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Updated: June 12, 2025
And she could see far away the lights of the lighthouses so picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of paints because it was easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales.
Reggy gave notice to the rest of the party, when they were within hail, that the ladies had arrived with some provisions; and although they all declared that they were too anxious to be hungry, they not unwillingly partook of the food the thoughtful girls had brought with them.
"Come up! come up!" he shouted to Harry and Reggy; "you will be safe enough here." "You had better come down and get up that tree," answered Harry, pointing to one which stood on ground of the same level as the house, and but a short distance from it.
"And what is the latest news of the family scamp?" "Do you mean my Reginald?" "Dear me, no! What a shame to call poor Reggy a scamp! I mean young Marmaduke, of course. Is it true that he has a daughter now?" "Oh yes. Perfectly true." "The reprobate! And he was always such a pleasant fellow." "Yes; but he is annoyingly inconsiderate.
She was glad that something told her to put on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie might be out but that was far away. Here was that of which she had so often dreamed. It was he who mattered and there was joy on her face because she wanted him because she felt instinctively that he was like no-one else.
As for Mr Reggy with his swank and his bit of money she could just chuck him aside as if he was so much filth and never again would she cast as much as a second thought on him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen pieces. And if ever after he dared to presume she could give him one look of measured scorn that would make him shrivel up on the spot.
Here we are. Must eat. The Burton. Feel better then. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Jingling, hoofthuds. Perfumed bodies, warm, full. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds. Jack, love! Darling! Kiss me, Reggy! My boy! Love! His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant.
"Quite my own opinion, Reggy." "Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till I catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you, dear." "I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as long as my friends will let me." "Thank you, cousin." "But that is not what we have in hand."
"No, not exactly, don't you know we were too many, I fancy; but, by Jove, the beggars whenever we met them, and we met one or two gypsy bands of them, you know, they seemed to look upon us as TRESPASSERS, don't you know." "And you were, in point of fact," said Peter, smiling grimly. "Oh, I say, come now!" said Reggy, opening his eyes. After a moment he laughed.
Come, Reggy, help me up with the ladder, we must not let that go; we may find it useful in getting down some day or other, and the rope will help to make our nest." They hauled up the ladder and placed it horizontally across the boughs.
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