Books > Old Books > The White Peacock (1906)


Page 279

PART III - CHAPTER II
PUFFS OF WIND IN THE SAIL

THE year burst into glory to usher us forth out of the valley of Nethermere. The cherry-trees had been gorgeous with heavy outreaching boughs of red and gold. Immense vegetable-marrows lay prostrate in the bottom garden, their great tentacles clutching the pond bank. Against the wall the globed crimson plums hung close together, and dropped occasionally with a satisfied plunge into the rhubarb leaves. The crop of oats was very heavy. The stalks of corn were like strong reeds of bamboo; the heads of grain swept heavily over like tresses weighted with drops of gold.
George spent his time between the Mill and the 'Ram.' The grandmother had received them with much grumbling but with real gladness. Meg was re-installed, and George slept at the 'Ram.' He was extraordinarily bright, almost gay. The fact was that his new life interested and pleased him keenly. He often talked to me about Meg, how quaint and naive she was, how she amused him and delighted him. He rejoiced in having a place of his own, a home, and a beautiful wife who adored him. Then the public-house was full of strangeness and interest. No hour was ever dull. If he wanted company he could go into the smoke-room, if he wanted quiet he could sit with Meg, and she was such a treat, so soft and warm, and so amusing. He was always laughing at her quaint, crude
notions, and at her queer little turns of speech. She, talked to him with a little language, she sat on his knee
and twisted his moustache, finding small, unreal fault with his features for the delight of dwelling upon them. He was, he said, incredibly happy. Really, he could not believe it. Meg was, ah ! she was a treat. Then he would laugh, thinking how indifferent he had been about taking her. A little shadow might cross his eyes, but he would

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He often talked to me about Meg, how quaint and naive she was, how she amused him and delighted him. He rejoiced in having a place of his own, a home, and a beautiful wife who adored him. Then what is public-house was full of strangeness and interest. No hour was ever dull. If he wanted company he could go into what is smoke-room, if he wanted quiet he could sit with Meg, and she was such a treat, so soft and warm, and so amusing. He was always laughing at her quaint, crude notions, and at her queer little turns of speech. She, talked to him with a little language, she sat on his knee and twisted his moustache, finding small, unreal fault with his features for what is delight of dwelling upon them. He was, he said, incredibly happy. Really, he could not believe it. Meg was, ah ! she was a treat. Then he would laugh, thinking how indifferent he had been about taking her. 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Immense vegetable-marrows lay prostrate in what is bottom garden, their great tentacles clutching what is pond bank. Against what is wall what is globed crimson plums hung close together, and dropped occasionally with a satisfied plunge into what is rhubarb leaves. what is crop of oats was very heavy. what is stalks of corn were like strong reeds of bamboo; what is heads of grain swept heavily over like tresses weighted with drops of gold. George spent his time between what is Mill and what is 'Ram.' what is grandmother had received them with much grumbling but with real gladness. Meg was re-installed, and George slept at what is 'Ram.' He was extraordinarily bright, almost gay. what is fact was that his new life interested and pleased him keenly. He often talked to me about Meg, how quaint and naive she was, how she amused him and delighted him. He rejoiced in having a place of his own, a home, and a beautiful wife who adored him. Then what is public-house was full of strangeness and interest. No hour was ever dull. If he wanted company he could go into what is smoke-room, if he wanted quiet he could sit with Meg, and she was such a treat, so soft and warm, and so amusing. He was always laughing at her quaint, crude notions, and at her queer little turns of speech. She, talked to him with a little language, she sat on his knee and twisted his moustache, finding small, unreal fault with his features for what is delight of dwelling upon them. He was, he said, incredibly happy. Really, he could not believe it. Meg was, ah ! she was a treat. Then he would laugh, thinking how indifferent he had been about taking her. A little shadow might cross his eyes, but he would where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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