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Agnes was rather pleased, and took to teasing her husband about Varden. At last he asked her to stop. He felt uneasy about the boy almost superstitious. His first morning's work had brought sixty pounds a year to their hotel. They did not get to Italy at Easter. Herbert had the offer of some private pupils, and needed Rickie's help.
The wish to smoke was very violent in him, and Ansell noticed how he gazed at the wreaths that ascended from bowl and stem, and how, when the stem was in his mouth, he bit it. He gave the idea of an animal with just enough soul to contemplate its own bliss. United with refinement, such a type was common in Greece. It is not common today, and Ansell was surprised to find it in a friend of Rickie's.
Pembroke used to look after the day-boys, and so he can't very well take the lead against them, and perhaps Rickie's doing his dirty work and has overdone it, as decent people generally do. He's even altering to talk to. Yet he's not been married a year. Pembroke and that wife simply run him.
"We were all coming, but Gerald has strained his ankle slightly, and wants to keep quiet, as he is playing next week in a match. And, needless to say, that explains the absence of my sister." "Gerald Dawes?" "Yes; he's with us. I'm so glad you'll meet again." "So am I," said Rickie with extreme awkwardness. "Does he remember me?" "Vividly." Vivid also was Rickie's remembrance of him.
In some wonderful way she knew that it was right. And he had given her the rings little gold knobs, copied, the jeweller told them, from something prehistoric and he had kissed the spots of blood on her handkerchief. Herbert, as usual, had been shocked. "I can't help it," she cried, springing up. "I'm not like other girls." She began to pace about Rickie's room, for she hated to keep quiet.
Stephen's face appeared, convulsed with laughter. With the action of a swimmer he dived in through the open window, and fell comfortably on Rickie's luggage and Rickie. He declared it was the finest joke ever known. Rickie was not so sure. "You'll be run over next," he said. "What did you do that for?" "I'm coming with you," he giggled, rolling all that he could on to the dusty floor.
"What do you think of him?" she immediately asked. He murmured civilly. "Has he changed since he was a schoolboy?" "In a way." "Do tell me all about him. Why won't you?" She might have seen a flash of horror pass over Rickie's face. The horror disappeared, for, thank God, he was now a man, whom civilization protects.
Jackson, a scholar and a student, neither felt nor conveyed any enthusiasm, and when confronted with his House, would say, "Well, I don't know what we're all here for. Now I should think you'd better go home to your mothers." He returned to his background, and next term Mr. Pembroke was to take his place. Such were the themes on which Mr. Pembroke discoursed to Rickie's civil ear.
Yet those who pursue it at all events know what they want; they are not puzzling to themselves or ludicrous to others; they do not take the wings of the morning and fly into the uttermost parts of the sea before walking to the registry office; they cannot breed a tragedy quite like Rickie's. He is, of course, absurdly young not twenty-one and he will be engaged to be married at twenty-three.
He thought of their journey. They were alone in the carriage. As the train slackened speed he had caught her for a moment in his arms. The rain beat on the windows, but they were in heaven. "You've got to believe it," said the other, and proceeded to "rub it in." His healthy, irritable face drew close to Rickie's. "Two children were kicking and screaming on the Roman crossing.
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