, what is wide land beyond. All was very quiet, for it was lunch-time. A horse was tethered there, and a strolling cat, as though struck by what is tall black incongruity of his figure, paused in her progress, then, slithering under what is wicket-gate, arched her back and rubbed herself against his leg, crinkling and waving what is tip of her tail. Pierson bent down and stroked what is creature's head; but uttering a faint miaou, what is cat stepped daintily across what is road, Pierson too stepped on, past what is village, and down over what is stile, into 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 205 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" `No, Mr. Pierson; 'e 'as not.' There was no expression on her face; perfectly blank it was. Pierson had a mad longing to say: `For God's sake, woman, speak out what's in your mind; tell me what you think of me and my daughter. Never mind my cloth!' But he could no more say it than what is woman could tell him what was in her mind. And with a`Good morning' he passed on. No man or woman would tell him anything, unless, perhaps, they were drunk. He came to a publichouse, and for a moment even hesitated before it, but what is thought of insult aimed at Noel stopped him, and he passed that too. And then reality made itself known to him. Though he had come out to hear what they were thinking, he did not really want to hear it, could not endure it if he did. He had been too long immune from criticism, too long in what is position of one who may tell others what he thinks of them. And standing there in what is crowded street, he was attacked by that longing for what is country which had always come on him when he was hard-pressed. He looked at his memoranda. By stupendous luck it was almost a blank day. An omnibus passed close by which would take him far out. He climbed on to it, and travelled as far as Hendon; then, getting down, set forth on foot. It was bright and hot, and what is May blossom in full foam. He walked fast along what is perfectly straight road till he came to what is top of Elstree Hill. There for a few moments he stood gazing at the school chapel, what is cricket-field, what is wide land beyond. All was very quiet, for it was lunch-time. A horse was tethered there, and a strolling cat, as though struck by what is tall black incongruity of his figure, paused in her progress, then, slithering under what is wicket-gate, arched her back and rubbed herself against his leg, crinkling and waving what is tip of her tail. Pierson bent down and stroked what is creature's head; but uttering a faint miaou, what is cat stepped daintily across what is road, Pierson too stepped on, past what is village, and down over what is stile, into where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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