Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 18, 2025
That is the way to travel, even if the journey lasts from Sunday night to Tuesday evening, and a horse occasionally stamps on your face. And even so did Clive Draycott, Captain of "Feet," go to the great war. . . . Marseilles has always been a town of mystery the gateway of the East.
"There's your barge, but she won't leave till to-morrow. If this goes on for much longer, my nerves will give way under the strain. The excitement is too great." It appears that Draycott had forebodings even before he got on board that P. and O. Since then she has become almost historic amongst those of the Regular Army whose abode at the beginning of the war was overseas.
Other men had died true; but not hers. He was different; there must be some mistake. . . . For each and every name in that list Clive Draycott of a sudden realised the same thing was occurring. And then he saw it personally; he felt it personally; he realised that it concerned him personally. Those other women had looked, just as had his mother and the girl, a few weeks ago.
Draycott Wilder was no mate for her in appearance or manner, but Draycott Wilder was marked by the Powers as a successful man. He took very little part in the social side of their married life, and sat in the shadow near the lighted door, listening while his guests talked.
With the feeling that people really enjoyed looking at her and listening to her came the foundation of self-confidence. Of course there were numerous mistakes at first. She did not know, for instance, that Draycott Deyo was studying for the ministry; she was unaware that he had cut in on her because he thought she was a quiet, reserved girl.
"Pauvre petite," muttered the waiter as they passed. "Mon Dieu! quelle vâche de guerre." "My God!" said Draycott, as they went down the steps. "I didn't realise before what war meant to a woman. And we shall never realise what it means to our own women. We only see them before we go. Never after."
"Well," remarked Draycott, with a gay, good natured laugh, "after your adventures and hair-breadth escapes, together with your great good luck in winning the beautiful heiress, it would not surprise me in the least if some old fairy godmother dropped from the clouds and transformed you into a gallant young Prince of some beautiful isle of the sea, yielding untold wealth, like the isle of the famous Count de Monte Cristo."
People joined in, others stood in front of house and shop; and the buzzing of voices increased till, panting and flurried, the great heavy figure of Mr Draycott was seen approaching without his hat. "Much hurt?" "Can't say yet, for certain," rang ominously in Richard's ears. "Fear the worst! I want Mr Shrubsole to be fetched!"
"I have a very good mind to tell him," she said easily, "but he is blessed with a skin that would turn the edge of any ordinary hatchet; he would think I was merely being 'funny." "It's an odd fact," said Draycott with a sneer in his eyes, "that however much a woman complains of a man's stupidity, she will let him hang about her, and make a grievance of it, until she sees fit to drop him.
Finally, in despair, Draycott rushed into the road and seized a venerable flea-bitten grey that was ambling along with Monsieur, Madame, and all the little olive-branches sitting solemnly inside the cab. He embraced Madame, he embraced the olive-branches; finally in despair I believe he embraced Monsieur. He wept, he entreated, he implored them to take him to the Gare de Lyon. It was imperative.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking