| 145 | 146 | 147 | 148 | 149 |
| 1 | 66 | 132 | 197 | 263 |
|
said the lawyer fretfully, 'I won't eat any more dinner.'
'Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,' said Teena, and began
composedly to take away.
'I do wish Teena wasn't a faithful servant!' sighed the lawyer, as he
issued into Kings's Road.
The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a pleasant
freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, glittered with
street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. 'Come, this is better,'
thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on eastward, lending a
pleased ear to the wheels and the million footfalls of the city.
Near the end of the King's Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and
entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a
waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a
gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of
a leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow
goatee, and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other).
But the centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a
black, ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On
the marble table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of
beer, there lay a battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with
oratorical gestures; his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to
the pitch of the lecture room; and by arts, comparable to those of
147
Page
Quick Jump
|