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He had been released from office, and by the look in his eyes I could see that he had come over for a long talk; most probably with poems in his pockets. Charlie's poems were very wearying, but sometimes they led him to talk about the galley. Grish Chunder looked at him keenly for a minute. "I beg your pardon," Charlie said, uneasily; "I didn't know you had any one with you."
"That is very funny and very foolish," he said, nodding at the poster. "I am going down to the Northbrook Club. Will you come too?" I walked with him for some time. "You are not well," he said. "What is there in your mind? You do not talk." "Grish Chunder, you've been too well educated to believe in a God, haven't you?" "Oah, yes, here!
"Lekin darwaza band hai. It is of course an old tale with us, but, to happen to an Englishman a cow-fed Malechh an outcast. By Jove, that is most peculiar!" "Outcast yourself, Grish Chunder! You eat cow-beef every day. Let's think the thing over. The boy remembers his incarnations." "Does he know that?" said Grish Chunder, quietly, swinging his legs as he sat on my table.
Suppose now we pretend that it was only play" I had never seen Grish Chunder so excited "and pour the ink-pool into his hand. Eh, what do you think? I tell you that he could see anything that a man could see. Let me get the ink and the camphor. He is a seer and he will tell us very many things." "He may be all you say, but I'm not going to trust him to your gods and devils."
"That is very funny and very foolish," he said, nodding at the poster. "I am going down to the Northbrook Club. Will you come too?" I walked with him for some time. "You are not well," he said. "What is there in your mind? You do not talk." "Grish Chunder, you've been too well educated to believe in a God, haven't you?" "Oah, yes, here!
Scarbridge?" "Thash all ri', Grish," interposed Blake, "thash all ri'. M'frensh Chimmy Ear' Albondash. Hish fa'er's Dush Rubby y' shee?" Without raising his voice, Griffith gave utterance to a volley of blasphemous expletives that crackled on the air like an electric discharge. "If you will kindly permit me, sir " "Hell!" cut in the engineer. "You call yourself his friend.
Grish Chunder was a young, fat, full-bodied Bengali dressed with scrupulous care in frock coat, tall hat, light trousers and tan gloves. But I had known him in the days when the brutal Indian Government paid for his university education, and he contributed cheap sedition to Sachi Durpan, and intrigued with the wives of his schoolmates.
Therefore he was deeply interested in guinea competitions. Remembering what Grish Chunder had said I laughed aloud. The Lords of Life and Death would never allow Charlie Mears to speak with full knowledge of his pasts, and I must even piece out what he had told me with my own poor inventions while Charlie wrote of the ways of bank-clerks.
But I recognized Grish Chunder's point of view and sympathized with it. "What a big black brute that was!" said Charlie, when I returned to him. "Well, look here, I've just done a poem; did it instead of playing dominoes after lunch. May I read it?" "Let me read it to myself." "Then you miss the proper expression. Besides, you always make my things sound as if the rhymes were all wrong.
Grish Chunder De, M. A. In short, did anybody see any objection to the appointment, always on principle, of a man of the people to rule the people? The district in South-Eastern Bengal might with advantage, he apprehended, pass over to a younger civilian of Mr. G. C. De could be transferred northward to Kot-Kumharsen.
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