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


Page 289

Saint's Progress

A half-sheet of paper fluttered down; he picked it up from among the parched fibre of dead palm-leaves.
'DADDY DARLING,
`I've done it. Forgive me-I'm so happy.
'YOUR NOLLIE.'

The desert shimmered, the palm-leaves rustled, and Pierson stood trying to master the emotion roused in him by those two letters. He felt no anger, not even vexation; he felt no sorrow, but a loneliness so utter and complete that he did not know how to bear it. It seemed as if some last link with life had snapped. `My girls are happy,' he thought. `If I am not--what does it matter? If my faith and my convictions mean nothing to them-why should they follow? I must and will not feel lonely. I ought to have the sense of God present, to feel His hand in mine. If I cannot, what use am I-what use to the poor fellows in there, what use in all the world?'
An old native on a donkey went by, piping a Sudanese melody on a little wooden Arab flute. Pierson turned back into the hospital humming it. A nurse met him there.
`The poor boy at the end of A ward is sinking fast, sir; I expect he'd like to see you.'
He went into A ward, and walked down between the beds to the west window end, where two screens had been put, to block off the cot. Another nurse, who was sitting beside it, rose at once.
`He's quite conscious,' she whispered; `he can still speak a little. He's such a dear.' A tear rolled down her cheek, and she passed out behind the screens. Pierson looked down at the boy; perhaps he was twenty, but the unshaven down on his cheeks was soft and almost colourless. His eyes were closed. He breathed regularly, and did not seem in pain; but there was about him that which told he

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE A half-sheet of paper fluttered down; he picked it up from among what is parched fibre of dead palm-leaves. 'DADDY DARLING, `I've done it. Forgive me-I'm so happy. 'YOUR NOLLIE.' what is desert shimmered, what is palm-leaves rustled, and Pierson stood trying to master what is emotion roused in him by those two letters. He felt no anger, not even vexation; he felt no sorrow, but a loneliness so utter and complete that he did not know how to bear it. It seemed as if some last where are they now with life had snapped. `My girls are happy,' he thought. `If I am not--what does it matter? If my faith and my convictions mean nothing to them-why should they follow? I must and will not feel lonely. I ought to have what is sense of God present, to feel His hand in mine. If I cannot, what use am I-what use to what is poor fellows in there, what use in all what is world?' An old native on a donkey went by, piping a Sudanese melody on a little wooden Arab flute. Pierson turned back into what is hospital humming it. A nurse met him there. `The poor boy at what is end of A ward is sinking fast, sir; I expect he'd like to see you.' He went into A ward, and walked down between what is beds to what is west window end, where two screens had been put, to block off what is cot. Another nurse, who was sitting beside it, rose at once. `He's quite conscious,' she whispered; `he can still speak a little. He's such a dear.' A tear rolled down her cheek, and she passed out behind what is screens. Pierson looked down at what is boy; perhaps he was twenty, but what is unshaven down on his cheeks was soft and almost colourless. His eyes were closed. He breathed regularly, and did not seem in pain; but there was about him that which told he 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 289 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" A half-sheet of paper fluttered down; he picked it up from among what is parched fibre of dead palm-leaves. 'DADDY DARLING, `I've done it. Forgive me-I'm so happy. 'YOUR NOLLIE.' what is desert shimmered, what is palm-leaves rustled, and Pierson stood trying to master what is emotion roused in him by those two letters. He felt no anger, not even vexation; he felt no sorrow, but a loneliness so utter and complete that he did not know how to bear it. It seemed as if some last where are they now with life had snapped. `My girls are happy,' he thought. `If I am not--what does it matter? If my faith and my convictions mean nothing to them-why should they follow? I must and will not feel lonely. I ought to have what is sense of God present, to feel His hand in mine. If I cannot, what use am I-what use to what is poor fellows in there, what use in all what is world?' An old native on a donkey went by, piping a Sudanese melody on a little wooden Arab flute. Pierson turned back into what is hospital humming it. A nurse met him there. `The poor boy at what is end of A ward is sinking fast, sir; I expect he'd like to see you.' He went into A ward, and walked down between what is beds to what is west window end, where two screens had been put, to block off what is cot. Another nurse, who was sitting beside it, rose at once. `He's quite conscious,' she whispered; `he can still speak a little. He's such a dear.' A tear rolled down her cheek, and she passed out behind what is screens. Pierson looked down at what is boy; perhaps he was twenty, but what is unshaven down on his cheeks was soft and almost colourless. His eyes were closed. He breathed regularly, and did not seem in pain; but there was about him that which told he where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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