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Updated: June 25, 2025
Bosengate looked round to where, at the head of the table, Gentleman Fox sat, in defensive gentility and the little white piping to his waistcoat saying blandly: "I shall be happy to take the sense of the jury." There was a short silence, then the chemist murmured: "I should say he must have what they call claustrophobia." "Clauster fiddlesticks! The feller's a shirker, that's all.
Bosengate did not thoroughly master; but the three at the end of the second row he learned in their order of an oldish man in a grey suit, given to winking; an inanimate person with the mouth of a moustachioed codfish, over whose long bald crown three wisps of damp hair were carefully arranged; and a dried, dapperish, clean-shorn man, whose mouth seemed terrified lest it should be surprised without a smile.
We don't want men of that stamp." It was his neighbour on the jury, the commercial traveller, in a straw hat, with a little brown bag already in his hand and the froth of an interrupted drink on his moustache. Answering curtly: "Good evening!" and thinking: 'Nor of yours, my friend! Mr. Bosengate started the car with unnecessary clamour.
His children began to dance round their mother, and Mr. Bosengate, firmly held between them, was also compelled to do this, until she said: "When you've quite done, let's have tea!" It was not the greeting he had imagined coming along in the car. Earwigs were plentiful in the summer-house used perhaps twice a year, but indispensable to every country residence and Mr.
Seeing him now full face, and, as it might be, come to life in the effort to convey his feelings, Mr. Bosengate had suddenly a quite different impression of the fellow. It was as if his khaki had fallen off, and he had stepped out of his own shadow, a live and quivering creature.
Gentleman Fox as who should say 'This is excellent value, but I don't wish to press it on you! answered: "We are only concerned with the facts. Did he or did he not try to shorten his life?" "Of course he did said so himself," Mr. Bosengate heard the wire-haired man snap out, and from the following murmur of assent he alone abstained. Guilty! Well yes!
"Yes I know; all right!" A wave of heat and shame, and of God knows what came over Mr. Bosengate; he fell on his knees and pressed his forehead to her arm; and he was silent, more silent than the grave. Nothing nothing came from him but two long sighs. Suddenly he felt her hand stroke his cheek compassionately, it seemed to him.
His ill-shaped brown tunic, whose little brass buttons seemed trying to keep smiling, struck Mr. Bosengate as ridiculously short, used though he was to such things. 'Absurd, he thought 'Lumbago!
She made a little movement towards him; her lips met his, and he remembered nothing but that.... In his own room Mr. Bosengate sat at his wide open window, smoking a cigarette; there was no light. Moths went past, the moon was creeping up. He sat very calm, puffing the smoke out in to the night air. Curious thing-life! Curious world!
'Tis not everyone that cares for his home there's lots o' them never wants to see their wives again. But for me 'tis like being shut up in a cage, it is!" Mr. Bosengate saw daylight between the skinny fingers of the man's hand thrown out with a jerk. "I cannot bear it shut up away from wife and home like what you are in the army.
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