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Updated: May 25, 2025
So many days and years I should make it for him, sitting opposite to him and making the place where we were together Heaven by my face. When it was ready he poured it out and brought it to me. He fed me with little pieces of hot teacake and other dainties.
Poor old Pyecraft! Great, uneasy jelly of substance! The fattest clubman in London. He sits at one of the little club tables in the huge bay by the fire, stuffing. What is he stuffing? I glance judiciously, and catch him biting at a round of hot buttered teacake, with his eyes on me. Confound him! with his eyes on me! That settles it, Pyecraft!
"By Jove!" he said, "I shall be able to come back to the club again." "The thing pulled me up short. By Jove!" I said, faintly. "Yes. Of course you will." He did. He does. There he sits behind me now, stuffing as I live! a third go of buttered teacake.
But when we were going to wrap up the bottle and glass the clergyman said, 'No; you can leave that, and we were so upset we did, though it wasn't his after all. We walked home very fast and not saying much, and the girls went up to their rooms. When I went to tell them tea was ready, and there was a teacake, Dora was crying like anything and Alice hugging her.
Poor old Pyecraft! He has just gonged; no doubt to order another buttered teacake! He came to the actual thing one day. "Our Pharmacopoeia," he said, "our Western Pharmacopoeia, is anything but the last word of medical science. In the East, I've been told " He stopped and stared at me. It was like being at an aquarium. I was quite suddenly angry with him.
An orderly had brought in tea, white bread, butter, a pitcher of condensed cream, and an English teacake. We gathered round the tea table. War seemed a hundred miles away.
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